“How come she isn’t more, you know, soupy?” Frank asked, glad Benny hadn’t started the autopsy until well after he had eaten lunch. In fact, the body reminded him of the show, The Walking Dead, the way the mottled skin hung like crepe paper.
“Temperatures have been cool at night and the body was hidden somewhat, not a lot of scavengers except for the typical bugs. The skin that was clothed, especially with leather, decomposed much slower than the exposed skin.” Benny had a smorgasbord of organs sitting on a side table. He moved the microphone hanging from the ceiling to one side. “She has never been pregnant, no healed bones or fractures from her youth. I’d say she’s between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age. Been dead for about two weeks, definitely a homicide. She was strangled, quite violently, too. Cracked the hyoid bone.” Benny pointed at the deep purple marks around the neck. “Killer could have used a rope or belt by the looks of the markings.”
“She must have done or said something to make him angry enough to overkill. Any other marks on her body?” Jake studied the body, looking for tattoos.
“Nothing.” Benny pointed at the fingers. “Nails have already sloughed off so no luck getting any scrapings.”
“Sexual assault?” Jake asked.
“No. I have dental X-rays for you if you ever get to the point of needing a comparison. She has all of her own teeth, very few fillings, only one root canal.” Benny turned one of the victim’s feet in his direction. “I’d say she either was a runner or had a job where she was on her feet all day. A lot of callouses on her feet. Might have been a waitress.”
“Maybe at the Lake Bluff Country Club,” Frank said.