Page 26 of Veiled Justice
Krieg winced. ‘Sorry, just using the bird’s language. I obviously don’t think of you as any sort of dog, pig or animal.’ He waited a beat then he sighed. ‘I’ve lost ground with that, haven’t I?’ He looked at the caladrius again in the rear-view mirror. ‘Stupid bird.’
Loki puffed up his chest. ‘Stupid ogre,’ he replied sassily, stalking around the back seat, chest puffed out as much as he could manage. ‘I Krieg,’ he parroted. ‘I so important.’ He snorted derisively.
Krieg looked at me. ‘How attached are you to the bird?’
I grinned. ‘You know what? He’s really starting to grow on me.’
Loki preened. Krieg sighed. ‘Shame.’
We parked outside the ME’s office and strode inside. Sharon was manning the reception desk, which was overflowing with plants. I had no idea how the green-skinned dryad had come to be working in the medical examiner’s office, but she made the place look like a damned greenhouse. The waiting area was overflowing with bright and cheerful flowers, as if she could beat away the smell of death and disinfectant with the pungent aroma of peonies. Instead, the fresh sweet smell mixed with the underlying scent of death and defecation turned my stomach every time I went there.
‘You’d better stay here,’ I said to Loki. ‘Nice as she is, even Kate won’t let me bring a bird into her room. It’s kept sterile for a reason.’
‘I clean,’ Loki complained, clearly affronted. Nevertheless he went and sat on a bonsai tree and turned his back on me to let me know he was pissed off at being left behind.
I approached the desk. The ageing receptionist had her dark, silver-streaked hair tied back in a neat bun and small glasses balanced on her nose. She wore a dark blue suit-dress that complemented her forest-green skin. ‘Dr Potter is expecting you,’ she said with a disdainful sniff. ‘Go on back.’
‘Thanksso much.’ I smiled; I would kill her with kindness if it was the last thing I did. One day, I would win her over.
I took point and led Krieg through the mortuary to the post-mortem room. The deeper we went, the more the scent of flowers faded until only chemicals and death remained. I preferred it: it was less cloying, more real.
I knocked once on the metal door before swinging it open. Kate gave me a huge smile as she always did – a smile came as naturally to her lips as a frown came to my forehead. Today her abundant, curly red hair was tied back out of the way and her glasses were perched on her delicate nose. ‘Stacy!’ she greeted me warmly. ‘Thanks for fitting me in.’
‘I think that’s my line,’ I said wryly.
‘Tsch! You’re as busy as me – busier, I’d wager!’
I doubted it. As if being an ME were not enough, in her spare time Kate volunteered at the children’s ward at the hospital and was the fellowship director for the paediatric doctors.
I had no idea how or why she’d made the sideways step to become an ME, though I suspected there was a story there. As far as I could tell, she was literally a saint. Although she was knocking on fifty, she worked as hard as ever – and she lived hard too. She frequently enjoyed champagne nights with her sister Beth and their pack of dogs; she’d invited me over for a drink a number of times but our schedules had yet to align. Kate often worked extra night shifts at the hospital, balancing both jobs with the skill of a tightrope walker.
‘This is High King Krieg.’ She’d met him at the scene but they hadn’t been formally introduced and ogres were all about the formality.
‘Of course,’ she said calmly. She touched a hand to her heart. ‘My honour to meet you properly, your Excellence.’ She bowed low.
Krieg inclined his head in response but his eyes were already on Helga, lying on a metal trolley surrounded by battery-powered candles. Kate followed his gaze. ‘So that she wasn’t in the dark,’ she murmured.
‘Thank you,’ he said tightly.
Kate’s smile was more reserved now, her eyes sympathetic. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘What can you tell us?’ he demanded.
‘The blade used on her was clean, sharp, seven inches in length and designed to penetrate the vital organs. The stabbings may look random but each strike was deliberate. I’d say that the blade was military issue, something like the Fairbairn Sykes commando knife – no serrated edge, no bells and whistles. With the precision of the strikes, I’d say that the killer was a professional.’
She paused. ‘Or a surgeon. Either way, they knew precisely where to stab to cause the maximum amount of damage. This wasn’t an amateur. Helga’s death wasn’t protracted but a matter of a minute or two, maybe even less. The broken nose was done peri-mortem.’
‘And the finger? Was she still alive when her finger was cut off?’ Krieg growled.
‘Not necessarily. It could have been removed immediately after death.’
‘Time of death?’ I asked crisply.
‘As you know, these things are never precise but I took her liver temperature and I’m going to say between 12.15am and 12.30am. She was found at around 12.30am and was pronounced dead. Her death was swift so it’s likely to have taken place shortly before she was found.’
‘She was killed during the fireworks display in case she screamed,’ I mused.
Kate licked her red-painted lips and hesitated. ‘That leads me to the next thing I found. There were traces of a potion called Imbarum in her system.’
