No Safe Place(Detective Lottie Parker #4)(63)

‘Is everyone in this damn place on sick leave?’

‘Only Superintendent Corrigan and Detective Lynch. Sir.’

‘You’ve a smart mouth as well as everything else.’ He coiled his large frame and leaned in towards her. ‘You have all those men and women in there and you sideline them with the mundane jobs. Glory-hunting, are you?’

Lottie laughed. ‘That is one thing I cannot be accused of.’

He seemed to consider that before saying, ‘I’m watching you, Parker. Every chip you thought you had on your shoulder is going to be a fully fledged chunk of timber if not a fucking tree by the time I’m finished here. And the shadow you’re going to see following you, let me tell you, will be me.’

‘Is that all?’ Lottie clasped her hands into tight fists, just in case she lashed out at him.

She watched as he strode off down the corridor. This was serious. Kind of. Feck him.

She felt a presence at her shoulder and shivered. What had he said about shadows?

‘What did he have to say for himself?’ Boyd said.

‘Get the car and I’ll tell you on the way out to the lake. Do you know where Lynch is?’





Fifty-Three





The lake was a mirror of the sky, silver grey, with the shadows of the clouds rolling across it like steam from an old train engine. On the ground, at the base of the trees, white snowdrops had eased through the hard earth. Birds were singing. A flap of wings and one surged through the branches and soared up into the sky. A sharp wind blew in off the lake, and Lottie zipped her jacket to her throat and hauled the white protective clothing over it.

The area leading to the body had been marked out with tape, and she followed it through the undergrowth with Boyd close behind her. In places, greenery was struggling to bloom against the weather. Overhead, branches dipped and snagged her hair. She pulled up the hood and placed a mask over her mouth before entering the crime scene.

A loud squawk caused her to look upwards. A magpie, black-and-white plumage plumped and ready for flight, observed her as she marched through the inner cordon.

‘One for sorrow,’ Boyd said, quoting the old saying.

Entering the tent, she looked around the small space and approached McGlynn.

‘Have you taken impressions of the footprints?’ she asked.

‘Everyone and their dog, literally I may add, has tramped around this crime scene.’

‘And those branches out there? Perfect for snagging fibres and hair.’

‘It’ll be done,’ he said grumpily.

‘Any sign of Jane?’ she asked.

‘On her way. She was finishing up the paperwork on Elizabeth Byrne. I think she might have some DNA results too.’

‘Great. I could do with a break. Anything on the clothes from the skip?’

‘If you didn’t keep calling me out to dead bodies, I might get to spend some time in my lab.’

‘That’s a no, then?’

‘Yes, it’s a no.’

Inching closer to the bloated naked body, Lottie felt, rather than saw, McGlynn’s warning eyes.

‘I wouldn’t go any further,’ he said. ‘I need the pathologist to have a look at her first.’

‘It’s a female, then?’

‘Yes. But she’s been doused with bleach, and vermin have had a good nibble. I’ll know more when I get to the lab.’

‘How long has she been here?’

‘Maybe three or four days. However, she has been deceased longer than that. How long, I don’t know.’

‘Jane will be able to make the call on time of death,’ Lottie said.

‘Someone taking my name in vain?’ Jane Dore appeared in her protective suit. What she lacked in height, all of five foot nothing, she made up for with her professional and no-nonsense behaviour. ‘Good morning, all. Make way.’

Lottie watched with admiration as the pathologist immediately got to work, visually assessing the body, then asking McGlynn to turn it slightly before holding up her hand to halt him.

‘Did you move the body?’

‘Waiting for you,’ he said.

‘Turn it so.’

As McGlynn and a technician began to move the body, Jane said, ‘Carefully.’

‘Of course,’ he said.

Lottie smiled wryly. He didn’t talk to Jane the way he talked to her. Pecking order sprang to mind.

‘No visible sign of wounds,’ the pathologist said.

‘How did she die, then?’ Lottie said.

‘I don’t make assumptions, as you know. But I’d say foul play is highly likely in some form, given that the body seems to have been washed in bleach.’

‘That looks like the remnants of a refuse sack,’ Lottie said pointing to two strips of black plastic on the ground.

‘Bag it all,’ Jane instructed McGlynn. ‘She may have been wrapped in it. You might get trace evidence.’

‘Good,’ Lottie said. ‘You’ll prioritise this, Jane?’

‘I will.’

‘What age group are we looking at?’

‘Early to mid thirties, I’d say.’

‘Thanks.’

Lottie left the tent with Boyd.

‘You were fairly quiet in there,’ she said.