Tag Archives: Karluk Bones

Fatigue

Living in the wilderness on Kodiak Island, Podcast, Writing, , , ,

Fatigue looms front and center in my life right now. We have less than two weeks to go until the end of the season at our lodge. Mike and I will stay here until mid-January, and then we plan to take a vacation and return by mid-to-late February. I don’t care about a vacation; all I want to do is sleep!

I have so many projects I’m excited to start but no energy to begin them. Lately, I’ve been fighting to keep up with my weekly and monthly deadlines – my blog posts, podcasts, and newsletters. I’m disappointed I haven’t spent more time editing my wildlife book or writing on my next novel. My publisher is annoyed I haven’t put more effort into promoting my last book, Karluk Bones. Once our fall season ends and I sleep for 48-straight hours (just kidding – I think) and stamp out my fatigue, I will have the energy to write and edit my books, and yes, I will try to sell my latest novel.

I began my podcast, Murder and Mystery in the Last Frontier, this past summer, producing two a month. At the same time, I cut back my blog posts to two a month. So far, I am happy with this arrangement. I think I was beginning to get bogged down by writing four blog posts a month, but I look forward to doing them every other week. Podcast episodes require a great deal of work, but I still find them fun to do, and I am reaching a new audience. The newsletter is still my most time-consuming project every month, but I’ve gotten faster at writing them, and I am slowly learning how to write non-fiction – It’s not easy!

I know many of my blog post readers have never listened to a podcast, so here’s an excerpt from a recent episode. Just hit the arrow to play it.

If you’d like to hear more, follow this link: https://murder-in-the-last-frontier.blubrry.net

Let me know what you think. I know a true-crime podcast is not for everyone, so I understand if you aren’t interested in it.

I haven’t had a chance to thank many of you for buying Karluk Bones. I appreciate you, and I hope you enjoyed the adventure.

In my next post, I will discuss tanner crabs, often called snow crabs. I hope you’ve found my crab posts informative. I’ve enjoyed writing them and have learned a great deal about king crabs, commercial king crab fishing, and the laws (or lack of) governing the fishing industry. It seemed as if every time I started a post, I realized I had enough information for two or three articles. The deeper I dug, the more fascinated I became about king crab and commercial king crab fishing industry.

As always, thanks for reading, and take a minute to leave a comment and say hi. Hearing from you will erase my fatigue in a flash.

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Robin Barefield is the author of four Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter, and Karluk Bones. You are invited to watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska, and listen to her podcast, Murder and Mystery in the Last Frontier.

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Karluk Bones

Writing, , , ,

I am excited to announce the release of my fourth novel, Karluk Bones!

When two men recently discharged from the air force set out for a hunting trip on Kodiak Island in Alaska, they expect the adventure of a lifetime. Instead, they find themselves embroiled in a never-ending nightmare.

More than forty years later, biologist Jane Marcus and her friends discover human remains near Karluk Lake in the middle of the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge. Jane soon learns a bullet was responsible for shattering the skull they found. What happened? Was the gunshot wound the result of a suicide, or was it homicide? Who was this individual who died in the middle of the wilderness, and when did he die? Jane can’t stop asking questions, and she turns to Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson for answers.

Sergeant Patterson doesn’t have time for Jane and her questions because he is investigating the recent murder of a floatplane pilot on the island. Was the pilot shot by one of his passengers, by another pilot, by campers in the area where his body was found, or did his wife hire someone to kill him? The number of suspects in the case overwhelms Patterson, but a notebook in the pocket of the dead pilot provides clues to the last weeks of the pilot’s life.

With no time to spare for old bones, Patterson gives Jane permission to research the remains she found near Karluk Lake. Jane’s investigation into the bones seems harmless to Patterson, but she awakens a decades-old crime which some believed they’d buried long ago.

Will Patterson find who murdered the pilot before the killer leaves the island, and will Jane’s curiosity put her life in danger? What evil lurks at Karluk Lake?

Karluk Bones is based on four true tales, and if you read it and want to know more about the true stories, send me an e-mail.

The book is available through the following links and at other online booksellers:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Author Masterminds

Kobo

The audiobook of my third novel, The Fisherman’s Daughter, is also now available through Audible. The book is narrated by the wonderful actress Carol Herman.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy my books.

Henry Aurman

Murder Mystery, Writing, , , , , ,

Last week, I posted about cannibalism and mentioned Henry Aurman, a character in my upcoming novel. The following excerpt from Karluk Bones describes how my protagonist, Jane Marcus, learns about Henry Aurman.

