Free Dawson's Web by William Hutchison

partially a result of the good forensic work that you and your boys did here in the coroner’s office.”
    “That was over 30 years ago. I’m surprised you still remember it.”
    Fred quipped back, “I don’t have Alzheimer’s. I’ve got old-timers disease. I can remember the old days, but ask me where I ate lunch today and I wouldn’t have a clue.”
    Both of them laughed. They were both in their 60s and knew exactly where each was coming from.
    “So what was the cause of death?” Fred asked again.
    “Very simple. It looks to me like whoever did this knew how to handle a knife. The first blow that was struck entered right below her windpipe and then the knife was pulled to the right abruptly. It severed the girl’s neck almost to the spinal column cutting her carotid artery in the process. The girl bled out in minutes. He probably came up to her from behind for more leverage.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Yes, the perp had anger issues.”
    “What you mean?”
    “Look here on her chest. There are several postmortem stab wounds.”  Jablonski pulled the sheet down past her pubic bone and pointed to a gaping one-inch in diameter hole, right above her vagina.
    “These were all inflicted after she was dead. I don’t know why anyone would do such horrific acts to someone who was already dead. This was pure evil and hatred.”
    “Did you get any DNA samples? She was raped, right?”
    “Yes, she was raped, but the perp used a condom. We checked her fingernails, but there were no DNA samples. By the looks of the ligature marks on her wrists, the perp overpowered her, raped her and then killed her. After which, he mutilated the body. This is the third such victim we have seen in the last seven months. All were young. All were attractive. All were blonde. But they all had the same type of post-mortem stab wounds, including the one above the vagina. In each case, the modus-operandi was nearly identical. We have a serial killer here on our hands.”
    “I haven’t seen anything in the press. How are you able to keep this quiet?” Fred asked.
    “Headquarters wants to keep a lid on it to not panic the public. The murders are random. They’ve ranged from the beach area to West Covina, to Big Bear. A tri-agency task force is working it, but it’s all within police channels. They don’t have anything solid yet.  All we have is the corpses and the similar ligature marks, similar neck slashing, and the same vaginal wounds.”
    “My God in Heaven! This guy’s a monster!” Fred stared back at the body. The girl was so lovely.
    “Such a waste!” Fred said. “I’ve seen enough here. I’m about ready to lose my breakfast.”
    “I understand. To me, it’s like working in a butcher shop. The soul is gone. All these cadavers are pieces of meat to me. I’ve been doing this for 35 years. So I have a strong stomach.  Nothing much bothers me anymore!”
    Fred turned and left. “I’m headed over to forensics. I want to see what they processed from the crime scene. I want to see if they have any solid evidence that might lead us to this bastard.”
    Hyman finished washing his hands and gave Fred a handshake. “Goodbye, my friend. I may not see you before your retirement ceremony. It’s been really good working with you over the years.”
    “Yeah, Hyman, you have to come up to Bridgeport and see me. We could do some fishing and some drinking’.”
    “I’d love to do that. Anything to get out of the city and have a little bit more of a normal life.”
     
     
    Fred walked up to the second floor where the forensics lab was. His friend, Joe Carotola, a short little Italian man in his 60’s met him at the door.
    “Good seeing you, old man!” Joe said escorting him in. “I got your call. We finished processing the crime scene, and we have a couple of things.
    First, the perp was pretty thorough. No fibers of any sort. No DNA.
    We got a smeared shoeprint in the entryway, but we have no way of knowing if it’s his or