Whispers of the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

ThursdaylYou sure?'
'That's what the manager said. Date checks out with the register
and the credit card receipts.'
Tom frowned. 'That can't be right. That's only five days ago.'
I'd been thinking the same thing. The decomposition was much
too advanced for such a short period of time. The flesh was already
displaying a cheesy consistency as it began to ferment and moulder,
the leathery skin slipping off it like a wrinkled suit. The electric fire
would have speeded things up to some extent, but that didn't explain
the amount of larval activity. Even in the full heat and humidity of a
Tennessean summer it would normally have taken nearer seven days
to reach this stage.
'Were the doors and windows closed when he was found?' I asked
Gardner without thinking. So much for keeping quiet.
He pursed his lips in displeasure, but still answered.'Closed, locked
and shuttered.'
I batted flies away from my face. You'd think I'd be used to them
by now, but I'm not. 'A lot of insect activity for a closed room,' I said
to Tom.
He nodded. Using tweezers, he carefully picked up a maggot from
the body and held it up to the light to examine it. 'What do you
make of this?'
I leaned closer to take a look. Flies have three larval stages, called
instar, in which the larvae grow progressively larger.
'Third instar,' I said. That meant it had to be at least six days old,
and possibly more.
Tom nodded, dropping the larva into a small jar of formaldehyde.
'And some of them have already started to pupate. That would make
the time since death six or seven days.'
'But not five,' I said. My hand had strayed towards my stomach
again. I took it away. Come on, concentrate. I made an effort to apply
myself to what I was looking at.'I suppose he could have been killed
somewhere else and brought here post mortem.'
Tom hesitated. I saw two of the white-suited figures exchange a
glance, and immediately realized my mistake. I felt my face burn. Of all the stupid . . .
'No need to tape the arms and legs to the table if the victim was
already dead,' the big crime scene officer said, looking at me oddly.
'Maybe corpses in England are livelier than over here,' Gardner
said, deadpan.
There was a ripple of laughter. I felt my face sting, but there was
nothing I could say to make it any better. Idiot. What's wrong with you?
Tom fastened the lid back on to the killing jar, his face studiedly
impassive. 'Think this Loomis is the victim or the killer?' he asked
Gardner.
'Well, it was Loomis's driver's licence and credit cards that were in
the wallet we found. Along with over sixty dollars in cash. We ran a
check: thirty-six years old, white, employed as an insurance clerk in
Knoxville. Unmarried, lives alone, and hasn't been in to work for
several days.'
The cabin door opened and Jacobsen entered. Like Gardner she
was wearing overshoes and gloves, but she managed to make even
those look almost elegant. She wasn't wearing a mask, and her face
was pale as she went to stand by the older agent.
'So, unless the killer booked the place in his own name and considerately
left his ID behind, the likelihood is that this is either
Loomis, or some other male we don't know about,' Tom said.
'That's about it,' Gardner said. He broke off as another agent
appeared in the doorway.
'Sir, there's someone asking to see you.'
'I'll be right back,' Gardner said to Tom, and went outside.
Jacobsen remained in the cabin. Her face was still pale, but she
folded her arms tightly in front of her as though restraining any
weakness.
'How d'you know it's male?' she asked. Her eyes flicked automatically
to the seething activity around the corpse's groin, but
she quickly averted them again. 'I can't see anything to say either
way.'
Her accent wasn't as strong as some I'd heard, but it was pronounced
enough to mark her as local. I looked at Tom, but he was
engrossed with the corpse. Or at least pretending to be.
'Well, apart from the size--'