In my novel, Jane and her friends discover bones in the woods near Karluk Lake on Kodiak Island. Two weeks ago, I posted an excerpt from the novel where an anthropology student explains to Jane, she believes the bones are those of an individual who died between thirty and fifty years ago. Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson puts Jane in touch with a trooper who worked on Kodiak during the 1970s and 80s. The following is the conversation Jane has with retired Sergeant Sid Beatty from the Alaska State Troopers. Jane and Sid have just met, and the conversation takes place on Sid’s sailboat where he lives.

Karluk Bones

“Tell me about the bones,” Sid said.

Now I was on firmer ground, and I felt myself relax. I began with the fire at Karluk Lake, and our discovery of the bones on the charred ground. I then moved on to describe what Ying had learned from studying the bones.

“Let me make sure I understand,” Sid said. “The anthropologist thinks the individual was between 25 and 30-years old when he died and estimates the bones have been at Karluk Lake between thirty and fifty years.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know it’s a wide time range, but does anything come to mind? Do you remember any unsolved cases from the 70s or 80s?”

Sid sat back and stared at the ceiling. “I worked three unsolved missing-persons cases during my tenure. They were all young women, and two of them were friends who disappeared on the same night.” He shook his head. “We never found a trace, and to this day, I have no idea what happened to them.” He stared off into space for a while. “But, I don’t remember any unsolved cases involving young men.”

I smiled. “Thanks for trying,” I said. “Do you think it would do me any good to go through old case files?”

“Wait a minute,” Beatty said. “How could I forget Henry? I did have an unsolved missing male.”

“And his name was Henry?”

“No, no,” Sid said. ‘This is a wild story. It’s possible Henry could be tied to your bones, but you’d never prove it.” Sid took a sip of his coffee. “From the late 60s through maybe 1981 or 1982, a crazy old guy lived and trapped near Karluk Lake. He’d spend the entire winter out there by himself. Back in the 70s, the deer population hadn’t yet spread to the south end of the island, so I don’t know what he ate.” Sid chuckled and shook his head. “I do know some of what he ate, but I’ll get to that part of the story in a minute. Henry trapped beavers, foxes, and rabbits, so I assume he ate those. Anyway, he was a tough old guy.”

I had no idea where Sid was headed with this story, so I said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“The guy’s name was Henry Aurman,” Sid said.

“The Aurman from Aurman Plumbing and Heating?” The store was a town landmark, and I’d been told it had survived the “64 earthquake.”

“That’s right,” Sid said. “One of Henry’s relatives started the store, but Henry had nothing to do with the business. I think the store is still owned by an Aurman, probably Henry’s great niece or nephew.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“As far as I know, Henry never married, and he was crazy, or at the very least, eccentric. He claimed the entire region around Karluk Lake belonged to him.”

“That’s a big area,” I said.

Sid laughed. “Yes, it is. The troopers spent a great deal of time dealing with Henry because anytime a hunter, fisherman, or camper set up a tent near the lake, Henry threatened the visitors and told them they did not have his permission to camp on his land. He’d tell them he’d kill them if they didn’t leave. We threw him in jail numerous times for harassment, but he’d return to Karluk and threaten the next person who dared walk near ‘his’ lake.”

My spine tingled. Did Henry Aurman kill the man whose bones we found? “Did he ever kill any campers?” I asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Sid said, “but I always expected one of his confrontations to end in violence with either him or a camper dead. I am certain, though, that Henry murdered at least three men, but they weren’t campers; they were his trapping partners.”

“What do you mean?”

“Around 1977 or 1978, you’d have to check the file for the exact date, Henry was getting older and wanted help with his winter trapping, so he ‘hired,’ to use the term loosely, a young man to accompany him during the winter. I believe the deal was that the young guy would help him trap, and Henry would give him a few hides to sell in payment for his services. The young man was a drifter, looking to turn his life around, and he wanted to learn how to trap, so he eagerly followed Henry to Karluk Lake.”

“Did Henry have a house at the lake?”

“He had a shack. It’s long gone now, but it had heat. I think most nights he camped near his trapline, but he’d return to the shack to resupply and work on his hides.”

“What happened?”

“In May, we received a call from the young guy’s brother, and if his brother hadn’t called us, I never would have known about the guy.” Sid paused, for another sip of coffee. “I don’t remember the caller’s name, but he said his brother had phoned him in November to tell him he’d quit drinking and was planning to spend the winter in the Kodiak wilderness learning to trap from an old man named Henry. He hadn’t heard from his brother since. I didn’t know Aurman had hired a partner for the winter, but he was the only Henry I knew who trapped, so I flew out to Karluk and found Henry at his cabin.”

