Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) Read Online Free PDF Page A

universe and the next, so don't waste your time even trying to come up with a new one."

    "Hey, mate, no insult intended, just trying to make conversation," Pete replied.

    Lorne suppressed a chuckle at how Pete seemed taken aback by the young man's abruptness.

     Out of the corner of his mouth he said to her, "Touchy, ain't he? Guess his sense of humour died a long time ago, working in a dead end job like this."

    "Give it a rest, Pete." She elbowed him in the ribs and added, "Shut that over-worked mouth of yours for a change, will you?"

    Lorne knew that his mistimed humour was all bravado, a sign of how uncomfortable he was in his surroundings.

    Inside the post-mortem suite, Lorne approached the stainless-steel table in the centre of the room. Standing approximately eighteen inches from the corpse's feet guaranteed her a bird's eye view of the proceedings. Pete however, positioned himself alongside a chair that'd been handily placed next to the exit, ideal for a quick getaway. His pusillanimity in their environment was laughable.

    Arnaud stood next to the table and snapped on his latex gloves. His tools were laid out on the waist-high trolley beside him. Eyeing the tools, Lorne thought some of them looked like they had been purchased at the local DIY store, rather than a medical supplier. Alongside the pruning clippers and the vibrating bone saw was a knife which resembled a bread knife she used at home. There were also various-sized scalpels, probably painstakingly sharpened by his assistant, Bones, after every examination.

    Bones unzipped the bag and both the men, one on either side of the table, slid the bag from under the body.

    Lorne glanced over at Pete as the corpse, which had been wrapped in a white sheet at the scene, lay like a midget-mummy on the table.

    After Bones and Arnaud carefully removed the sheet, Lorne hoped Pete wouldn't faint, or throw-up, at the sight of the headless, rotting, trunk.

    Bones cautiously placed the sheet to one side, making sure any trace of evidence, no matter how small, would stay in the sheet, to be studied in depth, later.

    The perforated table the body now lay on would allow any excess fluids to run through it and settle in the drip tray below, and the samples would also be analysed later.

    Bones walked over to the recorder and switched it on.

    As Arnaud made his first cut into the torso, Lorne quickly donned her surgical mask. It didn't take long for the smell of decomposing flesh to waft over to where Pete was standing. He gagged, his knees buckled and he dropped into the chair beside him.

    Darn it, just as I thought. The post-mortem suite was the place where the men were sorted from the boys. For some reason, the women seemed to cope far better in the environment than their male counterparts. Lorne always thought that having to go through the ordeal of childbirth worked in a female officer's favour.

    "While I dissect the body, please feel free to ask any questions," Arnaud said brusquely.

    The doctor was one of the few pathologists she knew who performed a post-mortem without wearing a mask. She'd once asked him why, only for him to snap that 'a mask disguises crucial smells', like the smell of almonds when cyanide had been used in a homicide. Lorne had a suspicion that he probably got a kick out of the vile stench of rotting flesh, and was too ashamed to admit he had a fetish.

    "At the scene, you suspected the body had been moved. Can you tell us why, Dr?" Lorne asked, her fascination piquing with every cut he made.

    "Ah, yes. Although the body had been discovered beneath a pile of leaves, it was caked in mud. As far as I know, when a pile of leaves breaks down it does not mysteriously change its natural composition. I suspect that somebody returned to the body, to remove its limbs. You see here," he said, pointing to the gaping hole in the right shoulder. "The arm has been pulled from its socket, not detached with a sharp implement. This can only be carried out