Robin Runs the Show

Three more bodies had come in that afternoon. Two looked like natural causes, while the other one was clearly from a gunshot wound to the temple. The morgue seemed busier than ever. Even with Metz gone, his policies and training were still in place and things ran fairly smooth.

Robin finished up one of the natural causes cases, freeing her up to finally check the STR results from Oscar Woody’s killer. She walked from the autopsy room to her desk in the admin area. She sighed and looked over at her pictures of Emma. It was almost seven o’clock. Robin wanted to get out of there, get back to her apartment, crawl into bed and have Emma curl up beside her. Sure, the dog would shed all over the bedspread and probably fart something horrible, but when it came to nap time, Emma was Little Miss Lights-Out. Emma couldn’t sleep on the empty side, of course, she had to lie right on top of Robin. But that was the point, really. Robin didn’t have a man in her bed anymore — Emma’s weight, her breathing (hell, even the farts in a weird way), they were comforting beyond anything Robin knew.

She turned to her computer and called up the STR results. Yes, confirmed — the saliva sample found on Oscar Woody came from a human, as did the material taken from the hair follicles. Due to the signs of mauling there had to be a large animal involved, but there was no longer any question that a human killer had left DNA on Oscar’s body.

The computer system had automatically submitted the STR test results to the CODIS system. That check didn’t produce a match; whoever the killer was, his DNA had never been entered into the FBI’s database.

But there was something strange about the sample. In addition to a genetic fingerprint, the test also indicated a person’s sex by detecting a gene known as AMEL. AMEL is on the male and female sex chromosomes, but it isn’t quite the same on both. Men have two sex chromosomes — X and Y — while women have two Xs. The STR test didn’t show the actual chromosome, only another test known as a karyotype could do that, but it did show spikes indicating the presence and relative number of AMEL genes on each sex chromosome. If the test only showed a spike for AMEL-X, the subject was female. If it showed two equal spikes, one for AMEL-X and one for AMEL-Y, that meant the subject was male.

This sample, however, showed AMEL-X and AMEL-Y spikes that were not equal. The X spike was twice as high as the Y spike. That suggested the presence of a second X, which would mean the killer could have three sex chromosomes.

It wasn’t a contaminated sample — she had run enough parallel tests to know, for certain, that the material came from just one killer. Robin felt a rush of excitement: either the killer was XXY, or he had an even more rare condition she had yet to identify.

She heard people approaching. She looked up to see Rich Verde and Bobby Pigeon walking toward her desk. Bobby smiled at her. Rich just scowled. Good God, but Rich was a horrible dresser.

“Hudson,” Verde said. “I’m here to talk to you about the Oscar Woody case.”

She felt a deep twinge of disappointment. “I thought this case belonged to Bryan Clauser and Pookie Chang.”

Verde shook his head. “Case is mine. Covered in piss, right?”

There was a question you didn’t hear every day. She nodded.

“Mine,” Verde said. “Normally Metz would handle a case like this.”

“Well, I assure you I’m perfectly qualified to—”

“Whatever,” Rich said. “This case will run a little different than maybe you’re used to. Special deal. Call the chief right now. She’s expecting to hear from you.”

Robin’s eyebrows rose. “Call Chief Zou?”

“That’s right,” Verde said. “And make it snappy, I got shit to do.”

Metz frequently talked to Chief Zou. Robin was the temporary head of the department, so it made sense she’d be the one to answer any questions Zou might have. Robin picked up her phone, then started scanning a list tacked to her cubicle wall to find the chief’s extension.

Verde reached across her and dialed the phone for her.

“There you go,” he said.

She glared at him as she waited for someone to answer. Like he couldn’t have just told her the extension number?

“Chief Zou’s office.”

“This is Robin Hudson from the ME department. I was told—”

“One moment, Doctor Hudson, the chief is expecting your call.”

Chief Zou came on the line, her words as terse and clipped on the phone as they were in person. “Doctor Hudson?”

“Yes.”

“Rich Verde is in charge of the Oscar Woody case,” Zou said. “This case is of particular interest to me. I don’t want anything getting out to the media, understand?”

The Medical Examiner’s Office and the police department worked closely together, but Zou was not Robin’s boss. Robin tried to think of how Metz would handle the same situation. The Silver Eagle would be polite, but firm. “Chief Zou, you know we don’t release anything to the media.”

“And yet the media somehow gets information from many places,” Zou said. “Doctor Hudson, I’m not insinuating anything, I’m asking. Please limit any access to information on Oscar Woody. Move his body to the private examination room, the one Doctor Metz uses. Access to any electronic records are for Inspector Verde’s eyes only. The mayor said you can call his office if you have any questions.”

Call the mayor? Well, that was a hint and a half. If you want the top spot, play ball. But was Chief Zou really asking for anything unusual? Maybe there was a good reason for her secrecy. Covered in piss, Verde had said. Robin again thought of Paul Maloney. Maybe her initial hunch was right and the two cases were related — a potential serial killer could be out there. Any leaked information might compromise finding that killer.

“Yes, Chief,” Robin said. “I’ll use the private room and keep things quiet.”

“Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

Chief Zou hung up. A strange call. It nagged at Robin, the way Zou seemed to be dangling the potential chief medical examiner position as a reward for playing along. Or … was it more of a threat of punishment, that not playing along would cost Robin the job?

Robin turned to Verde. A told you so sneer twisted his mouth to the left.

“You know, Rich, she’s not asking for anything crazy, so you don’t have to be such a sanctimonious dick about this.”

“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Verde said. “Just do your job, file the report, and don’t go blabbing about this case with your girlfriends at the watercooler. Come on, Bobby, let’s go.”