I sat back in my chair. “Was the young man there?”

Sid shook his head. “Henry admitted he’d hired the guy but said he’d left in mid-December, telling Henry he couldn’t stand the cold and isolation any longer. Henry called him a wimp and said he thought the guy missed his alcohol. Henry said he was happy to see him leave.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. They were camped on a frozen lake in the middle of the winter. “How did the guy leave?”

“Henry claimed the young man planned to hike to the village of Karluk and catch their mail plane back to Kodiak, but he never made it to Karluk, or at least, he never flew from Karluk to Kodiak on the mail plane. They keep lists of their passengers, and he wasn’t on any of the lists.”

“What did Henry say when you told him his helper never arrived in Karluk?” I asked.

“He said he didn’t know what happened to his trapping buddy, and we didn’t have enough evidence to charge Henry with a crime. I suspected, though, either that Henry killed the guy, or the guy got lost in the woods and froze to death.”

“Wouldn’t he just need to follow the river from the lake to the village?”

“Yes, so I didn’t believe he got lost.”

“You thought Henry murdered him.” A chill ran through me. “Maybe these are his bones I found,” I said.

“It’s possible, but this guy wasn’t the only partner Henry lost.”

“Meaning?”

“Rumors floated hinting Henry lost another partner the following year, but no one ever reported the man missing, so the troopers were not involved,” Sid said. “Guys who sign on to spend the winter in the wilderness with a crazy trapper aren’t social beings, and they don’t usually have many resources. They’re loners.”

“So you never talked to Henry about this guy?”

“No, but two years later, around 1980 or 1981, Henry picked the wrong trapping buddy. When this man didn’t return from his winter’s expedition, the phone at trooper headquarters rang for two months. We heard from his mother, his two sisters, friends, an aunt or two, and even an employer who expected him to return to his job in Salt Lake City after the end of his winter adventure.”

“What did Henry say when you questioned him.”

“This is where the story gets interesting,” Sid said. “I flew to Karluk Lake with two other troopers, and we went to Henry’s little shack. He wasn’t there, so after we knocked on the door, we entered the building.”

Sid sat back and regarded me. He looked as if he’d just smelled something bad, or maybe he was trying to decide if he should continue his story.

 “What did you find?” I finally asked.

Sid sighed. “We found bones and scraps of meat as if an animal recently had been butchered. We saw jars of canned meat lining the shelves of a makeshift cupboard in the corner of the shack. At first, I thought the bones were bear bones, but then I realized they were human.”

Sid waited while I processed his words. “He killed and ate his trapping partners?” I stood as if trying to distance myself from Sid and his horrible tale. I reigned in my urge to flee and returned to my seat.

Sid nodded. “I’m sorry; I know this is a terrible story. Imagine how we felt standing in that little shack, realizing what we had found and then knowing Henry could return at any minute and shoot us all. I immediately sent one of the troopers outside to stand guard so we wouldn’t be ambushed.”

This time, Sid drank a big gulp of his cooling coffee. “Yes, the bones were human, and the nicely stacked jars contained cooked and canned human meat.”

“Wow,” was the only thing I could think to say. Visions of stacked canning jars bearing human flesh flooded my head. I wondered if Henry had labeled the jars with his dead partners’ names, but I wisely pushed the question from my mind before I asked it.

Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

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Cannibalism

Living in the wilderness on Kodiak Island, Murder Mystery, , , , , , , ,

Little in our world is more repugnant and taboo than cannibalism, the consumption of human flesh by other human beings. I assure you, I have not taken a left turn into the dark side on this blog, but Henry Aurman, one of the characters in my upcoming novel, Karluk Bones, not only eats human flesh but also cans it, so he can enjoy it at a later time. While writing about Henry, I became curious about incidents of cannibalism, and was surprised and disturbed to find many more references to the practice than I expected.

Why would a human eat the flesh of another human? Sometimes the reason is practical and is something any of us might do if we found ourselves in a similar circumstance. In other situations, an individual such as my fictional Henry Aurman simply has no aversion to human flesh and considers it the same as eating any other animal. Others believe consuming the flesh of another will allow the consumer to capture his dinner’s spirit. Sickest of all are those who are so twisted they gain sexual pleasure from murdering and eating their victims. Let’s look at some examples.

