Catch the Fallen Sparrow Read Online Free PDF Page A

sometimes wait a while with a kid who’s done a “runner” before ...?’
    She paused, then picked up one of the child’s hands. ‘The tattoos ...’ She ran one of her fingers along the knuckles of the right hand. ‘Love,’ she read. ‘These are quite interesting, Inspector, aren’t they? Amateurishly done a few years ago. I’ve only ever seen them on a child so young who was in care ... Still,’ she smiled, ‘I expect you’ve noticed them too. There are a few other unsavoury aspects to this boy. He’d tried a noxious mix a few times of intravenous drugs.’ She pointed to the ugly, pitted scars that spotted both arms. ‘Usually Harpic, talcum powder, sodium bicarbonate or even flour. It ekes out the drug and causes the ulcers. He’d had a go a time or two but I don’t really think he was a habitual user – at least I can see no evidence of regular use, one or two scars, that’s all. He was rather undernourished and had slightly prominent ears. Left ear pierced – by an amateur. The holes aren’t straight. Teeth not too decayed – one or two properly done fillings which I’ve recorded. Teeth nicotine-stained, as were his fingers.’
    She looked at Joanna. ‘If it’s any consolation there’s no trace of carbon monoxide or soot in the lungs. I am perfectly satisfied that he was dead before being set on fire. He put up no fight.’ She touched Joanna’s shoulder. ‘He died a quick and humane death – lost consciousness swiftly. He did not struggle. He probably never knew what happened. But as there is one side – here is another. He had been sexually abused over a long period – possibly a number of years. I think it started when he was quite young. There’s intense scarring around the anus. He might have been five or six when first abused, possibly even younger.’
    â€˜The motive was sexual?’
    Cathy Parker shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not this time. I’ll have to wait for the results of the swabs, of course, but I don’t think there was a sexual motive for this boy’s death. He had not been abused recently – possibly not for a year or more. There was no new scarring. The old scars had healed up. However ...’ she showed Joanna tiny round marks on the thin, bony chest with its prominent ribs and stick-like upper arms. ‘You know what these are?’ she asked, and Joanna nodded. ‘Someone burned him on numerous occasions with a cigarette. Again ...’ she touched the marks, ‘not recently. I think the last one was done not less than six months ago.
    Joanna blinked. ‘Was there no one to act as advocate for this poor sod?’ she asked. ‘And the thousands like him? No one he could turn to? Damn it,’ she said angrily, ‘where is this caring society we’re all supposed to be part of?’
    â€˜Try social services,’ Cathy said drily.
    â€˜Well, his mother then?’
    â€˜Come on ...’ Cathy’s eyes met hers. She turned to the trolley and picked up the ring. ‘What do you make of this?’
    â€˜Either a present,’ Joanna said, ‘maybe from a friend – or else he nicked it.’
    Cathy peered at it. ‘It’s got initials on it. And it’s fairly distinctive. It should be a good lead.’
    â€˜It’s a start,’ Joanna agreed.
    Cathy crossed to the sink and began washing her hands as the mortician sewed up the body, then she turned back and stared for a while at the boy’s face, still calm and waxen.
    â€˜He must have been a very pretty child, you know,’ she said, ‘with his blond hair and blue eyes and, I dare say, a cocky, confident manner, fashionable clothes and a swagger. Under other circumstances he might have been a choirboy, or a teacher’s pet, a Little Lord Fauntleroy, or had doting