CHAPTER TWELVE

 

The city's Medical Examiner's office had moved from its longtime location behind the Hall of Justice building on Bryant Street to its new, dedicated, state of the art two-story facility on Newhall Street at India Basin in the Hunter's Point District.

Jack and Ray passed the city's latest sculpture called the Alma as they approached the public entrance.

Designed by renowned artist Richard Deutsch, the stainless-steel sails celebrated India Basin's rich boat-building past, having been an active harbor and shipyard in the 19th century. The Alma, a scow schooner, had been built by Fred Siemer in 1891 and named for his daughter. It was the last ever built in the basin and was the last one of its kind in all of America that was still on the water. Remarkably, the Alma had been purchased by the city from a private owner and restored in 1964, and ultimately named a National Historic Landmark in 1988 and was now moored off Hyde Street Pier as part of the Maritime National Historic Park.

In the smartly decorated lobby, Ray showed his badge at Reception and they were escorted through the building. They passed several offices down the long hallway before being led through large double doors and into the inner workings of the facility. Jack made a mental note to see if he could get access through the back of the building which was now protected by a high chain link fence with a large remotely activated sliding gate.

When they were led through the doors of the autopsy suite, Jon Cutter was just pulling a sheet over a decedent. After snapping off his soiled rubber gloves, Cutter met Jack and Ray with an extended hand.

"What brings both of you down here at this hour? I'd have thought you'd be home watching the game."

"Been there, done that," Jack said. "Best enchiladas in the city.”

"Sorry I couldn't be there. I've been cooped up here all afternoon. How'd the Niners do?"

"Ray owes me twenty bucks."

Gazing at Ray, Cutter said, "Tough luck. Always bet on the home team."

"Yeah, well," Ray said. "The home team hasn't done very well until this season."

Cutter chuckled. "What can I do for you? If you're here together, it either means you've gone back to the job, Jack, or Ray's working on a case you've stumbled into again." He crossed his arms over his dirty gown and gazed between both men.

"The latter," Jack said. "Can we talk somewhere?"

Cutter removed the long gown and tossed it into the trash, revealing his Hawaiian shirt over scrub pants. He pulled off the protective booties from his closed-toe white Crocs and added them to the trash. He washed up before leading them back through the warren to his office. He cleared boxes off the chairs in front of his desk and stacked them against the wall beside some other boxes.

As Jack and Ray sat in front of Cutter's desk, Jack noticed the view behind the desk overlooked part of Heron's Head Park which included waterfront trails along India Basin and an ecological center. Jack thought it was a much nicer view compared to the freeway from his previous office.

"Still unpacking?" Ray asked, gazing around the room. "Where's all your surf stuff?"

A crease formed between Cutter's eyes. "New department, new rules. All by the book. Most of the personal stuff has to go." With a cock of his head toward the boxes, he added, "It all came over in the move, but I have to take it home at some point."

"Let me know when you're ready. I've got the Jeep out."

"And I've got the truck," Ray added.

Cutter gave a curt nod as he took his seat behind the desk. "Thanks, guys."

"Glad to see they let you keep the Aloha shirts." Jack nodded at the vintage yellow shirt festooned with surfers, hula girls, and other Hawaiian iconry.

The look on Cutter's face was unmistakable. "They'll have to strip my Kuu Ipos from my cold, dead body."

Jack would have chuckled if he didn't know how serious his friend was about his shirts. It could get him kicked out of Cutter's office. He couldn't afford that right now. They had important business to discuss.

"Coffee? I can't guarantee it hasn't been brewing a while, but it's hot."

Jack and Ray shook their heads in unison. "No thanks, Jon. If you don't mind, we'd like to get down to the meat of the matter." Jack pulled out the list of names Chad had given him and handed it to the ME. "You may have done the autopsies on some or all of these men. I'd appreciate you pulling up their files and having a second look."

Cutter leaned over the desk and scanned the list. A moment later he tossed it down and asked, "What are you implying here, Jack?" He leaned back and threaded his fingers together over his abdomen.

"I'm not questioning your work, Jon, but I think . . . we think there's more to this than the current evidence implies."

Jack told him exactly what he'd told Ray. When he was done, Cutter remained silent.

"Believe me, I was just as surprised. But what he said makes sense," Ray said. "We just need copies of the autopsy files so we can compare them with the police files. We need a justifiable reason to reopen each of these cases."

Cutter seemed to think for a moment, his gaze shifting between Jack and Ray, then spun to the computer on his desk. "I remember these cases being discussed."

"Discussed?" Jack asked.

"Yeah." He drew out the word while scanning the monitor in front of him. "Seemed like a lot of suicides coming in, but sometimes it happens. Give me a minute." Cutter rose and left the office, returning a moment later with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of folders in another. "Sure you don't want a cup?"

Ray shook his head. "What have you got?"

Cutter set the folders on the desk then scanned Jack's list. He rifled through the stack to find the folder he wanted and passed it over to Ray. "Harold Baxter performed the postmortems on each of the victims on your list—I grabbed these files off his desk just now. If Jack's list is in order, this should be your first victim. Sai Joshi. His remains were identified by Chad Lucas."