Cannibalism for Survival

Many reports exist of humans forced to ward off starvation by eating the bodies of their recently deceased companions, but the case which intrigues me most is the doomed Donner party during the winter of 1846-47. In May 1846, the Donner and Reed families (87 men, women, and children) set out by wagon train from Independence, Missouri headed for California. The group got a late start, leaving them little room for error on a journey which generally took four-to-six months under the best of conditions. Unfortunately, the leaders of the group made several bad decisions and luck was not on their side. The group reached the Sierra Nevada Mountains in late October 1946 and became stranded by heavy snow during one of the worst winters the region has ever seen.

By mid-December, the Donner party was nearly out of food, and a few members of the group set out on foot in search of supplies and help at Sutter’s Fort (now Sacramento). They made it to Sutter’s Fort, but due to heavy snowfall, a relief party could not reach the remainder of the group until the middle of February 1847. Only 48 of the original 87 members survived the ordeal, and it didn’t take long after the party was rescued before rumors of cannibalism among the snowbound pioneers circulated across the country. While the settlers didn’t murder other members of the group and then eat them, they admitted they ate some of their fellow travelers who died from starvation. While this act might sound reprehensible, it’s something most of us probably would do if we were starving to death.

Cannibalism to Absorb Another’s Spirit

Issei Sagawa, the son of wealthy Japanese parents, moved to Paris in 1978 when he was 20-years-old to study at the Sorbonne. On June 11,1981, he invited classmate Renee Hartvelt to his home for dinner. Issei shot Renee in the neck with a rifle and feasted on her body for two days. Apparently, Issei admired Renee and hoped by eating her, he would absorb her energy and replace his own inadequacies.

Issei was arrested by French authorities, but after he was declared psychologically unfit to stand trial, he was sent back to Japan. Japanese doctors found him sane, and Sagawa checked himself out of the hospital and remains free in Japan to this day.

Cannibalism for Sexual Pleasure

There are unfortunately many examples of deviants who fall within this category. Jeffrey Dahmer is the best known American serial killer/cannibal. By 1991, Dahmer was sexually assaulting and murdering one person a week until he was finally caught on July 22, 1991. After torturing his victims, Dahmer eviscerated them and stored their body parts for later consumption.

Perhaps even more disturbing than Jeffrey Dahmer was Ukrainian born Andrei Chikatilo who mutilated and sexually assaulted 52 women and children between 1978 and 1990. After he was captured, he admitted to authorities he enjoyed chewing on the extracted uteri of his female victims and the testicles of his male victims.

Henry Aurman, the old trapper in my novel who murders and eats his trapping partners, never explains why he eats human flesh, but I think he considers humans an easy source of food. Henry is based on a real person. Next week I’ll post an excerpt about Henry from my upcoming novel, Karluk Bones.

Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

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Skull and Bones at Karluk Lake

Murder Mystery, Writing, , , , ,

In my upcoming novel, Karluk Bones, my protagonist, Jane Marcus, and her friends stumble across a human skull and bones in the woods. Are the bones ancient or recent, and how did they end up in the middle of the wilderness? Jane contacts Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson, and he sends the bones to an anthropologist at the University of Alaska in Anchorage. The bones end up in the laboratory of a young graduate student named Ying Lee, and Patterson gives Jane permission to fly to Anchorage and learn what Ying has to say about the bones.

The following is an excerpt from Karluk Bones

“Come in,” a female voice called. A young woman met me inside the door and introduced herself as Ying Lee. Ying had short, black hair, big blue eyes, and creamy white skin. She motioned for me to follow her, and her petite frame bounced with energy as she led me down the hall and into a small laboratory. My bones, now scrubbed clean, held center stage on the work table in the middle of the room.

Ying wasted no time with small talk. She walked to the table and held up a portion of the long leg bone we had found. The rest of the bone rested on the table. For some reason, Ying, or one of her associates had sliced the bone into two pieces. Her blue eyes blazed with intelligence and excitement. Her enthusiasm infected me, and I walked to the other side of the table and focused on her.

Ying held the bone with both hands. “We’re very fortunate to have a femur,” she said, “because the femur offers an easy estimation of height. All I needed to do was measure the bone and then apply a simple formula to obtain an estimate of the individual’s height.”

“And he was tall?” I asked

“Well, yes, he was a little above average height – about six feet tall.” Ying said.

“So, we know he was male from his height?” I asked

“I would guess the individual was male from his height, but you also found the pelvis, and I can confirm he was a male from the pelvis.”

