Page 7 of One Left Alive
The mortuary was housed in a bland, beige brick building. She parked the van next to the hearse and got out. The doors to the mortuary were opened by a smiling woman, dressed in blue scrubs with a long-sleeved thermal vest under them. As Morgan walked inside the hallway she was hit by a subtle chemical smell and how cool it suddenly was. She understood the need for the vest.
She’d been here only once before, with Dan. The first time she’d walked through the double doors into the examination room she’d been terrified, expecting to see steel tables lined up with rows of dead bodies on them and lots of blood. She’d been pleasantly surprised to see a couple of steel tables, but no bodies. It smelt better than she’d imagined as well. Clean. The pathologist had been very kind and taken his time to explain to her how everything worked and the process of what happened before a post-mortem could even begin. Like everything else it was lots of paperwork first.
The undertakers wheeled in the trolley. Olivia Potter’s body didn’t look very big inside the large black bag.
‘Have you got some evidence bags?’
Morgan turned to look at the woman, who was still smiling at her. The ID card around her neck said ‘Susie Quirk’.
‘Right, shall we get her booked in then?’ said Susie brightly.
Morgan left the mortuary with the bags containing Olivia Potter’s jeans, linen shirt and her underwear and headed towards Rydal Falls. It was late enough that there wasn’t too much traffic on the approach to the busy town, and she needed to return to the station to book Olivia’s items into the property store. There had been no front door key in Olivia’s pockets; in fact there had been nothing in any of her pockets. Not even a mobile phone, which was odd. When they’d removed her clothes there had been a couple of ligature marks around her neck, as if she’d tried it once then changed her mind, then tried again. Morgan wasn’t an expert, she knew that the pathologist would be able to tell them more, but the alarm bells were ringing even louder in her head. There was something wrong with this case. She needed to speak to the DS and tell him, even if he did think she was interfering. There was no point even discussing it with Dan because he’d either tell her to back off or make fun of her like he usually did.
When she arrived back at the station it was like a ghost ship. The only person around was a PCSO going in for their break and the front counter clerk. Morgan went to see Brenda at the front office. She knew she’d help her book the evidence in.
‘Thanks, Brenda. I’ve done it before with Dan, but there’s so much to remember.’
She laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it. How are you getting on?’
‘It’s okay. Some days I wonder what on earth I was thinking, others I enjoy it.’
‘It’s not the easiest of jobs, but it can be very rewarding as well as stressful, but you already know that.’
Morgan turned to leave. ‘Where is everyone? This place is dead.’
‘All in The Black Dog no doubt, it’s Mitch’s leaving do.’
‘Oh, I forgot.’
Brenda stood up. ‘That’s where I’m heading off to, are you going?’
Morgan usually avoided social occasions but she knew that everyone would be talking about her if she didn’t at least turn up for one drink, and Mitch was a nice bloke considering he’d been a copper for twenty years and wasn’t worn down or jaded by the job. He’d always been patient with her whenever she asked him questions about cases she was dealing with.
‘As soon as I’ve updated the logs and submitted the Form38, I am. See you there.’
Morgan went upstairs to see if the DS was still around. The large CID office was as deserted as the rest of the place. She was about to leave via the door to the smaller office at the back of the room when it opened and Ben walked out.
‘Sarge, have you got a minute? Can I have a word?’
‘Sure.’
She stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. ‘I’m a bit concerned about the circumstances surrounding Olivia Potter.’
He pointed to a chair and she sat down. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?’
‘Have her next of kin been located yet?’
He shook his head.
‘Don’t you think that’s odd? Surely by now someone must have gone home or tried to contact her and got no answer. She has two teenage girls; wouldn’t they want picking up, or to know what’s for tea?’
‘I appreciate your concern, but we’re doing everything to trace her family. I’ve got two detectives on their way to speak to her mother. Is that better? I’ve also spoken to a friend who is a teacher at their school. He said they didn’t come in this morning and no one rang up to report their absence. They were picked up by their mum yesterday.’
Once more she felt her cheeks begin to flush. ‘Yes, sorry. I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job.’
‘Good, I hope not because I’ve been doing this for quite some time.’
‘Sorry. I just think there’s something not right with the whole situation. When we undressed her at the mortuary there were two different ligature marks around her neck.’
