Unti Lucy Black Novel #3 Read Online Free PDF

Belfast.”
    â€œAnd that was the last you saw of it?”
    Henderson nodded.
    â€œWho was the undertaker?” Lucy asked.
    â€œDuffy, on the Strand Road. Did they throw his body in the river, instead of taking him up to be burned?” he asked. “They were paid out of his estate. They charged plenty for it. Bloody undertakers would drain you dry.”
    â€œWhat about the rest of your great-­uncle’s estate?” Lucy asked, earning a scowl from Fleming for the nature of the question.
    â€œIt’ll all come to me, I think,” Henderson said. “All that effort and saving, just to have your money go to someone you hardly know when you’re gone, eh?”

 
    Chapter Eight
    D UFFY AND S ONS operated out of a converted mechanic’s garage along the quay on the Strand Road. They were recently opened, and had managed to position themselves with a view of the river from their main ser­vice room on the first floor of the building. When they arrived, they were met by the owner, Gabriel Duffy, before being led up to the ser­vice room. Despite the volume of traffic along the main arterial route through the city just outside the window, the building was hushed, the air sweet and heavy with incense.
    â€œWe did handle Mr. Carlisle’s ser­vice,” Duffy said, his voice soft and sibilant.
    â€œHis ‘remains’ were recovered from the river last night,” Lucy said. She produced the image she had shown Henderson and gave it to Duffy. He rubbed at the white paint fingerprint on its surface.
    â€œThat does look like Mr. Carlisle, but I can assure you, it can’t be him. He was taken to All Hallows and cremated the day before yesterday. We have all the paperwork to show the transfer from us to the crematorium. Mr. Carlisle’s ashes are waiting for his great-­nephew to collect. We have them here.”
    He stood, and padded across the room and out through a different doorway from the one through which they had been brought in. Lucy assumed he was going to the preparation room beneath. A moment later he reappeared with small box, slightly bigger than a milk carton. Attached to it was a sticker with Stuart Carlise’s name and the date of his death.
    â€œIs that it?” Lucy asked.
    â€œYou can pay for nicer ones,” Duffy said. “Mr. Carlisle’s next of kin wanted a basic receptacle.”
    Lucy took it from the man. It was heavier than she expected, perhaps the same as a bag of flour, she thought. “Is this definitely Stuart Carlisle?”
    Duffy nodded. “My son drove the body up. He’s downstairs finishing an embalming; he’ll be up in a moment. The coffin was sealed at the ser­vice, taken out to the van and delivered to All Hallows. Ciaran waited in Belfast until the cremation was completed, a few hours later, then brought back the ashes.”
    As if on cue, the rear door opened again and a young man came in, pushing the door closed with a click. He came across to where Lucy and Fleming sat.
    â€œThis is Ciaran,” Duffy said. “The officers are asking about the Stuart Carlisle cremation.”
    Ciaran nodded. “Yes?”
    â€œWe believe we’ve found his body in the river,” Lucy said. “Are you sure he was cremated?”
    â€œAbsolutely,” Ciaran said, quickly. “I drove it up myself. We loaded him into the crematorium and I waited about until it was finished. I brought his ashes back.”
    â€œCan we see the ashes?” Fleming asked.
    Duffy looked at his son for a moment. “It’s a little irregular,” he said. “It’s really meant to go to the next of kin.”
    â€œDo you think the next of kin cares?” Lucy asked. “We just need to check that what’s in that box is human remains.”
    Duffy glanced at his son again. The boy nodded. “I don’t see why not,” the boy said. “Show them.”
    Duffy unsealed the box