Prime Cut Read Online Free PDF Page B

he could tell, the missing hand, right arm, and legs were probably the work of sharks. Lewis turned his attention to the neck, dragging down the magnifier on its extension arm.
    ‘The neck hasn’t been snapped like you might expect from the wrenching movement of a shark’s jaw. It has been cut, or more likely sawn, perhaps with a chainsaw? A handsaw would be a lot of effort and leave more jagged markings on the bone. Not exactly my specialty but we’ll get it looked at in Perth.’
    Cato certainly agreed with the ‘handsaw effort’ part. Was it only that morning they’d been decapitating a cow in Katanning?
    Lewis continued. ‘So my observant friend, Dr Terhorst, would appear to be on the ball. Speaking of which, I thought he mighthave been with us tonight?’
    He looked around the room as if Terhorst might have been hiding somewhere.
    Tess looked up from writing her own notes. ‘He was booked to give a talk at the Hopey Wine Club tonight. He gave his apologies, said he’d call you tomorrow.’
    ‘A wine buff too. A man of many talents, our Dr Terhorst,’ Lewis said, a touch insincerely. He made the ‘Y’ incision and opened the body up. Tess went pale. Cato made himself keep watching; it wasn’t his first time, by any means, but it had been a while. Buckley was concentrating on Sally’s calf muscles, oblivious to the carnage on the steel trolley. Lewis lifted the lungs out. Cato could see where the wiry muscularity came from. A few lung lifts every day would keep anyone in good shape.
    ‘The lung contents rule out death by drowning,’ Lewis confirmed.
    He examined them further, probing with his scalpel, humming softly to himself. Cato tried to place the tune: it might have been a bit of Puccini, or Shirley Bassey. Finally Lewis glanced at Cato.
    ‘I would say your friend was definitely dead before he went into the water.’
    Cato and Tess shared a look; it seemed he was going to be around for a while longer. Lewis plucked out and squeezed what appeared to be a blood-soaked semi-deflated balloon into a plastic container. Stomach contents: pretty empty, but there were indications of rice and chicken in there. Blood, skin and tissue samples would be taken for further testing but Cato had seen enough for now. His neck prickled with something approaching excitement.
    ‘Are you saying this is a murder, Dr Lewis?’
    ‘Possibly; that’s your job not mine. There could be any number of reasons for what we see here: accident, panic, cover-up, foul play. Anyway...’ he tapped Flipper’s neck lightly with his scalpel and looked Cato straight in the eye, ‘it’s definitely a bit fishy.’

5
    Thursday, October 9th. Dawn.
    ‘Fuck.’
    That was the considered response of DI Hutchens when Cato phoned his ex-boss early the following morning and told him about the preliminary pathology report. Cato was outside on the street, the sun was just up and birdsong filled the air. Magpies warbled sweetly like angels being drowned in a bathtub. A gentle breeze filtered through the gum trees. Cato was enjoying the peace and tranquillity.
    ‘Fuck,’ Hutchens said again.
    Cato waited and kept his mouth shut. Hutchens had let it be known that he wanted an open-and-shut case with papers filed. He didn’t have the manpower for a murder investigation, if that’s what this was. And, gruesome as it might be, at this stage he did not see it as that high a priority. Right now the body was a nobody that nobody had reported missing. Nobody seemed to care. Maybe nobody would and it could quietly slip away into the ever-growing list of ‘Unsolveds’.
    Cato watched a magpie swoop a morning walker as he patiently listened to Hutchens rant. The bugger was that, already, there had been journo inquiries to Police Media in Perth. Crime or no crime, sharks were big enough news. Head office wanted it played down until they knew more about what they were dealing with. So far the media were being fobbed off with what appeared to be a