Murder of a Dead Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

night in Jubilee Street, if only for elimination purposes, because Sam Mayberry had seen the fire before any of inmates had left their beds.
    ‘Glad to see Serious Crimes being thorough.
    Once these places open in the morning there’s no telling where the guests go.’ Superintendent Bill Mulcahy stood in the doorway of the dilapidated hall, a miserable expression souring his face that had its origins in more than the dismal surroundings.
    ‘Patrick’s waiting for us in the mortuary.’
    ‘I’ve finished, sir.’ Trevor looked at his watch.
    Seven-thirty. He would have liked to have gone home, seen Lyn, showered and changed, but he knew better than to ask Bill for the privilege.
    ‘Afterwards we’ll set up a case conference in the station.’
    ‘Sir.’ Trevor went to the door. He had a sudden craving for the brandy he’d left at home. He wondered if it was a sign of alcoholism. He’d never wanted a drink in the morning before. He knew it was morning because he followed Bill out of the lamp-lit hall into drizzle-filled grey light, but his body clock was still set to night. Deep velvet night; time to go to bed and cuddle Lyn.
    ‘I want everything in Zone A tagged and in the laboratory within the hour.’ Bill’s voice echoed across the taped area where white-suited, rubber-gloved and booted figures had switched off their torches to comb the ground in the dawn light.
    Trevor recognised Andrew Murphy and Chris Brooke among the searchers. Judging by the pained expressions on their faces they’d stayed at the party long enough to get hangovers.
    ‘Found this in Zone A, sir.’ Andrew held up a plastic bag that held a whisky bottle.
    ‘That’s an expensive brand to find down here,’
    Trevor observed.
    ‘Probably thieved from one of the bottle banks for the smell.’ Bill walked away.
    ‘Zone A is within ten feet of the body?’ Trevor asked Andrew.
    ‘Yes, but we’ve been ordered to comb the ground as far as the waterfront.’
    Trevor took a last look at the damp, chilled searchers as he climbed into the back of the car.
    Rank did hold some privileges. At least it was dry in the mortuary.
     
    ‘Don’t touch those,’ Patrick warned. ‘They’re waiting to go to forensics.’
    ‘What are they?’ Anna squinted at a blackened mess that looked like a clump of burned roots.
    ‘Hands. It’s a slim hope, but they might be able to lift prints from them.’
    ‘Off those?’ Bill studied the twig-like structures.
    ‘The skin is still attached in one or two places.
    You never know your luck. There may be an identifiable partial print.’
    ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’ Bill turned from the specimens destined for the Forensic Laboratory to the slab where Patrick had laid out the remains of the incinerated corpse.
    ‘It’s laid toe to head, or as near as we could set it up, given what we have. The foot was intact in the boot. It’s bagged on the slab behind you,’ Patrick said to Dan. ‘The other foot was reduced to a few spoonfuls of ash. Pick it up,’ he encouraged Dan who was peering through the plastic. ‘It’s distinctive. I doubt many men wear red baseball boots with blue laces, even in Jubilee Street.’
    ‘Men?’ Bill questioned.
    ‘That’s not a woman’s foot.’ Patrick pointed to the long, thin, splay-toed foot at the bottom of the slab. Thickly covered in black hairs, its top was seared by a brown scab. ‘His sock is in the bag next to the boot.’
    Trevor studied the foot and felt as though he was looking at an exhibit in an art gallery.
    ‘Is this the sock?’ Dan held up a bag containing a luminous green sock topped by a crust of blackened, blobbed rib.
    ‘Melted nylon,’ Patrick explained. ‘One or two bits are attached to the ankle bone; also some rubber from the shoe has stuck to the sole of the foot.’
    Anna looked from the slab to the tiled wall.
    She’d never liked post-mortems. As soon as news had got out about her transfer from Vice to Serious Crimes, Peter and