Story Skeleton—Postmortem

Story structure relates to the psychological appeal of narrative, that which engages readers and builds in them a sense of anticipation—a desire to know what happens next. Our ongoing exploration now delves into mysteries, illustrating yet again the universality of story structure, albeit from a different angle.

By Michelle Barker

Pioneering Forensic Science in Fiction 

Crime author Patricia Cornwell struck gold with her creation of forensic pathologist and chief medical examiner Kay Scarpetta. Postmortem is the first in the series. When it was published in 1990, DNA testing in criminal investigations was just getting off the ground and forensic science had rarely been explored in fiction. Solving crimes chiefly through scientific analysis took the mystery genre into a new form that eventually spawned the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

Cornwell’s idea to make her main character a smart, ambitious woman was a stroke of brilliance—or rather, an editor’s stroke of brilliance, because in the original draft, her main character was a man. Kay Scarpetta chooses her career over the decision to have a family, but her personal life gets a subplot that makes her both human and relatable, and feminism is definitely a theme in this first book.

Postmortem was Cornwell’s debut novel and it won several awards, as did the series as a whole. Like Scarpetta, Cornwell worked in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (OCME) in Virginia—though not as a forensic pathologist. But she did observe autopsies and took classes in forensic science, and both her research and attention to detail create a strong feeling of authenticity. The novel is loosely based on an actual series of murders (committed by the Southside Strangler) that took place in Richmond, Virginia during the summer of 1987.

But some stretching gets done here in the name of drama. Scarpetta becomes far more involved in solving the crimes than a forensic pathologist normally would, and she has a direct run-in with the killer and (spoiler alert) nearly becomes one of his victims.

In terms of mystery subgenre, Postmortem is a police procedural, which means the focus is on the investigative process from the point of view of law enforcement agencies.

Plot Points

Crime Time (Stasis and Inciting Incident)

A story’s stasis shows the reader the protagonist’s “normal life” before an inciting incident spurs them into action to achieve their narrative goal (which in mystery novels is to solve the crime). In this genre, stasis is often either brief or implied, and the reader is thrown directly into the story with the occurrence of the crime.

Postmortem opens after the serial killer claims his fourth victim. Stasis is granted about half a page: Kay Scarpetta has a bad dream about an evil white face at her window (foreshadowing) when the phone wakes her (the inciting incident). A middle of the night call is never a good thing for the chief medical examiner, and when it’s Pete Marino, the homicide investigator on the case, it’s bound to be bad news. Doubly so because Marino doesn’t want to call her. She has insisted on it (normally it’s the medical examiner on call who attends the scene). The rivalry between Marino and Scarpetta is established when he condescends to her about the scene’s location. Right away, we get the sense that he will treat her as less than.

It's a common feature of the genre that the two key people working the case don’t get along. Marino is a middle-aged, hard-boiled detective. He’s the main sidekick character, and for the first half of the book he’s also an adversary (though not the villain—that distinction belongs to the murderer). This is a classic case of book-learning versus street smarts, and both characters have something to prove. Marino is crude, cocky, and comes from the wrong side of the tracks. Scarpetta is battling the Old Boys’ Club of both the OCME and the detective world. While many mystery novels do not include side quests or relationship arcs, that isn’t the case here. Marino and Scarpetta’s relationship is dynamic and forms the backbone of the novel.

As Scarpetta arrives at the crime scene, it’s noteworthy that Cornwell shows her being closed-mouthed with the press, since accusations of a leak will dog her for most of the novel. We get a sense of her powers of observation the moment she walks into the victim’s residence. This is a common stage in mystery novels that we can call the detective and her methods—an early demonstration of who the detective is and how she will go about solving the crime. There’s an interesting contrast between how she and Marino approach the scene. Marino is old school, traditional—he relies on intuition. Scarpetta takes a more scientific approach. Each thinks their way is the right way. She focuses on the victim—why her? Besides hunting for evidence, she looks for patterns: similarities, differences, and then she examines the body. Whereas Marino considers how the crime was committed: how the murderer got in, why there are no muddy footprints. In fact, this would make for a good partnership—and might even allow them to solve the crime—if only they could get along.

• The fourth victim is a thirty-year-old surgical resident named Lori Petersen. What the authorities know so far:
• The murders have been going on for two months and this is the fourth one.
• They have all happened between midnight and three a.m. on Friday nights.
• All the victims are women, and they’ve been tied up with electrical cords, raped, and have died by asphyxiation.
• All the victims live alone—or appear to live alone.
• The attacks have occurred in their homes, and the murderer has climbed in through an open or unlocked window. It’s summer—so windows tend to get left open.

