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Oakland Homicide Unit at (510) 238–3821.
    Sinclair e-mailed the release to the twenty people on the distribution list and printed three copies. He slid one into his file, dropped one on the lieutenant’s desk, and then handed one to Connie and stood next to her as she read it.
    “We’ve already notified the parents, but Danville PD wants time to notify the school so the grief counselors can do their thing,” he said.
    “The only thing in here that will pique the media’s interest is the Danville reference. Other than that, teenage boy found dead in Oakland isn’t news. You’ll let me know when you release his name or call this a homicide?”
    “Sure will.”
    “And you’ll let me know if you want to start talking to the vultures yourself?” Connie said. “And you know I’m not including Ms. Schueller with my reference to reporters being vultures.”
    “Of course.”
    “Coroner called a second time. They’re starting.” Connie returned to a foot-high stack of reports on her desk.
    Sinclair walked the two blocks to the county building, buzzed himself in through the main office, and walked down the stairs to a small room that led to the morgue. He pulled a cloth gown over his clothes and donned a paper cap, facemask, glasses, and booties. Then he pushed through the double doors. Despite the powerful ventilation fans that noisily sucked out the air, the smells of formaldehyde, antiseptic, and decaying flesh immediately filled Sinclair’s nostrils. New police trainees would sometimes rush back out and vomit the first time they entered the room during the academy, but it took a body that had ripened for several days to bother Sinclair.
    Dr. Gorman stood over a naked body laid out on one of the six stainless steel tables. “Good morning, Sergeant Sinclair,” said the gray-haired man as he peered over his broad nose through a large magnifying glass. “I see three separate injection sites that apparently entered a vein on the right arm and at least five additional ones that missed the vein. I’ll remove and examine this tissue further under the microscope. If you allow me to play detective for a moment, I’ll say it would be odd for a right-handed person to inject himself in the right arm.”
    “How do you know he’s right handed?” Sinclair asked.
    “Excellent question.”
    Most pathologists who took up this specialty had difficulty dealing with people and realized a doctor didn’t need a bedside manner when his patients were dead. But not Gorman. He was social, had a dry sense of humor, and regularly spoke like a professor. “Our subject’s family doctor contacted the office first thing this morning and forwarded his medical file. The subject had a school sports physical a month ago. Neither the subject, in hispersonal history questionnaire, nor the examining doctor noted any health or medical issues. I personally spoke to the physician, and he doubts the subject had ever used an illegal substance.”
    “So someone else injected him.”
    “You will have to figure that out, but permit me to present several observations. If you look here,” Gorman said as he cut into a purplish bruise just below the injection marks. “Young, healthy men don’t bruise easily. The bruises are shallow, and since they are not well developed, I suspect they were caused close to the time of death. I further suspect the hand that grasped him was quite powerful, probably an adult male.”
    “Someone held his arm when they shot him up?”
    “That would be a reasonable deduction. Look here.” Gorman pointed to a spot on the body’s right chest where a ruler lay between two marks. “These two abnormalities appear to be abrasions combined with burn marks. In a sense, they are burns. The tissue between the two marks is also disturbed. Are you familiar with electroshock incapacitant devices?”
    “You talking about a Taser?”
    “Precisely, but these injuries were likely caused by a contact device, commonly referred to as