Third Degree

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Third Degree Page 9

by Claire Rayner

‘Oh, shit,’ she said. ‘I’ve really put my foot in it, haven’t I? Hell, Roo– Inspector Dudley, give me a break, will you? I didn’t mean to step on your toes, for Chrissakes. I guess I did go off half cocked at that. It was just that – well, I thought maybe once we had an ID on this leg case that, well –’

  ‘I know what you thought,’ he said and again his voice was small and hard. ‘You thought I’m not up to dealing with this on my own. Well, doctor, that really is no concern of yours. I’ll look forward to getting your reports when they’re ready. That’s all I need from you. Good afternoon.’ And the phone clicked, even as she said despairingly. ‘It’s nothing against you, I just thought that maybe Gus –’ But she stopped when the burr in her ear became too persistent to ignore and slowly cradled the phone.

  You fool, she hissed at herself. Stupid goddamned fool! Why do you keep on rubbing him up the wrong way? Sure he’s annoying. Sure he’s a pain in the butt, but you don’t have to aggravate the guy!

  But she’d done it and all she could do now was make the best of the situation. Maybe, she thought hopefully as she clattered down the stairs towards her PM room, maybe I’ll get a fix on this latest piece of body. That should settle him – show him I meant no harm. Or at least I don’t think I did, I just want to get Gus back on the job, that’s all …

  Sergeant Slavin was sitting awkwardly on a stool in the PM room when she came in ready changed and thumping along in her heavy green waterproof boots. She grinned at him.

  ‘Tell me you’ve got the guy’s head,’ she begged. ‘Go on, tell me. That way we have a much better hope of getting an ID. Is it the head?’

  He made a face and shook his head all at the same time. ‘Sorry, doc. Nothing of the sort. Just a lump of flesh. I’m afraid. Hasn’t even got a skin on it, and –’

  Her face fell. ‘Oh. That makes it almost impossible!’

  ‘I said that to the woman I talked to when I rang,’ he said, as she padded across the PM room to the slab where the object he had brought in lay waiting for her. ‘I said it was just a big piece of flesh and no guarantee that it was any use, but I thought you’d want to see it, just to be sure it wasn’t significant.’

  ‘You said that to her?’ George said, staring down at the slab and remembering Sheila’s excited words. She could almost hear her fluting breathy little voice. Remember that leg? Sergeant Slavin says he’s got another part of it. She bit her lip. ‘Are you sure that’s all you said?’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Well, yes. What else could I have said?’

  ‘I thought you might have said it was definitely part of the same body as the leg, and that you had some reason for saying it.’

  He shook his head, mystified. ‘How could I? Look at it!’

  She was looking and now she sighed. ‘I’m afraid my assistant got a bit excited there, Sergeant,’ she said. ‘She had the impression that you said there was a definite link.’

  ‘Oh? Oh!’ His face lightened. ‘I see. No, what I said was did she know about the case of the leg that was washed up, and she said she did, so I said it was in connection with that that I wanted to come in, and she said fine and I –’

  ‘It’s all right,’ George said dully, horribly aware of what she had said to Rupert Dudley on the phone. If only she hadn’t done her usual thing of getting over-excited and not stopping to think or even to see what was what before rushing to the phone. It was all because of Gus, of course. She wanted to get him away from that big case so much she’d try anything. That was the truth of it and she had to face it. She didn’t want him to be so wrapped up in his work that he had no time for others. She didn’t want him to risk being knifed like the case in hand. And she wanted him where she could see him. Goddamn it, she was turning into exactly the sort of woman she most hated. Possessive and –

  ‘I meant no harm bringing it in,’ Sergeant Slavin broke into her thoughts. ‘I just looked at it when we got it – it was fouling an anchor down by Limehouse Reach – and I thought, there are things here that might interest Dr Barnabas. I remembered the things you said about the leg, you see, and it seemed to me that there were sort of similarities. I mean, the sort of clean cut the thing shows. It’s not something you see all that often, is it? And yet here it is again, cut clean through the bone and everything.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said and became a little more interested, though she still made no attempt to examine the flesh with her hands or instruments. It was a sizeable piece, a block from across a haunch, and the cut that had severed it from the main body was indeed a clean one, very like that on the leg in the Harrods shoe. But that was as far as the similarity ran.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Thank you for showing me. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to prove but –’

  ‘That what cut the leg off cut this up and all,’ Sergeant Slavin said patiently. ‘And who the hell is doing things like this to living creatures? That’s what’s interesting.’

