ever attached clothespins to their nipples?” Fisher didn’t say anything. “This was staged to humiliate as well as to deflect the manner of death.”
“You know about knots?” Stark asked Diane.
“Diane is an expert in knots,” said Kingsley.
“She is,” said Lynn Webber. “I hadn’t heard of a forensic knot expert until I met her. Let me tell you, when we had those hanging victims, she made sure my diener and I were really careful with the knots. She read those knots like a book.”
“How do you get to be a forensic knot expert?” asked Fisher.
Diane could see the skepticism in his face. But she saw interest too.
“Study and experience. My interest began when I became a caver. In caving, your life often depends on your knowledge of rope and knots. Then I had my first case involving ropes, and it grew from there,” said Diane. “Knots carry unique information. They tell you things about the person who tied them. It’s often not a great deal, but it can be a critical piece of information. I can look at a set of knots and tell you if the person is a caver or a rock climber, a boater, or a hauler. I can also tell you by looking at their rope if they are careful or reckless.”
“Huh, interesting,” said Stark. “So this is not a knot someone would use in this situation?”
“Not like this. In this situation, if a granny knot is used at all, it would be to tie a small loop to stick the end of the rope through to make a loop around the neck that would release.”
Diane watched their faces to see if she was winning them over. She couldn’t tell. They had far better poker faces than she did. Except Doppelmeyer. And he was not ever going to be won over. But he didn’t need to be. Nancy Stark was their audience. She was the one who needed to be convinced.
Diane showed them another photograph of the rope. “This part of the rope-the opposite end from the noose-has Stacy Dance’s epithelials and blood on it for a length of a little more than eighteen inches. She was strangled with this end.” Diane looked to Kingsley.
“We also found other evidence, which we will discuss in a moment,” said Kingsley. He nodded to Lynn Webber.
Lynn placed her autopsy photographs of Stacy’s neck on the table beside the photograph they took of Stacy as she was found. She handed them her report. With her well-manicured fingers, Lynn pointed to Stacy’s neck in their photo. Lynn didn’t use nail polish. She buffed her nails to a shine and kept them short. Her nail beds were long and made her nails look longer than they were. She had pretty hands that were a contrast to the difficult photographs she was showing.
“This ligature here,” she said, pointing to a reddened line across the neck, “it’s the same line here on your photo. This is the mark left when she was strangled, as evidenced by the deep-cutting indentation of the rope and the characteristic perimortem color and pattern of the tissue damage.”
Stark nodded. “Go on.”
“This ligature”-she pointed to a second indentation around the neck-“is where the rope was later tied around her neck-the way she was found. If you look at your photograph, you can see some of it where the towel sort of lifts the rope a little.”
She handed them a magnifying glass. Stark and Fisher picked up the photographs and examined each.
“Notice the different color,” Webber said. “See that the bruising did not spread through the tissues from the site of the rope. She was already dead when this was tied around her neck.”
Chief Stark had a copy of Doppelmeyer’s autopsy report. She read it over several times.
“Oran, you don’t mention two strangulation ligatures,” said Stark.
Detective Fisher took the report from her and read it.
“It means nothing,” Doppelmeyer said. “I told you she’s incompetent. This is not an original photograph. She probably Photoshopped this.”
“This is a copy of the photograph from your file,” said Kingsley. “If you compare it with the original in your file, you’ll see that it hasn’t been changed in any way. If you don’t believe the photographic evidence, Stacy Dance hasn’t been reburied yet. You can have a third ME look at her.”
They were silent for several long moments. Diane could now see the doubt in both Stark and Fisher. Doppelmeyer saw it too.
“You’re not buying this crap, are you?” he said.
Neither answered him.
“What is the other evidence you mentioned?” asked Detective Fisher. “The evidence that involves their cases.” He wagged his hand between Detective Hanks and Sheriff Braden.
“The hell with this,” said Doppelmeyer. “If this is all you have, I have important work to do. What a waste of time. I’m glad I drove.” He got up to leave.
Diane asked one of the policemen to show him how to get to the first floor. She then turned to Hanks and nodded. He and Braden told them about Marcella Payden and Mary Phyllis Lassiter. Hanks told them about the fiber evidence and he told them about the boot print.
“The same boot print showed up at the Stacy Dance scene,” said Hanks. “We don’t know why. The crimes were completely different. Not just the age of the victim, but”-he threw up his hands-“all of it. With Payden and Lassiter, it was like a smash and grab. Very quick and violent. With Miss Dance, it was staged and slow. It’s possible the same person was involved in both. Or it’s possible your guy threw away the clothes he used and our guys found them.”
“When Diane told us about the evidence connection,” said Sheriff Braden, “we looked for some connection between our victims and yours. Couldn’t find any. Not that we had a lot of time to look-this evidence just came to light-but still, nothing so far.”
“If you get a suspect, we’d like you to allow us to watch the interrogation. We’ll do the same,” said Hanks.
Both Braden and Hanks had been very matter-of-fact, assuming that Gainesville PD would reopen the Dance case. They didn’t know anything about the politics or the biases that closed it in the first place. They were just looking at the evidence. Diane suspected Stark and perhaps Fisher noticed that about them, the lack of guile.
“All right,” said Chief Nancy Stark. “We’ll take another look. I’m not making any promises.”
“There’s something else,” said Kingsley.
“What’s that?” asked Stark, frowning.
“I almost hate to say, because it’s going to turn someone’s world upside down,” said Kingsley. “But she knows it’s coming. You know the young woman who discovered the body of Stacy Dance?”
“The gal from Ohio, cousin to the drummer?” said Fisher. “I suppose I need to get her back here.”
“She’s not the drummer’s cousin,” said Kingsley. “Her name is Samantha Carruthers. She’s the sister of Ellie Carruthers-the teenager Stacy Dance’s brother was convicted of killing.”
“What?” said Fisher. “The hell you say. You are not serious?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Kingsley.
“What the hell was she doing hanging out with the Dance girl?” Fisher said.
“Several reasons,” said Kingsley. “Among them, I suspect Samantha Carruthers had doubts about the identity of her sister’s murderer. I think it was something subconscious, but I believe it was there.”
“How did they get together?” asked Fisher.
“They were in the same college class,” said Kingsley. “Stacy had a band. Samantha played the guitar and wanted to join the band.”
“How did you find out?” he said.
“I was retracing Stacy Dance’s last days. I spoke with her band members. Samantha Carruthers was there, but she was introduced to me only as the drummer’s cousin, visiting from out of town. I went to meet with the Carruthers family, as Stacy had, and Samantha showed up at home-literally walked in through the front door-while I was interviewing Mrs. Carruthers. ‘Hi, Mom. Hi, dear.’ Imagine my surprise.”
“Damn, imagine
“She said she didn’t want her parents to know. You can imagine what their reaction would be. I didn’t give her away. I knew something must be up. She met with Diane and me later and spilled the beans. Samantha’s moved out now. I’m not sure where, but the drummer probably knows. I told her you would be finding out. Your showing up won’t be a surprise to her, but it will be to her parents. Like I said, I hadn’t wanted to turn her world
