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then smiled rather flirtatiously.
    “The indications are there. Bruises on the neck as well.”
    “Right.”
    “I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we? This will all be in my report, by the way. I’m happy to talk you through it—perhaps over coffee afterwards?”
    Olbeck was grinning. Kate sighed inwardly. Flirting was one thing , but doing it over the body of a dead girl was distasteful in the extreme.
    “That’s fine, thank you. I can read it later.”
    Stanton shrugged. “There’s one thing you should know.”
    “Which is?”
    “She was pregnant.”
    Kate felt the familiar little tremor inside her , as if a tiny foot had swung against her lower belly. When would she stop feeling that?
    She cleared her throat. “How pregnant?”
    “Not very. First trimester. About ten weeks, I’d estimate.”
    Olbeck had stopped smiling. “That’s something her parents didn’t know.”
    “Or they didn’t tell us.” Kate tried to run a hand through her hair, knowing it was pure displacement activity, before realising it was tied back tightly. “We’ll need to talk to them again anyway.” She remembered something else. “What about drugs? Any indications?”
    Stanton had begun to peel off his gloves.
    “You’ll have to wait for the tox tests. I should have the results within a week. There was plenty of alcohol and not much food in her stomach.”
    So Elodie had been drinking despite her pregnancy. Had she even known she was pregnant? Who was the father? If Elodie had known she was pregnant, had she told anyone else? Looking down at the body, shrouded now in dull green cotton, Kate felt tired. So many questions… It was hard to know where to begin.
    “Do you know the time of death?” asked Olbeck.
    Stanton was rinsing his hands under the tap. He pulled a handful of blue paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, dried his hands and threw the crumpled up ball of paper into a wastebin next to him.
    “It’s hard to say exactly, as well you know. But —like I say in my report—you can narrow it down to between about 3am and 5.30am the night before last. “
     
    “He fancied you,” said Olbeck, when they were back in the car.
    “No , he didn’t.”
    “Yes , he did. It was obvious. You were definitely in there.”
    Kate snorted. “Even if I was, I’m not going out with a   pathologist , for God’s sake. Can you imagine going to bed with one, for a start? You’d always be wondering where their hands had been. Ugh.”
    Olbeck chuckled. “Perfect partner for a necrophiliac.”
    “Well, quite.” Kate flicked the indicator on to turn left. “As for me, it’s thanks but no thanks.”
    “All right, all right. I get the message.” Olbeck checked his phone and made a satisfied noise.
    Kate glanced over. “What’s up?”
    “Nothing,” he said, smugly.
    Kate sighed. “Don’t tell me. Your hot date for tonight.”
    “Got it in one.”
    “You have more hot dates than I have hot dinners,” grumbled Kate. “And what was with the texting during the PM? That’s not professional, Mark.”
    “Oh, leave it out , Kate. It could have been work-related for all you know.”
    “Well, was it?”
    Olbeck was silent for a moment. “It might have been.”
    “ Was  it?”
    “No.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “But come on, it was only a minute. Besides, don’t tell me you’ve never done anything unprofessional at work.” He laughed a little. “Wait, what am I saying? This is DS Redman we’re talking about.”
    Kate said nothing. She knew he was just teasing her, but his words had brought the painting sharply back to the forefront of her mind. Was she going to mention it? Should she? Of course you should, and you know it , a little voice whispered. Hard on the heels of that thought came the question, Does Jay know yet? Am I going to have to tell him? Kate shivered inwardly, already dreading the moment.
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
      The crime scene photographs were already pinned up to the