  She turned back. ‘Well, I’ll grant you that it’s odd. But I’m a pathologist that deals with human remains, Sergeant Slavin. This is a dog. Or maybe something more exotic that escaped from a zoo. Human it isn’t.’

  ‘I know that,’ Sergeant Slavin said, looking disgusted. ‘You don’t think I brought it in because I thought it was human remains, do you? Of course not. It’s just that the same method of chopping might have been used. I thought that was important.’

  There was a silence and then she said, ‘You’re right. And I’m sorry, Sergeant. Of course you’re right. It’s just that I went off half cocked when I got the message and –’

  He tilted his head at her. ‘That woman who took the message – got it wrong, did she?’

  ‘Did she ever,’ George said with feeling.

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Not your fault.’

  ‘I know, but all the same … Well, I’ll get rid of it now. Unless you can? Got an incinerator here, perhaps?’

  ‘Of course. We’ll get rid of it for you. And you’re right, Sergeant. I’d like to look at any other pieces like this you find. It could lead us back to whatever it was that did the cutting and that could be a link to the owner of the leg. So, I’ll get some photographs done. Sorry I was so, well …’

  ‘No need for another word,’ he said handsomely as he made for the door. ‘Ta, Dr Barnabas. We’ll keep on looking out. See you soon, I hope. And next time, maybe I’ll have the head that goes with the leg, hmm?’

  ‘I wish,’ she called after him, and then turned and shouted for Danny. This unpleasant canine leftover had to be dealt with and she, heaven help her, had to call Dudley and apologize and explain. Oh, life could be a bitch sometimes.

  9

  It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations she had ever had. It took Dudley a few moments to comprehend what she was saying and when he did, he started to laugh. He was not normally a man given to laughter and she had to stand there holding the phone and listening to him indulge himself in it. If she hadn’t known herself to be as totally in the wrong as it was possible for a person to be, she would have hung up on him, but as it was she couldn’t. She just had to let him get on with it. It was extremely painful.

  It was even worse after he’d stopped his chortling. He became amazingly forgiving, kind even, and she could have ground her teeth with frustration as he talked on and on. But at last he stopped to take breath and she was able to cut in.

  ‘It’s still interesting, though,’ she said. ‘And worth investigating. The way the body has been cut is exactly the same way as that leg was. I’ve arranged to compare the photographs I’ve taken of the cut edge with those on the leg. It should point us towards the way the body was dealt with and once we’ve got that, maybe we’ll be in a better position to work out who the man was –’

  The laughter went from Dudley’s voice. ‘There’s no need for all this we stuff, doctor,’ he said. ‘You’ve done your job and I’m glad to have your reports. Anything you notice will be taken into account, of course. But the investigation o
f this case, like the fire death, is my affair, not yours. You understand? Not yours.’

  ‘Well, of course,’ she said, trying to be diplomatic. ‘But usually with these difficult cases, Gus encourages me to –’

  ‘This is my case.’ Dudley’s voice had gone small and hard again. ‘Not the Chief Inspector’s.’

  ‘But, surely,’ she cried, almost despairingly. ‘He’ll be back to deal with this? It’s a big case, a very big one. They both are. You must want him to –’

  ‘All I want, doctor, is to do the job I’m paid to do and ensure that other people involved do the jobs they’re paid to do. No less and definitely no more. So, thanks for your call, doctor. I have work to do.’ And her phone buzzed in her ear as he hung up and she indulged herself in some pretty comprehensive swearing.

