Frost nodded.
'She wasn't killed on the bed. She was standing when she was stabbed.' He pointed. 'See how the blood initially flowed downwards… but then changes direction as she was laid on her back?'
Frost gave a curt nod. He had worked all this out for himself.
Drysdale took a pad of cotton wool from his bag and carefully cleaned away a small area of blood from the stomach. 'Lots of blood. The wounds are deep, but relatively superficial.' He turned his attention to the hands, examining them as Frost had done. 'No cuts that would suggest she tried to defend herself. Bruising from manual pressure on the wrists.' Lastly he lifted the head from the pillow and moved back the long, black hair, revealing extensive bruising on each side of the neck. He opened the mouth and shone a small torch inside, then nodded. 'Death caused by manual strangulation.' Behind him, the blonde secretary's pen flew over her shorthand notebook, taking down her master's findings.
'You're bang on form tonight, doc,' said Frost approvingly. 'You haven't missed a thing Dr McKenzie spotted.'
Drysdale's lips tightened. He and the lowly Dr McKenzie were sworn enemies ever since the doctor disputed, and eventually overturned, part of his evidence at a local coroner's court. 'If the good doctor spotted it, it must be screamingly obvious.' He studied the face. 'Bruising round the eye, probably the result of a blow from a fist.' He lifted the head from the pillow again and slipped his hand underneath so he could explore the back of the scalp. 'Minor contusions,' he murmured to his secretary, 'and…'he withdrew his hand and looked at his fingertips, '… a small amount of bleeding.' He looked up at Frost. 'Did the good Dr McKenzie spot that?'
'No,' said Frost, wiping the triumphant smirk from Drysdale's face by adding, 'He didn't — but I did!' He showed the pathologist some small red smudges, ringed with Harding's blue chalk on the wall above the splodge of blood on the thin carpeting. 'I reckon she was standing here. As he strangled her she jerked her head back and banged it on the wall…'
Drysdale sniffed his grudging agreement. He liked to be the one with the theories. 'Do we know her name?'
'Not yet, doc.' Frost flashed the green business card. 'You don't indulge in naughty lingering fun by any chance?'
Drysdale flushed angrily. 'No, I don't.' He snapped his fingers for his secretary to pass him a mercury thermometer and took the room temperature. A second finger snap produced a clinical thermometer which he slipped under the armpit of the dead girl. He studied the reading and did a mental calculation. 'She's been dead about an hour. Ninety minutes at the most.'
Frost nodded his agreement. 'You're probably right, doc… The bloke who was enjoying her favours about an hour ago was pretty certain she was still alive.'
Drysdale signalled his secretary that he wanted his overcoat, holding out his arms as she helped him on with it. 'I've finished for now. You can remove the body when you like. I'll perform the autopsy tomorrow morning. Eight o'clock.' He stared significantly at Frost who was always rolling up at post-mortems anything up to half an hour late. 'It would be a welcome change if you were there on time.' With a curt nod to Liz, he took his leave.
As he left, the others filed back in. The phone shrilled. Frost held up a hand for silence and again signalled for Liz to answer it. 'If it's another punter, get him in. We've got to find out who she is.'
Liz picked up the phone. 'Lolita…'As she listened, her expression changed. She frantically beckoned Frost over, holding the receiver away from her ear so he could listen in, but as he reached her the caller hung up, leaving Liz scowling at the buzz of the dialling tone. 'Damn.' She jiggled the rest so she could dial 1471.
'A punter?' asked Frost.
She shook her head. 'No. A man. He said, "That was just a taste, Lolita… next time it will be something really serious…" ' The pay phone wouldn't let her dial 1471 until she inserted a pound coin. She obtained the caller's number, then got through to the exchange for the caller's location. 'Damn,' she said again, hanging up. The call came from a public phone box in King Street.
Without much hope, Frost sent a car round in case the caller might still be there. 'And I want this line tapped and all incoming calls monitored and recorded.' Back to Liz. 'Would you recognize the voice again?'
She pursed her lips in thought. 'I might, I'm not sure. He sounded a nasty piece of work.' Now would be a good time to tell Frost she wanted to take over the case before he got too involved. 'Could I have a word — in private?'
'Sure.' They went outside to the landing, pressing against the wall as the two undertaker's men brought a black-painted coffin up the stairs for the removal of the body to the mortuary. 'What can I do for you, love?'
From inside the room came the crackle of heavy duty plastic being unfolded and then the hiss of the long zip on the body bag. Liz closed the door. 'A prostitute killed by a punter… could be the same man who killed Linda Roberts, which is one of my cases. I should be leading this investigation.'
Frost had doubts that the two cases were connected — tonight's tom hadn't been tortured — but if Liz took over, she would have to attend the crack of dawn autopsy and he could have a few hours' lie-in. 'It's yours, love,' he told her. 'I never fight for more work…'
'Mind your backs, please!' called the big, red-faced undertaker cheerfully. They moved to one side so the coffin could be man-handled down the stairs and out through the front door. As they watched, the uniformed officer on duty at the front door called up to them: 'Urgent message for Inspector Maud. Would you contact the station. Something to do with that armed robbery.'
PC Lambert in Control had taken the call. A near hysterical woman, almost incoherent, just sobbing and sobbing. He had to squeeze the details out of her drop by drop. 'Whatever the trouble we can help you, madam. Can you tell me your name?'
'My name? What does my name matter? They shot him. They stole our car. He's bleeding to death.'
'Shot? Who's been shot?' Lambert clicked his fingers urgently to gain Sergeant Wells' attention.
'My husband. There's blood everywhere.'
'Where are you?' He signalled for Wells to listen in on the other earpiece.
'They shot him… They stole our car…' She again broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.
Lambert tried to calm her. 'We can help you, madam, but we must know where you are.'
'The public call box… corner of Forest Road…'
'Is that where your husband is?'
'No — but I can take you to him.'
Wells put down the earpiece and dialled for an ambulance.
'Wait there, madam,' said Lambert. 'Don't leave the phone box… an ambulance is on its way.' He hung up and radioed the message to Liz Maud.
As Detective Inspector Maud drove towards Demon Woods, an area car, siren blaring, roared past in the opposite direction clearing the way for a following ambulance which had already picked up the victim and his wife. She swore softly. If she hadn't seen them she would have wasted precious time searching for them in the woods. She squealed the car into a tight U turn and tagged on behind the area car. Damn, damn, damn… She had played this all wrong. She should have asked Frost to take over the armed robbery so she could concentrate on the murder case. She'd put this in hand as soon as she got back to the station.
The grim shape of the Victorian Denton General Hospital loomed up ahead and the ambulance turned off down an 'Ambulances Only' lane, while the area car, Liz following closely, drove to a parking area near the main entrance. She skidded to a stop behind them and confronted them, eyes blazing, before they had a chance to get out of their car. 'Next time you damn well let me know you've left the scene with the victim,' she snapped.