Part 4 (1/2)
”It dries quickly through evaporation of the alcohol, usually in thirty to sixty minutes. Although being in the subarctic won't speed things up.”
I checked the jaw fragments, hit one with a few more drops, then rested the pipette on the solution jar cover. Ryan came around and held out a hand. I took it and rose to my feet, wrapping my arms around my middle and tucking my hands under my pits. I could feel nothing in my fingers, and suspected my nose was the shade of Ryan's scarf. And running.
”It's colder than a witch's t.i.t down here,” he agreed, surveying the bas.e.m.e.nt. He held one arm behind him at an odd angle. ”How long have you been down here?”
I looked at my watch. No wonder I was hypothermic. One-fifteen.
”Over four hours.”
”Che-rist. You're going to need a transfusion.”
It suddenly dawned. Ryan worked homicide.
”So it's arson?”
”Probably.”
He pulled a white bag from behind his back, withdrew a Styrofoam cup and a machine sandwich, and waggled them in front of me.
I lunged. He backed up.
”You'll owe me.”
”It's in the mail.”
Soggy bologna and lukewarm coffee. It was wonderful. We talked while I ate.
”Tell me why you think it's arson,” I said as I chewed.
”Tell me what you've got here.”
O.K. He was a sandwich up.
”One person. Could be young, but it's not a little kid.”
”No babies?”
”No babies. Your turn.”
”Looks like someone used the old tried and true. The fire burned in trails way down between the floorboards. Where there still are are floorboards, that is. That means liquid accelerant, probably gasoline. We found dozens of empty gas cans.” floorboards, that is. That means liquid accelerant, probably gasoline. We found dozens of empty gas cans.”
”That's it?” I finished the sandwich.
”The fire had more than one point of origin. Once it started it burned like a son of a b.i.t.c.h, because it set off the world's largest indoor collection of propane tanks. Big boom every time one went. Another tank, another big boom.”
”How many?”
”Fourteen.”
”It started in the kitchen?”
”And the adjoining room. Whatever that was. Hard to tell now.”
I thought it over.
”That explains the head and jaw.”
”What about the head and jaw?”
”They were about five feet away from the rest of the body. If a propane tank fell through with the victim and exploded later, that could have caused the head to relocate after it burned away from the trunk. Same with the jaw.”
I finished the coffee, wis.h.i.+ng I had another sandwich.
”Could the tanks have ignited accidentally?”
”Anything's possible.”
I flicked crumbs from my jacket and thought of LaManche's doughnuts. Ryan fished in the bag and handed me a napkin.
”O.K. The fire had multiple points of origin and there's evidence of an accelerant. It's arson. Why?”
”Got me.” He gestured at the body bag. ”Who's this?”
”Got me.”
Ryan headed upstairs, and I went back to the recovery. The jaw was not quite dry, so I turned my attention to the skull.
The brain contains a large amount of water. When exposed to fire, it boils and expands, setting up hydrostatic pressure inside the head. Given enough heat, the cranial vault may crack or even explode. This person was in pretty good shape. Though the face was gone and the outer bone was charred and flaking, large segments of the skull were intact. I was surprised, given the intensity of this fire.
When I cleaned away the mud and ash and looked closely, I saw why. For a moment I just stared. I rolled the skull over and inspected the frontal bone.
Sweet Jesus.
I climbed the ladder and poked my head into the kitchen. Ryan stood by the counter talking with the photographer.
”You'd better come down,” I said.
They both raised eyebrows and pointed to their chests.
”Both of you.”
Ryan set down the Styrofoam cup he was holding.
”What?”
”This one may not have lived to see the fire.”