Read The Second Rule of Ten: A Tenzing Norbu Mystery (Dharma Detective: Tenzing Norbu Mystery) for Free Online Page B

Marv got skinned shortly after he died.
    But how did he die?
    There was no other visible trauma, no needle sites, no gun shot wounds, no lacerations, no blunt force trauma, no hematomas, no evidence of strangulation. Nothing.
    “No visible external cause of death,” Bhatnager concluded. “I’m going to have to open him up, at least do a partial on his sternum. We still can’t rule out a cardiac event.”
    He opened Marv’s chest with a V-shaped incision, from shoulder joints to mid-chest. Using surgical shears, he cut along both sides of the chest cavity and lifted up the entire ribcage and breastbone as if it were a single chest-plate of armor.
    I looked over at Heather. Her eyes connected with mine for one brief moment before returning to Marv’s remains. I did the same. I was pretty sure this was my first flirtation initiated over an opened cadaver.
    After the usual visual recitation of organs, and some careful cutting away of muscle and cartilage, Bhatnager placed both hands in the chest cavity and lifted out a heart. Contrary to the opinion of some in the entertainment world, Marv Rudolph actually had one.
    Bhatnager gently deposited the organ on a metal tray to be weighed and measured, sliced and scrutinized. I was both fascinated and slightly repelled by the fleshy pump before me. How could this lump of muscle and tissue be the seat of so much joy, and so much trouble? I glanced at Heather again as terms like “subscapular fat thickness” and “mild myocardial hypertrophy” swirled around us. She was studying the removed heart. Her eyes blinked several times.
    “Can’t be sure yet, but it doesn’t look like a heart attack, either,” Bhatnager muttered. “This is going to take a while. We’re going to have to open the cranium as well. Somebody let the family know, please. I mean, we’re looking at numerous tissue samples, stomach contents, toxicology screenings, maybe even bringing in my histo- and neuro-pathologists. Oh, and get me the ultra-violet light, as well.” Bhatnager rotated his shoulders. “He’s not getting out of here any time soon. Cause of death deferred, pending further results. Let’s take a little break.”
    Bill and I shed our autopsy-wear and walked back through the lobby, where Marv’s young guardian was still deep in prayer, chanting words of consolation. I was glad he wasn’t privy to the events taking place inside that chilly room. As Bill and I stepped outside, Heather was right behind us. She peeled off her mask and lifted her face to the sun, breathing deeply.
    She was very beautiful.
    “Thank God for small favors,” Bill said. I followed his gaze. The Assistant Chief from the Operations Bureau, Ted Summer, was making a statement to the clustered media. Their cameras were fixated on his trim goatee, not us.
    “What a mess,” Bill added. “If this goes the toxicology route, it could take weeks. How you holding up, Heather?”
    “So-so,” she admitted. “Still trying to get used to everything . . . “ She shook her head.
    I nudged Bill. Nudged him again, harder.
    “Oh, Heather, this is my former partner, Tenzing Norbu. Ten, Dr. Heather Magnuson.”
    She pushed her glasses to the top of her head, held out a hand, blushed, snatched it back to peel off a latex examination glove, and tried again. “Hello.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Magnuson.” We shook hands. Hers was cool to the touch. Her fingers were long and delicate, musician’s fingers. The bones felt fragile to me.
    “Not used to ‘doctor’ either. Better just make it Heather.” Right away I liked the sound of her voice. It was deep and calm, a perfect “bedside manner” voice. On the other hand, I wasn’t crazy about the fact that she was an inch or two taller than me. On the other, other hand, maybe I wasn’t finished growing yet.
    “Detective Bohannon!” Chief Summer had spotted Bill and was waving him over to the media mob.
    “Great,” Bill said, and crossed the parking lot to toss a