Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

might be some kind of post-traumatic thing. I'm not so sure. Seemed more like a fuck-you-copper kind of thing to me.” Katz looked at her feet and then took Stark's gaze. “Did you get anywhere with his family or friends, sir?”
    “Not really. I got the impression his Mum was tired of him bringing trouble to her door. She looked and sounded exasperated. I got the standard, half-hearted defence about him being misunderstood and she couldn't think why anyone would want to do such a thing to him. No enemies she knew of. I think she was trying to convince herself he hadn't been up to something dodgy, more than she was trying to convince me. His friends were even less cooperative. I tend to agree with you about the the fuck-you-copper thing. In the circles he moves in, you just don't help the cops, no matter what.”
    One of the forensic team gestured to them to come over to the truck.
    “What's up, Carl?” asked Stark.
    The investigator squatted down and pointed to the mashed face of the dead man.
    “It's just the weirdest thing, DI Stark. I know his head's been crushed pretty badly, but his eyelids have been sliced off. The crash could never have caused that. It looks like the twisted bastard did this so he had no choice but to watch what was going to happen to him!”
     
    ***
     
    The pathologist's office was neat and tidy. Sparsely furnished, with unremarkable fitments and plainly decorated. A few certificates hung on the wall indicating various medical qualifications, but Stark didn't see any photos on display. A large yucca plant with dusty, drooping leaves stood in one corner. It was doing a valiant job of oxygenating the stuffy little space it found itself parked in; despite the obvious lack of tlc being received in return.
    Whenever Stark visited the Coroner's Office it reminded him of a favourite TV show when he was a kid - Quincy M.E. At one time, he harboured ambitions to follow in the great man's footsteps. However, in the end, a lack of the required academic rigour, combined with the lure of policing, saw him move in a different direction. Bizarrely, he once shook Jack Klugman's hand (all the time with mouth agape), after a chance encounter outside a Glasgow restaurant, when his TV hero was on a private vacation. He still loved watching re-runs of the show.
     
    Doctor Sadie Watkins seemed a little harassed when she came into the office. Stark's smile and proffered handshake were both reciprocated rather tepidly.
    “Hello, it's Detective Stark isn't it?” she asked and stated simultaneously.
    “Aye, Detective Inspector, actually,” he replied, instinctively taking out his warrant card and holding it up.
    “Oh, sorry, they don't usually send the senior officers down to see me. You're here about the truck sandwich I presume?”
    Already, everyone was referring to the case in this way and ergo it was how they were referring to Ernie Martin. It's a sad fact that working in the kind of environment cops and pathologist's were obliged to endure on a daily basis, led to the dehumanisation of  victims and a totally unsentimental attitude to death.
    “Yeah. I wondered if you'd done the post mortem and whether you found anything I can use?”
    Stark considered Dr Watkins a good looking woman in an unconventional way. A short, choppy haircut leant her an almost pixie-like air. Prematurely grey but making no attempt to hide the fact, sculpted cheekbones and a face untroubled by make up as far as he could tell. But without doubt, her eyes were her most striking feature: diamond blue and fierce. Not tall, but lithe and muscular looking. Some form of fitness regime being followed rather than some radical diet. She was certainly no Jack Klugman.
    “I did it this morning but I don't think there's much to tell. You knew about the eyelids thing, right?”
    He nodded.
    “Very neatly done, probably under anaesthetic, as there are traces of it still in his system, along with some alcohol. Below the legal limit, but only