'Not a blonde,' Pearl said.
The ME shot a look over her shoulder. She was about fifty, with puffy cheeks and carrot-red hair worn so short it was almost a buzz cut. Though Pearl was sure they'd never seen each other before, the glance seemed to satisfy the ME that Pearl belonged, because she simply returned to her work.
Quinn eased his way out of the crowded bathroom and led Pearl down the hall to the kitchen, where as yet there was no CSU activity.
'Same bullshit?' Pearl asked.
'So far,' Quinn said. 'When it comes to method, our guy's the model of consistency.'
The ME came into the kitchen. She was wearing a man's pinstriped gray suit and tie and carrying a scuffed black leather medical bag. Perspiration beaded her puffy face and she looked tired and bored. Pearl thought that no matter how the woman felt, she probably always looked bored.
'Julius filled me in on the others,' she said. Her voice didn't sound bored. It was crisp and efficient.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. 'Julius?'
'Dr. Nift,' she said. 'This fits the pattern all the way down the line. Virtually all bodily fluids drained before dissection began. Most of the cutting done with sharp blades and a cleaver. The larger, more difficult cuts done with what appears to have been a power saw.'
She might as well have been talking about carving a turkey. But then that was what the Butcher did, dehumanized his victims by making them mere meat.
Pearl must have appeared ill. The ME gave her a look without pity. 'Sorry not to introduce myself. I'm Dr. Jane Tumulty.'
Pearl nodded. 'Pearl Kasner. Where's Nift today?'
'Dr. Nift had family business.'
It was difficult for Pearl to think of Nift-Julius Nift-with a human family, but she supposed it was possible.
Tumulty turned her attention back to Quinn. 'When the cutting was finished, the body parts were stacked and washed clean. Not scrubbed or rubbed in any way, though. I think the cleansing agents from the empty containers were used, along with spray from the shower, then bleach was employed. Everything liquid went down the drain with the shower water.' She looked at both Quinn and Pearl. 'I've never dealt with such a clean cadaver, whole or in part.'
'He's a butcher who works clean,' Quinn said.
Tumulty gave a swollen smile. 'I don't think this was done by a butcher, and certainly not by a doctor, but whoever did it had experience with dismemberment. Maybe a short-term medical student with limited time with cadavers.'
'Or on-the-job training,' Quinn said.
'Possibly. Cause of death was probably drowning. I'll have more for you after the postmortem. Dr. Nift or I will be in contact.' She hefted her black bag with both hands. It was obviously heavy. 'She's all yours and the paramedics'. I'm finished here.'
Quinn thanked her.
As she was leaving, Tumulty shook her head. 'One sick bastard, this killer. I'd rather not do another of these prelims.'
'We'll see what we can do,' Quinn said.
When the ME was gone, Pearl said, 'What do we know about the victim, other than that she's in pieces?'
'She didn't show for work,' Quinn said, 'so they called. They got no answer, so they asked the super to look in on her. When there was no reply to his knock, he noticed the smell, then let himself in and found her. The uniform at the door and his partner took the call. The super's down in his basement apartment, trying to get used to what he saw.'
'I guess he is,' Pearl said.
'Victim worked at Courtney Publishing. The super and neighbors aren't sure what her job was. We need to talk to the people at Courtney.'
'What was her name?' Pearl asked, picturing again the severed head with its dark wet hair and closed eyes. She wondered if Jane Tumulty had closed the dead eyes. Nift wouldn't have bothered.
'Anna Bragg,' Quinn said.
Pearl turned the name over in her mind. Quinn was watching her, smiling slightly and sadly.
Pearl struggled to connect Anna's name to the killer's note. 'Bragg…Braggadocio…The victim worked for a publisher. None of it fits.'
'He's more subtle than that,' Quinn said. 'But you're on the right track with the book connection.'
It took a few seconds to dawn on her. ''Fools rush in,'' Pearl said. 'The note didn't have anything to do with gold hair or the Gold Rush.'
'Rushin,' Quinn said.
'Anna Karenina,' Pearl said. 'Russian. A Russian novel. It's a stretch, but that's gotta be it.'
'Not such a stretch,' Quinn said. 'We both came up with it. My guess is she's the most famous fictional woman in Russian literature. Probably the most famous Anna in any novel.'
Pearl was pretty sure they'd figured out who the Russian was in the killer's note. They didn't have to guess the identity of the fools.
'So we agree,' Quinn said. His voice softened. 'It can happen.'
Pearl didn't like the moony way he was looking at her. 'What about Feds?'
'He's not in any novel I ever heard of.'
'Stop it, Quinn.'
'Sorry. He might not agree with us. But I don't think Feds reads Russian novels, even famous ones.'
'He's probably the better for it,' Pearl said. She remembered reading Anna Karenina in high school. Maybe she should read it again. The killer probably had. 'Do you think we're in for more victims based on female characters in literature?'
'With this killer, who knows?'
Quinn wanted a glass of water but knew he couldn't touch the faucet handles, or anything else in the kitchen, until the crime scene techs were finished.
'I'll give the paramedics the word to remove the body,' he said. 'Then you and Feds can talk to the super and neighbors again while I drive over and see what Anna's employers have to say about her.'
Pearl watched him leave the kitchen but stayed there to wait for Fedderman.
The sad, grueling work of restructuring the last few days in the life that had ended last night was about to begin.
Nighttime. Pearl had been here before. Because of death she wanted love. Being close to the former and yearning for the latter was nothing new and she understood it. Love and sex were life and the opposite of death. Love was, anyway. Sex and orgasm…well, Pearl wasn't so sure.
Her blood still pounded through her veins. Jeb Jones lay next to her in his madly mussed bed at the Waverton, still breathing hard. Traffic on the crowded avenue below was the only other sound.
'You're something,' he sighed.
'I needed something.'
'Did you get it?'
She reached over and patted his bare, sweating hip. 'It was a start.'
He laughed in a way she liked.
The small room was too warm and still smelled of sex. There was a ceiling fan but it didn't work, and the windows weren't the kind that opened. Pearl didn't mind. Lust was supposed to be a sweaty business.
She was lying nude on her back, feeling the damp pillow beneath her neck. The slightest cool stirring of breeze from the inadequate air-conditioning played across her midsection. Jeb's breathing was evening out, as if he might be falling asleep.
Pearl didn't move but turned her mind loose. She knew she might have made a mistake. But wasn't that how you won something, by risking a mistake? After what she'd seen in Anna Bragg's apartment, what happened in this
