Free The Funeral Owl by Jim Kelly Page B

new-mown hay smell sweet. Plus there’s vanilla, coconut, almonds. And there’s the colour. The gold, like living gold. It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?
    â€˜Unfortunately this is bootleg Zabrowka. The smell is reproduced, but little else. The label may fool some, and provide assurance for many, but the contents, when imbibed, are redolent of anything but new-mown grass.’
    The coroner wandered into some arcane detail, but Dryden tracked the central thread of relevant facts: the autopsies revealed that both the victims had been ingesting two toxic substances over a long period of time. One was lead; the other was methanol, or wood alcohol. Both were present in the empty bottles in minute traces, detected with a spectrometer in the forensic lab. The full bottle was tainted with both.
    â€˜Methanol is produced by using wood chippings to distil alcohol. It is cheap and dangerous. One of the symptoms of poisoning is disturbed vision, even blindness, and I think this should be kept in mind given the circumstances of the deaths. Other symptoms include stomach pains and seizures. Lead is a common by-product of illicit stills because bootleggers often use old machinery to help in the distilling process. The most common, in rural areas, being old tractor radiators. Lead poisoning brings about headaches, delirium and convulsions.’
    Ryder nodded to Cherry, who handed a further statement to the coroner which he read out: ‘It is clear that the victims had access to a source of illicit alcohol in the West Fens which is severely contaminated and is a threat to public health. I have notified the police of my findings in advance. No one should buy alcohol which is not sold through licensed outlets and properly branded. Drinking so-called “moonshine” can seriously harm your health, precipitate mental health problems and eventually lead to death. I am also releasing pictures of the Zabrowka brand label. Consumers should avoid bottles with this label at all costs. Genuine bottles do not have these yellow labels.’
    Ryder moved a foot and one of the dogs yelped.
    â€˜Given the complexities of this case, and the poor health of the victims prior to the events which led to their deaths, I am going to record an open verdict in both instances. I have passed the files to the West Cambridgeshire Police and I have asked them to identify the source of the poison in this case; for poison it most certainly was.’
    He looked up from the prepared statement.
    â€˜I have asked them to treat this issue as a priority and I shall be monitoring the investigation.’ He looked straight at Dryden when he read out this final sentence. There was an unmissable inference that the police had so far not been giving the case the attention it deserved. It crossed Dryden’s mind that PC Powell, his local friendly contact in the constabulary, had failed to give him any hint of the story.
    Later, walking back along the arrow-straight road which led back into town, Dryden looked down into the Brim. A trickle-line of damp earth ran along the bottom of the ditch. He imagined the flood on that day, the water churning, powering its way towards the culvert by Christ Church, carrying the bodies of Russell and McLeish. Given the evil nature of the drug they were addicted to, he couldn’t help thinking they’d been given a gift that day by the gods of the sky: a swift and tumultuous death.

NINE
    D ryden walked through the centre of Brimstone Hill, past Christ Church, heading for his office – a modest single room with a landline, over the little parade of shops hidden in a cul-de-sac by the level crossing. When he’d gone for the job of editor of
The Crow
, he’d told the interview panel that they needed to expand the circulation area. Stop trying to change the paper to make more people buy it in Ely, and take the same paper wider afield. Create new editions, gather more news, make
The Crow
something people