‘Don’t be a stranger,’ Emilia called out as Helen buzzed into the police mortuary.
Helen knew that life had just got a little bit harder. But she had no time to ponder that now.
Helen had a date with a corpse.
He looked like a ghost. The carefree, handsome face that beamed out from his Facebook page bore no resemblance to the sunken death mask that now confronted Helen. Sam’s emaciated body lay on the mortuary slab in front of her, mocking the happy, hopeful person he used to be. It was a profoundly distressing sight.
Helen turned away, distracting herself by checking on the progress of the pathologist, Jim Grieves. Even after thirty years in the business Jim still took an age to clean and robe himself for a PM. The endless hand-washing made him appear like a modern-day Lady Macbeth (albeit an overweight one) and watching his clumsy attempts to sheathe his hands in sterile gloves made you want to march over there and do it for him yourself. Some officers actually had. Others thought he was past it, but Helen knew better and didn’t rush him. He was worth waiting for and there was something vaguely miraculous about the slow transformation from a hefty, heavily tattooed oaf to a gowned, incisive pathologist who had helped open up many a case for Helen.
‘What I am about to say comes with all the usual caveats, as I’m being rushed yet again…’
Helen smiled – used to Jim’s grumblings – and let him go on. She was rushing him, but needs must. Telling Sam’s mother about his death had been awful, partly because Helen had been able to tell her so little. Olivia Taylor had been widowed some years back, so she had no partner to support her now. Somehow, alone, she had to help her children come to terms with the death of their beloved older brother, and Helen had to give her the tools to do that. So she needed to corroborate or destroy Amy’s story fast.
Jim had finished grumbling. He turned to Sam’s body and began his summing up:
‘Single gunshot to the back. The bullet entered under the right shoulder blade and ended up in the rib cage. I’m using technical terms, so do tell me if there’s anything you don’t understand, ok?’
Helen let that ride. Jim’s sarcasm was a feature of every PM she’d ever attended. He carried on without waiting for a reaction:
‘Cause of death: cardiac arrest. Possibly caused by blood loss but more likely by the shock of the impact. He was in a bad way even before he was shot. Evidence of emaciation in the torso, limbs and the face – note the sunken eye sockets, the blood around his gums, the hair loss. Bladder and bowels basically empty, the stomach contained fragments of cloth, hair, tile mastic and also human flesh.’