The air in the mortuary was chilled and filtered, the astringent smell of disinfectant a welcome alternative to the odours that would otherwise fill the space.
As a rule, Warren preferred to delegate witnessing the autopsy to somebody else, such as Tony Sutton. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option and all of his sergeants were busy elsewhere. Moray Ruskin was always keen, but Warren didn’t feel the young DC was quite ready to undertake the task unsupervised yet.
At least there was a familiar face behind the mask.
‘Good to see you, Warren,’ Professor Ryan Jordan, the American-born pathologist greeted him. ‘How’s Susan?’
‘She’s doing well, thanks, Ryan. I hear you’ve become a granddad again?’
‘Yep. Number three was born three days ago. Still no name.’ He chuckled. ‘For the past nine months they’ve been convinced it would be a girl. It never even crossed their minds to have a boy’s name ready just in case! We’ll be flying over to Germany for kisses and cuddles in a few weeks.’
Warren followed him into the white-tiled room. He wore gloves and a red splash suit, although he had no intention of prodding anything too squidgy.
Stevie Cullen looked much as he had when Warren had last seen him at the massage parlour.
‘There’s no mystery about the cause of death,’ stated Jordan, pointing toward the gaping wound on the man’s chest. The Y incision had been angled to avoid disturbing the entry wound.
‘Massive blood loss caused by the penetration of the left ventricle by a bladed implement. It entered between the fourth and fifth ribs, before being twisted and removed. The blade nicked the fifth rib on the way out. He would have been dead within seconds.’
‘Pretty brutal. Does the fact that it entered so neatly indicate that the killer had a working knowledge of anatomy or some sort of training?’ asked Warren.
‘Not necessarily. I’d say that most reasonably educated people are aware that stabbing downwards on a person’s chest like they’re impaling a vampire would be difficult to accomplish because of the breastbone; a right-handed person standing above the victim would naturally come in from that side. The blade appears to have been very sharp, so it wouldn’t have required huge strength.’
‘What else can you tell me about the murder weapon?’
‘Unfortunately, the twisting of the knife makes it hard to be specific, but it was clearly very sharp and non-serrated. Judging by the depth of penetration, it has to be a minimum of fifteen centimetres. I’ve taken images of where it hit the rib, which should allow me to match any potential knives that you uncover. Beyond that, I’m guessing.’
‘What else have you found?’
‘Overall, the subject was in reasonable physical health, falling within normal height and weight for a white, Caucasian male. His musculature suggests a manual worker, and a full body X-ray reveals a healed fracture to his right collarbone, probably dating back to childhood. No signs of liver damage, although there was some scarring on the septum of his nose that suggests he may have been a cocaine user. I’ve sent off for drug and alcohol screening.
‘I’ve also observed what appear to be small, fresh bruises on his left arm. I can’t be any more precise on the timing, but they would be consistent with him heavily falling on the floor within a few minutes of his death.’
Warren pondered that for a moment. Had Cullen bumped himself before his massage? Or had he fallen during the attack? How did that sequence of events match what the two sisters had claimed had taken place that day?
Jordan’s findings had given him much to think about. The pathologist had used his experience, and the application of science, to persuade Stevie Cullen to tell at least some of his story from beyond the grave. In a way, Jordan had allowed the victim to help them find his own killer. Now it was up to Warren to finish the job.