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past two years. He had a dry sense of humour and a love of single malt whisky, which meant most of Solomon's encounters with him ended in a raging hangover.
    Audette climbed out of the vehicle and opened the back as Solomon and Kimete walked over to him.
    “I brought the bags with me,” said Audette.
    “Save time, hey?”
    Solomon shook hands with him, and Kimete gave him a hug and accepted a kiss on both cheeks. Audette was a good twenty-five years older than Kimete but whenever he saw her the look in his eyes was anything but avuncular. After their first meeting Kimete had seemed quite interested, until Solomon had told her about the Canadian's three ex-wives and half-dozen children in Montreal.
    “Twenty-six,” said Solomon.
    “I brought thirty to be on the safe side,” said Audette.
    “Where are they?”
    “The barn,” said Solomon.
    “Are you going to do the autopsies here?”
    “Twenty-six? I'm a coroner, not a short-order cook, Jack. There's procedures to be followed. I'll give them the once-over in situ then we'll bag them and take them back to Belgrade.”
    Matt Richards walked over from the barn and introduced himself to Audette. The Canadian explained that he was going to carry out a preliminary examination, and that he'd need the troopers to place the bodies in bags. Richards threw him a crisp salute and went to talk to his men. Audette nodded at Solomon.
    “Let's get on with it,” he said.
    Solomon and Kimete followed him into the barn. Solomon helped him into the back of the truck but didn't climb in with him.
    Audette had a small dictating machine and he moved through the truck, whispering into it.
    “Are you okay, Jack?” asked Kimete.
    “Will you stop asking me if I'm okay?” said Solomon.
    “I bought some grilled chicken at the market yesterday. Probably wasn't cooked enough.”
    Kimete nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she didn't believe him.
    Audette spent half an hour in the truck, then jumped down next to Solomon.
    “Not often we get to see bodies in such good condition, hey?” said the Canadian.
    “Other than them being dead, you mean?” asked Solomon.
    Audette ignored the sarcasm.
    “Cause of death in all cases appears to be suffocation,” he said.
    “Two of the men had gunshot wounds, non-fatal. One in the leg, one in the arm.”
    “So they were forced into the truck against their will?”
    “I'd say so. I found a skull fracture on one of the men consistent with a blow. A rifle butt, maybe. I'll be able to tell you more once I've got them on the table. All Muslims, right?”
    “Looks like it. All from one family farm outside Pristina. Neighbours are Serbs, but nobody saw anything. Hear no evil, see no evil.”
    “There were atrocities on both sides, Jack,” said Audette quietly.
    “I know,” said Solomon.
    Audette put a hand on Solomon's shoulder and squeezed gently.
    “It's about time we had a night on the town, isn't it? Why don't you fix up a trip to my neck of the woods? I picked up a couple of fifteen-year-old malts last time I was in Zurich airport.”
    Solomon nodded without enthusiasm.
    “It's a shit job, Jack, but if we didn't do it, this place would be darn sight shittier than it is.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    Audette gestured towards the farmhouse.
    “They got coffee in there?”
    A few minutes later Solomon, Audette and Kimete were sitting at the table in the farmhouse kitchen drinking coffee and swapping stories while the KFOR troopers put the bodies into bags, then into a UN truck, which had arrived as the sun was going down.
    Matt Richards came over to say goodbye, gave Kimete a wistful look, then climbed into one of the Humvees and led the convoy out of the farmyard, down the rutted track. Audette climbed into his four-wheel-drive and followed them.
    Solomon lit a Marlboro and blew a tight plume of smoke towards the floor. He stared at the barn, frowning.
    “What's wrong?” asked Kimete.
    “Just give me a minute,” he said.
    He