Dead Guilty by Beverly Connor Page B

and Green done shortly.’’
‘‘Good. Perhaps we can find out who they were.’’ Diane pulled out a coil of orange string to tie off the rope for cutting.
‘‘If this keeps up,’’ said Lynn, ‘‘you’re going to run out of colors.’’

Chapter 10
    ‘‘Looks like autoerotic asphyxia,’’ said the black tech nician when he saw the body. ‘‘I had one about six months ago. Just a kid.’’
    Jin stopped an examination of the chest of drawers and walked over. ‘‘Most instances of autoerotic as phyxia are adolescents,’’ he said. ‘‘This doesn’t look like it. Wouldn’t you say, Boss?’’
    ‘‘I think we don’t need to speculate,’’ said Diane.
    ‘‘His hands are tied awful tight,’’ said the other assistant.
‘‘Maybe he had help,’’ his partner suggested. ‘‘The rope is tight around the front where he’s leaning into it, but there’s a lot of give in the back.’’ They held the body while Diane tied off the yellow polypropyl ene rope with orange string and cut it.
‘‘He sure looks trussed up around the neck like that kid. The kid’s mother moved all the porn he had in the room,’’ the technician continued. He looked around the bedroom. ‘‘Friends and family will do that, you know.’’ The technician didn’t want to give up his diagnosis.
‘‘Let’s get this poor boy out of here,’’ said Lynn Webber. She stripped off her gloves as the technicians placed the remains of Chris Edwards in the body bag. ‘‘Be careful of the ropes,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Will do.’’ The black man smiled at Diane. ‘‘Pete and I always give our guest a good ride. Don’t we, Pete?’’
‘‘You bet. We’ve never had any complaints.’’ The two of them laughed.
Lynn left, telling Diane she wouldn’t be getting to the autopsy until the afternoon, so Diane could come then and retrieve the ropes.
Whit stayed until the body was removed and Lynn was gone. Diane walked him to the door.
‘‘I had a talk with his girlfriend before letting her go home,’’ said Whit, leaning close to Diane and speaking low, though only she and her crew were in the house.
‘‘She said there’s usually a key under the mat. It was on the desk when she got here. I asked her if anything was missing that she could see. She said she thought his laptop was gone. He usually keeps it on the desk along with a DVD player.’’
Whit pointed to a pine table against the wall flanked by two speakers. The table was empty, but the dust pattern showed that something had sat there.
Diane looked around the room for any other ghosts of missing objects. It was a sparse room with walls painted the color of sand. The furniture consisted of a brown futon couch and two chairs, one stuffed and slipcovered in brown corduroy, the other a canebacked rocker. The coffee table was a large roughhewn cross-section of a tree trunk with glass covering the top. The some-assembly-required computer desk sat against one wall.
On the wall opposite the couch, a tall bookcase held a television and books on forestry and stacks of Na tional Geographic . Beside it was the table where the DVD player had sat. The hardwood floors were bare.
‘‘Jin took the girlfriend’s—Kacie Beck’s—fingerprints before she left. She was very cooperative,’’ he said.
Diane nodded. Whit’s dark eyes looked sympathetic as he took a final look toward the bedroom.
‘‘Young guy.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I’m not sure why I ran for this office. I’m thinking of bowing out the next election.’’
‘‘Working with murder is certainly wearing on men tal health,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Sometimes it seems like peo ple have become so used to it, they’ve lost their perspective on the horror of it.’’
‘‘Dad thinks it’s movies and television, but I don’t know what it is.’’ He shook his head again as if to shake the thoughts from his mind. ‘‘Tell Frank I said hello.’’
Frank, thought Diane. He’s due back from San