Free The Body Politic by Catherine Aird Page B

Sloan knew that. Sooner or later professional pride would rear its ugly head and an opinion would be offered.
    â€œWell, if there’s a fragment of femur shaft you can sometimes have a view of the sex of the deceased.” He grinned. “Although, unless it’s in the region of the linea aspera, I must say it’s pretty nearly as difficult as doing day-old chicks.”
    Sloan said austerely, “The sex does not present any difficulty.”
    â€œAnd,” continued the doctor, “if there are clear remains of two bones of which homo sapiens has only one—the sacrum of the Atlas vertebra, for instance—then the presence in the ashes of at least two individuals will have been demonstrated.” He paused and added gravely, “I think, Sloan, even a jury would agree with that—if you’re going in for juries, that is.”
    â€œI’m sure they would, Doctor,” responded Sloan with matching solemnity, although you never knew with juries. “Actually, in this case——”
    â€œStands to reason,” contributed Detective Constable Crosby. “Doesn’t it?”
    â€œYes, indeed,” said the pathologist hastily. “The same applies if they weigh more than—say—nine hundred grammes. Of course, the archaeologists can also deduce a good deal from what was buried with the body.”
    â€œSo, I hope,” said Sloan piously, “can detectives.”
    â€œAnd grave goods,” continued Dr. Dabbe, “often make it possible to distinguish between the centuries.”
    â€œI think you might say,” murmured Sloan, “that, in a manner of speaking, it is the grave goods which are our problem.”
    The pathologist leaned forward. “Tell me, Sloan, do they need to know if it was the noblest Roman of them all, then?”
    â€œNot exactly, Doctor.”
    Dr. Dabbe cocked his head alertly. “Say on, Inspector. This sounds interesting.”
    â€œWe were hoping,” said Sloan, “that something more than—er—just the fact of cremation might perhaps be determinable.”
    â€œTeeth can tell you a lot,” offered Dabbe, “if you’re lucky.”
    â€œIt’s not the teeth we’re interested in,” said Sloan. “At least, I don’t think so.”
    â€œThe provenance can be helpful,” said Dr. Dabbe briskly. “Archaeology and forensic medicine have a lot in common, you know.”
    Sloan cleared his throat. “Not in this case, Doctor. At least, I don’t think so.”
    â€œThe urn and strata can often yield valuable information, too.”
    â€œThey aren’t really relevant——”
    â€œAnd,” said the doctor, warming to his theme, “you can sometimes calculate the length of time that they have been buried by——”
    â€œThese haven’t been buried, Doctor,” said Sloan gently.
    â€œYet,” added Detective Constable Crosby, who had had the full history of the ashes explained to him in the car on the way from the Police Station to Mrs. Ottershaw’s house at Mellamby.
    The pathologist began to look very attentive. “So, Sloan, if I were to tell you that sometimes the charcoal fragments can be a source of radio-carbon dating, you wouldn’t be too excited?”
    â€œNo, Doctor.”
    â€œBut if I were to tell you that there were some poisons, especially the heavy metals—thallium, for instance—which did survive the cremation process, you would be interested?”
    â€œVery.”
    â€œIntriguing.”
    â€œYes, Doctor.” Detective Inspector Sloan launched into an explanation of the metal pellet found in the ashes that the crematorium had handed to Tod Morton, and which the young undertaker had accidentally spilt.
    â€œIt’s not made of the alloy Vitallium, then,” said the doctor. “The orthopods use that a lot but it’s non-magnetic.”
    â€œNo, not