Triskele

"Bevan," Garret called as she walked by.

"Yes?" she said, coming back to stand in the doorway.

"Tell me what you think of these," he said, handing her pictures of a crime scene.

"What's the story?" she asked, looking over them.

"Wife says that last night she went out to a friend's house at around nine thirty, and when she returned early this morning, at around seven thirty, she found her husband in the pool," he told her, watching her eyebrow raise.

"How convenient," she muttered. "What does she think happened?"

"He got a little too drunk and drowned."

"Funny, you don't usually drown on your back." Bevan studied them with narrowed eyes.

She started to hand him the pictures back and he shook his head, "It's yours."

"I need to go to the crime scene then," she said, then frowned slightly. "Wish you had given me this before they moved him."

"Just do your best," he said, hiding his amusement. "Here's the file, body's in two."

"Some reason you couldn't give me this at the briefing?" she asked, taking the folder from him.

"I just wanted to get your reaction before I gave it to you," he said with a small smile.

"Keep telling yourself that and it may come true." She smiled back before walking out.

She passed Jordan on the way out and gave her a polite smile. Jordan watched her walk for a moment and was quick to notice the folder in her hand. She walked into his office and watched Garret sit down at his desk.

"So tell me about the pool guy," she said, crossing her arms.

"It's Bevan's now, talk to her about it," he said, picking up another file to avoid looking at her directly.

"You gave it to Bevan?" she asked "And why? She hasn't even seen the crime scene."

"Exactly," he said, "I want to see what she can do without being there when she needs to. We've both already got cases for this morning, and she needed one."

Jordan sighed and looked at him, feeling a bit slighted.

~~~~

Bevan looked up at the clock, it was almost six. She'd have to call her sister and tell her she'd be late. Again. She exhaled slowly and looked at the body, now opened on the autopsy table. She picked up the scalpel and was about to start removing the organs when the door opened.

"Got the tox screens on your blind man," Nigel said, striding into the autopsy suite.

She sighed loudly and turned off the recorder. She turned to face him, looking perturbed. "That couldn't wait another hour?"

"I thought you wanted them as soon as I got them." He smiled, she was so easy to annoy and he’d made it a regular game.

"I wanted them two hours ago," she said. "You couldn't just lay them on my desk in a visible location?"

"I figured you'd want them straight from the mass spec," he said, walking over and looking at the body.

"Thank you Dr. Townsend, now if you please, I'm trying to perform an autopsy," she said tersely. turning back to the body.

He waited until she turned the recorder on to speak again.

"So what do you want me to do with these?"

She turned off the recorder and stared at him a moment, obviously angry, "Do you really want to know?"

He grinned and leaned against the table, "I do."

"You're contaminating my body," she said lowly, "Go put them on my desk and stay out of my way until I leave. Thank you."

He smiled and left the crypt, looking back at her before the door closed.

~~~~

"So what did you find?" Garret asked the next morning during briefing.

"There were no signs of water or foam in the lungs whatsoever and except for the bruise on the shoulder, the body was clean. No signs of skin separation or gaseous build up, body was in the water for a very short amount of time, though how long I can't say. Time of death was around ten in the evening," she said. "Cause of death was asphyxiation, but here's no ligatures or signs of smothering. I sent a tissue sample of the bruise to a lab that specializes in the detection of Succynolcoline. They said they'd have it back to me at the end of the day. Have they reinterrogated the wife or the friends?"

"The police were waiting for your report, "Garret said. "You'll want to ask a few question too, I suppose."

"Of course," she said. "Just tell me when they're going to pick her up."

"Get down to the station," he said. "Call and tell them you're coming."

"Got it," she said, getting up and leaving.

"You're letting her cross examine a suspect?" Jordan asked.

"She's good in interrogation," he said, with a slight shrug. "Plus she's a woman, the wife might feel more comfortable with a woman in the room."

