CHAPTER 2: A FEW BONES
They were sitting on the sand, beach rods already back probing the waves.
"About time you showed up. We need a beer and some lunch." Ben stood up and started reeling in.
Johnno lacked colour in his voice when he replied.
"I was up behind as and hill and found something."
"Lucky you. Want to share it....." Gary didn't finish his sentence for Johnno had unwrapped his t-shirt and just stood there exposing the bony hand.
"Holy Hell!" Rain was falling and had been for most of the day.
The phone on David My field's desk rang. A balding man in his fifties gave a sigh and decided that it could continue to ring. The last autopsy had been finalized and the detectives were hounding him for
results. Then there was that test he needed to finish on that other case. The life of a forensic officer could be a pain sometimes. The phone continued to ring. Finally the fingers left the lap top and pressed rather heavily on the phone console. The noise had lost his train of thought. An hour later, David My field and his younger colleague were in a 4x4headingsouth from the city.
The rain continued and both knew they would not be back until at least tomorrow. By the time they got to wherever this remote place was, it would be dark and all that could be done would be to rope off the area and wait for daylight. After all if it was a few bones then another few hours wouldn't change anything. In town they drove to the local police station, a small Federation brick building dating back to when robust sergeants kept the peace and kicked young offenders back into line before the system ruined them. The rain was still falling and night approaching as they moved quickly inside to be met by the only occupant, a middle aged woman in civilian clothes.
"Hello. I'm Moya. I'm a volunteer. The officers are down at the site, or scene or whatever you call it and I'm to tell you that they will stay there overnight. Bill
Guinness has loaned them his off road camper. Wouldn't want to be sleeping out in this, would you?" The forensic man nodded. He was dying for a toilet and then a whisky.
"Any point going out tonight? The report said a few bones, a hand probably."
Moya waved her arms about.
"No, for sure. If it's bones then a few more hours won't change anything." Then peering at them, said slowly,
"will it?"
"No. If we can get DNA from dinosaur bones then a human bone
won't mind waiting a little longer." She looked at them and smiled.
"Whatever you say, you're the doctor. Room in the 'Blue Lagoon' reserved for you although at this time of they ear why reserve it. Track into Bungey Beach is about 15km south. Tom left a piece of police tape on a tree. Not far. He asked the boys who found whatever it was, to stay. Well if that is all I'll lock up and you have a nice trip. Avoid the chicken mornay. Word is she uses dead pelicans." My field groaned inwardly and they left.
The service station down the road provided directions and a toilet. Now he could enjoy that whisky. Actually he didn't know if young Jason was a whisky man, but he seemed pretty normal, if being a forensic person, you were able to maintain that perception. Next morning the skies had that leaden look but no rain was falling. Jason had a liking for Bourbon and Coke which suited My field but also a liking for two hours of rugby on the room's TV which didn't suit My field. Still there could be worse things in life. All this way for a hand! They made sure they had a good break fast on the expense account then left, finding the marker tape and a track full of mud puddles. The camp complete with Bill's camper was located and three youths sitting around a very smoky fire, gave a wave.
The two policemen had already gone up to the scene with spades in case any fishermen came along the beach, and a couple of the boys would take My field and his assistant. They were offered a mug of tea from the billy on the fire and forensic officer thought the police could wait a little longer. Finally they walked to the beach and then a long the sand that seemed to David My field to stretch on forever. Jason carried his pathology kit and camera, for him. The two policemen were waiting, rugged up in thick coats for the cold on shore wind had not abated. Tom, the senior constable, led the way and soon they were all standing around the long bone that Johnno had started to pull out.
"How'd you come to find the hand?" the forensic officer asked of the young fisherman. Johnno coloured a little.
"I was sitting on the top up there looking for fish. Sorry, just sitting there and I looked down here and thought. Anyway I saw something white. No grey, only it was really white." He coloured more at his flustering.
Authority did that to him. There was silence as everyone waited for him to continue. A sea gull shrieked overhead.
"I pulled it up and it became a skeleton, well a hand skeleton, if that's what you call it. Then I dug a bit and found that arm thing and got out of here. I took the hand and wrapped it my t-shirt. Probably shouldn't have touched it." He stuck out his fingers.
"You can take my finger prints if you want, for elimination if it....." He trailed off, lost for words.
"It won't be necessary, John. Johnno. I doubt if there would have been any on the bones. The corrosive forces of nature have seen to that. My field looked at the policemen.
"Well, lets carefully dig and see if the rest of Mr.X is still here. Or Mrs.X. You look around, senior, for anything of interest. Weapon maybe? Clothing?"
"Did that last evening when the boys rang in and called us out. And againt his morning, as best we could without trampling everywhere. Nothing caught our eye. Looks like it could be months or even years ago." They started digging. Two hours later they had radioed Area for assistance.
By lunch time they had unearthed eight skeletons. My field didn't need a degree in forensic medicine to soon tell him that most, if not all, of the persons whose bones were now
before them, had died violently. Smashed skulls, broken ribs and other bones indicated this. They were not spread out too far except for two who were lying on to widen the dig. How long they had been there would need laboratory testing. The fear sofa serial killer's burial or killing ground was foremost in their thoughts.