Free Remains to be Seen by J.M. Gregson Page B

he looked back, the police constable had vanished. The man did not linger on the hillside. He had seen all that he needed to see.

Seven
    D CI Peach felt entitled to a ritual police grumble as he settled himself into the passenger seat of the Mondeo. ‘The police surgeon confirmed death at ten o’clock this morning. A formality, as usual. A waste of public money, when we’re perpetually told how much policing costs.’
    â€˜You mean the local forensic physician. That’s what we call them nowadays.’ Lucy Blake corrected him with some satisfaction, whilst giving her full attention to the town-centre traffic.
    â€˜Clever little sod, aren’t you, at times?’ Peach glanced sideways at his driver, studying without embarrassment the dark-red hair, the faint freckling where it met the forehead, the clear aquamarine eyes studying the road ahead, the tilt of the small chin, the rounding of the left breast beneath the blue sweater, the thighs which moved so smoothly and efficiently as his DS changed gear.
    â€˜Finished your survey, have you?’ said Lucy acidly. You couldn’t do much about it when you were driving, but you might as well let him know that you were conscious of his appraisal.
    â€˜Just like to make sure that police personnel are in good working order. I don’t get enough chances to study you in profile.’ He observed the passing scene as they reached the suburbs of Brunton, waved cheerfully to an old lady coming out of the post office. You got to know a great number of the citizens, worthy and unworthy, when you worked for ten years in a town with a population of under a hundred thousand.
    â€˜I don’t like being appraised like a prize pig,’ DS Blake said primly.
    â€˜Like the Empress of Blandings,’ said Percy, recalling a memory of P. G. Wodehouse from somewhere deep in his subconscious. He smiled, in fond reminiscence of a more innocent time in his own life, watched the hedgerows which were beginning to appear, and said, ‘You’re still resentful about last night’s operation, aren’t you?’
    â€˜It was a very efficiently conducted snatch, from what I hear. My only point is that I should have been involved.’ Lucy was aware that she was beginning to sound petty, and was immediately annoyed with herself. ‘But I’ve already made my views clear on that.’
    â€˜Indeed you have, DS Blake. Abundantly clear. But I’m sure your mum will be delighted that I didn’t subject you to the danger of being shot to pieces. That the sweet body I’ve just been checking on is still in prime condition.’ Percy smiled contentedly as they turned off the main road, on to the lane which would eventually take them to Marton Towers.
    â€˜Don’t you dare discuss such things with my mum! She already thinks I should be stuck at home washing nappies.’
    â€˜Ah, the wisdom of age. If only our society would imitate others and acknowledge that the passing years bring a wisdom which is denied to the young!’ Percy shook his head sadly. ‘Anyway, there isn’t much washing of nappies nowadays,’ he pointed out in his mildest voice.
    â€˜I’m talking the way she talks,’ said Lucy with irritation. ‘Kindly leave the subject, please.’
    â€˜All right. Let’s just point out that you may have missed last night’s little excitements, but you’re now on your way to the investigation of a suspicious death.’
    â€˜You think this is more than just a victim of the fire?’
    Peach adopted an excruciatingly over-the-top Hollywood accent. ‘I gotta hunch, doll. I gotta hunch, kid. And in this game, you gotta play your hunches, babe.’
    Lucy shuddered histrionically. ‘Don’t give up the day job.’
    The high gates of Marton Towers stood open and the gatehouse seemed to be untenanted. Peach gave it scarcely a glance as they passed, fearing obscurely that