Free Deadly Stuff by Joyce Cato Page A

the victim.
    ‘One Mr Maurice Raines,’ the pathologist, who was kneeling beside the body, looked up at them and held out a black wallet, now neatly encased in an evidence bag. ‘Aged between forty-five and fifty-five, I’d say. A little overweight, but relatively fit, for all that. No signs of defensive wounds that I can see, and I don’t see why the cause of death shouldn’t be the obvious one.’
    Both police officers looked at the metal implement still embedded in the body’s neck.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ Peter Trent muttered graphically.
    ‘Bloody hell is right,’ the pathologist agreed cheerfully. He was a smallish, compact man in his early thirties, who’d worked for a long time in the A&E departments when he’d been earning his stripes, and had the confidence of a man who’d seen it all. Or thought he had. ‘As you can see, he bled out. I’d say it was odds on that he died from either shock or exsanguination. If he was lucky, his heart would have given out fairly quickly and it would have been lights out before he really knew what was happening.’
    Peter Trent swallowed hard and looked away.
    ‘OK. We won’t get in your way,’ Trevor said, turning around and nodding curtly at his sergeant to follow him. He was a great believer in letting the professional technical staff get on with the how, when and whats, whilst he concentrated on the who and the why.
    ‘Constable,’ – he nodded at the young man in uniform and then glanced curiously at the striking woman who was still waiting patiently in the chair – ‘I take it this is the young lady who called us?’
    ‘Yes, sir. A Miss Jennifer Starling. She was hired by the bursar of the college a few days ago to cater to the summer conference season here.’ The constable, a bright lad who was anxious to get on, clearly hadn’t wasted his few moments alone with the principal witness so far.
    Trevor nodded gravely. ‘Ah,’ he said. So she was not a collegeregular then. That could prove very helpful indeed. He was already anticipating that the college would quickly close ranks against him once it realized the severity of the situation. Unless he missed his guess, their main priority would be in keeping the publicity to a minimum whilst interrupting their money-making enterprises as little as possible. The fact that a man lay dead would probably only be construed as unfortunate. He could almost see some gown-wearing, bespectacled college bigwig saying as much even now.
    ‘Did you know the victim, Miss Starling?’ Trevor asked quietly.
    ‘Not really. That is, I knew who he was. He was the driving force behind the current conference that we’re hosting right now. Or at least, that is how I’m sure that he saw himself,’ she corrected herself quickly. Remembering some of the less than reverential comments she’d heard others making about him, she doubted that the late Mr Raines’s opinion of himself was shared by everyone.
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘I think they’re called the Greater Ribble Valley & Jessop Taxidermy Society,’ Jenny said. ‘I just tend to think of them as them as the Great Jessies.’
    Peter Trent grinned over his notebook.
    ‘Right,’ Trevor said, blinking slightly.
    Jenny glanced at him curiously as she was sure she’d heard him mutter something under his breath about bloody Morse but she must have got that wrong.
    ‘You found the body just before noon? Did you call us right away?’ Trevor asked next.
    ‘Yes. I was just leaving to have a walk around town. I won’t be needed in the kitchens for a few hours, and wanted to stretch my legs. When I was passing hall, I looked in, well, mainly because I was curious to find it empty, and then saw Mr Raines lying on the floor. I realized he was, well, dead andcalled you right away. I didn’t step in any of the blood: I didn’t touch the body in any way, I didn’t see anyone else leaving the Hall or going down the corridor in front of me, and I didn’t hear anyone talking or any