A Killing Coast Read Online Free PDF

and inside the small plastic case, shaped like a Christmas tree, was a perfectly preserved picture of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties, with dark curly hair and a broad smile.
    Cantelli studied it, puzzled. ‘Could that be a daughter or granddaughter who has died and, distraught, this woman took her own life?’
    It was possible, Horton supposed, but it could also be a photograph of the corpse itself taken when younger. Tom put the key ring into a small evidence bag and handed it to Cantelli, then he folded the dress carefully into another evidence bag. Gaye stepped closer to the corpse.
    ‘Anything wrong?’ Horton asked as her brow furrowed.
    ‘Plenty, but please go on, Tom.’
    Horton saw a knowing glance pass between them. He dashed a look at Cantelli and got raised eyebrows in return. With his heart beating fast Horton watched as the mortuary attendant eased the shorts carefully down the decaying legs. Cantelli gave a low whistle and Horton drew in a sharp breath. He could see exactly what was ‘wrong’ but it was Gaye who expressed it.
    ‘As I suspected, your she is a he,’ she said brightly, pointing to the genitals.
    And a missing man wearing a dress certainly put a new slant on things, thought Horton. It was an opinion Cantelli ventured twenty minutes later as they headed towards Gosport Marina to collect Horton’s Harley. There were no further surprises from the body and no indication either from Dr Clayton of the cause of death. She estimated the man was aged between thirty-five and sixty and that he’d been dead four to five days, which took them back to last Wednesday or Thursday. There was nothing to indicate, at this stage, it was a suspicious death, and although Horton didn’t much care for the fact that the corpse had been wearing a dress there was no law against it.
    ‘A transvestite?’ Cantelli posed.
    The dress wasn’t sexy but then Horton knew it didn’t need to be. ‘Don’t transvestites usually wear women’s underwear? Isn’t that what gives them the buzz, wearing something feminine and sexy close to the skin?’
    ‘If you say so. Maybe he didn’t have time to put it all on, go the whole hog.’
    ‘Possibly. But the dress, as you pointed out, Barney, is old-fashioned.’
    ‘Perhaps it was his mother’s. Depressed over her death he decided to end his life wearing her favourite dress. Or perhaps he liked dressing up, got drunk, went cavorting around the beach on a full moon and thought he’d seen Amphitrite beckon to him from the sea.’
    ‘Who?’ asked Horton, throwing Cantelli a surprised look.
    ‘Greek goddess, Queen of the Sea. I thought being a seafaring type you would know that,’ Cantelli grinned. ‘Marie’s got a thing about Greek mythology. Says it’s helping her to write her first fantasy novel.’
    Marie, at twelve, was the third of Cantelli’s five children and had recently won a scholarship to a private school where she was blossoming. Horton hoped the same would apply to Emma.
    Cantelli said, ‘Or perhaps he was at a fancy dress party and always carried that picture with him, so he put it in the pocket, got pilled up, wandered off and fell into the sea from a cliff.’
    In this job, thought Horton, they’d all seen ten incredible things before breakfast so anything was possible. Should there have been keys on the key ring though, he wondered, staring through the rain-soaked windscreen as Cantelli headed past the old town quay at Fareham down towards Gosport. And if so, where were they? Or had he simply carried the fob because of the picture?
    ‘The girl’s name might be on the reverse of that photograph,’ Cantelli suggested, following Horton’s train of thought.
    ‘That would be nice.’ Horton didn’t think it would be that simple, though. ‘Send it over to Joliffe and ask if someone in the forensic lab can open it without damaging it. Get a photograph of it first though.’ He called Walters who took an age to answer. ‘I was