Primary Justice (Ben Kincaid series Book 1) by William Bernhardt Page B

else could we possibly find that would help you, Doctor?” Mike asked obsequiously. “Point us poor working slobs in the right direction.”
    “Marks left on the neck by fingers,” Koregai noted, as if dictating a report. “Coupled with the bruises on the back and shoulders, it suggests the victim was pinned against a wall or floor. Probably a wall. He struggled to free himself—that explains the bruises on both elbows and his hands. Also, bruising of the throat and voice box indicates that the grip on his neck was quite strong.”
    “The killer overpowered Adams?”
    “Perhaps.”
    Ben took slow, deep breaths and tried to pretend he was in Rio. “You haven’t even mentioned that horrible blow to his face. And why so many gashes all over his body?”
    Dr. Koregai did not look up from his work. “Very low correlation of bruising to blows.”
    “No bruises?” Ben said. “What does that mean?”
    Mike turned to look at Ben. “It means Adams was already dead when the killer ventilated him,” Mike said. “Right, Doctor?”
    “Right.” Koregai set down the saw and took a thin stilettolike knife from his worktable. “Corpse was killed by two knife wounds, one through his head and neck and one to his torso. Mutilated afterward.”
    Ben heard himself literally gasp. The paper towel clung to his face.
    “One entry slit penetrated the floor of the skull, cut through the jugular vein, through the neck muscles between the arches of the first and second cervical vertebrae and just reached the center of the brain stem. He would’ve been unconscious immediately.”
    “Thank God for that,” Ben murmured.
    “But that left him defenseless,” Mike said. “It left his body at the mercy of the sick bastard who took him apart.” Mike took a step closer to Koregai. “Is there anything we could provide to help you reach a conclusion regarding the time of death, Doctor?”
    The doctor was holding the stiletto in one hand and using his free hand to peel away thin layers of skin and body fat from the corpse’s midsection. “I already know the time of death. Corpse’s body was still relatively warm when found. Over eighty-five degrees. Given that the murder was followed by a series of mutilations that took at least five to ten minutes, and given that the corpse, which would be quite heavy at that point, was dragged into a garbage Dumpster, I’d place the time of death at 10:15 or 10:30. Preliminary analysis of stomach contents also supports this estimate.”
    “Relatively early for a robbery-murder,” Mike mused. “Still a lot of people wandering around.”
    Ben nodded in agreement.
    “Anything else I can do for you, Dr. Koregai?” Mike asked.
    The doctor looked up briefly. “Not at this time. The lab work from Forensics should be done in a day or two. Anything new I discover during the p.m. will appear in my final report. If I require anything further, I’ll let you know.”
    “Aye, commandant,” Mike whispered. He turned to Ben. “Anything I can do for you , pal?”
    “Yeah,” Ben said. He looked toward the door and saw two orderlies wheeling in another cadaver. “Get me the hell out of here.”

11
    B EN COOLED HIS HEELS in the outer lobby of Sanguine Enterprises.
    He noted that the entire area had been decorated in the orange and white colors of the Eggs ‘N’ Stuff trade logo. He made a mental note, in case he ever decorated a house or office, that orange was the least agreeable color for carpeting. Staring at it made him wish he had not eaten breakfast.
    Eventually, there was a buzz on the receptionist’s desk, then: “Mr. Sanguine can see you now.”
    Ben followed the woman—who, Ben noted with disgust, was wearing an orange and white dress—past a desk used by a security officer, through a winding corridor, and into the elevator lobby. After a short ride, they emerged on the second floor, which, she explained, was used exclusively for the offices of Sanguine and his vice presidents. Ben emerged