"She's supposed to make someone comfortable?" Jordan asked, sounding skeptical.

~~~~

"My client doesn't have to say anything to you," the lawyer said. "You're not a cop."

"No, I'm not," Bevan smiled, then pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Mind if I smoke?"

She didn't wait for an answer, she deftly flipped one out and lit it, taking a deep pull. She exhaled slowly, and watched the wife fidget.

"You want one?" she asked. "They always help to calm my nerves." The wife looked at her a moment before nodding slightly.

The wife took one from the open pack and Bevan lit it for her, giving her a soft smile, "I'm just here to listen to what you have to say. I'm not accusing you of anything."

The wife took a deep pull and Bevan paid attention to the way she exhaled, watching her keep the hand with the cigarette close to her mouth. She's nervous, good.

"After all, this must be hard on you, losing your husband in such a tragic way," Bevan said, taking another draw off her own cigarette and shook her head as she exhaled, "Tragic. To be a widow so young. Do you have children?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Pets?" Bevan asked, pushing the ash tray over.

"Two labs."

Bevan smiled sweetly, "I bet they're dolls."

"They're big goofs," the woman smiled. "Do you have any pets?"

"Dogs," she said, "Malinois. You can't have just one. They make a mess sometimes, but they're quiet for the most part. And a cat. Were you married long?"

"Ten years."

"I'm terribly sorry for all this, it's just routine. I mean after all, this is a very tragic accident, I'll try not to make it harder on you," she said, looking sympathetic, "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"You don't have to tell her anything," the lawyer said.

"Can you leave?" the wife asked, looking at him.

The lawyer gave Bevan a glare and walked out, going behind the two way glass, seeing several people already there.

"You do know that you're going against your legal counsel," Bevan said, seeing the woman was already halfway through with her cigarette.

"I know, I just want to talk to someone," she said, looking at Bevan. "He wasn't very good to me, he hit me a lot."

"Men do that," she said with a gentle smile. "So he beat you?"

"Not really, he just...when he got drunk," she took another deep pull off her cigarette and it went down to the filter.

"Here," Bevan said, handing her the pack. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No," she said, taking time to get another cigarette and light it. "When he got drunk, he'd yell a lot and smack me around but he never really beat me. He was getting drunk more and more, and he was starting to hit me harder. I'm glad he's gone really, now I can sleep easier at night."

"Did you kill him?"

"No," she said. "He had to have gotten drunk and fallen into the pool, he's done that before. I just wasn't there to pull him out this time."

"What do you do for a living?" she asked suddenly, crossing her legs and lighting another cigarette.

"Me? I'm an assistant pharmacist," she said, looking apprehensive. "Why?"

"Just trying to get your mind off of things," Bevan smiled, leaning back, now they were getting somewhere, "That a good job?"

"It's all right," she said with a shrug, "You have to take a drug test every three weeks, but the hospital pays good. What do you do?"

"I'm a pathologist," she smiled.

"Do you like your job?"

"I love my job," Bevan smiled. "The hours can be rough, but it's work and it keeps me busy."

"Where did you go to school? Did you go here or in England? You are English right?" she asked, "Because if you weren't I wouldn't want to offend you."

"I grew up in England. I went to Virginia Commonwealth University. Where did you go?"

"University of Georgia," she said with an ironic smile, "That's where I met George."

"What did he do for a living?" Bevan asked, watching her.

She was beginning to relax, and she congratulated herself. Maybe all those psychology classes weren't such a pain in the ass after all.

"He worked in construction," she said.

Interesting. "Do you know anything about drowning?"

"No," she answered. "Why?"

"Just wondering," she said, finally bringing out the big guns. "Have you ever played the pool game 'dead man float'? You know, where you lay on your stomach and try to float?"

"Yeah," she said, becoming nervous again. "Why?"

"It's just that your husband was found on his back," she said, deciding to drop the charade. "In fact, after you drown, your body flips over because the appendeages are so cumbersome and heavy. The fact that your husband wasn't face down and near the steps suggests that he was placed in the pool by someone. Do you want to get your lawyer back in here?"

"Yes please," she said softly, taking another draw off her cigarette.

"Keep them," Bevan said, getting up, "I have a feeling you're going to stay edgy for awhile."