The Night Killer

Conrad.
    “Oh,” said Scott, “I guess this is for you too.”
    “You have some more information?” said Diane.
    Scott nodded. “You know those tree and concrete parts you asked us to analyze? Well, I have the report here.” He gently waved the folder. “Quite a lot of decompositional by-products. Someone definitely decomposed inside the tree. Is that weird or what?”
    “Were you able to get any indication of postmortem interval?” asked Diane.
    He rocked a hand back and forth, indicating that it was inconclusive. She thought it would be.
    “You know how it is after remains have been completely skeletonized. But Hector and I are working on a research design for a time- line analysis of decomposition chemistry of the soil surrounding human skeletal remains. And we really, really appreciate the space you are letting us turn into a research facility. We would kiss your feet, but that would probably be too weird.”
    Diane smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s a good adjunct to the DNA lab,” she said. “Can you tell if the body was in the tree for as long as a hundred years?”
    Scott looked surprised. “A hundred years? It was in there way less time than that. I’m not sure we would have found much chemical residue after that amount of time. But the button and fibers are pretty helpful.”
    The elevator reached the third floor and they got out at Exhibit Preparations and walked down the hallway toward the crime lab.
    “Button and fibers?” said Diane.
    Scott pulled out two smaller clear bags. Inside one she saw a pink-brown incised button. The other bag contained pink fibers.
    “Yes. David analyzed these. Did you know he has a button database? Amazing.”
    Diane nodded. “You’ll discover that David is in the process of databasing the world,” she said.
    Scott snickered.
    “What about the button and fibers?” asked Diane. “What did they tell us?”
    “They were partially encased in the cement. The fibers were in the shank of the button. The button’s from China, made of shell, and was incised with a laser. Don’t think they had those a hundred years ago. The fact of the matter is, the button was manufactured about five years ago. The fiber’s polyester. It has a very unique cross section that David showed me. Very interesting. Got pictures.” He held up the folder. “The fiber was introduced five years ago too, and was also manufactured in China.”
    Diane turned to Travis, who had been watching and listening with interest.
    “So,” said Travis, “Dr. Linden’s wrong. Daddy ain’t gonna like that.”
    “Will he believe it?” asked Diane.
    “Yeah, he ain’t stupid. He just wants the world to be different from what it is,” he said.
    “Don’t we all,” said Diane.
    Diane took the evidence and thanked Scott. She led Travis to the crime lab. David and Izzy were there, both working on different computers. Travis stood looking at the lab and all the equipment. Unlike his father, he appeared to be fascinated.
    “You know,” he said, “I didn’t understand much of what that guy was talking about. I’m not sure I would ever understand it,” he said.
    “You don’t have to. You just need to know the kind of analysis that can be done with evidence,” said Diane. “Didn’t they cover this in the senior deputy certification courses you took?” asked Diane.
    “Probably. I have to confess, I’m not a real good student. It wasn’t that important to Daddy, so I just got by. I did excel in Advanced Report Writing and Verbal Judo.” He laughed. “Seriously, I did listen in the forensic modules, and got pretty good in fingerprint analysis, but there was just so much stuff.”
    “You probably picked up more knowledge than you think,” said Diane.
    “Maybe. How are we going to do this? I don’t really want Daddy to know I’m here.”
    “I’ll give him a call,” said Diane. “Perhaps I’d better do that first.” She motioned to the round conference table in a corner of the room and they sat down. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and keyed the sheriff’s number. She was looking forward to speaking with him.

Chapter 20
    In the middle of dialing the sheriff’s number Diane realized that he would probably be at the new crime scene. He wasn’t. She was lucky; she caught the sheriff in his office. He wasn’t pleased to hear from her. She hadn’t expected he would be.
    “I’m busy right now. Don’t have time to talk,” he said in his rather odd, clipped