A Painted Doom Read Online Free PDF

mumbled.
    ‘And does he call all women “love”?’
    ‘Usually.’
    She looked Wesley up and down. ‘Is he racist as well as sexist? I bet he gives you a hard time, does he?’
    ‘No. We get on quite well, actually. You’ve just caught him at a bad time,’ said Wesley, wondering why he was feeling so protective
     of his boss’s reputation. ‘He was expecting to see Colin and … well, DCI Heffernan likes what he knows.’
    Dr Kruger nodded. ‘Doesn’t everyone? I’ll forgive him this once.’ She gave Wesley a wide smile, and he noticed that it had
     transformed her face from merely attractive to beautiful. ‘My name’s Laura, by the way.’ She held out an ungloved hand and
     Wesley shook it firmly.
    ‘Wesley Peterson,’ he said.
    ‘And what shall I call the chief inspector?’
    ‘He’ll answer to the name of Gerry.’
    ‘Oh, I might just call him “love”,’ said Laura Kruger with a mischievous glint in her eye.
    ‘Has the body been moved?’ asked Wesley, returning to police matters.
    ‘Yes. I don’t think it’s been here long. It was drizzlinguntil about ten this morning. The ground’s fairly damp but the body’s dry. I think he was kept somewhere else then he was
     dumped here within the past few hours. And if you want any more evidence for my theory, look at those shoes; they’re far too
     clean for someone who’s been tramping round fields, don’t you think?’
    Wesley looked down at his own shoes, now in need of a good polish, and nodded in agreement.
    ‘We’ll have to see what forensics come up with,’ she continued. ‘And I’ll do the post-mortem tomorrow morning. Is that all
     right?’
    Wesley said that was fine, then he looked down at the body again, willing it to give up its secrets. ‘Any clues to his identity?’
    Laura Kruger shook her head. ‘There was a set of keys in his trouser pocket and some money. Nothing else.’
    ‘Who found him?’
    ‘The farmer who owns this land, a Mr Hoxworthy. It gave him a bit of a shock. He was in this field first thing this morning
     fetching the cows in for milking, and he’s certain the body wasn’t there then. He’s gone back home if you want a word, but
     I don’t think he’ll be able to tell you anything. He said he didn’t recognise the dead man.’
    ‘Where does he live?’
    Laura pointed into the distance. In the rolling landscape one green hill folded into another, but the long stone farmhouse
     was built on rising ground, easily visible from the field.
    ‘That’s the house over there. You get to it down the lane. You pass a big old barn and then go down a track to the left. I
     reckon that you can see this field from there, but Mr Hoxworthy said he hadn’t seen anything suspicious. His theory is that
     someone dumped the body here from a passing car, and I reckon he could be right.’ She gave Wesley a shy smile. ‘I’m doing
     your job for you.’
    Wesley returned the smile. ‘A lot of my colleagues could do with your observational skills.’ He paused and stared down at
     the body.
    ‘That jacket didn’t come cheap,’ Laura observed. ‘Could he have been a drug dealer; gangland killing come to rural Devon?’
    ‘He was still a human being,’ said Wesley quietly, almost in a whisper.
    Neither spoke for a while as they contemplated the unfortunate man who had ended his earthly existence at the foot of a hedgerow
     like some medieval vagrant. It was a sad end, thought Wesley, to leave this world violently with only a field of cows for
     company.
    The mortuary van had arrived. Its occupants, discreet as trusted butlers, moved swiftly as they prepared to transfer the mortal
     remains of the man in the leather jacket to their unobtrusive black van.
    Gerry Heffernan wandered over to watch, standing silently as the sad little procession passed. The body was carried on a trolley,
     packed inside a zip-up bag which reminded Wesley inappropriately of the bags used by pizza delivery-men to insulate their
     wares.