G Is for Gumshoe

You?"
    "Mmm. Your package arrived."
    The box was sitting just inside the door, addressed to me in my own writing. "Have you inspected this for incendiary devices?"
    His tone was dry. "It's clear. Go ahead."
    I got a paring knife from the kitchen drawer and slit the strapping tape. The articles were packed as I remembered them, my all-purpose dress close to the surface. I pulled it out and inspected it, relieved to find it in better shape than I'd hoped. It was only moderately encrusted with mold, though it did smell of swamp gas, a scent that hovered somewhere between spoiled eggs and old toilet bowls.
    Dietz caught one whiff and turned to me, his face twisted with distaste. "What is that? Good God…"
    "This is my best dress," I said. "I just need to throw it in the wash and it'll be fine."
    I set it aside and worked my way through the remaining contents, removing tools and other odds and ends. In the bottom was the child's tea set, still packed in the carton I'd pulled from under Agnes Grey's trailer. "I should drop this off at Irene's," I remarked, placing the carton near the door. There were few, if any, personal items left to commemorate Agnes Grey's eighty-three years on earth and I thought Irene might appreciate the articles.
    Dietz looked up from his paper. "Which reminds me. Dr. Palchak called at seven thirty this morning with the autopsy results. She wanted you to call her whenever you got up."
    "That was fast."
    "That's what I thought. She says she likes to get in at five when she's got a post."
    I dialed the number for St. Terry's and asked for pathology. I'd dealt with Laura Palchak maybe twice before. She's short, plain, heavyset, competent, hardworking, thorough, and very smart, one of several pathologists under contract to the county, handling postmortem examinations for the coroner's office. "Palchak," she said when she came on the line. "Hi, Laura. Kinsey Millhone. Thanks for responding to my note. What's the story on Agnes Grey?"
    There was a brief pause. "The coroner's office will be contacting Mrs. Gersh a little later this morning so this is just between us, okay?"
    "Absolutely."
    "The autopsy was negative. We won't have the toxi results back for weeks, but the gross came up blank."
    "So what's the cause of death?"
    "Essentially, it was cardiac arrest, but hell… everybody dies of cardiac or respiratory arrest if you want to get right down to it. The point is there was no demonstrable organic heart disease and no other natural findings that contributed to death. Technically, we have to list the cause of death as undetermined."
    "What's that mean, 'technically'? I don't like the way you said that."
    She laughed. "Good question. You're right. I have a hunch about this one, but I need to do some research. I've talked to the hospital librarian about tracking down an article I read a few years back. I don't know what made me think of it, but something about this situation rang a little bell."
    "Like what? Can you fill me in?"
    "Not yet. I'm having my assistant set up some tissue slides that I can probably take a look at by this afternoon. I have sixteen cases lined up before this one, but I'm curious."
    "Do you need anything from me?"
    "I do have a suggestion if you're open to this. I'm very interested in what happened to this woman during the hours she was missing. It would be a big help if you can find out where she was all that time."
    "Well, I can try," I said, "but it may turn out to be a trick. Am I looking for anything in particular?"
    "She had what looked like rope burns on her right wrist, torn and broken nails on her left-"
    "Oh yeah, I saw that," I said with sudden recollection. "The knuckles on her left hand were scraped, too."
    "Right. It's possible she was held someplace against her will. You might see if anybody has a potting shed or a greenhouse. I took some soil traces from her fingernails and we might find a match. She also had superficial abrasions and contusions across her back. I saw a kid just last week with similar marks on his thighs and buttocks. He'd been beaten with a coat hanger… among other things."
    "Are you saying she was beaten?"
    "Probably."
    "Does Lieutenant Dolan know about this?"
    "He and the police photographer were both present for the post, so he saw the same things I did. The truth is, there was no internal trauma and the injuries were too minor to be considered the cause of death."
    "What's your theory then?"
    "Unh-unh. Not till I do a bit of checking