·         The murderer is a “nonsecreter,” which means his blood-type antigens are not present in any of his body fluids other than blood itself. This narrows him down to twenty percent of the population. While DNA profiling, the new kid on the analytical block, can prove his identity, the police have to catch him first.

Scarpetta can’t see any connection between the victims. This connection is key, because it will indicate not only who’s being targeted but also where the murderer might have met them, possibly leading to his identity.

Initial Evidence and a Red Herring

As Petersen’s body is transported to the morgue, we move into some preliminary rising action, where Cornwell intertwines Scarpetta and Marino’s conflict with the murder investigation. 

Our first main clue (thanks to forensic science) is the odd glitter found on the victims’ bodies. There is glitter on Petersen’s body as well—and partial fingerprints. Finding the source of the glitter could hint at the murderer’s work or a hobby or something. But so far, the investigators come up empty.  

The second clue comes from Matt Petersen who claims when he entered the bedroom looking for his wife, he noticed a strong, sickly-sweet smell, almost like body odor. No one else noticed this smell at the other crime scenes, but the other bodies weren’t found until the following day. Petersen likely came home right after the murderer left.

Quite often in mysteries, an innocent character will be made to look guilty as a red herring. Marino is convinced Matt Petersen is their guy. Several factors point to him as a convincing suspect:

• He’s an amateur actor and the greasepaint he used on the night of the murder produces the same glitter found on his wife’s body. 
• The partial fingerprints on Lori’s body belong to him. 
• A survival knife found hidden in a dresser drawer shows up covered in glitter with more of his prints and was likely used to cut the electrical cords Lori was bound with.
• He’s a nonsecreter.
• His PhD dissertation is all about sex and violence.

The Point of No Return: Discrediting Scarpetta

Scarpetta’s arc involves battling the rampant misogyny of the detective world. Someone is trying to ruin her, and that campaign begins with a computer break-in. News stories point to a leak that originates from a “medical source.”

Scarpetta is summoned to a meeting with Commissioner Alvin Amburgey, her boss—a guy who clearly doesn’t like her, possibly because she’s a woman and not an Old Boy like her predecessor. Even Amburgey’s secretary refers to her as “Mrs. Scarpetta” rather than Dr. Scarpetta. If the OCME gets blamed for the leaks and if the public believes the killer is striking more often because of the news stories, then Scarpetta will lose her job. This is her point of no return. Solving the case was already important to her, but now it’s imperative.

Rising Action

In addition to the pressure from Amburgey, Scarpetta has Marino to contend with—purposely unpleasant and uncooperative, especially since he’s convinced that he’s right. This is the guy who refers to DNA as “hocus-pocus,” implying that the science is unreliable compared to more traditional methods.

Marino and Scarpetta argue extensively about Matt Petersen as a suspect. Dealing with Marino brings back her experiences at medical school as one of only four women in her class. The attitudes of the male students, the exclusion: “I was a small insect faced with a formidable male network web in which I might be ensnared but never a part.” The plot obstacles she must face go well beyond the confounding snarls of the mystery itself.

But when she and Marino meet with the FBI profiler, we get a glimpse into Marino’s mindset. The profiler describes the murderer as coming from a dysfunctional home, probably with a menial job—and Marino reacts viscerally. We start to understand why he wants so badly for the murderer to be Matt Petersen. He’s fighting prejudice too.

And then he ambushes Scarpetta with the information he’s been withholding: Petersen was arrested for rape. Scarpetta and the profiler are convinced Petersen was either acquitted or the charges were dropped. Why? Because he went to Harvard. At that, Marino leaves the room and doesn’t return. The implication is that he’s had it with Scarpetta. She is part of the power structure that he feels excluded from. Scarpetta has also had it with him. He’s going to screw up the investigation because he’s got a chip on his shoulder.

In this way, the rivalry arc between the two detectives creates new complications for the case.

Midpoint Crisis and Reversal

The reversal in their relationship comes when Marino appears several days later to suggest a tour of the crime scenes. Scarpetta is surprised, not only because of his rude departure earlier, but also because he never includes her in anything unless he has to. During this tour he informs her of some important developments.

·         Lori Petersen had a substantial life insurance policy.

·         Two unsolved cases in Waltham, Massachusetts with the same MO (and committed by a nonsecreter) occurred while Petersen was a student at Harvard (not far away).

·         One of the serial killer’s victims was treated in the ER of the same hospital Lori Petersen worked at. A possible connection?

 However, Matt Petersen passed a polygraph, which leaves them at a dead end.

Their shared setback leads to a relationship reversal: it’s at this point that their rivalry suddenly turns into a partnership. Marino has found out that Scarpetta is being wrongfully blamed for the leaks to the press. He realizes she’s not part of the power structure at all. She’s being locked out, just like him. They’re both underdogs, which makes her more sympathetic to him. Finally, they start working together.

