“You can call him and thank him yourself. He’s on my naughty list right now. There are about a thousand things I’d rather be doing than sledgehammering a kitchen. On the other hand, he and Mike Hollander get along famously. I think Mike’s a father figure for him. He was a great choice, Daddy. Thanks.”
Decker smiled. “Sometimes I get it right.”
“Sometimes,” Cindy admitted, “but don’t let it go to your head.”
27
L OOKING AT THE replica skull made out of fused paper and perched on a stand, Lauren Decanter turned the base slowly, studying Jane Doe inch by inch as the skull completed a 360-degree revolution. “Absolutely amazing!” She looked up at Decker in awe. “This is the real deal. You can see all the necessary anatomical landmarks and then some.”
“The wonders of modern technology,” Decker said. “Although she didn’t die by modern technology.”
Lauren’s hands touched the cranium. “An old-fashioned bop on the head.” She returned her eyes to Decker’s face. “What can you tell me about the case, Lieutenant?”
“I thought a lot about it on the way over. This is what we have so far. By the teeth remaining in upper and lower mandibles, both the coroner and the forensic odontologist think she was in her early twenties at the time of her demise. We also know that she died during or after 1974 because she was wearing a band sweatshirt that was produced in 1974.”
“Which band?”
“Priscilla and the Major.”
Lauren thought for several deliberate moments. “No, I don’t think I ever heard of them.”
“They were a duo. The Major was originally from the military and I think he actually served in Vietnam. But Priscilla was the main attraction. She sang and wrote the songs. They were a little on the sappy side: a throwback to an earlier era compared with all the acid and psychedelic rock that was going on at that time.”
“Hmm…” She started to take notes. “Priscilla and the Major. I would think that the duo would have attracted a more conservative crowd with the man being in the military.”
“Certainly the army was not a popular institution at the time, so yes, they did attract a more conservative element. But they had their share of Top 40 hits. Their songs were played on major radio stations and they had a sizable following. If I had to compare them to anyone at that time, I would say the Carpenters. Do you know about the Carpenters?”
“He played the guitar, she played the drums. And she died of anorexia, right?”
“Yes, but back then, no one realized that she had problems. Instead, they were touted as the clean-cut alternatives to the unwashed, restless youth. Nixon invited them to the White House. If I remember correctly, I think Priscilla and the Major also entertained Mr. Pres. She’s still alive, living in Porter Ranch, if you want to talk to her. Apparently, she loves the color pink.”
“Very feminine. So a fan of Priscilla would probably be a more conservative person although not ultraconservative if she was listening to the Top 40 stations.”
“That about sums up my assessment.”
Lauren took more notes. “So, being as she was dressed in a sweatshirt and liked a conservative band, you don’t see your Jane Doe as a pickup or hooker gone bad?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because a bash in the head…to me it seems impulsive and unplanned. Something that a john might do to a hooker or a drunk might do to a pickup if she said no.”
“I agree that it was up close and personal, but I’m thinking it was done by the woman’s significant other-a boyfriend or a husband. I have a feeling that the girl, if in her early twenties, might have been a bit innocent for her age.”
“Why’s that?”
“Next to the body I found a mood ring. Do you know what that is?”
“Refresh my memory.”
“A mood ring has a stone that changes colors to reflect your mood. If it shines red or in the warm-color spectrum, you’re happy, and if it shines blue or in the cold-color end, you’re sad. The stone obviously adjusts to skin temperature.”
“So it was blue when you found it?”
“Almost black.” Decker shook his head. “I’m sure it’s been black for a very long time. The point is mood rings were a fad that was geared to adolescent girls. That’s why I’m thinking that our Jane Doe was a little innocent. Someone who’s into peace, love, and alternative spirits.” A pause. “Sometimes young women are swept off their feet by the wrong type of boyfriend.”
“I see,” Lauren said. “Are you talking to the forensic computer artist as well?”
“If he wants to talk, I’ll be happy to chat with him. It would be interesting to see how well you two match in your interpretations of the face.”
“Most of the time we’re pretty close.” She smiled. “You’ve given me a good start. Thanks for your insights.”
“When do you think you’ll have something for me?”
Lauren turned on her laptop. “I think I’d like to do a little research into the period.”
“What kind of research? Maybe I can help you out?”
“You already have. What I need now is visual input, because recreating a face is a visual thing. I want to look up Priscilla and the Major…I’d like to see what kind of fans they had and if there are pictures of their fans. I also would like to read old articles and fashion magazines. For this case, I think Seventeen magazine might give me more hints than Ladies’ Homes Journal or Vogue.”
“She definitely doesn’t seem like the Vogue type.”
“No, but her mother might have been. Rereading the material kind of brings a visual life to the era for me.” She studied Decker’s face. “You are a Vietnam vet, right?”
“Indeed I am. A lot of detectives my age are ’Nam vets.”
She stared at him further. “But there’s something in your face…you definitely had your wild side.”
“It’s all wrinkles, huh?” Decker held back a smirk. “My rebellion was pretty tame and it was a long time ago.”
“You’re also an oldest child.”
Decker nodded. “But that’s also no surprise. Oldest children like bossing people around, so the police academy fits that primal need pretty well.”
Lauren studied him for just a moment longer. “There’s something playful going on inside your head right now. As I look at your eyes, they’re teasing me without being flirtatious. I bet you have daughters.”
“I have daughters and I have sons.” He paused. “Stepsons, but for all intents and purposes, they’re my sons. I’ve been their only father since they were six and eight and now they’re in their twenties.”
“But your daughters are yours biologically.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…you just seem like you’ve had recent experience with children.”
Decker laughed. “Okay, I confess. My older daughter is almost thirty, but my younger daughter is only fourteen.”
“Aha!” Lauren said triumphantly. “I knew it. I have a nose for this kind of thing. When I do reconstruction, it’s as if the person is talking to me, directing my fingers. It’s like a sixth sense.”
“How are you on the stock market?”
“Sorry, Lieutenant, I’ve never been any good at numbers.”
DECKER THOUGHT HE was getting an early jump by arriving at the Crypt by nine the next morning. Lauren was already at her station and had immersed herself in the 1970s-photographs, articles from Time and Newsweek, magazine spreads from Fashion Weekly, Seventeen, and Vogue, several vintage pieces of seventies clothing. She was still studying the skull, but she had put eraser tips on the anatomical landmarks. On the left side of the tabletop sat several rectangular loaves of adobe-colored clay. Her carving tools were neatly laid out on her right. Priscilla and the Major whispered from a CD player.
“I wish I could play their songs on a phonograph,” she told Decker. “That would really get me in the spirit.”
The forensic artist wore a white chef’s apron over her jeans and black cotton top. Her chestnut-colored hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. When she finally put the first slab of clay onto the replica skull, Decker wanted to sing “glory hallelujah.”