Henry went into the office to find Baines sitting at the desk, working on his laptop, transcribing notes from his portable tape machine. He gave a little gesture with his finger for Henry to take a seat, then another which meant, ‘Just hang on, I need to do this.’
Henry sat. Frowning.
Because of something Joe Speakman’s son had said. Three little-ish words: ‘Probably deserved it.’
Three words — but three words too many because when Henry instantly queried them, ‘What do you mean by that?’ the line went dead and he could not get a reconnection.
Probably deserved it, he mulled, eyes narrowing, lips pursing, and as he stared dead ahead but unfocused at a diagram of the human body on the office wall, he didn’t realize that Baines had finished and was looking intently at him.
‘Face still looks a mess,’ the doctor observed.
Henry turned his head slowly. ‘As ever, your diagnosis is spot on.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Any news for me?’
Baines shook his head. ‘Only that I’ll be starting the post-mortems shortly.’
This caused Henry to check his watch. ‘Now?’
‘If I don’t, they’ll stack up and it’ll become impossible to catch up. And knowing you, if I don’t get them done, there’ll be a whole new batch tomorrow.’
Henry chuckled, then sighed.
‘Well, I’ll do one, anyway,’ Baines said. ‘I reckon four hours for each.’
Henry nodded.
‘But I do have some news — in between the crime-scene walk-through and now, I did Jennifer Sunderland’s PM — which is what I’m typing up.’ Henry waited for the bombshell. Baines said, ‘Drowned. Plenty of inhaled river debris. Lungs saturated.’
‘So she was alive when she went in the water?’
Baines cocked his head at Henry. ‘Didn’t I just say that?’
Henry smirked. ‘What about the head injuries?’
‘Inconclusive, but not especially serious and certainly not the cause of her death, and impossible to say whether she received the blows before or after immersion.’
‘So she could have been hit and fallen in?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘OK. Can I make a suggestion?’
Baines waited expectantly.
Henry checked his watch again. ‘Been a cruelly long day, so why don’t we start fresh tomorrow. There’s nothing spoiling — so long as there’s enough room for the bodies in the chiller… and, of course, there’s also the body to sort in Blackpool.’
Baines stretched wearily. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘Selfish, too… I need to spend some time getting my head around stuff and do some planning — not least how I’m going to deal with Harry Sunderland.’ There was a huge amount to do, including the things that were nagging at his brain.
He had started the ‘to do’ list in the DCI’s office, then got sidetracked by his own thoughts and calling Alison, then talking to Speakman’s son — who was supposedly in Cyprus, but in reality could have been anywhere.
‘I need to straighten a few things out here first,’ Baines said.
‘What time tomorrow?’
‘I’ll dig in at ten.’
That was fine by Henry. He had already decided to get home, partake in whatever food had been prepared for him, reconnect with Jack Daniels, then hit the sack, be up at six thirty, in the office at seven, sort things out, then be back in the mortuary at ten for a full day’s entertainment.
He shook Baines’s hand and stood up.
‘Ahh, darn!’ Baines said. ‘There is one more thing.’ He shuffled through a stack of papers. ‘I talked about teeth — remember?’
Only when I dig deep, Henry thought. ‘Go on.’
‘Dentistry work in the mouths of that dead girl and Jennifer Sunderland — even though the young girl has a few teeth missing from her assault.’
‘Yuh?’ Henry said.
‘Slapped what I had into the database — came up with this.’
He slid a printout to Henry who read it and went coldly excited, at the same time his anus tightening up. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘Is this for real?’
Baines smiled smugly. ‘Love it when a plan comes together.’
Baines had already told Henry about the similarities in the mouths of the dead females, that the work had been carried out by the same dentist. The database search went on to say that at the time the information was entered into the computer, the dentist who had carried out the work had a practice in a place called Coral Bay.
Coral Bay was in Cyprus.
TEN
By leaving it to the last minute, Henry secretly hoped that Steve Flynn would have found somewhere to bed down for the night other than the Tawny Owl. It wasn’t to be.
He called Flynn as he left the mortuary.
‘Hi, Henry,’ Flynn answered quickly.
‘Hello, Flynn,’ Henry said more formally. ‘How are you?’
‘For someone who’s been half-murdered twice, OK.’
‘What’s happening with you tonight?’
‘In what respect?’
‘Sleeping arrangements.’
‘Er… try to get a room in a Travelodge or something, I guess,’ he said delicately.
‘You’ve nothing booked?’
‘Not as yet.’
Damn, Henry thought. ‘You’re welcome to stay at the Owl,’ he said, almost choking on the words. ‘I mentioned the possibility to Alison and she’s fine with it.’
‘Brilliant, thanks,’ Flynn gushed. ‘Slight problem.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah — Diane needed her car back, so I’m without wheels.’
Henry stifled a groan. ‘Where are you?’
‘At the hospital. I visited Colin and gave Diane the keys… just walking to the main exit as we speak.’
‘Come down to the mortuary. I’m down here now, just about to set off to Kendleton. I can bring you back across in the morning, but it’ll be an early start.’ Henry hung up and pulled his face distastefully.
It took five minutes for Flynn to arrive. Henry sat waiting in the Merc, listening to an old Rolling Stones track. He flashed him as he approached. Flynn slumped in, admiring the car for the first time.
‘Nice one, Henry. You must be doing well.’ He clunked the door shut. ‘Super’s wages and all that.’
‘It’s financially crippling to run. I could buy a new Kia every year with what it costs to insure.’
‘Mmm… Kia… Mercedes,’ Flynn said as though he was trying to balance something tricky in his hands. ‘Not much of a contest.’
‘I know,’ Henry said, pulling out of the mortuary car park.
Flynn said, ‘Genuine thanks, Henry… I was probably going to bed down upstairs in the chandlery.’
‘Look upon it as victim support.’
‘So — not a friend thing.’
Henry almost choked. He drove up to the roundabout at the southern edge of Lancaster and headed north through the city, traffic still quite heavy in the mid-evening.
This was fortunate for the stolen black Range Rover, being driven on false plates, that slotted in three cars behind Henry’s Mercedes. That meant it could follow him through the city without drawing attention to itself, something that would be harder, but not necessarily impossible, once out on the country roads.
‘Have you made any progress?’
‘Depends on what you mean?’
Flynn pouted. ‘Investigating the attempt on my life, or this morning’s bloodbath, maybe.’
‘Forensics and CSI have been sorting the canal boat and I’ve had a few uniforms going house to house in Glasson — but I haven’t had an update so far,’ Henry admitted. ‘Been slightly busy with today’s bloodbath, as you call it.’
‘So you’re really throwing resources at it,’ Flynn said with sullen sarcasm and a shake of the head. ‘I doubt you’ll get much from the boat or from house to house. The nearest house to the boat is a quarter of a bloody mile away.’
‘I know, I know,’ Henry said, not taking the criticism too well. ‘What are your thoughts?’
‘Depends on what you mean,’ Flynn mocked Henry, who shot him a cold stare. ‘Have you identified this morning’s baddie yet?’
‘No.’
Henry’s mobile phone rang and he answered it on the Bluetooth connection speakerphone.