Nero's Fiddle Read Online Free PDF

most alone during the holiday season. Loneliness was an unrelenting pressure, too much for some to bear when surrounded by happy families.
    The cleaned bone of the ankle caught Fraser’s attention. “Is it a genuine case of spontaneous human combustion?”
    Doc slid his hand under the arch of the foot and thrust it at Fraser. “Look at the edge. If someone attempted to dismember the body, we would see straight cuts or striation marks in the bone. This is rough and ragged, as though it were chewed off.”
    Fraser took the limb and turned it in his hands. The exposed bone ended in a jagged line and splinters where the fire had eaten through and severed the connection to the body.
    Doc moved to his workbench and fetched a small steel box. After returning to the table, he picked up the head and placed it within, along with the curled fist. Fraser added the foot to the strange, sad package.
    Doc closed the lid and rested his fingers on the metal surface. “As far as I can ascertain, there is no foul play involved. From my examination of the room, the fire appears to have originated in his torso. There is no evidence of any accelerant. The body had not been moved, so he burned in situ. So to answer your question, yes. A highly unusual but dare I say natural death.”
    An icy finger traced a path down Fraser’s spine. Horrible way to go.
    “Thank you, Doc. That’s one less case to worry about. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    The little doctor gave a wave then picked up the box to place the guest in one of the numerous chilled steel drawers.
    Fraser headed back upstairs and slipped through the main doors, into the evening. A man huddled under the eaves of Enforcers’ headquarters, his hat pulled low over his ears and his scarf pulled high. The inspector paused on the top step to loop his woollen scarf around his neck, and noticed a man move in the shadow.
    “Inspector Fraser,” the man called out, dropping the warm covering from his nose and mouth so he could speak. “Do you have a moment?”
    Fraser’s body ached and every cell longed to lie down and surrender to oblivion. His mind needed to erase the day before the cycle began all over again in less than eight hours. “You may have a moment.”
    The man stepped into the light and extracted a notepad from his jacket. He fumbled to hold a pencil between mittened fingers. “Roger Thurston, reporter with the Daily Times, I wanted to speak to you about the horrible death of Nigel Fenmore. Is it true his body was cremated in his own bed?”
    “Correct. Mr Fenmore was reduced to ash.” Fraser started a mental countdown. The reporter would only have another sixty seconds of his time.
    The reporter’s eyes narrowed; the vulture sensed a fresh kill to delight his readers. “How is that possible without burning down the entire building? Do you have any leads as to who committed such a heinous crime?”
    “There is no crime, the deceased succumbed to a natural phenomenon known as spontaneous human combustion. Very rare, but there is no foul play unless you wish to implicate God. Now if you will excuse me, this has been a rather long day.”
    He stepped down to the pavement and set a brisk pace along the road, not wanting to be followed. Large flakes of snow swirled around his face and he pulled the striped scarf higher, protecting the end of his nose. As he approached the bustle of Covent Garden, women called to him from the shadows and narrow alleyways he passed. Some used his name. His body gave a tug when he heard a familiar voice.
    “You look all done in, Hamish. Why don’t you let me revive your spirits?” A throaty laugh accompanied the words.
    He paused on the cobbles. His blood heated thinking of the soft reception waiting beyond the reach of the streetlights. How long has it been? He could not remember, but tonight his mind needed relief and his physical appetites would wait until another day.
    “Not tonight, Lilith,” he called. “I’m afraid I am far too