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I began.
'Not all women are small.'
'No, but not many are as tall as this. And even a big woman would
have a more delicate bone structure, especially the cranium.
That's--'
'I know what a cranium is.'
God, but she was spiky. 'I was about to say that's usually a good
indication of gender,' I finished.
Her chin came up, stubbornly, but she made no other comment.
Tom straightened from where he'd been examining the gaping
mouth.
'David, take a look at this.'
He moved aside as I went over. Much of the soft tissue had gone
from the face; eyes and nasal cavity were heaving with maggots. The
teeth were almost fully exposed, and where the gums had been
the yellow-white of the dentine had a definite reddish hue.
'Pink teeth,' I commented.
'Ever come across them before?'Tom asked.
'Once or twice.' But not often. And not in a situation like this.
Jacobsen had been listening. 'Pink teeth?'
'It's caused by haemoglobin from the blood being forced into the
dentine,' I told her.'Gives the teeth a pinkish look under the enamel.
You sometimes find it in drowning victims who've been in the water
for some time, because they tend to float head down.'
'Somehow I don't think we're dealing with a drowning here,'
Gardner said, clumping back into the cabin.
He had another man with him. The newcomer also wore overshoes
and gloves but didn't strike me as either a police officer or a
TBI agent. He was in his mid-forties, not plump exactly, but with a
sleek, well-fed look about him. He wore chinos and a lightweight
suede jacket over a pale blue shirt, and the well-fleshed cheeks were
covered with a stubble that stopped just short of being a beard.
But the apparently casual appearance was a little too contrived, as
though he'd styled himself on the chiselled models from magazine
advertisements. The clothes were too well cut and expensive, the
shirt open by one button too many. And the stubble, like the hair,
was slightly too uniform to be anything other than carefully
groomed.
He exuded self-assurance as he walked into the cabin. His half
smile never wavered as he took in the body tied to the table.
Gardner had dispensed with his mask, perhaps out of deference to
the newcomer, who wasn't wearing one either. 'Professor Irving, I
don't think you've met Tom Lieberman, have you?'
The newcomer turned his smile on to Tom. 'No, I'm afraid our
paths haven't crossed. You'll have to excuse me if I don't shake hands,'
he said, theatrically showing us his gloves.
'Professor Irving's a criminal personality profiler who's worked
with the TBI on several investigations,' Gardner explained. 'We
wanted to get a psychological perspective on this.'
Irving gave a self-deprecating grin. 'Actually, I prefer to call myself
a "behaviouralist". But I'm not going to quibble about titles.'
You just have done. I told myself not to take my mood out on him.
Tom's smile was blandness itself, but I thought I detected a coolness
about it.'Pleased to meet you, Professor Irving. This is my friend
and colleague, Dr Hunter,' he added, making up for Gardner's
omission.
The nod Irving sent my way was polite enough, but it was obvious
I didn't register on his radar. His attention was already moving to
Jacobsen, his smile widening.
'I don't think I caught your name?'
'Diane Jacobsen.' She seemed almost flustered, the cool she'd displayed
so far in danger of slipping as she stepped forward. 'It's a
pleasure to meet you, Professor Irving. I've read a lot of your work.'
Irving's smile broadened even further. I couldn't help but notice
how unnaturally white and even his teeth were.
'I trust it met with your approval. And, please, call me Alex.'
'Diane majored in psychology before she joined theTBI,' Gardner
put in.
The profiler's eyebrows rose. 'Really? Then I'll have to be extra
careful not to slip up.' He didn't actually pat her on the head, but he
might as well have. An expression of distaste replaced his smile as
he considered