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body parts in the other case?”
    Jerry smiled. “I thought this would be right up your alley.” He went on to answer her question: “By the pattern of the cuts left on the tissue and the bone by the cutting instrument that was used.”
    “What kind of cutting instrument?” Charlotte asked.
    “A meat cleaver,” he replied. “In the other case, some of the cervical vertebrae were still attached to the skull, so we could match the patterns of the cuts. The head had been cut off just below the Adam’s apple. But this time, there aren’t any cervical vertebrae.”
    Charlotte looked down again at the skull, which was neck-less. “No suspicious characters hanging around the graveyard?”
    Jerry shook his head. “We don’t even know how long it was there. In the other case, we had a rough idea because the maintenance men had been mowing in the vicinity the day before the skull appeared. But this skull could have been there for weeks. The cemetery where it was found is off the beaten track.”
    “It couldn’t have been there for weeks if it belongs to the body parts that turned up at the town park a couple of weeks ago,” she said. “Were the flowers fresh?” she asked.
    Jerry nodded.
    “Was the pattern of the cuts on the”—she paused—“the butt, and the—what was it, the lower arm?—that were recently found the same as the pattern of the cuts on the body parts that went with the other skull?” she asked.
    He nodded again, and looked up at Charlotte with the kind of anticipatory smile that one reserves for another who shares one’s enthusiasms, and with whom one is about to indulge them. “What’s your schedule like? The county boys are tied up with that sensational murder case down in Yonkers, which leaves me pretty much on my own.”
    “What about your men?” Charlotte asked.
    Jerry rolled his eyes. “In the first place, I don’t have that many. It’s a small department. In the second place, I can’t talk to the ones I have. My so-called right-hand man has been here for twenty-seven years, and hasn’t had an original thought in the last twenty-six. I could use some help.”
    Charlotte smiled. “I think I could manage to fit in a few trips to Westchester,” she said. “What do we do now?”
    “You and I and our mysterious young lady here”—he looked down again at the skull resting on his desk—“at least I think she’s a young lady—are going to pay a visit to a friend of mine.” With that, he rewrapped the skull and tucked it under his arm like a running back breaking for a run. Then he headed for the office door.
    “And, if I may be so bold as to ask, who might that be?” Charlotte inquired, as Jerry held the office door open for her.
    “A man named Jack Lister. Who happens to be one of the world’s foremost forensic sculptors. And who also happens to live just a mile from here.”
    “Aha,” said Charlotte. This was getting interesting.

3
    They headed back the way Charlotte had just come: down the Zion Hill Road, and left onto River Road. Instead of stopping at the parking area just before Dr. Louria’s house, however, they continued on. Seeing Dr. Louria’s house, which Jerry informed her was called Archfield Hall, straight on, Charlotte was impressed at how big it was: a magnificent stone mansion in the Romanesque style. It was by far the largest of the large houses that lined this stretch of the river. Continuing on, they arrived five minutes later at the end of River Road, where a winding access road marked by entrance gates led up a hill to yet another remarkable house. This house was perched on a knoll high above the river, a wedding-cake affair of five stories, each story slightly smaller in diameter than the one beneath it, and each taking the shape of an octagon. The portion of the roof of each story not occupied by the story immediately above it was taken up by a balustraded balcony, and on the fifth and top story, where, were it actually a cake, a spun-sugar