Free A Room Full of Bones by Elly Griffiths Page B

Multicultural Society’? Actually, he had fallen asleep after ten minutes but he still knows that Clough’s comment isn’t helpful.
    ‘Have you got any evidence for that, Cloughie?’ he growls.
    ‘Well, Russians …’ says Clough unrepentantly. ‘The Russian mafia. They’re up to their necks in drugs. Like the Chinese triads.’
    There’s a big Chinese community in King’s Lynn too.
    ‘Like I say,’ says Nelson. ‘No evidence.’
    ‘Not many boats in the port from Russia,’ says Judy.
    Clough glares at her. ‘They use mules, don’t they? Somepoor sucker forced to swallow the goods. Quick shit and bingo. Kinder Egg.’
    ‘Kinder Egg?’ repeats Judy faintly.
    ‘Yeah, that’s what they call it. Surprise every time.’
    ‘I’ll see what Jimmy has to say.’
    Nelson has an informer who only speaks to Nelson and then only under conditions of elaborate secrecy. He trusts this man as far as he would trust any untrustworthy bastard.
    ‘OK,’ he says now. ‘We’ll give it another night at the port. Fuller, you can do a stint with Tom Henty.’ Tanya Fuller, an extremely keen DC, looks pleased. It’ll do her good to have some responsibility and Henty will keep an eye on her. Nelson turns to the Smith Museum, giving a brief description of events on Saturday. He tries to keep it as flat as possible but he can tell that the team are intrigued.
    ‘Were there clear signs of a break-in?’ asks Tanya.
    ‘Nothing definite. I’m sending some PCs house-to house and I’ll wait to see what the SOCOs come back with. Johnson, can you liaise with them?’
    Tanya looks disappointed, Judy stifles a yawn.
    ‘So it may just be natural causes,’ says Clough, biting into a Mars bar.
    ‘Stephenson thinks so. Cause of death was pulmonary haemorrhage. Bleeding on the lungs,’ he explains for Clough’s benefit.
    ‘What could cause that?’
    ‘Lots of things including infection or drug-taking.’
    ‘Did he take drugs, then? This curator bloke?’
    ‘His body showed signs of persistent drugs use. And I found a hundred grams of cocaine in his office.’
    Clough whistles. ‘That’s a lot of Charlie.’
    ‘Do you think it was natural causes, boss?’ asks Judy.
    Nelson pauses. ‘Most likely. There are a couple of odd things though.’ He tells the team about the letters. ‘Fuller, can you do some digging on the Elginists? Find out if they’ve ever been involved in anything dodgy. Clough, you and I might pay Lord Smith another visit.’
    ‘Great,’ says Clough, to general laughter. ‘Might get a tip for the National.’
    ‘The Necromancer,’ says Nelson. ‘He’s got a lot of bone apparently.’
    As Ruth nears her house, she is aware of a strange humming noise on the air. Is it a bird, a low-flying plane, the coastguard’s helicopter? Perhaps it’s a bittern, whose low, booming call she sometimes hears at night. Thinking of birds reminds her of David, her previous next-door neighbour, who was the warden of the marshes. David knew every stick and stone of the Saltmarsh, he could recognise the call of any one of the hundreds of birds that use these wetlands as a pit-stop on their journey south, he could find his way across the treacherous quicksand in the dark and had once saved Ruth’s life. But David has gone, and if there’s a new warden, she hasn’t met them yet. As Ruth gets closer she sees that the sound is coming from Bob Woonunga, who is sitting on the grass in front of his house playing something which, from memories of Rolf Harris, she recognises as a didgeridoo.
    She parks outside her cottage and gets Kate out of her car seat. Kate is now walking. She started at ten months, which is early according to the books. And while Ruth was proud of her daughter for reaching this milestone ahead of time (walking at ten months = first class honours degree from Cambridge), she can’t help thinking that it was easier when she could carry her everywhere. Now Kate struggles to be put down and totters purposefully