2
Selene Davis slammed the trunk and headed out through the tall grass towards the garbage dump. She threaded through a small group of policemen and reporters until she came upon the dead woman embedded in the garbage. She whistled through her teeth, and shook her head. She took the large bag from her shoulder and set it on the ground, unsnapped it, and pulled a large camera out, snapped in a flash bulb aimed it at the exposed head and pressed the button. She popped the dead bulb over her shoulder, loaded a new one, pulled the film cartridge out, flipped it over, reinserted it and framed the head from a different angle.
Tom Powell walked up behind her as the camera flashed. “We’re gonna dig her out as soon as you're done with this.”
“The papers are going to have a field day with this one, huh, Powell?” she said, rummaging in her bag.
“Pretty Jane Doe, naked in a garbage dump, with her head open wide, I guess so,” said Powell, pushing up the brim of his hat.
“Jane Doe?” said Selene, looking up from her bag. “You mean to tell me you don’t know who she is?” she asked.
Powell looked about distractedly, flipping open his cigarette case.
“You need to get out more, Powell. That’s Mabel Herrmann.” The camera flashed. “She’s a movie star.”
He raised his eyebrows and his cigarette drooped very slightly in his mouth.
Flash. “I can understand a shut-in like you not recognizing her, but the reporters should have.”
“They haven’t been over yet, I kept them away until we got what we needed,” he said, his mind working. “I’ll take care of the press. Just get your pictures. And keep this under your hat, understand.”
Selene smiled, “Now who am I gonna tell. Kennedy’ll be back in a couple of days and I go back to civilian life--and a new camera. This job pays ok and it's steady work, but I like my life to be my own.” She lifted her department-issued camera to her eye and flashed another picture. “Don’t worry about me, you’ve got bigger problems.”
“Good. You done yet?”
“Yeah. Do you want some of her after you’ve dug her out?”
“No. You can get those at the morgue.”
“The morgue,” she repeated. She snapped her case shut and headed back to her car.
3
Barry stepped out of the autopsy room, wiping his glasses on his white lab coat. “Whaddya got for me, doctor,” said Tom Powell, offering a cigarette from his tin case to the slight man.
“Thanks,” said Barry, leaning close to the open case, his face speckled with reflected light. He picked a cigarette from the case. “Well, the head wound, obviously, was the most severe,” he wheezed. “The top of the skull was crushed most of the way back,” he said, finally putting his wire-rimmed glasses back on, “and the spine was broken in a few places...the neck was totally severed, just the skin holding it together. Some small items, a kitchen knife, a fork, a tin can lid...trash really...were embedded in the skin. Those occurred at the time of death, all bled some, but all seem incidental. Broken left forearm. She’s been dead at least 24 hours, I suppose.”
Powell looked up from his notebook. “No gunshot wounds, strangulation marks, deep knife wounds? Nothing like that?”
“No,” said Barry, reaching under his lab coat to pull out a lighter. “My theory is that she fell from a decent height, directly into the back of a garbage truck, either striking the edge of the truck or some heavy object in the truck. Cause of death was a combination of the blow to the head and broken neck. I’ll get you the report tomorrow.”
“Get me something short tonight, if you can. Pretty girl, huh? A shame,” said Powell, looking up from his notebook.
“Well, none of us will look too pretty a hundred years from now, detective,” said Barry, his thin lips in a slanted, sardonic smile.
Powell gave an amused snort in response.
Barry raised an eyebrow, thrust his hands in his pockets and began to walk down the well-lit subterranean corridor. The clicking of his heels stopped and he turned back to Powell, who was raising a lit match to the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh and she was recently impregnated.” Powell’s lips drew back and he held the unlit cigarette between his teeth.