“Next, I set out to determine the age of the individual when he died. Luckily, I had the skull to examine.” She pointed to the skull on the table, and I noticed she had glued several of the miscellaneous bone fragments we’d gathered to the skull. It still wasn’t complete, but she had pieced much of it together.

“You see here,” Ying said. Pointing at an area she had reconstructed on the top of the skull, “these lines are called cranial sutures. The bones that enclose the brain grow together during childhood. As a person ages, these sutures gradually fade. This fading, or remodeling, varies among individuals, but some sutures close at a consistent age in most individuals.” Ying pointed to the back of the skull and ran her finger along a faint line. “This is called the lamboid suture. It generally begins to close at age 21. The closing accelerates at age 26, and the suture is completely closed between age 30 and 40. You can see the suture on this skull is nearly, but not completely closed.”

“So, how old do you estimate he was?” I asked.

“I’d say between 25 and 30 years old,” Ying looked up from the bones and met my gaze. “This is only my estimate, though. I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law, but I think this individual was between 25 and 30 years old when he died.”

“I understand,” I said. “Your estimate gives me somewhere to start. I appreciate it.”

A quick smile passed over Ling’s thin lips, but then she was all business again. “Again, by looking at his skull, I determined this individual descended from European ancestry. There’s not much left of the nasal bones, but the narrow face leads me to believe with little doubt this skull did not come from a Native Alaskan individual.”

“Okay,” I said. I wanted to make sure I’d understood everything Ying had told me. “We have a fairly tall Caucasian man in his late twenties.”

Ying wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the term Caucasian, because race tags can be misleading. All I can really tell you is his ancestors were most likely from Europe.”

I nodded and forced myself to remain silent. I wanted to blurt out my questions. How long ago did he die, and what killed him? But I knew how much I hated to be interrupted while explaining my research to someone, so I let Ying explain these bones to me in her own style and at her own pace.

She stared at me for several moments as if expecting me to question her, but then she continued. “The question is how and when did this individual die?”

I nodded and watched her expectantly.

Ying pointed to the front of the skull. “I think I know how, but the when part is a big guess.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My professor and I are fairly certain this man died from a gunshot wound to the top of the head. I pieced as much of the skull together as I could, and you can see this jagged, roughly round hole in the top of the skull.”

“You’re sure it’s a bullet hole?”

She smiled. “I’m not certain of anything, but I’ve compared this hole to dozens of known bullet holes in skulls, and it is similar.”

“Is there any way to determine what gauge bullet caused the hole?” I asked.

Ying laughed. “If the particular type of bullet becomes important, you might be able to run down an expert who’d be willing to give it a shot.” She stopped and laughed at her unintended pun. “This is not my area of expertise, but I do think it is a bullet hole.”

“It seems like a weird place to shoot yourself,” I said.

Ying looked at me sharply. “Do you have reason to believe this person committed suicide?”

“No, I’m just thinking out loud,” I said

“It’s just that . . .” Ying shook her head.

“Just what?” I asked.

“My Ph.D. thesis is linked to studying nutrition in ancient populations. In particular, I’m studying nutrition in communities of Inupiat people. Most of the bones I’m looking at are between 150 and 300 years old. You are a biologist, so as I’m sure you know, teeth and bones contain a protein called collagen. Collagen absorbs chemicals such as calcium, carbon, nitrogen, and strontium from the food an individual eats. Different types of food contain these elements in different ratios, and from studying fossilized bones and teeth, I am attempting to understand the diets of various populations of Inupiat people. Were they healthy? Did they face periods of malnutrition? That sort of thing.”

I nodded. “Your work sounds interesting.” Her research did sound interesting, but I had no idea why she was telling me about it in relation to these bones.

She seemed to read my mind. “When I received permission to study these bones,” she gestured to the bones on the table in front of her, “I thought it would be interesting to see how much the diet of this guy differed from my Inupiat bones.” She shrugged. “I know it has nothing to do with your case, or at least I didn’t think it did until I started analyzing the bones.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I still couldn’t guess where she was going with this.

“This guy,” she put her hand on the femur, “was starving to death. If he didn’t have a bullet hole in his head, I’d say he did starve to death. I wondered if he shot himself to end his suffering, but you’re right, it’s a strange angle for a self-inflicted gunshot wound.” She shook her head. “It would be possible, though, especially if he used a rifle.” She held an imaginary rifle in front of her, pointed at her head.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “back up. You think this guy was starving to death?”

