Beth pointed to Diane’s body. “This lady was found wedged inside a refrigerator at her law firm about two hours after she walked in the door of her office. She wasn’t driving in the Daytona 500 and she didn’t fall off a building.”

The ME again pointed to the base of the neck where there was considerable discoloration. “A blow right here did the trick. Her being placed in a refrigerator certainly did me no favors, but there are definite signs of bruising before death at this location.”

“A blow? With what, Doc?”

“Now that’s the strange part. I found no trace evidence, no hairs, fibers, plastics, metals, or anything else relating to the injured area.”

“So what was used to kill her, then?”

“My guess is a blow from a foot.”

“A foot?”

Cassell pointed to the abrasions on Tolliver’s face. “It could have happened this way. She’s held down on the floor, facedown with her chin pressed against the linoleum, which accounts for the cut and bruising there when the killing blow was struck. Then someone, a large, powerful man probably, stomps on the back of her neck with all his weight. Now, if a board or pipe or hammer or bat had been used, they might well have left a patterned injury mark on the skin. But as you can see, there was nothing like that here. However, a human foot is flexible and could well have left no discernible marks. Even a fist would have left some sort of pattern, knuckles or even the shape of a palm, for instance. Plus, of course, you can generate much more force with a leg stomp than an arm strike because you can deploy most of your weight in a downward motion.”

“So a foot. But wouldn’t a shoe have left a mark?”

“Possibly, although human skin is not as revealing as a nice wet patch of grass or dirt. I may be able to discern an image at the wound area provided you find me a shoe, a patterned sock, or a foot to compare it with.”

“Okay, but when have you ever seen a brain stem transection from a weaponless assault?”

“Only once, but it was a nonhuman assault.”

She looked at him curiously. “Nonhuman?”

“Years ago I was on vacation at Yellowstone National Park. There unfortunately was a fatality with a camper and I was recruited to perform the autopsy.”

“What killed the person?”

“A grizzly bear. Probably the most dangerous predator on land.” He smiled at Beth. “Other than man, of course, as we both know so well. Anyway, this unfortunate camper had surprised a full-grown male bear while it was scavenging a carcass.”

“But there are no grizzlies in Georgetown, Doc.”

“No, but there is at least one person with abnormal strength and skill. That bruise is in the exact spot necessary to transect the brain stem. I doubt the location of the blow was a coincidence.”

“So was she already unconscious? Or was someone holding her down? If it was just one bandit you’d think she would have fought back and we’d have defensive trace under her fingers.”

“Her cuticles were clean.”

“Drugged?”

“Tox reports aren’t back yet.”

Beth studied the body. “Bandit could’ve had a gun, ordered Tolliver to lie facedown. Then he kills her. That would only take one assailant.”

“Quite right.”

“Okay, what else?”

“We took an inventory of her clothes. We found a couple of fibers that were not from her garments.”

“Her attacker?”

“Possibly. There was also some soiling on her jacket that seemed odd.”

“What kind of soiling?”

“Like grease or dirt, we’re analyzing it now.”

“Not residue from anything in the fridge that might have spilled on her.”

“We inventoried that too. No, it didn’t come from that source.”

“It’s the start of the day, she goes from parking garage to office, and she’s got dirt on her clothes. Bandit leave-behind?”

“Probably.” Cassell shook his head. “It’s still confusing. I spent ten years at the Bronx ME’s office.”

Beth nodded in understanding. “I know, NYPD says perp, MPD says bandit. Can you give me a window on when she died?”

“Extremely problematic, Beth. She was found in a refrigerator set at thirty-eight degrees Fahrenheit and then her body was at room temp for several hours. When I arrived at the crime scene she was very cold to the touch. And then she was parked in one of our morgue freezer beds on arrival here. Now fully freed of those icy conditions, the body is decomposing quite on schedule. She’s still in rigor, as you can see.” He lifted one of the stiff arms. “But the initial refrigeration forestalled the normal post-death chemical process.”

“Stomach contents?”

Cassell clicked some computer keys and then scanned the screen. “At most ME shops unless there’s suspicion of a drug overdose or poisoning we don’t typically do a detailed gastric content analysis. But I knew if I didn’t run it, you’d just tell me to do it.”

“Working relationships just get better with age, don’t they?”

“She had no breakfast, but apparently she had some dinner last night. About six hundred cc’s worth of gastric contents including partially digested red proteins.”

“In other words, bits of steak?”

“Most probably, yes. Peas and corn and what looks to be red-skinned potatoes. Spinach too. The stomach and duodenal mucosal lining were a bright green.”

“Broccoli will do that as well.”

“But broccoli along with corn does not digest readily in the stomach. I would have found parts of it in the gastric content. The corn was there as noted, but no broccoli.”

“Anything else?”

Cassell made a face. “This lady liked her garlic. The smell was overpowering.”

“Remind me to buy you a pair of clothespins. So time of death? Any thoughts?”

He took off his glasses. “If you’ve got reliable witnesses on both ends substantiating a two-hour window of when she was killed, I can’t do any better than that even with all my fancy equipment and tests.”

“I’m not sure yet how reliable my witnesses are. What else?”

“When I said we did an inventory of her clothing I forgot to mention that one item was missing.”

“Her panties.”

“Of course I am assuming that the lady typically wore underwear.”

“She was forty-seven years old, a partner in a law firm, lived in a million-dollar town house on the water in Alexandria, and was wearing a Chanel suit when she was stomped. I think we can safely assume she was the sort of woman who wears underwear. What did the sex assault workup find? Was she raped?”

“Bruising around her genitalia clearly evidenced a sexual assault.”

“Please tell me what I want to hear, Doc.”

“The fellow left a few pieces of himself behind.”

Cassell led her over to a microscope. She examined the slide under magnification and her smile was immediate. “The holy grail of forensic detection.”

“Sperm,” Cassell added, with a note of triumph. “High up in the vaginal vault and some deposited on the cervix.”

“You said the fellow left pieces?”

“Two pubic hairs with root balls that do not belong to the deceased.”

“Let’s hope we get a database hit. Anything else I should know?”

Cassell hesitated. “Not on the case, no, but I hear that Mace is out. Please tell her I said hello.”

“I will.”

“How is she?”

“You know Mace. Everything slides right off her back.”

“Tell her that there is indeed a heaven and that Mona will never make it there.”

Beth smiled. “Will do.”