"Right," Jack said. "He was Joshi's lover and employer."

Jack took the report pages from Ray as he finished each, scanning them for the details he was looking for. Immediate Cause of Death was clearly printed on the page—GUNSHOT THROUGH THE MOUTH—Due To: SELF-INFLICTED—Ruled As: SUICIDE. Photos backed up the cause with extensive damage to the back and side of the head. Not waiting for Ray to finish reading through the file, Jack took the next folder from Cutter.

"Second victim . . . Sanjay Bajwa?" he asked. Cutter nodded. Jack went right to the same pages.

Immediate Cause of Death: ASPHYXIATION

Due To: HANGING

Ruled As: SUICIDE

Photos showed ligature marks around the neck.

"What do you make of these scratch marks?" Jack asked, handing Cutter the photo.

"Just a guess. Maybe he had second thoughts and couldn't get the noose off. There's nothing in the final report to suggest otherwise."

Jack decided to keep the information Chad had given him to himself until after he saw the police reports.

Jack's gaze halted along the page. Baxter noted hyoid bone fractures. "What about this?" He handed the report to Cutter. "Would an accidental hanging in this context result in numerous fractures along the hyoid?"

Cutter scanned the report. Shaking his head, he gazed at Jack. "I'm not saying it's not possible to see these types of fractures in a hanging suicide—one where the body fell from a height. But in this context—slow asphyxiation from a closet rail—never seen it myself." He passed the report back to Jack who slid it into the folder and handed it to Ray.

Ranganathan's file was next.

Immediate Cause of Death: SUDDEN IMPACT WITH A HARD SURFACE

Due To: FALL FROM A HEIGHT

Ruled as: SUICIDE

He scanned the report which seemed standard but did a double take at the notes on the cranial diagram. "What's this?" Jack handed the page to Cutter.

Cutter read the report. "Baxter's notes say the victim died due to the impact with the pavement. He also noted there was a secondary laceration on the opposite side of the skull from the impact area. It exposed the skull and a grazing fracture is evident. The impact occurred prior to the victim's death and did not contribute to it."

Jack gazed at Cutter, focusing on his explanation. From his peripheral vision, he noticed Ray had come to attention. "You're saying this victim was struck before the fall?"

Cutter shook his head. "I'm saying there's another strike point on the cranium. Considering the height, my guess is he sustained it during the fall. He probably impacted with the building somewhere on his way down." Taking the photo from Jack, he added, "Given the amount of damage and blood, the investigators on the scene may not have seen it, but it was discovered during the postmortem examination."

Cutter handed back the report and photo which Jack replaced in the file before handing it to Ray, then took the last two files—Patel and Naidu—the suspected mutual suicide.

"What about the other two names on the list—the victim I found in the Castro the Friday after Thanksgiving, and Ray's Haight suicide?" Jack asked.

Cutter bobbed his head. "Still active. I can tell you that your shooting at the club was definitely murder. However, Ray's suicide falls in line with two of these victims." He motioned to the stack of files. "He was shot through the mouth. Once the autopsies are finished and cases are closed, I can give you access to them. Whatever you need, though, can probably be obtained in the active police files."

Both men gazed at Ray who nodded his agreement.

Jack opened the folder marked with Naidu's name and pulled out the autopsy report and a photo of the injury. He then did the same for Patel and set the files side by side. Both reports indicated the Immediate Cause of Death was PENETRATION BRAIN INJURY—Due To: GUNSHOT TO THE HEAD—Ruled as: MUTUAL SUICIDE.

Photos of the bodies confirmed the lovers’ embrace and entry and exit wounds. Additional notes on each report indicated a possible mutual suicide.

So far, causes of death seemed to match what Chad had told him, but Jack wanted to see the full picture before deciding if the man's suspicions of murder were founded, or just an attempt to satisfy himself as to why so many people he knew were killing themselves.

It was all there before him in black and white, and color photographs, that these men had killed themselves, but something didn't sit right. He picked up each photo and held them side-by-side.

"What's up, Jack?" Ray asked, leaning over.

Jack cocked his head slightly, his gaze remaining on the images. "I don't know. Take a look. Maybe you can see what I'm not."

Ray focused on each image in turn. "The notes say the bodies were found together in an embrace. Looks like mutual suicide to me." He handed the files to Cutter who mumbled just under his breath as he inspected each image. A furrow formed between the man's eyebrows.

Tossing the images onto the open folders in front of Jack, he said, "They're still in the fridge. Let's take a look."

Cutter rose, grabbed the two victims' files and moved quickly through the door, leaving Jack and Ray exchanging wide-eyed glances before following him.

In the cold room, Cutter rolled out the first body from the wall unit. He laid one file on top of the decedent then spun and rolled out the second tray before placing the other file on top of that body.

Jack knew Ray didn't have a stomach for this part of homicide work and let him stand back. He never understood how Ray differentiated a victim on the street versus a cadaver on the slab, even if it was the same body, and probably never would.

