Huizinga quickly detached the larynx and esophagus, severing arteries and ligaments. With a series of quick cuts, he separated the attachments of the organ set to the spinal cord, bladder, and rectum—freeing it from its cage in the body.
“Ready to remove the organ set?” he asked.
Zubriski moved to the opposite side as Huizinga and slipped her hands beneath the organ package.
“On three,” he said.
In a moment, the complete organ set was lifted out and placed on a secondary gurney for further dissection.
Huizinga now began cutting free the individual organs—heart, lungs, liver, and so forth—examining and describing them, weighing them, and taking tissue samples. Of these, the stomach was usually the most important, as it contained the victim’s last meal, if any. It could also be useful in calculating the time of death, although the embalming of the corpse would greatly complicate that determination. Maybe, he thought, the embalming had been done for exactly that purpose: to make it difficult to determine the time of death.
“Scalpel,” he said.
One was produced. He inserted it into the top of the stomach and made a clean incision, using retractors to expose the interior. A strong gagging smell of wine greeted his nostrils, and the incision revealed a mass that looked like it might be bread. It had not begun to digest, turning instead into an irregular lump of starch sodden with red wine.
Moving a magnifier over the mass, he could see some indications of structure—crackers, it looked like. A whole bunch of them: thin, hard, undigested crackers, barely chewed, and some swallowed practically whole. It looked like the poor guy had eaten an entire box of saltines or soda water crackers and chased them with a lot of red wine.
“Interesting last meal,” murmured Huizinga. “Let’s get some samples.”
Zubriski used the tweezers to pry a piece off the mass and place it in an evidence tube, and collected the liquid with swabs and a suction dropper. She took her time doing it, and then lingered, bent over the stomach, making a close examination.
“Do you see anything of note?” Huizinga asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“I see evidence of more starchy material extruding from the lower esophageal sphincter, there. I might suggest an incision opening the esophagus and pharynx.”
Huizinga turned his attention to the bottom of the esophagus and could see what she meant: more residue was coming out.
“Good idea,” he said, trying not to be annoyed that she’d noticed something he hadn’t. He made a clean longitudinal slice of the lower esophagus and placed a retractor to keep it open, peering inside. “More crackers,” said Huizinga. “Looks like he died in the process of eating and swallowing.”
“May I, Doctor?”
He stepped back, and Zubriski moved in to take a close look, her magnifier almost touching the incision. After a while, she straightened up. “Those aren’t crackers, Doctor.”
“How can you tell?” Huizinga was taken aback and tried to tamp down the small annoyance this contradictory comment provoked.
His faint displeasure must have showed on his face, because the look on hers crystallized into a stubbornness that surprised him. “Forgive the personal question, Doctor, but… are you Catholic?”
He was taken aback at the question. “Um, no. Atheist, if you must know.” He was immediately sorry he’d been provoked into revealing that and said sternly, “I hardly think the question is relevant.”
And now Zubriski bestowed a rather knowing smile on him. “Well, IamCatholic, and itisrelevant. They aren’t crackers, they’re Communion wafers—the Sacred Host that the priest gives you during the Eucharist. You can just make out the remains of the cross stamped on that one—do you see?—and this one just shows the faintest outline of the Lamb of Christ impressed into the wafer. I’m sure that’s what they are—I, um, see them every week.”
Huizinga stared, looking closely under the bright lights, turning his head to get a raking view. He was so astonished he couldn’t immediately find the words to respond.
“And the wine, Doctor,” went on Zubriski. “Also taken as part of Communion.”
“What… do you make of it?” asked Huizinga, struggling to process the idea.
“It appears,” said Zubriski, her voice flat, “that the victim, while being tortured, was eating Communion wafers and drinking sacramental wine.”
