Bogman Read Online Free PDF Page A

least two microenvironments. One foot is skeletal. The other is mummified. Yes, I’d expect the shoe on it to be preserved as well.”  
    “He must have been barefoot,” said Tobias. Why had he taken his shoes off? Was it summer?
    “It’s going to be difficult to date the bones,” said Brix. “There’s no bone rot. Normally I’d expect bone rot to set in around twelve years post mortem. Fifteen years if the body has been buried deeply. But in this case..” His voice trailed off. He shook his head. “Even a Cat scan won’t tell us much. All I can confidently say is that whenever this poor soul was killed, it was more than twelve years ago and after polyester cotton blends were used in clothing.”  
    Tobias said, “What about the other things forensics turned up?”
    “Birgitte, my graduate student, is working on them. She’s very thorough.”
    He ushered them across a corridor to a smaller laboratory where a young woman with tight curly blonde hair tied back like a lamb’s tail was perched on a stool at a desk, one eye closed and the other peering through a microscope.  
    “Hi, Birgitte. Meet Chief Inspector Lange and Inspector Norsk.”  
    Birgitte waved unseeingly at them with a gloved hand.  
    “Nice to meet you,” she called out. “The trousers, the zip fastener, the buckle and the buttons are on the table at the back. I did them first. I was going to do the bracelet or the medal next, but some stuff came in an hour ago that looked more promising. Especially this. I’ve put everything else to one side to work on it.” She took her eye off the microscope. “I have more cleaning to do, but it’s definitely a watch. A Seiko watch.” She glanced at the label on the plastic bag beside her elbow. “It was found within a metre of the skull so it almost certainly belonged to the victim.”
    “That’s lucky,” said the professor. “I’ve identified a body by a Seiko watch. A train crash victim in Russia.” He shook his head. “That was a terrible business. I still have the notes. As I recall, there should be a serial number on the back of the timepiece.”
    Birgitte slid the watch from under the microscope. The metal bracelet was broken in three places, but the timepiece and its glass case were miraculously intact. She picked up a tiny paintbrush and with careful, slow strokes removed specks of dirt from the back of the watch before slipping it under the microscope again.
    “I can read the number,” she said. “Six-eight-six-four-seven-three-five.” She pulled a notebook towards her, scribbled down the numbers and passed them to Brix. “There are words engraved as well. Love from Famor and Mormor.”
    “Maternal grandparents,” said Tobias. “A birthday present? Pity there’s no date. That would help us identify him.”  
    “As I recall, the first number is the number in the decade,” said Brix. “Six? It can’t be 2006. The body is older than that. It could be 1996, or 1986. Earlier than that, I’d definitely expect to see bone rot. The second number is the month. Eight,” he paused to count.  
    “August,” said Tobias. “So the watch was manufactured in August 1996, or August 1986?”
    Brix nodded. “I can probably pin it down. But it will take me a day or two.”
    “We know the body was put in the bog at least twelve years ago,” said Harry.
    “So we’re looking for a young man who went missing sometime between 1986 and 1999,” said Tobias.  
    “That’s about it,” said Brix.

    6.

    Tobias drove directly from Brix’s laboratory at the university to the restaurant at Risskov where he was meeting his stepmother, Inge, and Norbert Fisker. If he went back to his flat to change, he’d be late.
    “We’re making it easy for you,” Inge had said on the telephone. “If we invite you to the house, you’ll be detained at work, it will take you an hour to get here and we’ll be lucky to eat before midnight. This way, we can have a nice relaxed dinner on the