'Now I'l use the National Weather Service data to determine the number of days needed to obtain 675 to 775 accumulated degree days. We may have to adjust later if the readings at your body site differ from the officialy recorded temperatures. Normaly, I like to know that in advance, but it's not a major problem.'

A few more keystrokes. I held my breath.

'Forty-one to forty-eight days. That's your range. According to your calculation, ful skeletonization would have taken place in seventy-one days.'

'So death occurred six to seven weeks ago.'

He nodded. 'But keep in mind that this time frame is based on an estimated, not an actual, predeath weight.'

'And at the time the stain was produced, the body was fleshed and actively decomposing.'

He nodded.

'But I ain't got no body.'

'And nobody cares for me.'

===OO=OOO=OO===

I drove straight to Lucy Crowe's office. The rain had stopped, but dark clouds shouldered each other low over the mountains, jockeying for position with their heavy loads.

I found the sheriff eating a corn dog behind the Civil War desk. Seeing me, she wiped crumbs from her mouth, then arced the stick and wrapper into a trash can across the room.

'Two points,' I said.

'Al net. No rim.'

I laid hard copy in front of her and took a chair. She studied the VFA profile a ful minute, elbows splayed on the desktop, fingers on her temples. Then she looked up.

'I know you're going to explain this.'

'Volatile fatty acids.'

'Meaning?'

'A body decomposed inside that wal.'

'Whose?'

'The VFA ratios suggest a time since death of six to seven weeks. Daniel Wahnetah was last seen in late July, reported missing in August. It's now October. Do the math.'

'Assuming I accept that premise, which I don't necessarily, how did Wahnetah's foot get to the crash scene?'

'If Boyd smeled decomposition, so could coyotes. They probably dragged the foot from under the wal. There's room where the foundation has crumbled.'

'And left the rest of him?'

'They probably couldn't detach anything else.'

'And how did Wahnetah get inside the courtyard?'

I shrugged.

'And how did he die?'

'That's sheriffing. I do the science.'

Down the hal Hank Wiliams crooned the 'Long-Gone Lonesome Blues.' Static made the music sound like it was coming from another era.

'Is this enough for a warrant?' I asked.

The sheriff studied the paper for another ful minute. Finaly she looked up, the eyes to die for hard on mine. Then she reached for the phone.

===OO=OOO=OO===