THE DEAD SNAKE wasn’t going anywhere.
Fully extended, it occupied a tray on the light table in the layout room. Color photos of the snake, including close-ups of its scarred hide, were mounted on the wall. Its abdomen had been stitched back up following the necropsy. Colored dyes had been employed to trace the depth and contours of the wounds. Leaning over the specimen, Ray gently double-checked the distance between the wounds with a caliper. Magnifying lenses were clipped over his regular reading classes. Concentration showed upon his face. The more he examined the scratches, the less he believed that they had been caused by another snake or a rough set of tongs.
“Spending some quality time with Coral?”
He looked up to see Sara enter the room. Like Ray, she had shown up early this afternoon to get a head start on the next round of their investigation. If they were lucky, maybe they could squeeze in dinner before their next shift officially began. “Coral?”
“Feels odd calling a snake ‘Jane Doe,’” she explained. “Coral seemed like a good nickname.”
“Except that the necropsy indicated that this snake was a male.” Sexing a snake was a tricky business, especially when it was alive, but dissection had cleared up that mystery. A full copy of the necropsy report was spread out on the table next to the specimen. Ray flicked the magnifying lenses up away from his eyes. “Doc Robbins evicted ‘Coral’ from the morgue. Says he needed the biers for human casualties.”
Sara nodded. “So where you keeping her . . . I mean, him?”
“The fridge in the break room,” he confessed. “So far, nobody has complained.” The snake was still cold to the touch. “Did you know some snake handlers refrigerate live snakes before displaying them? The cold makes them sluggish and easier to handle.”
Sara shot Ray a look. “Brian Yun has a fridge in his office.”
“Yes,” he said. “For his ‘private stash’ of Snapples. It would have been the perfect place to store Coral until everyone else went home. He could have brought it to work in a cooled thermos bottle or some other container.”
Fang Santana had picked Yun’s photo out of a line-up, identifying the assistant manager as the individual who had illegally obtained a coral snake from him. Santana was hardly a reliable witness, however, and a good defense attorney could easily make the case that his testimony had been coerced, so Vartann was reluctant to pick Yun up just yet. Questioning Yun now would only alert him that they were onto him. More conclusive proof was required to get a conviction.
“We need to tie this snake directly to Yun,” Sara said, thinking aloud. She walked over to the board and examined the photos. X-ray and fluoroscope images looked beneath the snake’s scaly hide. “Any progress?”
Ray grinned. “Maybe. The placement of these scratches, as well as their depth, suggest that they may have been made by extendable claws. I’m waiting for confirmation now.” He took out his cell phone and dialed the morgue. “Let me check on that.”
David Phillips picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Professor,” he greeted Ray. “I was just going to call you.”
“Did you get those results yet?” Ray asked.
“Yep,” David said. “And you were right on target. The tissue samples from the wounds tested positive for Bartonella.”
That was bad news for Brian Yun. Ray gave Sara an encouraging nod. “Thanks, David. I appreciate you getting right on that.”
“No problem, Prof,” the assistant coroner replied. “Hope this helps.”
“I’ll let you know.” Ray wrapped up the call, while Sara waited curiously. “That was David,” he informed her. “Coral was infected with Bartonella.”
The name drew a blank with her. She was a scientist, not an M.D. “Which is?”
“The bacteria responsible for cat scratch disease,” he explained. “Fairly common in the feline population.” Ray had treated more than a few cases of CSD over the years, mostly in small children. “The cats themselves are usually asymptomatic, but can pass the bacteria on via bites or scratches.”
Sara glanced at the scarred snake carcass. “Coral was scratched by a cat?”
“From the looks of things, he had a nasty tussle with a feline not long before he ended up in the spa.” Ray recalled a framed photo of a scowling Persian cat. “Brian Yun’s cat died recently.”
He didn’t need to spell it out for her. Sara grinned back at him.
“We’re going to need a warrant,” she said.