Deity Read Online Free PDF Page A

bridge.
    ‘The hands?’ asked Noble.
    ‘I’ve seen a couple of drownings, John. Even suicides jumping into the water will try and grab hold of something when they go under. They can’t help it. It’s a reflex.’
    ‘He’s right,’ Pullin said reluctantly. ‘Their hands usually clench tight with the effort to hold on to something. Any-one drowning in a river will have stones or weeds locked in their fists.’
    ‘Andthis guy’s hands are open.’ Noble nodded.
    ‘Is this even a swimming spot?’ asked Brook, darting a look at Pullin.
    ‘Hell, no. Far too dangerous,’ replied Pullin. ‘The current’s not slow and the bank’s too steep to be sure of getting out. Even kids won’t risk it.’
    ‘Someone might if they were drunk,’ added Noble.
    ‘But they’d still be able to struggle and grab on to things in the water,’ said Brook.
    ‘Maybe he dived off the bridge for a swim and was knocked unconscious,’ ventured Noble. ‘He wouldn’t be struggling then.’
    Brook pointed to the cadaver’s wasted left arm. ‘He doesn’t look like any kind of swimmer to me. Not with that physique.’ The torso was almost skeletal and the muscle tone underdeveloped. ‘And look at these needle-marks. This looks like a drug abuser to me. Probably a heavy drinker too.’
    ‘Right. Face and hands,’ agreed Noble, turning over a pale dead hand. The face was covered with blotches and cracked blood vessels. Several old cuts and abrasions on the hands and knees as well as the face, added to the impression that here was a man who injured himself regularly. They’d both seen the signs before. The extremities of the heavy drinker took the brunt of damage from falls and fights, befitting the lifestyle of those who derived nourishment from a bottle and a needle.
    ‘Some of these injuries could have occurred in the water though,’ said Noble, indicating other scrapes and grazes.
    Brook examined two vertical cuts descending from each nostril of the man’s swollen and bent nose, clearly broken in the past. ‘These wounds below his nose look post mortem,maybe from sharp stones or discarded metal in the river.’ Something caught Brook’s eye. ‘Look at these marks on his neck.’ He leaned in for a better look at two small puncture wounds, one on each side of the windpipe.
    ‘Maybe we’re looking for a vampire.’ Noble grinned.
    Brook glanced up without amusement then turned his attention to the corpse’s various tattoos. They were of poor quality and all in the same washed-out blue. ‘
Flower of Scotland
,’ Brook read from one.
    ‘Guess he’s from Scotland,’ observed Noble, with a straight face.
    Brook must have been light-headed from lack of sleep because now he smiled though he made sure Noble didn’t see it. ‘Good spot, John,’ he said drily. ‘These tattoos don’t look professional to me.’
    ‘Prison ink, I’d say,’ replied Noble. ‘Might give us a lead with ID.’
    Brook turned over the man’s now bagged right hand after a glance at one of the Support Officers for approval. The knuckles had love tattooed on them, one letter on each knuckle. ‘No doubt he’s got hate on the other hand.’ He stood off his haunches.
    ‘Why not just tattoo criminal on their foreheads and have done with it?’ said Noble, to a few appreciative chuckles.
    Brook looked at Pullin. ‘Couple of days, you say – Keith.’
    Keith Pullin was a man who didn’t give his opinion lightly; he gazed at the corpse, rubbing his chin. ‘I reckon,’ he answered finally. ‘There’s no rigor mortis though – which muddies the waters a bit. It all depends whether he died before he went in or not. Given the hands, I’m thinkingmaybe he was dumped, already dead, in the water. There’s no foam around the nostrils and mouth either, which you’d expect from a drowning.’
    Brook knelt again to turn the icy palm back up. Even through the protective plastic, the bagged hand told a story. Like the back of his hand, there were many