Free Death in Cold Water by Patricia Skalka Page A

stared at her.
    â€œIn the 1800s, the cemeteries were poisoning the water supply and had to be emptied. At night processions of carts moved through the city, bringing the remains to the tunnels where the priests used them to build altars and shrines. It’s eerie but also very beautiful.”
    â€œSounds macabre.”
    â€œTheir way of laughing at death.”
    Again they both looked down at the bone that lay across Cubiak’s calloused palm.
    â€œMaybe it’s not human. Maybe it’s from a large animal,” he said, but he spoke without conviction.
    â€œShould we bury it?”
    â€œNo.” Cubiak stood, brushing sand from his knee. He didn’t know why but the bone seemed important, not something to be ignored. If it was from an animal, he’d discard it later, but if it was from a human, it deserved to be treated with respect.
    â€œI want you to photograph it here on the beach. I’ll look around the dunes in case there’s more. Then I’ll take it to Emma Pardy to see what she has to say.”
    T he medical examiner was at her desk, frowning at her computer monitor. Pardy wore her uniform of the day: jeans and a cotton sweater, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her Harvard diploma shared the wall with her children’s finger paintings and a family photo taken out west where there were mountains.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” she said when he walked in. “I was at the court this morning and there seemed to be an unusual amount of activity on your side of the building.”
    â€œBig case. A missing person,” Cubiak said as he slipped into the visitor’s chair Pardy pointed him to.
    â€œMust be someone important.”
    â€œGerald Sneider.”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œThat’s because you’re not from around here,” Cubiak responded. Then he ran through the highlights of Sneider’s pedigree and a condensed version of the situation.
    When he finished, Pardy gave him a quizzical look. “FBI? And how’s that going?”
    â€œSo far, so good. They’re smart.”
    â€œYou aren’t just being polite?”
    Cubiak shrugged. “The feds have instant access to information it would take weeks for me to get my hands on, as well as other classified data that’s off limits to me. They’re also very high tech. Not exactly my style but I appreciate what it can do.”
    â€œBut you’re not here to tell me about the feds.”
    The sheriff put the towel-wrapped bundle on the medical examiner’s desk. “Something my dog found on the beach near Baileys Harbor,” he said as he undid the cloth.
    Pardy’s face hardened. She picked up the bone. “When?”
    â€œToday, maybe an hour ago.”
    â€œYou think it has something to do with the case?”
    â€œNo, but I couldn’t leave it there, and I wanted you to have a look,” he explained.
    The physician studied the bone from a number of angles and then put it back down. “It’s definitely human and one of the long bones that make up the limbs. This one, the radius,” she said as she held up her arm and ran a finger along the inside from wrist to elbow. “The narrower end connects at the elbow and the wider end here at the wrist.”
    â€œAny way to determine gender?”
    â€œNot really. Could be male or female. No way to know the exact age either, though I could make a reasonable guess.”
    Pardy carried the bone to the skeleton model suspended from a black metal frame in the corner. “This is an average adult male, and look how much longer and thicker the radius is than the one you found,” she said, holding up the bone from the beach alongside the arm of the model. “Depending on how long it’s been exposed to the elements, erosion could account for some shrinkage, but this doesn’t look like it’s from the skeleton of an adult, unless it’s from a very