Things were worse at the office. Driving down the scrub oak allée that led to the municipal buildings, Jenner saw a thicket of mobile transmission masts outside the morgue buildings. There were a half-dozen news vans—Port Fontaine, Fort Myers, Miami, even a second CNN van—lined up along the compound’s wall. In front of the CNN truck, a reporter gestured to the county medical examiner’s office sign, already broadcasting to the nation.
Jenner drove past them, around to the back entrance, where bodies were received. A small cluster of men waited in the shade along the fence; spotting him, they jumped to their feet to record his arrival with shoulder-mounted cameras. Security buzzed him in, the gates pulling back slowly to let him pass. The cameramen set their equipment back down to wait for the real show.
In the loading area, everything looked surprisingly ready. After an airplane crash had caused total chaos in the office the previous summer, Marty had initiated quarterly disaster drills; these clearly had paid off. The technicians had set up two intake stations by the mortuary entrance; the bodies would be immediately weighed, measured, photographed, and X-rayed while still inside the body bags.
Bunny and Bucky Rutledge sat side by side at the morgue entrance, dressed in scrubs, chain-smoking. Next to them, he recognized Marie Carter’s husband, David, a pathologist at Port Fontaine General, who occasionally helped out with forensic cases. Behind Carter was a dark, plump, bald man with a thick black mustache and glasses, whom Jenner didn’t recognize.
The only open parking space had a stenciled black-and-white sign M. ROBURN MD, CHIEF MEDICAL EXAMINER, DISTRICT 112; conscious that they were all watching, Jenner pulled into Marty’s spot.
He nodded at the techs, thanked Carter for coming, and was introduced to Dr. El-Bashir, the odontologist. El-Bashir’s hand was fleshy and cool; he smelled faintly of rosewater. His speech was elegant and precise, with the whispered trace of an English accent.
“A pleasure, Dr. Jenner. I am sorry that we meet only now; Dr. Roburn has said many wonderful things about you.”
Jenner said he’d heard good things about El-Bashir too; he had a vague feeling they’d met at a forensics meeting, in Denver, maybe.
“I’m delighted to be of service in any way that I can.” El-Bashir paused, then said, “I wanted to see you in person to tell you I have finished the charting and the comparison, and…” He tried to find a way to phrase it delicately, but couldn’t. “I’ve confirmed that those are the bodies of Marty and Bobbie.”
He nodded solemnly, then added, “But I think you already know this.”
“Believed rather than knew. Thank you, doctor.”
They followed Jenner through the entryway and into the autopsy room. He sat on a stainless steel stool, and leaned back against the tiled wall with a sigh of relief. They looked at him expectantly.
“Okay…We’ve got four of them, all look like adult males.” His voice rattled in the airy space, bouncing off the stainless steel and tile. “Two are pretty much skeletons, been there months, I’m thinking. The other two are pretty putrefied, two, three weeks gone. All four were hanged; at least two were tortured first.
“All four are unidentified, and there won’t be ID on the bodies. Hanging is the likely cause of death for all four; all homicides.
“One thing: this case is already all over the TV, and nationally—CNN sent a chopper out to the Glades to blow our crime scene around. This will be a total media orgy—reporters in front of the building, reporters in the lobby, maybe even reporters coming up to you when you’re out walking the dog. They’ve got cameras by the back entrance, so be careful when you’re out there, whether you’re bringing a body in or just having a smoke. I trust you completely, but please spread the word: if anyone leaks word one of this investigation to anybody, I’ll fire them on the spot.”
Their faces were grave; they knew he was serious. “And I do mean to anybody, including the cops—I don’t want some idiot deputy rushing off to the press with some random juicy tidbit he’s half-heard. We’re going to run a professional murder investigation, not some circus sideshow. I can’t stop the sheriff’s office from screwing the pooch, but it’s not going to be us, okay?”
He glanced around them as they nodded.