Free The Corpse's Tale (Trevor Joseph Detective series) by Katherine John Page B

gnomes, half buried in weeds, had lost their heads.
    Mike Thomas didn’t attempt to fight his way through the mob. He simply tapped the shoulders of the people in front of him. They turned, saw him and moved aside. He was soon standing alongside his colleague on the doorstep.
    Collins went to follow, but Trevor held him back.
    Mike started to speak, quietly in his normal voice. A hush descended.
    ‘You all know who I am. I don’t know what you’re doing here…’
    ‘Driving out a killer,’ a man shouted.
    ‘Before he murders our daughters and sisters,’ someone else screamed.
    ‘Shut up,’ another yelled. ‘Let the sergeant speak.’
    ‘David Morgan has served time in prison. A judge has set him free…’
    ‘To kill again,’ a woman screeched hysterically.
    ‘Do you think he’s likely to do that, Mrs Protheroe, with Constable Williams and me watching him? We’ll be here all night I promise you.’
    ‘Then he’s under house arrest?’
    ‘David is a free man, he can go wherever he wants to.’
    ‘Then why are you here?’
    ‘To stop you lot ending up in court for grievous bodily harm – or worse. Go home and leave the policing to the professionals. That’s a polite request. Otherwise, in one minute I’ll be out there with my notebook booking people for public affray.’
    ‘They’re here to whitewash Dai Helpful.’ Mrs Protheroe pointed at Trevor, Sarah and Peter.
    ‘They’re here to reopen the case. Standard procedure when a judge remits a sentence, Mrs Protheroe. Good evening.’
    ‘Bloody bootlickers,’ she muttered as she passed Trevor.
    ‘And a good evening to you, too, Madam,’ Peter called after her.
    Trevor waylaid a young boy. ‘Whose idea was it to come here?’
    The boy shrugged his shoulders.
    ‘You can do better than that,’ Trevor coaxed.
    ‘Someone overheard Mr George, Mr Morris and Reverend Oliver talking in Morris’s shop. They said Dai Morgan’s going to get millions in compensation for going to prison. He’ll be free, rich and laughing and Anna Harris will be left rotting in her grave.’
     

C H A P T E R T E N
     
    ‘ D O Y O U H A V E A N eye-liner pencil can borrow?’ Trevor asked Sarah as they were leaving the breakfast table the next morning.
    ‘Any particular colour, sir?’
    ‘I didn’t know they came in different colours.’
    ‘Electric blue might be his shade,’ Peter suggested.
    Sarah rummaged in her handbag and handed Trevor a black pencil.
    ‘Thank you.’ Trevor slipped it into his shirt pocket.
    ‘I suppose it’s too much to ask what it’s for,’ Peter said.
    ‘It is. Enjoy yourself at the jeweller’s.’
    Trevor went upstairs and telephoned Mike Thomas in the Morgan house. After Mike assured him that there had been no more disturbances during the night, he switched on the TV. He was watching the film of Anna’s funeral again when the telephone rang. He picked it up.
    ‘Trevor Joseph.’
    ‘And this is your favourite pathologist.’ ‘Patrick, good to hear from you. Any
    results?’ ‘Where do you want me to start?’ ‘The wrist injury beneath the watch.’ ‘Robbins took swabs. There were glass, gold
    and stone fragments mixed in with blood and bone. The blood tested positive for Anna Harris. The gold was nine carat, the slivers of glass thin and polished.’
    ‘Like a watch face?
‘Exactly.’
‘But the watch was intact.’
‘I keep telling you…’
‘You deal in facts. The semen and pubic
    hair?’
    ‘The DNA in the semen was fragmented but what we have matches the hair. Give us a suspect and we can clear or identify him as the man who had sex with Anna Harris the night she was murdered. Your boys are running it through your database. As of ten minutes ago there were no matches. But the database was only started in 2003. If he hasn’t committed a crime since then, there won’t be a match on file.’
    ‘It’s not David Morgan’s.’
‘No, he gave samples voluntarily and
    permission for us to keep them on file. His