Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(11)

Six





‘Doctor Bate,’ she said, raising herself to a standing position.

‘Surely it’s Daniel by now,’ he said, offering his hand.

Kim touched his hand briefly.

Now she understood Keats’s amusement and Bryant’s collusion at her anticipated discomfort.

She and Daniel had met the previous year during the Crestwood investigation. He had been the forensic osteoarchaeologist despatched from Dundee. They had not hit it off initially. They had shared three shallow graves and a stirring of fascination. But the case had ended. He had left. End of story.

His hair was slightly lighter than she remembered it. Possibly bleached by the sun. His eyes were the same green that seemed to brighten at times with mischief and yet darken behind the thin-rimmed glasses he normally wore while at work.

He wore light jeans and a khaki T-shirt. The muscles in his arms from his love of outdoor activities remained the same, although there was a fresh scar just below his left elbow.

Suddenly she felt like the main event of a boxing fixture. The first punch had been thrown and now three interested people awaited her reaction.

She smiled brightly. ‘How lovely to see you again, Doctor Bate. I hope you’re well.’

Keats stroked his beard and Bryant coughed into his fist.

She looked at the pathologist. ‘Are you ready to move her yet?’

In terms of importance, nothing trumped her victim. Amongst the other bodies placed at Westerley, this one didn’t fit. The woman was no experiment, either gifted or donated.

Despite his faults, Kim always felt relieved when the victims were back with Keats. He treated all of his charges with respect.

‘As soon as I can, Inspector.’

She returned her gaze to Daniel. The amusement lit up his eyes. If he wanted to come here and play games he’d be playing this one on his own.

She turned and waded through the water before turning back.

‘Keats, I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.’ She glanced to his right. ‘And it was nice to see you again… Doctor Bate.’

She stormed up the hill and didn’t slow as Bryant appeared beside her.

‘Judas,’ she spat.

It all made sense now. His gaze lingering on the pickup truck. His smug smile, his lengthy chat with the visiting consultants. If she remembered correctly, Bryant and Daniel had got along very well.

‘You knew he was here and didn’t bother to tell me?’

He shrugged without apology. ‘I like my knackers where they are, thanks. And anyway, why is it a big deal? It’s not like anything happened when—’

‘It isn’t a big deal,’ she snapped. Yes, there had been a brief attraction between them but they had both been too busy to acknowledge it.

‘Yeah, clearly. But, er… guv, more importantly, why were you peering at the dead girl’s feet?’

Kim lifted her hand and rubbed her forefinger over the nail of her thumb.

‘The nails on both hands and feet were dull and rough. They felt like matte paint.’

He shook his head. ‘No, still not getting it.’

‘Nail-polish remover. It takes the shine from your nails. Recently done.’

‘And you think that means something?’ he asked doubtfully.

‘Bryant, I would have thought you’d have learned by now that everything means something.’





Seven





Kim replaced the receiver and stepped out of The Bowl into the main office.

‘Okay, Stace, get the board. Kev, get the coffee poured and Bryant, get the window open.’

The squad room had filled with the stench of death and whether it was imagined or had been brought back on their clothes and shoes it was definitely attached to them now.

Stacey stood on tiptoe to label the top of the whiteboard. The words ‘unknown female’ were written with a perfect underline.

Kim hated that phrase. She detested anonymity in her victims. In life they’d had a name, a personality, a past, facial expressions, loves, hates, fears and dreams. They had weaved through the world interacting, imprinting on others. A smile at the lady on the checkout. A brief exchange with the barista in the coffee shop. A donation to charity. Every victim had left a footprint somewhere.

Finding her name was the top priority.

‘Okay, facts first. Height approximately five foot four. Weight no more than eight stone. Natural blonde. Age: late twenties, early thirties based only on clothing. Time and cause of death we’ll have first thing in the morning. Stace, put a line down the middle of the board.’

Dawson handed her a mug of coffee. It was hot. She placed it beside her on the spare desk.

‘Just notes now. Identification, location, suspects, motive.’

She paused and sipped while Stacey caught up.

‘Fully clothed, nail polish removed,’ Kim stated.

‘She could have done it herself,’ Bryant offered. ‘We don’t know exactly when she was taken. Could have been last night after she’d been for a meal or something.’

Kim nodded. ‘Those were day clothes she was wearing.’ She shrugged. ‘Might mean nothing but I want it noted anyway.’

Stacey stood poised.

‘Handcuff marks to the wrist,’ she said, staring at the board. She moved on quickly. ‘Face beaten beyond recognition.’ She paused. ‘Is this to hamper identification, slow us down – or is there another reason? The dirt in the mouth, accidental or meaningful? Where are her belongings? Most folks have at least a phone and a small amount of cash.’