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MINKA
“This is Doctor Minka Mayet, chief medical examiner, performing a follow-up autopsy on twenty-three-year-old Sarah Jane Smart.”
I walk around the table in Autopsy Room One and pass Aubree as she photographs the deceased. Every autopsy I ever perform, and every autopsy any pathologist I lead performs, records their time in a lab from start to finish. Every time we come near a body, it will be recorded and documented. That’s one of the first lessons we’re taught in medical school.
“Assisted by Doctor Aubree Emeri.” I rattle off the date and time of our examination, and the physical address of the George Stanley building. “Suspected homicide; Sarah came in seven days ago.” I look up at Aubree. “Prior medical examiner?”
“Doctor Kernicke.”
I nod and go back to my visual examination. I want to see before I start touching, and I sure as hell want to make sure we have the right body on the table. To do so, I check the body tag, hair color, eye color, scars on the body, and more. “Lead investigators; Detectives Archer Malone and Charlie Fletcher out of the Copeland PD. Let’s cover history first, shall we?”
Aubree moves closer and takes a photograph of Sarah’s manicured nails. “She was a nanny, employed by an affluent family downtown. She worked from seven till seven, six days a week, but the children she cared for were in school, so her hours weren’t as grueling as they sound.”
“That’s an opinion, Doctor Emeri.” When her eyes whip up to mine, I add, “stick to the facts.”
Taken aback, Aubree stares for a moment longer before nodding. “Yes, Doctor.” Clearing her throat, she starts again. “Sarah lived on-site, and had a room of her own inside her employer’s mansion. She worked Monday through Saturday, Sunday being her day off, and the lead investigators have informed me, through the course of their investigation, that her bank statements show she enjoyed shopping and socializing on that Sunday each week. Regular cinema ticket purchases, shoes, department stores, restaurants, that sort of stuff.”
“Good. Medical history?”
“Nothing of note.” I might have pulled her back in line for her opinion during an investigation, but the fact she recites Sarah’s details without referring to her notes is impressive to me. “Sarah had her appendix removed when she was seventeen, and all four wisdom teeth removed three months ago. Both surgeries went fine. No known complications. Sarah is on standard birth control, once-a-day pills. No children on record. No pregnancies on record.”
“Anything in the notes about her period? Irregular, unusually heavy?”
It takes Aubree a moment to decipher my words, then the confusion clears from her eyes. “To determine if she’s on the pill for hormone management?”
“The alternative might be that she’s sexually active. If it’s the latter, then we might direct the lead detectives toward potential lovers. What else do we have?”
“Headaches.” She comes closer to Sarah’s head and clicks, clicks, clicks the camera. This body is untouched, unharmed but from the blade of the M.E. before me. There was no struggle when Sarah died. No torn skin, no blood or fibers under her nails. No bruising. No broken bones. “She complained of minor headaches, according to her employers, but nothing that alarmed anyone. She did not seek medical help for it.”
“Alright. Headaches could point toward neuro; any history of blood clots?”
“None recorded, and none in her family.”
“Tox?”
“Done and returned. No drugs in her system, no alcohol, no poison. Her stomach contents point toward a chicken salad for lunch, followed by about a standard glass of sweetened tea to wash it down. Kernicke did not run testing for GHB, LSD, or barbiturates, and when I suggested it, he overruled and said that would be a waste of our budget.”
“Quite the call for Kernicke to make.” Displeased, I place that knowledge to the side of my mind for later. “Anything else in Sarah’s medical history I should know before we push on?”
Aubree thinks on that a moment, genuinely giving my question consideration, then she shakes her head and meets my eyes. “No, that’s it.”
“Urine was tested?”
“Yes. She was a tad dehydrated, but not to the point of concern. Nothing showed up.”
“Hair specimens were taken?”
She nods. “Clear.”
“Probably why Kernicke felt no need to test for party drugs,” I ponder. “Alright, so we have a body of a seemingly healthy woman in her early twenties. My visual examination tells me she works out. Not to the point of extremes, but enough to keep up with kids and work and a youthful lifestyle. Her muscle mass is on the lower side; says she prefers cardio. Her hair is clean, and there’s no regrowth that might suggest she dyes it another color. Her nails are natural, polished, but with a clear coat. All signs she prefers a natural life. But also, her employment probably stipulates a certain look.”
“The family she works for, the Travers, they’re public figures. They have an image to maintain.”
“Okay. Where was she found? What day, what time, and by whom?”
“Asleep in her bed, according to Mrs. Travers.” Aubree lowers the camera and looks to me. “Monday morning, time to get up with the kids. Police reports say she didn’t come down at the time she usually does. And the night before, she got in late after her day shopping. Mrs. Travers admits in her statements that she was pissed Sarah had slept in and the kids weren’t ready for school. She went into Sarah’s room—about seven forty-five, according to her—ready to tear strips off the girl for messing with the routine. She found her asleep and admits to shaking Sarah’s shoulder with a little more force than was probably appropriate. She was angry and impatient.”
I look to Sarah’s left shoulder, then her right. “Not so hard she left a mark.”
