The Viper

K. Loeffler: We’re looking at the headless cadaver of a male of average height and weight. The head appears to have been severed from the torso at the level of the third or fourth cervical vertebra by a sharp instrument, likely a heavy cleaver or similar long-bladed tool. Substantial blood residue in the surrounding earth suggests this severing was the cause of death. All ten fingers are missing and appear to have been removed postmortem by a sharp compression instrument at the proximal interphalangeal joint. Preliminary estimate places the time of death between two and three days ago.

A second transcript described the autopsy findings.

Loeffler placed the likely age of the victim in his mid-forties to mid-fifties and shrank the time window of death to between 3:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m. on the Wednesday prior to the Saturday discovery of the body. During the trial that window was further narrowed to two hours—based on Lenny having left a message on Adrienne’s voicemail at 7:00 p.m.

What Gurney found most interesting was the difference between Loeffler’s on-site description of the likely weapon and his description of it in this autopsy report.

In place of his in situ opinion that the weapon was likely a long-bladed, cleaver-like tool, he now concluded that it was a short-bladed axe. He explained that though the evenness of the cut originally suggested a single stroke, subsequent analysis of the neck tissues under magnification indicated that the severing was achieved not with one stroke of a long blade but with two end-to-end strokes of a short blade. “A level of precision demanding considerable expertise on the part of the axe wielder,” Loeffler noted.

GURNEY WAS PONDERING Loeffler’s comment later that evening while he and Madeleine ate dinner. Short of working as a lumberjack, how might someone acquire that sort of proficiency?

Madeleine had stopped eating and was gazing across the table at him.

“You haven’t said a word since we sat down.”

He shrugged and shifted his focus to the braised chicken with rice and apricots on his plate. He was hesitant to discuss the case because he didn’t want to admit his growing involvement to Madeleine.

“The chicken’s good,” he said.

There was another silence, broken by Madeleine.

“Kyle called this afternoon. He said he got your phone message and yes, he’d love to come up for Thanksgiving.”

“Good.”

“You should get in touch with him more often.”

“I know.”

They finished their dinner without further conversation. Madeleine cleared the table, brewed some chamomile tea, and headed upstairs to practice her cello pieces. Gurney made himself an espresso and retreated to the den and the case materials.

Instead of reviewing documents, he placed a call to Bruno Lanka. He got Lanka’s voicemail.

“This call is for Bruno Lanka. My name is David Gurney. I’m reinvestigating the Leonard Lerman murder, and I need to speak to you regarding the statement you made last November to the detective at the scene. You can reach me tomorrow morning between nine and noon.” He’d long ago discovered that providing a time window for a response made it more likely to get one. He included his cell number and ended the call.

23

GURNEY’S PHONE RANG AT 9:01 THE NEXT MORNING WHILE he was washing his breakfast dishes. He expected the caller to be Lanka, but the name on the screen was Hardwick.

“Yes, Jack?”

“Those names you gave me—Sally Bones and Ian Valdez? I found three people called Ian Valdez, but I doubt any of them would interest you. One’s a retired dentist in Chicago. Another’s a Jesuit in Boston. And the third’s a middle-aged choreographer in Los Angeles.”

“No one younger?”

“If your Valdez is young, either he’s using a phony name or he just hatched out of a fucking egg. Better luck with Sally Bones. I found a reference to a Salvatore Bono who died in odd circumstances about six years ago. A short news item mentioned he was known to his friends as Sally Bones. No one was listed as surviving him, no wake, no funeral notice.”

“What were the odd circumstances?”

“Body was found in a dumpster behind a fast-food joint in Albany, not far from where he lived. But get this—he was crushed to death.”

“Crushed . . . how?”

“News item quoted someone in the medical examiner’s office, saying it was like something had been wrapped around him and tightened until it cut off his circulation and respiration, literally squeezed the life out of him.”