“That’s one of the few things I can say with any certainty about this individual,” Ying said. “His bone mineral density is extremely low. He was emaciated when he died. In fact, his bones are the most emaciated bones I’ve studied.”

“Interesting,” I said. “I wonder what happened to him?”

Ying studied me, her eyes ablaze. “Isn’t it fascinating? I love learning about past civilizations and imaging what the people’s lives were like. I feel like a detective sifting through the debris and trying to find the important evidence.”

I smiled at this brilliant young woman and was thankful my bones ended up in her laboratory. “When did he die?” I asked. “How long have his bones been at Karluk Lake?”

Ying shoulders dropped, and the fire in her eyes died. “That’s the million-dollar question. It’s very difficult to estimate the time since death from skeletal remains. I know he’s not ancient, but there’s little difference between five-year-old and ten-year-old bones.”

“But you told Sergeant Patterson you thought these bones were between thirty and fifty years old.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t make that estimate,” Ying said. “When these bones first arrived, we had a professor here who was visiting from UC Davis, and her field of interest is studying bone chemistry to estimate the time since death. She looks at the citrate content in the bones. She took two slices of the femur back to California with her, and she arrived at the timeframe of thirty to fifty years, but she stressed to us, and I told Sergeant Patterson the timeframe was only her best guess.”

I smiled at Ying and held out my hand. She took it, and we shook. “I appreciate all you’ve done. I don’t know what it means yet, but I hope to figure it out and maybe even learn who this individual was.”

“If you come up with a possible identification and can find relatives, we can attempt to extract DNA from the bones and see if there’s a match.” Ying said. “We might even be able to tap into a public DNA database.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. I hope I can figure out who you have on your table.”

I will let you know when Karluk Bones is available. Meanwhile, be sure to sign up below for my free Mystery Newsletter.

Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

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Bones

Living in the wilderness on Kodiak Island, Murder Mystery, , , ,

If you stumble across a pile of bones in the woods, can you tell if they are human bones, and if they are human, did they belong to a male or female? How old was he or she at the time of death? Was the individual tall or short? What killed him or her, and how long ago did the person die?

While we might be able to identify human bones, most of us cannot answer many questions about the bones, and most of the answers elude even law enforcement officers, coroners, and trained medical examiners. Forensic anthropologists are the experts who interpret skeletal remains.

In my latest novel, Karluk Bones, Jane Marcus and her friends stumble across skeletal remains near Karluk Lake on Kodiak Island. They find a skull as well as a long femur, so they know at least some of the bones are human. The remains don’t appear to be recent, but they also don’t look ancient, and Jane and her friends argue about how old they might be. Jane reports the bones to the Alaska State Troopers, but Sergeant Patterson also can’t guess at the age of the bones, so he hands them off to a medical examiner who in turn sends them to a forensic anthropologist, and she is able to answer some, but not all, of the questions about the bones.

I love learning, and one of the things I enjoy most about writing fiction or non-fiction is having the opportunity to dig into a new subject and study it not only until I understand it but until I know it well enough to explain it to my readers. Using science to help solve the mystery of the bones in my novel proved trickier than I expected, and Ying, my fictional anthropology student at the University of Alaska, ended up relying on cutting-edge scientific techniques to provide answers about the human remains Jane and her friends found.

Beginning with this post and continuing for the next two or three weeks, I will describe what a forensic anthropologist can deduce from bones.

Human or Non-Human

It is easy for us to recognize a human skull, and most laymen can identify many other human bones, but if you discover skeletal remains in the woods, human bones might be mixed with those of other animals. If a forensic anthropologist visits the scene, she can quickly separate human from non-human remains. If a forensic anthropologist is unavailable, then investigators must collect all the bone scraps and send them to an anthropologist to be sorted in the lab. Once they are in the lab, the anthropologist cleans the bones and attempts to provide a general physical description of the individual whose remains she is studying. The description includes:

  • Gender
  • Age at Death
  • Race
  • Height

The anthropologist also tries to try to determine the cause of death as well as estimate how long ago the individual died. This week, I will discuss how gender can be determined from bones.

Gender

The pelvis and the skull provide the most useful information for determining the gender of the individual.

Pelvis

Females have wider pelvises to provide enough space for the birth canal, and anthropologists use several definitive measurements to differentiate the pelvis of a female from the pelvis of a male. In most cases, though, a forensic anthropologist only needs to visually examine a pelvis to determine the gender of the individual. If the pelvis is available, it is the best bony structure to confirm the sex of the person.