Verde turned to walk away. Bobby looked at him with confusion, the same confusion, probably, that Robin felt.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I found some really interesting things that will help in the investigation. Don’t you want to know what they are?”

“It was an animal attack,” Verde said. “I’ll read your report.”

“It wasn’t just an animal attack.”

He sighed. “Okay, fine, there were people involved who used the animal to kill the kid. Whatever. The death was due to mauling, and that’s that. Sammy Berzon’s preliminary crime-scene report said there was dog fur all over the body.”

“It wasn’t dog fur.” Robin said. “The hair samples were human.”

Verde’s eyes narrowed. He seemed almost … bothered by the information.

“It’s some kind of animal,” he said. “Your results are wrong.”

What a pompous ass. “And you know this because you got your medical degree where, exactly? You don’t get to dismiss my results because you don’t like what they say, Rich.”

Verde threw up his hands in annoyance. “The boy was attacked by a guy, a couple of guys, whatever. They beat him and sicced a fucking animal on him. The animal tore off the kid’s arm, the kid died, done deal. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and—”

“It doesn’t quack,” she said. “And it doesn’t bark either. All the DNA I recovered was definitely human.”

Robin had given case results to Rich many times before. He was always a bit of an asshole, but normally he seemed interested in every detail. Why didn’t he care about the details now?

“I only have evidence for one assailant,” Robin said. “I have saliva and hair from a person, Rich — can your little mind process that?”

Bobby was smiling, and not the way men did when they thought she was pretty. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that she pushed back. The veins in the sides of Rich’s thinning temples throbbed and pulsed — they looked like they might pop at any moment.

She’d lost her temper a little, but now she seemed to have Rich’s full attention. He looked angry. Calm, but angry.

“So,” he said, “you’re telling me this can’t be an animal attack?”

Robin paused. She had genetic evidence of a human killer, but the tooth marks were definitely from some kind of animal. There had to be some element of the animal on Oscar’s body, she just hadn’t found it yet.

“I’m sure an animal was involved, but what I’m telling you is I have specific evidence that can help you find the guy responsible for Oscar’s death,” she said. “I found indicators of three chromosomes, two Xs and a single Y.”

“Three?” Bobby said. He seemed to perk up at the first mention of genetics. “You said it was one killer. Guys are XY. Wouldn’t three chromosomes indicate a second killer?”

Verde glared at Bobby.

Bobby shrugged at him. “Rich-o, seems like we’d need to know this stuff, don’t you think?”

Verde’s jaw muscles twitched. He turned back to stare at Robin. “Go ahead, busy bee — tell me what you found.”

He’d looked angry before. Now he looked downright furious.

“If there was a second male assailant, I’d have found evidence of another Y chromosome,” she said. “Even if a second assailant was female, I’d have at least found evidence of a third X chromosome. That leads me to believe Oscar’s killer is trisomal, which means he has three sex chromosomes instead of the normal two. If the assailant is XXY, he probably has a condition called Klinefelter’s syndrome.”

Bobby nodded. He had the same look in his eye she’d often seen in Bryan — to guys like them, clues were crack cocaine that got their pulses racing. “I’ve heard of Klinefelter’s,” he said. “But that’s not the only possibility, right? I mean, couldn’t two people have identical chromosomes? Like twins? Not the identical kind, but fraternal twins?”

Robin smiled in surprise. For a layman, that was a brilliant question.

“It’s possible the killers could have been male and female twins,” she said. “And technically, normal brothers with the same father have the same Y chromosome. However, I’m almost positive the samples show we’re dealing with a single killer. I’ll run a different kind of test to be sure.”

Verde’s eyes narrowed. “And what kind of test would this be?”

“It’s called a karyotype,” Robin said. “We need living cells for that, but the saliva on the body was only a few hours old, so we have plenty. A karyotype shows the total number of chromosomes in an organism. You, me, Bobby, pretty much every person you know has forty-six chromosomes — that’s normal. If the test shows the perp has forty-six, that means my extra X is from a second killer. But if the test shows an individual with forty-seven chromosomes, it means we have just one killer with a unique genetic disposition that will help you track him down.”

Bobby smiled. “Sweet,” he said. His gold tooth made him look like a pimp.

“Metz didn’t run tests like that,” Rich said. “You shouldn’t, either. And we don’t need that test — we’ve got some leads we can’t talk about.”

She noticed Bobby suddenly look at Rich in surprise. If there were such leads, it was news to the younger of the two partners.

Robin crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you telling me you don’t want more leads? If our guy has Klinefelter’s, he could be confused about his gender or possibly express sexual deviation that’s been recorded. You could look for mixed-gender support groups, or—”

“Do your job,” Verde said. “You get paid to look at stiffs. You don’t get paid to solve cases. Leave the detective work to the detectives. Just do the basics. Bobby, let’s go.”

Verde stormed off. Bobby rolled his eyes and smiled apologetically before following Verde out.

Robin spun slightly in her chair, watching them go. So strange — why wouldn’t Rich want to exhaust every angle to solve a horrific murder? Maybe that was a question she didn’t need to ask. Verde had the authority of Chief Amy Zou behind him, and he was right about one thing — solving crimes wasn’t her job. So maybe Rich had her there, but on the other hand, he wasn’t her boss. Neither was Chief Zou. They could make suggestions, but they couldn’t tell her what tests not to run.

Robin could use the new RapScan machine to run the karyotype. All she had to do was load DNA samples into the machine’s cartridges, which took about fifteen minutes. From there, the whole process was automated — it only took a few hours to complete. She’d start the test now, then pack up the work she could finish at home and get out of there.

When she came back in the morning, the karyotype results would be waiting for her.

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