A Killing Coast Read Online Free PDF Page A

nodded at Tom, the mortuary attendant.
    ‘Just finished taking photographs of her,’ Tom said jerking his head at the fully clothed, filthy body on the slab. ‘I’ll fetch Dr Clayton.’
    Horton took a breath and ran his eyes over the corpse. Cantelli was right, judging by the deterioration she’d clearly been dead for some time. There wasn’t a great deal left of the soft tissue of the face; the eyelids, nose, lips and ears had all been chewed by the marine life. What remained was filthy, and what was left of the hair was matted with dirt, seaweed and sea life. The clothes were, as Cantelli had described, rather unusual. The dress was covered in multicoloured small flowers and had a ruffle at the neck, long voluminous sleeves with ruffles on the wrists and a high waistband that fell just under the breast. There were no pockets that he could see, but he hoped there might be some identification on her. What was left of the hands was dark bluish-pink and there were no rings.
    The door from the anteroom swung open and Horton looked up to see the petite figure of Gaye Clayton advancing toward them with a smile of greeting on her freckled face. Despite the circumstances Horton found himself smiling back.
    ‘Let’s see what you’ve got for us this time,’ she said cheerfully, running her practised eye over the corpse. ‘Well, I can certainly certify death. As to the time, I’ll be more precise when I conduct the autopsy, which I’ve scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning, but I’ll give you an estimate once we’ve undressed her.’
    Horton watched her ease down the ruffle around the neck and caught a glimpse of a slightly quizzical expression as she studied the head and neck.
    ‘I can’t see any obvious signs of cause of death, no bullet or stab wounds, and no visible marks of strangulation, although there is trauma to the skull, but that could have been caused by the body coming into contact with an obstruction in the sea.’ She stepped back and nodded at Tom to begin undressing the body.
    Horton tensed in anticipation and sensed Cantelli’s heightened interest beside him as Tom eased off the sodden trainers.
    ‘Size nine,’ he announced, turning them over. ‘Cheap, ordinary chain store make, marking too faint to read. Well worn, especially on the right foot, but size still visible on the sole.’ He dropped them into one of the evidence bags on the nearby trolley.
    Surprised, Horton said, ‘Large feet for a woman. How tall would you say she was?’
    ‘Five foot ten, maybe eleven,’ answered Gaye. ‘We’ll measure the body, of course.’
    Consulting his notebook, Cantelli said, ‘Karen Jenkins, the missing forty-year-old, is five three, and the teenagers are five four and five six. So we can positively rule out all three.’
    So who was she? Had anyone missed her? Perhaps she had lived alone. Horton watched Tom’s big hands ease the dress up the purple, half-chewed flesh of the legs. He frowned in puzzlement as a pair of dark-coloured lightweight shorts came into view.
    ‘Unusual underwear for a woman,’ Cantelli said.
    ‘But not completely unknown,’ added Gaye.
    Cantelli stopped chewing. ‘She’s wearing a T-shirt.’
    ‘So am I, Sergeant, under this get-up,’ Gaye replied, brightly, pointing at her mortuary garb.
    ‘Yeah, but there are T-shirts and T-shirts, and that one looks more like a—’
    ‘Vest,’ furnished Horton, thoughtfully. It was loose, round-necked and short-sleeved, not the sort of garment to compliment the intricate and old-fashioned dress that Tom was now holding. And there was something else peculiar about the body, but before Horton could express it, Tom said, ‘There’s a label inside but with only faint markings on it. There’s also a pocket in the side. It’s zipped up. There’s something in it.’
    Horton’s pulse quickened as Tom eased the small zip down, thrust his big hand inside it and retrieved a small object. It was a plastic key fob minus the keys