Page 38 of Death at a Highland Wedding
“It would,” Gray says. “We will need to take a look at them.”
“Is this wound the cause of death…?” I trail off. “Sorry. Amateur question.”
It’s an amateur question, not because it seems the obvious cause, but because Gray isn’t going to make that determination without an autopsy. He’s not even going to speculate without a full external examination of the body.
He forgives my enthusiasm with, “A blow like thiscouldbe fatal. I cannot undress him for a thorough look, but we will do what we can.”
What we can do is mostly just check Sinclair’s face and hands, the only exposed skin. We can also look for damage to his clothing—maybe a bullet hole or knife slice. We find none of that, and no defensive wounds on his hands or anything other than dirt caught under his nails.
McCreadie and Gray roll Sinclair over for a better look at his face. Hisnose is broken and caked with blood, but it’s also caked with dirt, suggesting he fell face-first to the ground without trying to break his fall.
“Could he have died that fast?” Then I again answer my own question. “A blow to the head rarely causes instant death, but it can cause a loss of consciousness. He gets hit and passes out. Smacks facedown into the dirt. Then he either dies of the blow or his killer does something else to him. Suffocation would be most likely.” I peer at Sinclair’s open eyes. “No petechial hemorrhages.”
Gray says nothing. He’s letting his student run with this one.
“No marks around the neck or mouth,” I say. “I can’t tell about the nose until the blood is cleaned, but if anything was held over his mouth and nose, it’d have smeared that blood. The other option would be injection, but we’re unlikely to see that through his clothing, and I don’t see any marks on the exposed skin.”
“Anything else?” Gray says.
His tone tells me I’m missing something. I shift as I think it through and then talk it through. “Hit on the back of the head. Loses consciousness. Falls and breaks his nose. I don’t know how long it’d take for the blow to kill him.”
I shift my position and ponder more. “The intent wouldn’t necessarily be murder. Not with a single blow. If the blow was meant as a warning, the killer might have walked away at that point. If they wanted to be sure their target was dead, suffocation would be easiest. Manual strangulation would work. Injection would require bringing supplies. There’s no sign of a knife or bullet wound, but if you had a knife or gun, why bother with the blow to the head?”
I rack my brain. Then I look at Gray. “I give up. How else can you kill an unconscious victim?”
“Breaking his neck,” he says. “Which could happen with the blow to the head. Or it could be inflicted after.”
“Is that something I can tell without an internal exam?” I ask.
“Sometimes, but I see no sign of it here. Externally, that is. I will need to look closer. There is, however, one more thing that is odd.”
I look down at Sinclair. I could just ask for the answer. This isn’t a pop quiz. But if I’m given a puzzle, I at least want to try solving it on my own.
Gray says, “He is struck and loses consciousness as he falls. There are no signs of defense.”
“Meaning he never regained consciousness.”
“Yes.”
McCreadie clears his throat. I look over at him. No, I glower at him, because it means he is very politely telling us he knows the answer, and it’s like being in school, trying to impress the teacher, and your prime rival indicates he has the answer you don’t.
“Fine,” I say, ungraciously. “What—? Wait! His eyes are open.” I look at Gray. “If he lost consciousness and never regained it, his eyes should be closed, right?”
“There are instances where eyelids remain open—loss of consciousness due to seizures and such—but ruling that out, yes, his eyelids should be closed.”
“Opening them should mean he woke up, but if he woke up, we’d expect to see a sign of that. At the very least, the blood on his nose, again, should be smeared. Could that mean he didn’t lose consciousness? That the blow killed him instantly?”
“Likely.”
“I was going to say that,” McCreadie pipes up. “The bit about the eyes, that is.”
“We’ll split the gold star.” I look down at Sinclair. “Anything else we need to examine?”
“No, I believe it is time to notify the household,” Gray says.
“Which means it’s time for Hugh and me to do our crime-scene detecting, leaving you to run to the house.”
Gray’s mouth opens. Then his eyes narrow, and I know he wants to say McCreadie or I can handle processing the scene alone, so he can stay and participate. But two sets of professional eyes are better, and wearethe professionals.
