BONES IN THE BACKYARD
The short elderly Frenchman jumped down from his truck, wiped his hands on soiled yellow coveralls, the pant legs tucked into knee-high black rubber boots, and slammed the truck door. His face was surrounded by curly gray hair. "What's up?" he asked.
"This is Detective Fallon and Mike Ellis over there. We need to have the septic tank pumped out before we can say what's up. These ladies found a skull in there," Jankowski replied. "You're kidding! A skull? A human skull?" Nothing like this had ever happened in his twenty-eight years of service. The somber look on everyone's face told him it was true.
"Do you have a screen filter on your hose? There may be small pieces down there that we'll be interested in," said Detective Fallon. "Let's get to it."
Frenchy backed his truck close to the septic tank, hopped out and began to unwind a chunky hose. Without saying a word, intent on his work, he snapped on a filter and dropped it into the opening. A fetid odor rose from the agitated liquid, forcing the women to back off and hold their breath. Jankowski and the detectives stood close by.
Half an hour later the tank was just about drained when the hose started moving convulsively. Frenchy pulled the hose part of the way out, whacked it against the opening and dropped it back in. "Something must have blocked the hose, but I think it's okay now."
Finally, a loud sucking sound signaled that the last of the liquids had been pumped from the tank. Frenchy pulled the hose out and coiled it around the bracket at the back of his truck. He wiped his hands on his coveralls before reaching in his pocket for a handkerchief. Wiping his brow, he turned to Jankowski, "Now what? I don't see no skull."
"Thanks for your help, Frenchy. And remember, the ladies don't need a bunch of sightseers here, this is just an investigation. Please don't be discussing this around town."
Frenchy changed his coveralls, filled out a report form Jankowski gave him and climbed into his truck, grumbling something about being dismissed just when things were beginning to get interesting. He drove his full honey wagon back down the driveway.
Fallon donned his own coveralls, heavy-duty rubber work boots, a hard hat and canvas gloves from the van, and squeezed down into the tank. Ellis handed him a camera to photograph the scene inside the tank. He took a dozen pictures from different angles before handing the camera up to Jankowski. "There's quite a few bones laying around. I may be here all night!" he called out to the men. Carefully he retrieved the bones, one by one, and passed them up to Ellis and Jankowski. The slimy bones and slippery gloves slowed the process and spattered their uniforms with sludge.
"A doctor friend of mine once told me there were over 200 bones in the body," sputtered Detective Fallon as he gasped for fresh air. "I don't plan to count them, but this sure does seem like a lot of bones! And here's a heavy one--someone made sure this body wouldn't be discovered. It's wired to a cement block!" All three men struggled to haul the gruesome segments from the tank without separating them.
Fallon flashed his light around the empty tank one last time before climbing out and taking several deep breaths. He pulled off his soiled, smelly outer clothing and glanced about for a hose to rinse his hands. Seeing none, he called Ellis to bring him the moist towelette package from his equipment box. Gratefully, he wiped his hands, then vigorously ran a hand through his crew-cut red hair, shaking off the tight confinement of his hard hat.
The policemen huddled together talking quietly about the situation. They took measurements and made sketches of the bones and septic tank, then placed the evidence in separate plastic bags. It was apparent that the bones had been submerged for a long time, for there were no visible clues--no clothing fragments, tissue nor hair. Ellis completed the inspection by diagramming the surrounding area, making extensive notes and taking more photos of the land, house and kennel. Bashia and Dottie sat on the back steps the entire time, quietly watching the activities.
It was almost six when Detectives Fallon and Ellis drove off with their find. Jankowski knew it would be several weeks before any report would be available. The bones would be sent to the State Forensic Science Lab in Meriden for examination and a DNA profile, but it would not be considered a priority, since the bones verified that this was not a new crime. He finished filling out his own report forms in the car, and radioed headquarters once more before telling the women he was leaving.
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