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• 39 •
DIANE AND JACOB ANDERSON-MINSHALL
Her reverie was interrupted when a tall, brooding man pushed
aside the burgundy curtain and stepped toward her with his hand
outstretched. “May I help you?”
Velvet stood and shook the proffered palm. “We’re here to see
Pamela Carter. She’s expecting us.”
The man nodded solemnly. “Right this way.”
He held the drape open while Velvet and Yoshi ducked under, then
he stepped around them and led them down the hallway. At first, Velvet
thought he was leading them to the morgue room, where rows of white
crosses and Stars of David hung from the wall like decorations. Instead,
he directed them to a small vestibule.
“Dr. Carter will be right with you,” he intoned before disappearing
behind another curtain.
Velvet couldn’t help but think about the last time she’d been here.
The memory started like a photograph, a still image of a naked man
stretched across the metal table. The smell was unforgettable, an aroma
of rotting meat mixed with soggy, mildewed clothing and the antiseptic
scent of hospitals.
The medical examiner had made the Y incision with her whirling
saw and Velvet had thought she was going to faint. Or throw up. There
was blood everywhere. Dr. Carter explained that a broken rib had
punctured the heart and caused massive internal bleeding. When she
noticed Velvet gulping like a fish, she politely provided a trash can for
her to throw up into. Velvet closed her eyes, trying to neutralize the
memory. The man on the slab suddenly had Jeff’s face. He stared up at
her with big eyes and mouthed something that looked like, “Help me.”
The ME yanked her hand from his chest and triumphantly hoisted his
still-beating heart.
Velvet swayed on her feet, unable to switch off her imagination.
Yoshi caught her before she fainted.
Yoshi was so strong. And not just physically. But Velvet wasn’t,
not today.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “I thought I could, but—”
“It’s all right,” Yoshi assured her. “This is why I came with you.
I am capable of managing the interview alone. Would you like to meet
me back at the car?”
“Yes,” Velvet said before fleeing from the room.
• 40 •
BLIND LEAP
“Hello?” The woman spoke in a hushed tone appropriate for the
funeral home environment. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting Velvet
Erickson.” She strode briskly into the room and lifted Yoshi’s hand.
“Pamela Carter, Marin County Medical Examiner.”
Yoshi could feel the rough wrinkles and elevated veins on the back
of the woman’s hand. They bore evidence of the stress of a long career
steeped in death and tragedy. With her palm against Carter’s, she also
felt a smooth dustiness that was probably talcum powder from inside
latex gloves. Tools of the trade.
“Velvet needed some air,” she explained. “She requested that we
meet without her. I am her friend, Yoshi Yakamota. Also, I am a private
investigator.”
“Have you been hired by Mr. Conant’s family?”
“No. This is a personal matter. Jeff was a friend of mine, also.”
“My condolences to both of you,” Dr. Carter said. “I know this is
difficult.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Yoshi appreciated the ME’s concern. The
woman sounded sincere.
“How can I help you?”
“Velvet is having difficulty accepting suicide,” Yoshi confided.
“She was wondering if there was anything out of the ordinary about
his autopsy.”
“Does she have reason to suspect foul play?” Carter asked.
“Not anything significant. There was no suicide note, and Jeff
did not seem the type to have ended his own life.” Yoshi paused. “I
recognize that disbelief is quite usual for friends and family. You must
hear these sentiments expressed often.”
“Yes.” Carter acknowledged. “Suicide is hard for surviving family
and friends to accept. Most can’t believe that their loved one was so
desperate yet didn’t reach out.”
“Velvet has always had sharp instincts,” Yoshi said. “If she is
concerned, I’ve learned to listen. So I would appreciate anything you
can tell me, Dr. Carter.”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“In my profession, I am quite accustomed to the frankness of
autopsy reports.”
“All right. It’s not pretty. Death by bridge never is.”
“I understand.” Yoshi braced herself.
“The good news is that it looks like he died on impact.”
• 41 •
DIANE AND JACOB ANDERSON-MINSHALL
Velvet would be relieved. Yoshi verified, “COD was multiple
blunt-force trauma?”
“That’s right. The lung weight and blood strontium comparison
appears to rule out drowning. The absence of mucus bubbles around the
mouth and nose further suggest the subject did not survive impact.”
Yoshi nodded. It was something of a relief to know he had not
suffered further after the fall. “Anything else?”
“Do you want me to walk you through it?” Carter waved something
that sent a small breeze toward Yoshi.
A file folder, Yoshi surmised. The autopsy results. “Please.”
Carter opened the file.
“There was extensive bruising, signs of massive trauma, and
several compound fractures. A purple discoloration covered the
abdomen and midsection. The third and fourth left ribs were fractured
by the impact and propelled through vital organs. Aside from the usual
lacerations associated with this kind of death, his organs were healthy.
The subject’s sternum, skull, clavicle, and pelvic bones splintered and
lumbar disks three, four, and five ruptured.”
The list sounded typical for the effects of a human body impacting
the San Francisco Bay at eighty miles an hour.
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