Silence interrupted my thoughts. LaManche had stopped dictating and replaced wool gloves with latex. He began to examine victim number two, lifting the eyelids and observing the inside of the nose and mouth. Then he rolled the body toward the wall and raised the shirttail.
The outer layer of skin had split and the edges were curling back. The peeling epidermis looked translucent, like the delicate film inside an egg. Underneath, the tissue was bright red, mottled white where it had lain in contact with the crumpled sheets. LaManche pressed a gloved finger into the back muscle and a white spot appeared in the scarlet flesh.
Hubert rejoined us as LaManche was returning the body to its supine position. We both looked a question at him.
“Empty.”
LaManche and I did not change expression.
“There are a couple of cribs in there. Must be the kids’ room. Neighbors say there were two babies.” He was breathing hard. “Twin boys. They’re not in there.”
Hubert took out a hankie and wiped his chapped face. Sweat and arctic air are not a good combination. “Anything here?”
“Of course this will require a full autopsy,” answered LaManche in his melancholy bass. “But based on my preliminary, I would say that these people were alive when the fire broke out. At least this one was.”
He indicated body number two.
“I’ll be here another thirty minutes or so, then you may remove them.”
Hubert nodded and left to tell his transport team.
LaManche crossed to the first body, then returned to the second. I watched in silence, breathing warmth onto my mittened fingers. Finally, he finished. I didn’t have to ask.
“Smoke,” he said. “Around the nostrils, in the nose and air passages.” He looked at me.
“They were still breathing during the fire.”
“Yes. Anything else?”
“The lividity. The cherry red color. That suggests carbon monoxide in the blood.”
“And . . . ?”
“The blanching when you applied pressure. Livor isn’t fixed yet. Blanching only occurs for a matter of hours after lividity first develops.”
“Yes.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just past eight now. This one could have been alive as late as three or four A.M.” He pulled off the latex gloves. “
The question went unanswered. We heard commotion below, then feet pounded up the stairs. A fireman appeared in the doorway, flushed and breathing hard.
“
I ran through my quebecois lexicon. Not there. I looked at LaManche. Before he could translate the man went on.
“Someone here named Brennan?” he asked LaManche.
The hollow feeling spread to my innards.
“We’ve got a body in the basement. They say we’re going to need this Brennan guy.”
“I’m Tempe Brennan.”
He looked at me for a long time, helmet under one arm, head tipped. Then he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and looked back at LaManche.
“You can go down there as soon as the chief clears you through. And better bring a spoon. There’s not much left of this one.”
3
THE VOLUNTEER FIREMAN LED US DOWN THE STAIRS AND INTO THE back of the house. Here, most of the roof was gone and sunlight poured into the gloomy interior. Particles of soot and dust danced on the wintry air.
We stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. On the left I could make out the remains of a counter, sink, and several large appliances. The dishwasher was open, its contents black and melted. Charred boards lay everywhere, the same giant pickup sticks I’d seen in the front rooms.
“Keep back by the walls,” said the fireman, gesturing with his arm as he disappeared around the doorjamb.
He reappeared seconds later, working his way along the west side of the room. Behind him, the countertop curled upward like a giant licorice twist. Embedded in it were fragments of shattered wine bottles and unidentifiable globs of various sizes.
LaManche and I followed, sliding along the front wall, then rounding the corner and moving down the counter. We stayed as far from the center of the room as possible, picking our way through burned rubble, imploded metal containers, and scorched propane tanks.
I stopped next to the fireman, back to the counter, and surveyed the damage. The kitchen and an adjacent room were incinerated. The ceilings were gone, the separating wall reduced to a few charred timbers. What had
