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Mettner said, “I’m pretty sure that’s the only way we ever meet.”
Dr. Feist’s head bent toward Claudia Collins’s body again. “No, sometimes Detective Quinn and I have lunch. Or coffee.”
“And talk about dead bodies,” Josie sighed.
Dr. Feist did not argue, instead moving right into her assessment. “Your responding officers got an initial confirmation on her ID from the witnesses and her driver’s license. Dr. Claudia Collins, age forty-two. She’s only been dead two to three hours is my guess. She’s not in rigor yet which, as you know, normally starts between two to three hours after death. I took her temperature under her arm. Under normal circumstances, I’d expect it to be about 97.6 degrees. Mrs. Collins’s temp was 94.6 degrees. Typically, the body stays at its normal temperature for an hour after death—unless it’s been left in very cold conditions. The thermostat in this house is set to seventy-two degrees so the cold isn’t a factor. After that initial hour the body loses one and a half degrees per hour until it reaches the air temperature around it. I’ll take her temp again from her liver when I get her on my table but for now, it looks like she’s been dead a few hours.”
Josie said, “What’s your initial guess as to the cause of death? Blunt force trauma to the head?”
Dr. Feist pulled the curtain of hair back to reveal a gash in the woman’s forehead, near her temple. It looked like a bloody, toothless mouth. “It appears that way from a cursory examination, but I really need to get her on the table. Make sure she doesn’t have injuries that are not visible in situ.”
Josie’s heart did a double tap. Blood rushed in her ears. The sound of Dr. Feist’s voice faded out. Her eyes were locked on the bloodied face of the woman she had met last month while Christmas shopping with Harris. The woman who had introduced herself to Josie and Harris as Claudia White.
Dr. Feist was still talking. “I’ll get her cleaned up and take some x-rays. I need a much better look at this wound. I may be able to detect any patterned injuries, figure out what he hit her with. Maybe.” She released Claudia’s hair, letting it fall across her face, obscuring the horror of her savage death. “We’ll also use the UV light to check her clothing and body for any DNA in addition to all this blood—semen, saliva, sweat—and we’ll take swabs. Hopefully the killer left something behind.”
“Boss?”
Mettner was looking at Josie, his brows knit with concern.
Hummel said, “Boss? You okay?”
“I met her,” Josie blurted. “Last month. On the street. But she introduced herself as Claudia White. Not Dr. Claudia Collins.”
Everyone stared at her for a beat. Then Dr. Feist said, “Maybe White is her maiden name?”
“Why use her maiden name, though?” said Hummel. “The Collinses are famous for basically being married.”
Mettner said, “Maybe she didn’t want to get into the whole celebrity thing? Maybe she was trying to fly under the radar?”
Josie sighed. “Could be, I guess.” She took a step forward, closer to the body, trying to quell the feelings of dread rising up inside her, cloying and poisonous. Claudia’s other hand lay palm up on her thigh. “Is she holding something?”
Dr. Feist stepped back so that they could get a better look. Seated in Claudia’s open palm was a long, narrow wooden box—its top a light beige, its bottom red. Josie estimated it was approximately five inches by three inches and only two inches high. On top of it was a red gift bow crafted entirely from wood. The cold finger of foreboding poked at Josie’s spine. The killer had dealt her a blow she would not survive, carried her into this room, and staged her body. He had wanted them to find her like this: sitting at her anniversary dinner with a gift box in her hand.
“That’s not my department,” Dr. Feist told them. “Hummel?”
Hummel stepped up beside Josie. “We took photos of everything already, but I wanted you to see it before they took it into evidence. No one has touched it.”
Josie turned to Mettner. “Is this something from the Collinses’ book?”
“It’s a puzzle box,” he replied. “They sell them on their website. It’s symbolic more than anything. Beau Collins used it once on TV to demonstrate something and then people went nuts over it.”
“Does it hold anything?” Josie asked.
He shook his head. “It can hold something. Like, it has a space inside. I’ve seen people on social media put different things into them.” He waved a hand at the table. “It could be part of whatever they were setting up here to share on social media and the show.”
Hummel left the room and returned with a paper evidence bag. He used a gloved hand to lift the box. He shook it gently while they all listened for any noise.
“Sounds like something is rattling,” Josie said.
“It’s a ball bearing,” said Mettner. “It’s attached to a magnet. It’s actually what holds the box closed. If you try to just lift the box open, it won’t open. The top slides open on an angle but in order to do that, you’ve got to find the corner that has the ball bearing in it and then try to knock it off the magnet. If you can do that, the top will slide open.”
Hummel placed the box into the evidence bag. “I want to try to get prints from this before we start doing all that.”
Josie said, “Mett, can you get it open easily?”
“No. I never opened one myself. I’ve only seen Beau Collins do it on TV about a dozen times.”
“Take it,” Josie told Hummel. “As soon as you have it processed for prints, I want it opened.”
