Ten Guilty Men (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

adipocere.’
    Morton examined the tray of samples ready to go off to the lab. ‘You don’t think she was on drugs then?’
    ‘Oh, she was taking something but she hid it well. No track marks, so she wasn’t shooting up.’
    ‘Oral administration?’
    The coroner grinned. ‘Guess again.’
    ‘Injections between her toes? Some sort of cream?’
    Chiswick shook his head. ‘Sorry. Your victim liked her barbiturates taken rectally. See that baggie over there?’
    Morton glanced over at what appeared to be a woollen rag soaked in a yellow goo. ‘No. You’re kidding!’
    ‘That was inside her. It’s definitely been soaked in some kind of nembies, and if I had to guess from the bitter smell and yellowing, I’d say its pentobarbital, most commonly used by vets to euthanize animals. We’ll need to wait a few weeks for forensics to confirm that though.’
    ‘A euthanasia drug? Are you suggesting she was suicidal?’
    ‘Oh no. It acts like an opiate in low doses. There’s a fine line between getting high and overdosing, but she didn’t cross it. She’d have been high, and lost all her inhibitions.’
    ‘That’d explain the evidence of drunken sex.’
    The coroner grinned, and let out a hearty, booming laugh. ‘See. Just like university.’

Chapter 5: Next of Kin
    By the time Morton and Ayala arrived at home of Brianna Jackson, Ellis DeLange’s next of kin, the sun had set. They parked underneath a nearby railway bridge in a bay marked “Permit holders only”, and set off on foot towards Amelia Street. It was a residential area, with a steady flow of foot traffic, but it wasn’t well lit. There were few lampposts, and even where there were lights it seemed that bulbs had been allowed to burn out without being replaced. The faces of those they passed swam into view and then disappeared into the darkness just as quickly.
    ‘Damn!’ Ayala cried out.
    Morton turned to see Ayala on the ground, clutching at his ankle.
    ‘This is no time to take a break,’ Morton joked, and held out a hand.
    ‘Bloody bin bags. Didn’t see ’em in the darkness.’
    Brianna lived in a fourth-floor walk-up in a listed building. While exceptionally pretty, it lacked the charm of her sister’s home, and there were no outer security doors let alone a perimeter fence. A terracotta archway led through to a narrow hallway with a steep spiral staircase on the right. At the very top of the stairs, Morton and Ayala paused to catch their breath.
    Morton spotted Ayala wincing. ‘Your ankle all right?’
    ‘No. I’ll be suing for worker’s comp next week,’’ Ayala quipped.
    ‘That’s the spirit. Mind knocking the door? I can’t reach from here.’
    The landing was barely big enough for the two of them. The stairwell had a solitary window through which a street lamp could be seen a few feet below casting a pale glow over the street. Three doorways at the top were marked ‘1A’, ‘1B’, and ‘1C’.
    Ayala rapped his knuckles on the middle door.
    The sound of shuffling preceded a woman’s voice.
    ‘Who’s there?’ she asked shrilly.
    Morton imagined someone pressing their eye to the peephole, and trying to make out the two shadowy figures in the stairwell.
    ‘Metropolitan police, ma’am,’ Ayala said.
    ‘What do you want?’
    ‘Do you know Ellis DeLange?’
    ‘She’s my sister. Why?’
    ‘May we come in?’ Ayala asked. The Met had strict rules against giving death notices on the doorstep.
    A chain rattled on the other side of the door, a lock clicked and the door swung open inwards. Ayala shuffled in then stopped suddenly, causing Morton to bump into him.
    Morton nudged him in the back to keep moving, and then stood on tiptoe to glance over Ayala’s shoulder. The flat, if it could be called that, was little more than a bed, a microwave and a curtained area at one end that Morton presumed concealed a bathroom.
    Morton nudged Ayala again, and he shuffled forward just far enough to let Morton squeeze in. Morton pushed