Twenty-One Days (Daniel Pitt #1)(68)

She had once been beautiful, according to the accounts of her. He stared at her and was overwhelmed by the reality of death. The mess of torn and burned clothes, charred flesh, face and hair destroyed, only a few months ago had been a woman. Now she looked pathetic, so alone, without dignity or meaning. Was death always like this, so . . . real? So complete?

And how unusual that she had been buried in the clothes she was wearing when she died. Maybe it was a favourite dress, but that seemed unlikely as it didn’t even fit very well.

Miriam became aware of his stillness and looked up. ‘Do you want to go away for a little while?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘She barely looks like a person at all. She’s . . . anonymous! She hasn’t even . . . a face?’

‘I know,’ Miriam said quietly. ‘She doesn’t need one now. But we have to find who destroyed this one, how, and eventually why. I’ve learned what I can from her clothes, although what it means I don’t know yet.’

‘What? What did you learn?’ He wanted to know, he had to, and yet he was afraid. Death was more visceral, more intensely real than merely speaking of it would ever convey.

‘I cut a little of the clothes free. She looks older than I thought. Older than I expected. And her hands, too. But many women show their age in ways you would expect, even when they take care with their faces, and hair of course. Her hair is . . . destroyed.’ For a few moments, she regarded the face and neck very closely.

Daniel marvelled how she could do it dispassionately, as if this were not all that was left of a woman who had been intensely alive less than three months ago. Who had laughed at jokes, loved her children, fought for causes she believed in. Now she wasn’t even recognisable!

The contrast with the living, breathing Miriam was strong. Standing only fifteen or twenty inches away from Ebony’s face, or where it would have been, her own skin was perfect, her auburn hair shining with colour, so soft it tickled her and irritated, until she pushed it aside.

Then she moved down a little and looked at the edge where the burned skin met the skin still whole. ‘Pass me the glass,’ she requested, gesturing toward the magnifying lens.

Daniel handed it to her.

She took it and looked at the charred skin, and the whole skin, just reddened a little.

Daniel found himself holding his breath.

Finally, she continued. ‘There was something added to make her burn. You can see where it dripped, and on her clothes, the fire has scorched places, and left it somewhat close to whole. I wonder what it was. And here.’ She pointed to pile of charred black bone where Ebony’s nose would have been.

Daniel tried, but he could not see anything recognisable. He looked up at Miriam, confused.

‘This lump.’ Miriam picked up black, charred pieces with her forceps. ‘That’s fabric, burned badly. Used to feed the fire, I imagine. I found a small piece of oiled silk near her bosom. Caught in the folds of her dress.’

‘What . . .?’ Daniel began.

‘Oiled silk is highly flammable,’ she said grimly. ‘It’s great stuff. Waterproof, light, bends or sews evenly. But it burns like a beacon fire. Pour a little more oil on cotton, or something light, and you have a fire that would burn flesh.’

Daniel swallowed. ‘What sort of oil?’

‘Fat, lard, even butter, I suppose. Didn’t you say the son painted?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, the linseed oil that artists use would be perfect!’

‘You don’t think Arthur . . .?’ Daniel shook his head violently.

‘No, I don’t. But somebody else could have.’ She straightened up. ‘Come. Sit down here, away from what’s left of her.’

He did not argue. He felt a little queasy, and was glad she did not remark on it. He sat down on a chair opposite the one in front of her desk.

‘Isn’t that what you want to know?’ she asked. ‘What burned her? At a well-educated guess, I’d say highly flammable oiled silk, and a bit of lightweight cotton or muslin, and the whole lot doused with linseed oil. Lights quickly, hot, and burns very well if there was cotton to feed it. Quite enough to burn her face. And . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry to say this, but I can’t even say for sure that this is Ebony. With all the burns . . . plus the boots and dress don’t fit. Maybe it isn’t her.’

‘But her family – her daughter identified her!’

‘Before or after this was done to her?’ Miriam asked. Her face was white, and her lips moved stiffly at the horror of the thought.

‘Oh God!’ Daniel stared at her. ‘What have we fallen into? What is this?’

She put her hands over his. ‘We’ve still got a few days left. We must find out.’





Chapter Sixteen


Daniel stayed a little longer, helping Miriam lift the body, although it was not very heavy. He watched while she took samples from various parts of the intestines, lungs, and other regions. She spoke very little, except to dictate the notes to him on everything she discovered. He wrote it down exactly as she said, once or twice asking her how to spell certain long words, names of chemicals, or little-known anatomical terms.

She seemed to learn little that was unexpected until they very carefully laid the body on a machine that Daniel had never seen before, and could not work out its purpose.