IT WAS FIVE-THIRTY WHENSLIDELL DROPPED ME AT THEMCME.Tim Larabee was on his way out.
“What’s the word on Ricky Don?” I asked.
“No signs of trauma. Looks like an overdose, but we’l have to wait for the tox report.”
“Find signs of chronic use?”
“Yes. Course, that doesn’t mean someone didn’t nudge him over last Friday.”
I summarized my trip to Columbia with Slidel .
“Where’d you say this Cagle lives?”
I told him.
“Looper took him to Richland Hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“Odd, since Baptist is right there at Sumter and Taylor.”
“Richland isn’t the closest hospital?”
“No.”
“Maybe Looper didn’t know that.”
“Maybe.” Larabee wagged his head. “Folks is dropping like flies, ma dear.”
“I’m going to phone Lancaster County, see if I can shake something loose on Cagle’s report.”
“Go, girl.” Larabee pushed open the glass door and was gone.
Seated at my desk, I looked up the number and dialed.
“Lancaster County Sheriff ’s Department.”
After introducing myself, I asked for the person in charge.
“Chief Deputy Roe is unavailable at the moment.”
I gave a two-sentence synopsis of the potential Foote farm privy–Lancaster County skeletal connection, and of my problems in obtaining a copy of the anthropology report, and asked if anyone else could help me.
“Let me see if one of the investigating officers is in.”
Pause. Several clicks, then a female voice.
“Terry Woolsey.”
I repeated my spiel.
“The guy that caught that one has moved on. You’l have to talk with Chief Deputy Roe.”
“Are you familiar with the case?”
“I remember it. Headless skeleton, turned up over at the state park about three years back.”
“I understand there was a different sheriff then.”
“Hal Cobber. Lost the election, retired to Florida.”
“The coroner was Murray Snow?”
“Yes.” Guarded.
“Did you know Mr. Snow?”
“Dr. Snow. He was an obstetrician. The position of coroner isn’t ful -time down here.”
“Who is the current coroner?”
“James Park.”
“Another doctor?”
“Park owns a funeral home. Bit of local irony. Snow brought folks into the world. Park sends ’em out.” It sounded like a joke that had been told a few times.
“Is Park an easy guy to work with?”
“He does his job.”
“Any reason he’d be holding back on that anthropology report?”
“None he shared with me.”
What the hel . Try the sisters-in-arms approach.
“Right.” Moment of poignant hesitation. “Listen, I’m working with Detectives Slidel and Rinaldi up here in Charlotte,” I said, frustration tinging my voice ever so slightly. “I’l be honest, Detective Woolsey. I don’t think these guys are real y keeping me in the loop.”
“What’s your point?”
So much for sisterhood.
“It doesn’t seem likely that Dr. Cagle’s report would just vanish from the system.”
“Shit happens.”
“You ever encountered that problem on a case?”
She ignored my question.
“Surely this anthropologist kept records. Why not ask him for his copy?”