Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(52)

Kim realised that he’d had far too long to come up with that response.

‘And if you insisted on driving just to punish me, it’s working and I won’t do it again,’ he said, grabbing hold of the dashboard.

That hadn’t been her intention but she’d bear it in mind for the next time.

‘Any change with Isobel?’ Bryant asked as she slowed at the Russell’s Hall traffic island.

He knew she would already have checked.

‘Nothing significant but there is still brain activity.’

‘Uggh…’

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Have you ever thought about it?’

Instead of answering she just waited for the inevitable continuation.

‘It’d be like being buried alive, wouldn’t it? I mean, your brain still working but locked in darkness because your body won’t move and your senses are numb. It’s like being just a head. Do you know what I mean?’

Unfortunately she did. It was something she had been forced to ponder on one of their earlier cases when she’d met a young girl named Lucy. She had not been in a coma but her body had been destroyed by muscular dystrophy, leaving her only the use of a few fingers. Her brain had worked perfectly.

‘It’s like your whole existence is being just a head,’ he continued then sighed.

‘Okay, Bryant,’ she said. She’d heard enough. ‘If you want something to think about, spend some time working out why Bob had pound coins and a raffle ticket in his pocket ’cos it’s got me beat,’ she admitted, parking the car.

‘Yeah, I’ll be sure to give that priority,’ he moaned.

She had lost count of the times they had visited the hospital over the last few days but this time they weren’t heading to a ward.

‘But why eleven pound coins?’ she mused out loud, as they headed down the corridor to the morgue.

‘Trick question, guv?’ Bryant asked.

‘Why not a tenner or fivers. Why all coins?’

‘I really have no idea,’ he replied.

Kim found it strange sometimes how different minds chose different things to dwell on. Bryant had given the detail no thought and yet she’d thought of little else. With so little evidence to dissect, everything had to mean something.

‘Hmmm…’ she said, pressing the access button into the morgue.

A wall of white coats greeted her.

‘Keats… Daniel,’ she said. ‘What do we have?’

The pathologist shook his head. ‘Inspector, if you spent less time on small talk, you’d save yourself… well, no time at all really.’

Kim was grateful that the crisp white sheet covered their victim up to the shoulders.

She knew from the picture that had remained in her head all night that the woman’s face was decaying slowly. The injuries she had sustained were still evident.

‘How many blows to the face?’ she asked and had no preference for whichever one of them decided to answer.

‘I’ve counted seven so far, all to the left side,’ Keats stated.

Kim knew he was inferring that the murderer was likely to be right-handed. The blows probably came from above while the killer was astride the victim.

‘Mouth?’ Kim asked.

Keats nodded. ‘Full of dirt. Most likely the cause of death but we haven’t finished yet so I’m not prepared to commit, but go take a look on my desk.’

Kim strode to the table in the corner of the room. An evidence bag was positioned in the corner. She picked it up and turned it around.

It was a kirby grip. There was no broken heart, but she could see a gap in the white plastic where something had been broken off.

‘Same as Jemima,’ she whispered.

‘A little bit coincidental, Inspector?’ Keats offered.

She nodded her agreement and put the bag back onto the desk. Curious but not much help to her. They were mass-produced and available in two chemist chains and countless supermarkets.

She moved back to the table.

‘Any idea how long she’s been down there?’ Kim pushed.

Regardless of their stage of the process, she needed answers. Anything that would help her identify this woman.

‘Given the seasonal and climatic variation, the amount of soil water and acidity, I would estimate four to five years.’

‘Seems a bit far gone for such little time,’ Bryant observed.

‘Bodies decay quicker the higher up they are buried,’ Keats replied.

Of course their victim had only been about two and a half feet down.

‘Anything that will help me put a name to her?’ Kim asked. Her priority on both a professional and personal level.

Daniel stepped forwards. His Clark Kent glasses were like a uniform that converted him to a serious, studious scientist. Gone was the playful, teasing expression she’d seen the day before.

‘Over a lifetime the human skeleton undergoes sequential chronological changes normally categorised as foetus, infant, child, adolescent, young adult and so on. Up to the age of twenty-one the teeth are the most accurate indicator of age. From what I can tell so far, our victim falls under young adult, which typically spans from twenty to thirty-five years of age.’

‘Can you be any more specific?’ she asked. She would have liked to offer Dawson something in his search through missing persons. That was one heck of an age range to cover over the last four to five years. And that was if the woman had been reported missing.