Page 26 of The Girls in the Lake
Stirring herself into action, she began to speak into the Dictaphone as Abe finished washing away the last of the tiny marine life that were clinging to the body. ‘This is the unidentified body of an adult female in moderate decomposition. The body weighs one hundred and fifty-six pounds and measures 157.46 centimetres. The head appears to be normocephalic and is covered by blonde hair. There is no balding and the hair can be described as shoulder length, straight.’ Bending over the head, she used a gloved finger to lift up each eyelid. ‘Examination of the eyes reveals irides that appear to be blue in colour and sclera that are white. There are no petechial haemorrhages of the conjunctivae of the lids. Oronasal passages are unobstructed. Upper and lower teeth are present. Dentures are absent. The neck is unremarkable. There is bloating to the torso due to prolonged submersion in the water. The body, legs and feet all show greening with marbling on the upper thighs. The hair and scalp easily slough with slight pulling. The head and face are bloated with bulging eyes; the face shows skin slippage on the forehead. Skin slippage is also present on the chest, back, arms, hands and both lower legs. The skin on the palms, fingers, soles of the feet and toes all show marked wrinkling.’
Beth gently picked up an arm to look at the fingers. ‘I’m going to have to try to get some prints from the fingers of the left hand. It looks in slightly better condition for some reason.’ What Beth meant was she was going to remove the top layer of skin and lay it over her own gloved hand to fingerprint. Not her favourite part of the job, but thankfully a task she seldom had to perform. It was very efficient in getting results, however, and the sooner they could identify their Jane Doe the better. She heard Abe’s teeth grind as she carefully slid the loose skin over her own fingers; he hated this part. Satisfied the skin was wrapped as tight as could be, she lifted her hand up to the light; all except two of the fingernails were attached. They were loose and holding on by a thin layer of skin, but still intact.
‘There’s something under two of these nails; Abe, can you get a pair of nail clippers and tweezers?’
Despite the grimace on his face he did as he was asked. He also spread some paper towels onto the other table to catch any trace evidence when she trimmed the nails above it. Abe sifted through the detritus as she worked. Grabbing a pair of tweezers, he prodded at some silt that has fallen from the sheet and pulled out two flakes of blue paint, holding it under the light so Beth could see. Beth’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden realisation that, perhaps, both bodies retrieved from the lake could be connected.
‘Put them on separate slides, please, I want to take a closer look once we’ve printed,’ she said, trying to suppress the anxiety in her voice. As much as she didn’t want these two drownings to be connected, she knew instantly and instinctively that they were. It was too much to be a coincidence. If the samples were paint flakes and of similar property to the sample from Leah Burton’s fingernail then it meant that both women had either crossed paths or been in the same vicinity before they went into the water.
Thirty
Josh parked in the almost empty car park of The Hounds Inn. The only other car was a rusted old Mondeo. It had been years since he’d seen one of those. He’d driven one himself not long after he first passed his test.
‘Earth to Josh.’ Sam’s voice startled him. He turned to look at her. She waved a hand in front of his eyes and he blinked.
‘I’m reminiscing about my misspent youth.’
She looked from the car to him. ‘I don’t want to know! The car park is empty, business can’t be good; even at this time of year there’s normally some tourists still knocking about.’
‘Or the food is crap.’
‘Maybe.’
They walked to the front door and Josh pushed it hard, only to find it locked. There was a sign on the wall next to it with the opening times. It didn’t open until six thirty on a Friday. He frowned; what a peculiar day to close. Lifting his hand, he rapped loudly on the peeling black painted door with his knuckles. The sound echoed inside. They waited, but no one came.
‘Surely there’s someone in? Is this the only pub that doesn’t open on a weekend? It can’t be right.’
He knocked again, and they were about to give up when they heard footsteps dragging from inside.
Sam whispered, ‘I’m scared; who do you think is going to open that door, Bela Lugosi?’
Josh chuckled as the door was unbolted from the inside and drawn back. A pair of eyes peered out of the gloom at them.
‘Yes?’
‘Police, we’d like a word about one of your members of staff. Can we come in?’
The woman on the other side tutted loudly. ‘If you must.’
She opened the door wide enough for them to step through. Josh went first. The smell of stale beer lingered in the air, along with the aroma of fried onion rings and burgers, which made his stomach groan. His type of food: hot, greasy and fried. The woman, who wasn’t as old as he’d first thought, sought shelter behind the bar, putting some distance between them. He looked around; it was actually much nicer inside than he’d imagined. It was modern and looked as if it had recently been refurbished.
‘It’s nice in here. I’ve never been in before.’
‘It looks like a dump from the outside, but it won’t when the lazy-arse painting contractor finally turns up to give it a coat of paint.’
‘Are you not busy on a Friday? I would have thought it was a good day for trade.’
She shrugged. ‘In the summer yes, not so much this time of year. The owner likes to go out with his mates on a Friday. He won’t pay for extra staff when it’s quiet, so he’d rather shut the pub and open up later.’
‘Have you worked here long?’
‘Long enough. What is this, twenty questions? What do you want?’
Sam spoke. ‘I’m DC Thomas and he’s DS Walker from Kendal CID. We need to speak to you about Julia Bach; when was the last time you saw her?’
The woman sighed. ‘I’m Andrea Smile.’ Josh suppressed a smirk; Smile was quite the surname for someone with such a sour-looking face. She pointed at the bar stools, and they both sat down. ‘I couldn’t say for definite, but around a fortnight ago. Has she filed a complaint?’
Sam answered. ‘About what?’