Rising Action Continues: The Errant PERK

Cornwell uses her protagonist’s method (scientific analysis) to create a new obstacle: a morgue technician finds an errant PERK (Physical Evidence Recovery Kit) from Petersen’s autopsy in the morgue fridge, after Scarpetta has already delivered all the evidence to the police (or so she thinks). This PERK doesn’t have her initials on it. But now she can’t remember—did she do a second one? Is she that tired or distracted? It’s a mix-up that can easily happen due to the printing of extra labels for slides and test tubes. She retests the samples; they don’t seem to be from Petersen’s case, but now the doubt exists. A jury could dismiss all the samples. If Scarpetta’s credibility is questioned, ALL the cases could be compromised. There’s no way to take more samples. The body has already been buried.

But it’s also this obstacle that gives them their first break—and Marino helps. He’s the one who suggests someone may have planted a fake PERK to discredit Scarpetta. He suggests checking the PERK for fingerprints—using her methodology rather than his. When they do, they find only Scarpetta’s, but… with glitter on it. The same glitter that was found on the bodies—and on the bodies it couldn’t have come from her because she wore gloves. It was on the PERK because of her bare hands. They check the talc inside the medical gloves: no. Then they check the soap powder: bingo. It’s coming from the generic soap that contains borax and is found in the bathrooms of countless buildings. The more often they use it, the more glitter remains on their hands. The murderer might be a clean freak.

A New Victim

The fifth victim turns out to be the reporter Abby Turnbull’s sister. Abby was out of town all weekend. Could she have been the intended target?

Normally when a new body turns up in a mystery, it produces a new clue. This time, there are two, and they don’t come from scientific analysis. They come from Marino doing the legwork. The first is a red herring: a beware of dog sign suggesting the murderer could be someone who knew there was no dog. Marino immediately focuses on a man Abby was having trouble with—who now happens to be Scarpetta’s boyfriend. Turns out he raped Abby. When Marino starts questioning Scarpetta about what he’s like, if he’s off, she loses it. Because he is off.

To his credit, Marino apologizes—and they return to working together, because the MO on this fifth case is a little different. A knife was involved, and nobody knows about it.

When Scarpetta’s boss blames her for yet another leak, she is on the precipice of failure—it’s a subtle all-is-lost moment. But then she goes to see Spiro Fortosis, a forensic psychiatrist who has known her since the beginning of her career. This is an important turning point in her character arc. She tells him someone is trying to discredit her. “I can’t help but think I’m an easy mark because I’m a woman,” she says.

His reply: “You’re a woman in a man’s world…  You’ll always be considered an easy mark until the ole boys discover you have teeth. And you do have teeth… Make sure they know it.”

Laying the Trap

Up to now, Scarpetta and the police have been reacting. Here, Scarpetta takes the lead and reaches out to Abby. With the FBI profiler, they launch a plan. Abby will write an article suggesting the OCME has found new evidence, hoping this will lure the killer to break into the computer again. They’ll suggest that DNA profiling has revealed the killer suffers from a rare metabolic disorder that causes a distinct body odor (the one Matt Petersen noticed). In fact, the science isn’t this advanced, so they don’t know this for sure. But chances are, if he smells bad, he washes a lot—hence, the glitter. Plus, the disease causes cognitive impairment if left untreated. The killer will be sensitive to any suggestions of mental deficiencies. Abby’s article will hit him where it hurts.

And then… Marino calls with a break. Thanks to one of his snitches, they found a bloody jumpsuit in a dumpster, and it reeks of the same syrupy odor that Matt Petersen remembered.

The Breakthrough Clue

In Scarpetta’s desperate attempt to find a connection between the victims, she uses Marino’s method and calls one of the victim’s sisters —and while the sister tells her nothing, Scarpetta notices her distinctive voice. This becomes the final puzzle piece, and Cornwell has buried it nicely. Earlier, Matt Petersen said it was Lori’s voice that first attracted him to her. Scarpetta puts it together: could voice be the connection?

She takes this to Marino and the FBI profiler, and they speculate on where the killer might work. A job that involves the telephone. Outside the home, because he’s washing repeatedly with soap that contains borax (not the usual home-bought hand soap). A night job—because the borax residue on the victims is strong. He likely commits the murders on Friday night right after work.

Admittedly, the leap Scarpetta makes from this to the idea that someone in law enforcement is responsible for the murders feels a bit convenient. Nevertheless, what’s noteworthy is that she’s using Marino’s methods. She accompanies him to the radio room to review 911 calls. It’s almost by accident that she makes the discovery that cracks the case: every one of the victims at some point called 911, well before they actually became victims. The killer is a 911 operator.