Jack looked between the decedents as Cutter became animated. His hands and arms made arcing motions, as if he was acting out a scene in his mind.

"Jon—" Jack finally said, getting Cutter's attention.

"Ray, come here a minute," Cutter ordered. Ray hesitated but moved in beside Jack. "Stand face-to-face and put your arms around each other." Jack put his arms out, but Ray hesitated. "Come on, man, humor me a minute," Cutter said, his voice edged with impatience.

Ray slowly stepped into Jack's embrace. "No funny business, esé."

"As if I would," Jack remarked, pulling Ray against him. "Come on. Drop that macho Mexican bullshit and be serious. This is serious." Jack felt Ray trying to relax into whatever example Cutter had in mind.

"Say you two are lovers and going to commit a mutual suicide."

"They were brothers," Jack said.

One eyebrow lifted over Cutter's gaze. "Whatever. Put your hands up like you each have a gun and aim it at the other." Cutter made a finger-gun with one hand as an example and pointed it toward his own head. Jack and Ray did as Cutter instructed. "Now, where will the bullets impact?"

Jack and Ray gazed to where their finger-guns were pointed, then back at Cutter. "Side of the head, behind the ear," Ray said.

Cutter grinned. "Exactly. Now look at these two decedents. Tell me what you see."

Jack took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Ray's cheek before stepping away and moving in beside Cutter, leaving Ray cursing in Spanish. Anything to get under Ray's skin, Jack thought. Ignoring his friend's discomfort, Jack focused his attention on the bodies. He leaned into the one closest to him—Naidu by the name on the file.

"This wound is closer to the back of the head, but in the same general area as would be inflicted in a mutual suicide."

"Right," Cutter said. "Now look at this one."

Jack moved around the tables to the other side of Cutter to examine Patel's wound. His gaze shot up. "Through the mouth."

Ray quickly moved in beside Jack. "What does this mean?"

"If Naidu was shot in the head and Patel through the mouth, how could this have been a mutual suicide?" Cutter asked.

"Patel shot first before turning the weapon on himself," Ray offered.

Cutter shook his head. "If this was a mutual suicide, both men would have had similar impact locations, inflicted at the same time. But let's say Patel shot Naidu first. Would he have shot Naidu in the back of the head before putting the gun in his own mouth?"

"Sounds plausible, but that would make it a murder-suicide. Easily fixed in the paperwork," Jack suggested.

"What if Naidu's gun misfired, leaving Patel alive? Do you think he would have turned the gun on himself, shooting himself in the mouth? Or would he suddenly realize he didn't want to die and call for help? Most people who attempt suicide admit that at the last possible second, they had a change of heart. Seeing his brother dead and how he'd just missed being killed too, do you think Patel would have reacted differently and saved himself—a sudden, strong will to live—or go ahead with the plan and commit suicide? If I'm not mistaken, the Hindi religion forbids suicide."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's what I understand too. But could his grief have been so great that he would have killed himself anyway?"

"Look at the trajectory. There are two likely outcomes if he'd shot himself in the mouth. If he ate the barrel, he would have used his thumb to pull the trigger." Cutter demonstrated, using his fingers as a handgun. "The angle would have been awkward to use his index finger, so he'd be forced to use his thumb."

Putting his fingers under his chin, he said, "If he'd used his finger on the trigger, the gun barrel would have been pointed up and the bullet would have exited the top of his head, not the back of it as we see here. He would have bruising on his trigger finger." Cutter lifted the decedent's hands and showed them to Jack and Ray. "You can see both hands are clean. No bruising on either thumbs or forefingers."

Jack's back stiffened. He felt the other shoe was about to drop.

Cutter flipped open the file still lying on Naidu's body and pulled out the autopsy report and handed it to Jack. "It says here in the notes that the men were found in each other's embrace." He pulled out a photo indicating this. "What else do you see?" Both men scanned the image. "Look carefully. There isn't any comment on the report of blowback on either decedent, nor was there any GSR on their hands." Cutter looked between Jack and Ray, then added, "And there's only one weapon."

Jack's back stiffened, knowing he wouldn't like the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. "What are you saying, Jon?"

Cutter folded his arms across his chest and gazed between Jack and Ray, a furrow forming between his brows. "I'm saying there's no way these men shot each other. The wounds aren't consistent with mutual suicide. If they both were lying in bed, there's no way they could have shot each other."

Jack's heart felt like it was suddenly in his throat as he grabbed the photo from Ray and looked at every aspect of the image. He forced himself to breathe. Cutter was right. There was only one weapon, and it was on the floor beside the bed. The blood on the pillows and sheets wasn't as heavy as he'd expect for being shot in bed. And as Cutter saw on the autopsy report, no blood splatter on either body. Most importantly, there was no way they could have shot each other with the one weapon, then before they died, wrapped their arms around each other. And that crucial bit of information Chad had told him. Even though they were brothers, Patel and Naidu barely tolerated each other. So why die by suicide pact?

Finally, Jack glanced at Cutter then gazed at Ray for a long moment. "The bodies were staged."