Page 12 of The Girl in the Grave
‘What is that?’
Beth said, ‘It’s because of the dampness in the soil. The amount of rain we’ve had the last few weeks makes it the perfect environment. If we lived in a much hotter, drier climate then there would be more slippage of the skin or even mummification. Eventually.’
She wheeled the hoist over and between her and Abe they managed to roll Florence from side to side enough to wrap a sheet around her and slide the sling under her. They then hoisted her out of the coffin onto a waiting steel gurney. Thankfully, the body was fresh so it stayed in one piece: a few more weeks and it would have been a different story. God knows what they’d have done if her arm or leg had dropped off and gone sliding across the floor; poor Carl would have had a full-blown meltdown. Once the body was safely on the gurney, Beth wheeled her across to the X-ray machine. She wanted a full post-mortem examination: every single thing checked.
Eighteen
Estelle rushed into the hotel flushed and more than a little late; thankfully, she wasn’t duty manager today. At least not until twelve; she had a meeting at ten. Checking her watch, she realised she had nine minutes to grab a coffee and go up to the conference room to take some deep breaths. Up to now she’d managed to avoid answering the influx of angry text messages and calls from her dad. Last night, she’d taken the Mr Darcy lookalike back to her apartment which overlooked the marina, and what a night it had been. She was beyond exhausted and hungover this morning. At some point the champagne and tiredness had kicked in and she’d woken up thirty minutes ago, alone. Though relieved he’d left her without having to be shown the door, she wondered if she’d ever see him again. It didn’t matter to her one way or the other because she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship: what she was looking for was fun.
Taking her coffee, she made it to the conference room just as the other attendees arrived and breathed a sigh of relief – she’d made it. Now all she had to do was sit through two hours of listening to the finance committee drone on and she was free. What it had to do with her was beyond her, but her dad had asked her to go and she needed to get on his good side after last night’s fiasco. As soon as this was over, she’d go and see how Annie was, make sure she was okay. That was what friends did, wasn’t it? It had been quite some time since she’d had one so close.
Ninety minutes later, Estelle had lost the will to live. She finished her second cup of strong coffee then slid her phone under the table to text Annie for the fifth time:
Hey, at least let me know you’re alive and didn’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.
She put a row of laughing faces on the end of it, but deep down she was worried; normally Annie would text back within minutes, this wasn’t like her. Estelle was trying not to panic with all the different scenarios playing through her mind. What if she had choked and was lying there dead?
Unable to take any more, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She had no idea what these suits were all talking about anyway.
‘I’m sorry. Please excuse me, I have to leave. I don’t feel very well.’
She walked out of the room and didn’t look back. In all honesty she didn’t give a stuff what they were talking about. It meant nothing to her. All she cared about was making sure Annie was okay. Jogging towards the lift, Estelle jabbed the call button continuously until finally the lift doors slid open to reveal at least twenty Japanese tourists all chattering so loud she wanted to plug her ears with her fingers and shout at them to shut up. Squeezing in next to an elderly couple, the lift took an eternity to reach the ground floor. The doors opened and she stepped out first and spotted her dad hovering around by the reception desk. Ignoring his shouts, she headed out of the front door so she could run around to the rear of the hotel, where the main staff entrance was, knowing he wouldn’t follow her.
Running down the concrete steps, she let herself in. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage it occurred to her there was a chance she would either have a heart attack or throw up. As she reached the door to Annie’s room at the end of the corridor, she saw that it was ever so slightly ajar. Hammering on the wood, she pushed it open.
‘Sorry, but if you’re in no fit state to reply to a text message then I don’t care if you’re lying there stark naked.’
She stepped into the darkened room and searched for the light switch, her fingers brushing against it as she pressed it down. Breathing out a sigh of relief at the empty bed in front of her, she noticed Annie’s phone was lying on it. No wonder she wasn’t answering her messages. The room had an ensuite, so she strode across to the door, knocked once then threw that open. But it was empty as well. The feeling of relief which engulfed her entire body was so overwhelming she felt her legs give way underneath her and she ended up collapsing to the floor. She had been so convinced something terrible had happened to her friend. Estelle hated being wrong, but on this occasion, she was happy to take it lying down. Annie must have made it into work.
After a few minutes, when her legs felt as if they belonged to her again, she pulled herself up from the floor and left Annie’s room, pulling the door shut behind her. Now she was ready to face her dad and the rest of her shift.
Nineteen
Josh knew he had to be at the hospital mortuary by midday. Beth had texted him to say she thought the post-mortem on Florence Wright would be over and done by then. He looked at his watch; he was running late. It didn’t matter, she wouldn’t start their Jane Doe’s PM without him. They were no nearer to finding a name for her even though Bell and Sykes had been working tirelessly overnight to find it.
He’d been up all night himself, concerned that he was missing something from Jason Thompson’s statement; there was just something about it that made Josh feel as if he was hiding something. According to the officer who’d taken it, Jason had been cagey, on edge and not very cooperative throughout the interview. An intelligence check on his background had brought up that he had previous for dealing class B drugs and he’d been questioned twice in relation to sexual relations with a person under the age of sixteen. There had been no concrete evidence and both times he’d been released without charge, which didn’t sit well with Josh. It looked as if Thompson could be a person of interest and he wanted to speak to him. This time, it would be him who did the questioning, and at the morning briefing he’d asked DC Paton to track him down and bring him in for a formal interview.
Looking around his team, he wondered who to choose to attend the PM with him. He didn’t really need anyone else, but it was always better to have two pairs of eyes and ears. His first choice would have been Paton, a seasoned detective with lots of experience and not one likely to complain if he felt sick at the sight of the Jane Doe’s face being peeled back from her skull. But he’d already tasked him with finding Jason Thompson. He looked over at Sam and smiled, wondering what colour her hair was today. Yesterday it had been bright red, today it looked much darker. Tomorrow? Who knew! Sam was as reliable as Paton, less experienced, but keen and an excellent detective, even if she was a little green.
‘Sam, are you busy this afternoon?’
She looked up from her phone. ‘Not particularly, what did you need?’
‘Your company for a couple of hours.’ He smiled at her and enjoyed the expression on her face as she realised why he wanted her for a couple of hours. To give her credit, she didn’t flinch.
‘As long as you buy the coffee on the way to the hospital, I’m in.’
He laughed. ‘Deal.’
The others turned around and Sykes piped up. ‘Erm. That’s favouritism, you know.’
‘No, it’s bribery. And seeing as how you’re going to be spending all day visiting local authority care homes, you’ll no doubt have time to fit in your own coffee run.’
She opened her mouth then shut it again: she knew better than to piss him off. Sam grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and her bag from underneath the desk. She followed Josh out. He already had a set of car keys in his hand, his collar number written next to the car registration on the huge whiteboard on the wall in the corridor.
‘Where’s the PM, Josh?’
‘Barrow, so we’ll go to Costa in town. I’ll park up and you can nip in.’