Climax

It's Friday night, when the killer always strikes. Scarpetta goes to bed with a gun under her pillow, hoping she won’t be woken by a phone call. And she isn’t. She’s woken by a terrible smell: the body odor of the murderer. He’s in her bedroom.

It’s Marino who arrives and saves the day. Worried that the newspaper article would lure the killer directly to Scarpetta’s door, he’s been watching her house.

Scarpetta wants to believe she could have saved herself. She had the gun in her hand, ready to shoot—but she discovers it wasn’t loaded. This creates a nice relationship arc: she and Marino start as rivals, come together at the midpoint, and then he saves her at the end.

Resolution: Reviewing the Evidence

Cornwell wraps up the novel with a review of who called 911, when, who the killer is, and where he’s struck before. And of course, that he washed repeatedly with Borawash at work.

The other big reveal is that it was Amburgey who planted the fake PERK in the evidence fridge to discredit Scarpetta—and he also broke into the computer. When Abby realized her reporting was being used to jeopardize another woman’s career, she went on the warpath and tracked him down. The suggestion at the end is that by the time Scarpetta returns from a vacation, Amburgey won’t be around anymore.

The Detective’s Arc

While mysteries often forego a character arc for the protagonist, Cornwell does something different. Making her protagonist female allows her to explore what it’s like to be a woman in a traditionally male position. Scarpetta has only been chief medical examiner for two years, inheriting the position from a Good Old Boy who was homophobic, misogynistic—you name it. And he’s not the only one. The sexism in her world is rampant.

Over the course of the novel, she learns to stand her ground, own her career—the way Abby Turnbull does. Abby has “teeth” and is considered aggressive and unpleasant. If she was male, she’d be called good at her job. When Scarpetta plants the trap for the killer (that she unintentionally gets caught in herself), it signals her attempt to stand up for herself.

It’s interesting that she still needs a man to save her in the end. But I think we should see this more as a relationship of equals than a man-rescues-woman situation, and it allows for a satisfying culmination of the rivals-to-partners relationship arc. The truth is, she needed Marino, just like he needed her. The only reason they solved the crime was because they worked together, each bringing their own skills and methods to the table.

The Details of Scientific Analysis

In the 1990s, advances in technology piqued people’s interest in science-based problem-solving. Cornwell showed up in the right place at the right time. DNA and forensic science were poised to transform the criminal justice system, and computers were about to take over our lives.

What sets her crime novels apart from most of what came before are the details of scientific analysis. We find out how things work: laser scanners, the fingerprint-matching processor, physical evidence recovery, DNA profiling. We find out what it’s like to be a forensic pathologist and deal with dead bodies. It’s morbid, sure, but it’s fascinating.

It’s also interesting to see how far the science has come. We now take the role of DNA in criminal investigations for granted, but this was 1990: “Try explaining to a Richmond jury the guy’s guilty because of DNA. I’ll be lucky if I can find a juror who can spell DNA.” Ha.

In Conclusion

Throughout this novel, Cornwell plays with our expectations, pushes on our doubts, and manipulates our first impressions so that the numerous twists and revelations land with maximum effect. But she’s also telling a tale of underdogs fighting a system that doesn’t play nice with people who don’t fit the mold.

Interestingly, Postmortem was Cornwell’s fourth attempt at publishing a novel, and it was anything but smooth sailing at first. Her hometown paper gave it a terrible review and the local bookstore refused to carry it because of its graphic content. Enter the LA Times with a glowing review—and that changed everything.  Postmortem won the Edgar, Creasey, Anthony, and Macavity Awards, as well as the French Prix du Roman d’Aventures. It was the first book ever to receive all these honors in one year. The series as a whole has won the Sherlock Award for best detective created by an American author, the Gold Dagger Award, the RBA Thriller Award, and the Medal of Chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters for Cornwell’s contributions to literary and artistic development.

Yes, she got lucky—and she was intuitive enough to maximize an emerging trend with just the right protagonist. But luck and intuition only go so far. Cornwell also had the skill to pull it off—and it launched her career.

Michelle Barker is an award-winning author and poet. Her most recent publication, co-authored with David Brown, is Immersion and Emotion: The Two Pillars of Storytelling. Her fiction, non-fiction, and poetry have appeared in literary reviews worldwide. She has published three YA novels (one fantasy and two historical fiction), a historical picture book, and a chapbook of poetry. Michelle holds a BA in English literature (UBC) and an MFA in creative writing (UBC). Many of the writers she’s worked with have gone on to win publishing contracts and honours for their work. Michelle lives and writes in Vancouver, Canada.