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the record, I’ll go out on a limb and say probably not decades. There is one thing: The right hand’s gone from all of them. But we haven’t started examining closely, there could be other parts missing.”
    “Animal scatter?” said Reed.
    “Don’t imagine coyotes or raccoons diving into this, but you never know. Some of the bigger birds — herons, egrets, even a pelican or a gull — might’ve picked out a tidbit or two. Or a human predator — someone taking a trophy. We’ll backtrack weather reports, try to find out if wind on water could’ve been a factor in terms of drift and alteration of surface temperature.”
    “Complicated,” said Milo.
    Hargrove grinned. “It’s what we live for, but I’m sorry for you guys.”
    The young black anthropologist, pretty, with a heart-shaped face and a bow mouth, said something to Hargrove.
    Hargrove said, “Thank you, Liz.” To us: “Dr. Wilkinson wants you to know that all three bodies seem to be facing east. Was that true of the one left out in the open?”
    Reed thought. “As a matter of fact, it was. Interesting…”
    Dr. Wilkinson spoke up. “On the other hand, we’re talking about an
n
of — a small sample from which to draw a significant conclusion.”
    Reed said, “Four out of four sounds significant to me, Doc.”
    Wilkinson shrugged. The other young anthropologist, freckled and rosy-cheeked, said, “East. As in facing the dawn? Some sort of ritual?”
    “Facing Mecca,” said Hargrove. She grimaced. “We won’t even
go
there.”
    Reed had kept his eyes on Dr. Liz Wilkinson. “Thanks for being so observant.”
    Wilkinson tugged at her hair cap. “Just thought you should know.”
     
CHAPTER 4
     
    Reed, Milo, and I returned to the entrance of the marsh. The coroner’s van was gone. Two uniforms remained on guard, looking bored. One said, “The ghouls went to catch a bite.”
    Reed said, “Any ideas, Lieutenant?”
    “Sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”
    The young detective fiddled with his sunglasses. “Tell you one thing, I’m happy for the help.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “It’s shaping up like a team case, right?”
    Milo didn’t answer, and Reed’s sunburned spot turned crimson. “To be honest, I’m not exactly Sherlock, Lieutenant.”
    “How long on the job?”
    “Joined the department after college, made detective two years ago, started at Central GTA. I just got transferred to Homicide last February.”
    “Congratulations.”
    Reed frowned. “Picked up two cases since then. Besides this one, I mean. One closed in a week but anyone could’ve done it, total no-brainer. The second one’s an icy-cold missing person I’m not sure will ever be solved.”
    “Pacific sends MP cases to Homicide?”
    “Not generally,” said Reed. “Rich connections, the kind you definitely want to make happy, but…”
    “Cases have their own rhythm,” said Milo. “Takes time to get your footing.”
    I’d seen him lose sleep, gain weight, and experience soaring blood pressure over unsolveds.
    Reed studied the soft brown dirt of the marsh. A brown pelican soared, aimed its massive beak downward, changed its mind and flew back toward the Pacific.
    Milo said, “Let’s talk about Selena Bass.”
    Reed pulled out his pad. “Female Caucasian, twenty-six years old, five five, one ten, brown and brown. One registered vehicle, a 2003 Nissan Sentra, it was at her apartment, didn’t look disturbed, so we’re not talking a jacking. No signs of obvious forced entry. Maybe she went off with someone she knew and things got nasty.”
    “Where in Venice?”
    Reed read off an address on Indiana, south of Rose, west of Lincoln.
    Milo said, “Gang stuff going on there, right?”
    “Some. Banger snatches her, it wouldn’t be much of a drive from there to here. So sure, we could be talking about a convenient dump site. But those other bodies…”
    “They could also be vics from Bass’s neighborhood.”
    “A gang-hit thing?”
    “Or,”