The Bone Bed

prints, for DNA. If you don’t want to collect it, I will.” I retrieve a paper bag from my case and collect the evidence myself.
    “He started drinking again about the time he started tweeting Peggy Stanton.”
    “She was dead by Labor Day.” Next I collect the empty bag lining the trash can. “She was dead long before then.”
    “When did you become aware that Marino had started drinking again?”
    “I don’t know for a fact if and when Marino started drinking again.”
    “She was dead long before Labor Day? You’re absolutely sure of that?”
    I tell her I am.
    “And how you arrived at what you seem to believe is gospel I simply find confusing.” She’s typing on her phone again. “In fact, it’s about as subjective as three blind people describing an elephant.”
    “Time of death is dependent on many factors, and it’s complicated.” I won’t give her the satisfaction of making me defensive.
    “Tell me why you’re so sure this lady’s been dead since the spring. Tell me why, based on information other than dates on magazines and how wilted the flowers are or how many burned-out lights there are or how overgrown the yard is.”
    I check the gas burners on the stovetop, and they flame up.
    “The lack of insect damage, the mold on her face and neck, and decomposition of organs, and her core body temperature are indications that she was stored in a closed structure where the air was dry and very cold,” I tell her again. “Possibly she was frozen.”
    “According to articles I’ve looked at, complete mummification can occur in as little as two weeks. So it really is rather up for grabs how long this lady’s been dead.”
    “It really isn’t.”
    “You say months. Someone else says weeks.”
    I open the pantry and find nothing that wouldn’t keep. The usual canned goods, all of them sodium-free, and whole-grain cereals, rice, and pasta.
    “It requires more than surfing the Internet to have an informed opinion.” I let her know someone is doing just that, probably whoever is sending the e-mails.
    “I’m sure I could find experts with your level of training who might have opinions very different from yours.” I’ve made her angry.
    “I’m sure you could.” I feel her eyes on my back. “That doesn’t mean those opinions would be correct.”
    It appears Peggy Stanton ate a lot of salads. A shelf is filled with bottles of fat-free Italian dressing, what must be two dozen bottles that were on special at Whole Foods. I shut the pantry door.
    A lady who was cautious and took good care of herself and her cat. She was frugal. She tightly controlled the world she had left.
    “Two weeks.” I consider what Burke said earlier. “Cases of a body completely mummifying in two weeks? That’s very interesting.”
    “It’s in the literature.” She’s openly argumentative, and it’s better that way.
    It’s easier. Let her skim through whatever lands in her inbox and hammer away.
    “And where might this have been? Where human remains were completely desiccated after only two weeks?” I walk out of the kitchen.
    “I certainly can’t tell you exactly where. Only that it’s possible.”
    “If you’re talking about the Sahara Desert, I suppose.” I head upstairs. “The hottest desert on the planet, and a body in those conditions will have some seventy percent loss of volume through dehydration in no time at all. It will be as dried out as beef jerky.”
    Burke is right behind me.
    “A hundred-and-forty-pound person who becomes completely mummified will weigh maybe forty pounds, will be leather over bones, hard dried-out skin that splits,” I let her know. “That’s what extreme heat and aridness does. It’s not something you find around here.”
    “People are creative. Especially if they’re experts, if it’s what they do professionally.” Of course she means Marino. “Experts in death investigation and all associated forensic evidence.”
    A guest room is on the left of the landing, and straight ahead through an open door is the master bedroom. I ignore what she’s so blatant about.
    “You were quoted all over the news for saying in court today that it would have taken months for Mildred Lott’s body to turn to soap.” Burke brings this in, and I’m not surprised, and I wonder if that’s been e-mailed to her, too. “You said one of the requirements is submersion in cold water.”
    The queen-size bed is canopied, the black-and-white damask duvet smooth and neatly