Male (left) Female (right)

Skull

Often, only the skull of an individual is found, but luckily, marked differences exist between the skull of a male and the skull of a female. An adult female’s skull remains slender and retains the smoothness of youth, while and adult male’s skull is more robust with heavier bones and larger muscle attachment areas. Females have a rounded forehead, while a male’s forehead slopes back at a gentle angle. A male has a more prominent brow ridge and square eye sockets, while a female has round eye sockets. Males have a square jawline, and a female’s jaw is pointed.

Since individuals vary, sex determination using only the skull is not as definitive as a confirmation made from examining the pelvis, but the skull usually provides the anthropologist with an educated guess at the gender of the individual.

Next week, I’ll discuss other characteristics a forensic anthropologist learns from reading bones. Meanwhile, be sure to sign up for my monthly Mystery Newsletter about true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

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Sign Up for my free, monthly Mystery Newsletter about true crime in Alaska.

Karluk Bones

Living in the wilderness on Kodiak Island, Writing, , , , , , , ,

Karluk Bones is the title of my fourth Alaska wilderness mystery. The book has taken me longer to write than I had planned, but I think it will be worth the wait. This week, I want to share a portion of the opening scene with you.

Those of you who have read my other novels know Dr. Jane Marcus is a biologist at the Kodiak Fisheries Tech Center. In this scene, Jane and three of her friends camp near Karluk Lake on Kodiak. The next morning, they plan to float the Karluk River, but a fire in the middle of the night derails their expedition.

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Karluk Bones

Saturday, May 24th

“Fire! Wake up! Fire!”

The cry yanked me from a pleasant dream where my camping companions and I sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows. Now, I realized the smoky inspiration for my dream emanated not from a campfire but a forest fire.

I struggled to sit in my sleeping bag while my fingers fumbled with the zipper. Did we leave our campfire burning? No, I remember Geoff throwing water on it, and then we all watched until the last curls of smoke evaporated.

I’d worn my clothes to bed, and as soon as I struggled out of my bag, I crawled through the fly of the small tent. Smoke filled the air, and my friend and colleague, Geoff Baker, my friend, Dana Baynes, and her new beau, Jack Parker, all stood, staring to the north. I followed their gazes and saw the flames, but the fire had not yet spread far.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“It looks like a campfire got out of hand,” Geoff said.

“It’s so dry,” Dana said. “It’s bound to spread before they can put it out.”

“And the wind is blowing this way,” Geoff added.

“We’d better help them,” Jack said.

“You’re right,” I said, “but I fear only Mother Nature will be able to extinguish a blaze in the midst of all this dead, dry vegetation.”

“I’ll dump out our food buckets,” Geoff offered. “We can use those to scoop up lake water to throw on the fire.”

“Sure,” Dana said, “We’ll do a bucket brigade.”

I doubted anything we did would help, but if we stayed where we were, we’d be burned alive. “I suggest sticking anything you can’t live without in your pocket,” I said.

“Good point, Doc. I’ll grab my phone,” Geoff said.

“I’m grabbing my raincoat just in case,” Dana added.

I nodded. “I hope we need our raincoats. Rain is the one thing that will extinguish this fire.”
Geoff, Jack, and I carried our bear-proof food buckets now empty of their contents, and Dana shouldered a pack full of first-aid gear. She also carried a small camp shovel.

We hiked along the shore of Karluk Lake. It was a dark, chilly night. Correction, it was a dark, chilly morning. Darkness is an infrequent visitor in late May on Kodiak Island, but I can testify it is dark at 3:00 am. We wore headlamps to light the beach along the lakeshore, and I glued my eyes to the ground so that I wouldn’t stumble over a large rock or a tree branch. The smell of smoke grew stronger with each step.

As we neared the fire, I could see the flames growing in intensity and slowly but steadily spreading toward the south and our camp.

“We should have packed our stuff and moved it out of the line of fire,” I said.

“I don’t think we could move our stuff far enough to get it out of the fire line unless we brought it with us and stashed it upwind from the flames,” Geoff said.

We clung to the lakeshore and skirted around the edge of the fire. As we neared the tent camp where the blaze had started, we saw four young men frantically packing their tents and gear and moving everything down the beach. Miraculously, it looked as if the flames had not touched their camp.

Dana ran toward the men. “Is everyone okay?” She called.

One of the young men stopped in his tracks and looked toward her, obviously surprised by her presence. “Our campfire got out of control,” he said. “I thought we put it out but guess we didn’t.”

