After allowing herself a moment of exhilaration over the new discovery, she earnestly wished to share it with Raehael and Schuller, both of whom were laboring over a series of tests in the Woodard case. In fact, Schuller had ordered a full report on Woodard's health condition before she died-precisely the point Jessica had made in the Burton autopsy. Schuller, a depressed man according to the rumor mill here, a man hurting in his personal life from what she'd been able to gather, took her comments as censure. He meant to prove himself not guilty of negligence or incompetent work in the Burton case.
Schuller appeared a fragile man this morning, she thought. She worried how he would take the coal dust issue, if it might not be the last straw for him. She struggled with how best to approach the other forensic doctor on this.
She stepped to within whispering distance of Dr. Schuller, asking, “Can we talk in private, Dr. Schuller?”
Raehael, beside them, overheard and looked up from his microscope. Schuller promptly replied, “Al-Zadan and I have worked together for three years. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to us, Dr. Coran.”
She took a deep breath and said, “It's the report of coal dust findings on the Woodard woman.”
“What of it?”
“I did a check back through all the victims, and they all show trace elements of coal dust. I think it significant, sir.”
“Coal dust and beetles?” Schuller asked with an arched brow, and then he exchanged a long stare with Raehael before he said, “I give you my blessings. Pursue the beetle and the coal to whatever end you wish. It's in the reports, and if and when we can locate a killing ground, then perhaps we will have some explanation for this trace evidence. Use whatever you wish; our lab and our people are at your disposal.”
Schuller put it in perspective for her, saying loud enough for all to hear, “Coal heating remains one of the primary sources of fuel consumption here, despite every effort that's been made to end its use in the City. Nearly every flat in London has a coal bin below, and the City is liberally dusted with coal. Not to imply that all of us Londoners have coal dust under our nails. But you will be hard-pressed to pinpoint a killing ground in this city with coal dust and mites alone.”
She tried to salvage something of it, saying, “In America, coal dust particles would have significantly different characteristics, helping pinpoint the killer's lair. Are you sure there might not be something worth-”
“No, forget about it, Doctor. Every city dweller in London has coal dust under his nails. It's miasmatic. It's endemic.” His tone was sarcastic.
“Making coal dust the most ready substance in the city,” added Raehael with a nearly imperceptible shrug to say he was sorry for Schuller's unprofessional outburst. What had seemed so clearly an enormous clue immediately took on the attitude and character of dust mites-so abundant as to be useless, unless this coal dust had some significantly distinguishable characteristics buried within, like those minute differences found in layers of dirt at an archaeological dig.
She put the coal dust particle results aside along with her pride. Another bloody dead end, Richard would call it.
She moved along, searching the results of fiber evidence, hair evidence, blood and serum tests. Everything came up identical to the previously murdered victims. The Crucifier had left no trace of himself behind. Gloves and caution, she surmised.
One of the few remaining clues as to the Crucifier's identity remained his use of the drug Brevital to control Marion Woodard and the three other victims. It showed up in the blood work, found in large enough quantity to have put her under for some time and certainly to have subdued her, making her helpless against the god-awful attack she had suffered.
Schuller then stepped away and disappeared down the hall, a lightness in his step that hadn't been there before.
“Bastard,” she muttered.
Frustrated, the police scientists at the Yard, along with Jessica, continued the entire day to sift through the minutia of evidence left by the Crucifier, with the result being about as large as the few clues left them. This being the state of the case, Jessica expected that at least Chief Inspector Boulte would feel good-or at least vindicated on his assessment of bringing the American Colonist in on the case. Vindicated to the degree that he had been wiser than Sharpe in the matter.
All the same, a nagging intuition, a kind of, forced her to ask Schuller, “Can we get this beetle that came with the coal dust carbon dated?”
“Carbon dated?” His wide, questioning, gray-blue eyes told the story of incredulity. “Do you have any idea the expense of time and man hours that will put us to?”
“Carbon dating is the only precise way to know the age of the specimen, the only exacting method to be precise.”
“To what bloody end, Doctor? Beetles abound in London, as I am sure they abound in America.”
“Humor me, Dr. Schuller. Suppose it came with the coal dust, and suppose it suggests-”
“Carbon dating a beetle found in Coibby's hair.”
“Don't forget, we found beetle leavings on all the others, in their nails, along with the wood fibers, and the wood fibers appear to be from some ancient structure.”
His tone clearly indicated the madness of such a time-consuming step. “That would be a waste of our time here. Regardless of what you and Sharpe and the others might think, there are other, ongoing cases that have to be dealt with here. Carbon dating trace elements of beetles, really.”
“G'damnit, Doctor,” she angrily retorted, “do you have the capability to carbon date here? Or do we farm it out, and if so, where are the bloody forms?” Jessica realized two truths even as she said it. One, she hated the pettiness of having to shout; and two, she'd managed to pick up something of a British accent during her short stay in London.
Schuller responded by pacing and then exploding, “I will not be ordered about within the confines of my own laboratory by anyone. Doctor. If you wish to pursue a blind alley in this matter, you will get no help from me!” He stormed out, leaving her to be stared at by all remaining in the lab, most of whom were uninvolved in the Crucifier case. Raehael came quickly over to her. “I will see to the dating of the material.”
“Carbon dating,” she insisted.
“I am aware what you wish, Doctor. But such tests, it will take time. Please, allow me to express apology for Dr. Schuller. He has been beneath great stress these many days.”
She assumed these many days meant since the Crucifier had gone to work in London. “Thank you, Dr. Raehael.” She could not read his black, inscrutable pupils. Like a pair of grapes, the seeds glimmered deep within.
“You see, Dr. Schuller's wife, she is in hospital. Not expected to live too much soon. You unders-stand?”
Jessica closed her eyes on the revelation. It explained a great deal of Schuller's behavior toward both her and others around him, and it certainly explained his absences and his short fuse.
“I'm sorry,” she told Raehael. “I had no idea.”
“He is a stoic man. How you Americans say, a man of stone outside only.”
She thanked Raehael for the information. He took the beetle debris and particles-so much smudge lying at the bottom of a small vial as to be near invisible. “I will personally see over this matter for you. Dr. Coran. And as well, I have DNA tests, which you may now like to see some result?”
She nearly gasped at the suggestion. “You have some results?”
He held up a DNA scan sheet that reflected back the overhead fluorescent lights, making the tiny black marks on the oversize slide, like an X ray of minutia, shimmer and dance about before her eyes.
“What have you learned?”
“I rule out my own self as secretor. I rule out the investigators next, you and Dr. Schuller, of course next, so this will take time. But this…” He shook the DNA strand that had been scanned and duplicated onto an acetate sheet, and it made a small thunder in response. “I believe we have DNA from heavy secretor, and intuition tell me it is from the killer. Take time to look is lesson you have taught me, Dr. Coran,” he said.