Free An Empty Death by Laura Wilson

said, ‘if that’s everything . . .’

    ‘It is.’

    ‘I’ll say goodbye, then,’ said Stratton. Byrne gave him a curt nod. Pausing only to tell Ballard to stay put and make sure that nobody else walked over the bomb-site, Stratton strode off as fast as he could without breaking an ankle. Going arse over tit in front of Byrne really would be the last straw. Anyone would think it was his fault that Dr Reynolds had turned up dead. I suggest you ask your men to search the area. If only he wasn’t so bloody tired . . . He was going to have enough problems rounding up a team of men, never mind the fact that whatever they found would have been thoroughly washed by the rain which meant it probably wouldn’t be much use anyway, and that he’d have to explain himself to DCI Lamb later if the death turned out to be accidental. But if it wasn’t, and he’d failed to act, then he’d get a strip torn off him, all right . . . ‘Jesus,’ muttered Stratton.

    At the edge of the bomb-site, he glanced round and saw Higgs and his new assistant dashing towards Byrne, jinking from side to side as they staggered over loose bits of masonry. Stratton watched them for a couple of seconds without much interest, then caught sight of Ballard heading off two girls who were about to cross the area. Hearing giggles, he spent the first couple of minutes of his walk back to the station wondering what on earth his sergeant had said to them, or if it was just the effect of Ballard’s warm brown eyes. Still, he thought, if it did turn out to be a murder enquiry, it would be a damn sight more interesting than stolen petrol coupons, which was something - or would be once he felt alert enough to deal with it.

Nine

    T odd did not dismiss Stratton as easily as Stratton had dismissed him. Despite the fact that he’d been expecting the police all morning, it was still a shock. He’d looked up from his attempts to prise Mrs Lubbock away from her temporary resting place - the din of hammers on chisels had been too loud to hear the door to the refrigerator room opening - and there he was. He hadn’t said he was a policeman - it was obvious. He was huge: Todd had wondered, several times, what the policeman, or men, might look like, but hadn’t imagined that they, or he, would be so bloody big. This one looked as if he’d been a heavyweight boxer at some stage - battered, masculine and rugged. He wasn’t wearing a uniform - too important. Looking up with those tools in his hands, seeing him towering above them, staring down in horror, he’d felt guilty, and it must have shown. The policeman hadn’t seemed to notice; too shocked by the sight of him and the bloke from the undertaker’s hacking away each side of the poor woman’s bum, no doubt. But the policeman had looked intelligent. Shrewd. He’d only stayed long enough to ask where Dr Byrne was, but all the same, he was someone to watch out for . . .

    When they’d left, the undertaker’s man sniffed, and said, ‘Copper. Wonder what that’s about?’ then recommenced his assault on Mrs Lubbock’s frozen thigh without waiting for an answer. Todd positioned his chisel under the head and banged away with such ferocity that the other shouted, ‘Oi, steady on! You’ll have the poor cow’s eye out.’

    ‘Sorry.’ Concentrating hard, to keep his mind off what the policeman might be doing, he re-applied himself to unsticking Mrs Lubbock from the tray. By the time they’d got her off and packed her up, he was sweating heavily, despite the chill of the room, and so shaky that he felt he must sit down before he keeled over. He was splashing water on the back of his neck when Higgs rushed in, panting.

    ‘Come on!’

    ‘What?’

    ‘Bomb-site - there’s a body - Dr Reynolds.’

    He kept his face entirely blank. ‘Who’s Dr Reynolds?’

    ‘Works here. Upstairs. Dr Byrne recognised him.’

    That was a shock. If Byrne had recognised Reynolds, he must have more to do with the other