The man slurred his speech and seemed confused. At first, I thought he had a natural physical or mental impairment, but then, I realized he was drunk, or to be more accurate, he hadn’t completely sobered up from being drunk. I took in the entire scene and watched his camping companions stumble to move their gear, their actions clumsy and awkward. They were all in the no man’s land between drunk and sober, the period of the night when you wake up and curse yourself for drinking too much alcohol. I admit I’d been there a time or two, and now I tried to muster some forgiveness for them stupidly getting drunk and letting their campfire burn out of control.

Forgiveness was not on Dana’s mind, and she immediately understood the situation. She dropped her pack on the ground and stood, hands on hips, glaring at the young man who had spoken to her. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m not quite sober.”

“You are camping on an island with 3500 bears.” Dana walked toward him, her voice as loud as I’d ever heard it. “Many of those bears live near this lake.”

The young man looked at the ground and said nothing.

“If you want to camp on this Refuge, you need to be responsible.” Dana gestured to the spreading fire. “You started a fire by not putting out your campfire.”

“We tried to put it out,” the young man said.

“You tried?” Dana was now only about four feet away from the poor guy, all five feet nothing of her intimidating the young man as she screamed up at him.

Although the situation was dire, I nearly laughed as I watched the much larger man cower while petite Dana approached him. He flinched at each of her words as if she were slapping him in the face, and I thought she might slap him in the face when she got a few steps closer.

“I saw a video the other day,” Dana said. “An observant camper watched and videotaped a bunch of yahoos like you and your friends. They ate breakfast around their campfire, threw a little water on the fire, packed their gear, jumped in their raft, and headed down river. A few minutes after they’d left, a curious bear began sniffing their campfire. He put his paw on the hot embers, burned his paw and limped away, holding his burned paw in the air.” She took another step toward the young man who was now backing away from her. “I thought their lack of regard for the environment was disgusting until I see what you idiots managed to do here.”

I stood, caught up in the drama of Dana and the young camper when Geoff thumped me on the shoulder.

“Here, Doc,” he said, handing me a full bucket of lake water. “Let’s get this bucket brigade going.” He looked at Dana and the cowering campers. “Yo!” he yelled. “We need some help here; we have a fire to put out.”

The campers seemed happy for any excuse to escape Dana’s withering gaze and sharp reprimand. They found two more food buckets in their gear, emptied the contents, and hurried to stand in line between the lake and the burning fire.

I knew I couldn’t be the only one in this group who saw the futility of fighting a spreading wildfire with buckets of water, but buckets were all we had, and we needed to do something. There was no firefighting agency to call in the middle of the night to help put out a fire on the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge. If the fire hadn’t been extinguished by morning, we would notify the National Wildlife Refuge office in Kodiak, and perhaps they could ask for assistance from the Department of Natural Resources. Dana was a biologist for the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge, so she would know what to do. At present, Dana stood in the bucket brigade between the four campers, still lecturing them. If they weren’t sober by now, they would be soon, and between excessive alcohol, smoke, and Dana’s piercing voice, I didn’t envy any one of them the headache he would have for the next several hours.

We continued the steady progression of bucket passing as the sky slowly lightened. At 5:00 am, my arms were numb, my shoulders screamed with pain, and I had one of the worst headaches of my life. My comrades and I silently passed buckets, refusing to admit defeat. At 6:00 am, Mother Nature decided to lend us a helping hand. It started as a drizzle, but soon the rain pelted us in sheets.

I stepped out of the bucket line and said, “I think we can stop now.”

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While hiking back to their campsite, Jane and her friends stumble across human bones exposed by the burned vegetation. Are the bones ancient or modern, and how did this individual die? These are the first of many questions Jane asks Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson, and Jane won’t rest until she uncovers the answers and learns not only the identity of the man whose bones she found but also what or who caused his death.

I will share other outtakes of my novel at intervals over the next few months. Please let me know what you think. The above scene is the beginning of the book. Did it grab you and make you want to read more?

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Robin Barefield is the author of three Alaska wilderness mystery novels, Big Game, Murder Over Kodiak, and The Fisherman’s Daughter. To download a free copy of one of her novels, watch her webinar about how she became an author and why she writes Alaska wilderness mysteries. Also, sign up below to subscribe to her free, monthly newsletter on true murder and mystery in Alaska.

Mystery Newsletter

Sign Up for my free, monthly Mystery Newsletter about true crime in Alaska.