  To be shut out of these cases was more than she could bear, it really was, she told herself passionately, once she had discharged some of her rage at Inspector Dudley. She wasn’t going to let him do it to her. She always worked closely with Gus when there were cases like this, and even if they were quite small ones, he was glad of her input. Who did this tinpot general of an inspector think he was, to change such excellent working practices? There was only one thing for it. She’d have to talk to Gus directly about it. Maybe, once he knew what was happening (and she had a shrewd suspicion that he did not) he would override Dudley himself, and take over these two cases?

  She brightened at the thought. Tonight, then, she would go over to his flat and see if she could sort this out. However late he got home she’d be there to wait for him. She began to plan a simple meal she could cook for him whatever time he came in, and worked out when she could do the necessary shopping at Bloom’s delicatessen in Aldgate which, happily, was open till late. Gus loved deli food, especially when he was too tired to eat properly; Bloom’s was undoubtedly the answer. Soothed by salt beef, he would be more than ready to take on Rupert Dudley and defeat him. Tinpot general, she thought again, and was comforted.

  So much so that she did not do more than point out to Sheila in a mild sort of way that she had delivered rather more message than she had been given. Sheila looked affronted for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I got it from him, that river sergeant, so if it was wrong tell him about it,’ and George didn’t even bother to argue with her. It wasn’t worth it.

  One of the reasons for Sheila’s sulkiness was soon apparent. Alan Short was in the lab when she went in, sitting next to Jane Rose, and though they both seemed to be busy over the slides Jane was working on, there could be no doubt in any onlooker’s mind that both were deeply content to be in such proximity. George sighed as she saw them, noticing the mulish set of Sheila’s mouth, and she asked Alan with a little sharpness in her tone to come into her office to sort out some cases with her.

  He came happily, and grinned at her as she closed the office door behind him. ‘You’ve had some really nasty ones lately, haven’t you?’ he said. His fair hair flopped over his forehead in sympathy and his wide toothy grin filled the room with its shimmer. ‘I wish I could have come down and seen ’em but I was up to my neck in the routine stuff.’

  ‘As long as that was all you were up to your neck in,’ George said a shade harshly. ‘You seem to be a bit too busy around Jane Rose’s station for my liking. I organized the new rotas so that there’d be less – shall we say – overlap in activities. I need to keep the work flow rapid here, Alan, and it doesn’t help if you spend too much time with one of the staff and upset the others.’

  He flushed a vivid scarlet so suddenly that she was taken aback and was at once ashamed of herself. She didn’t have to make the man feel that bad, for heaven’s sake, just because she herself had been embarrassed by Dudley.

  ‘Oh hell,’ she said. ‘I’ve upset you. Listen, I didn’t mean to, but I’ve got Sheila Keen on my back because she says you’re wasting Jane’s time and, well, I’m having trouble with the Inspector running the cases I’ve been working on so I guess I kicked the cat. I should know better.’

  Slowly his flush faded. ‘That’s all right,’ he muttered. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Yes, it does. I mean, it matters that I was unnecessarily tough.’ She made a grimace, hoping to elicit some sort of smile from him, but he didn’t react. He just looked a little sulky now that his first reaction had settled down.

  ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was trying to cover for Jerry. He’s been up to his eyes in forensic stuff, so he couldn’t help Jane as he usually does for part of his time and all I was doing was helping out. It wouldn’t have been so bad – Jerry’s pressure of work, I mean – if you hadn’t got him to help you with that PM on the severed leg that you did, instead of me. I mean, I am your registrar…’

  He let the comment hang in the air and she bit her lip. He was quite right, of course. As the other doctor in the lab he had the right to assist on interesting cases, if she needed such assistance; to have asked Jerry rather than him was a bit of an insult. She hadn’t intended it that way; it was just that she hadn’t yet become accustomed to having another doctor with her and considering such matters as his feelings and status.

  She said as much and he, a sunny-tempered individual, cheered up, and became his usual agreeable self again. ‘It’s all right, Dr B.,’ he said. ‘I know how it is, and I can’t lie – I do like working with Jane.’ The flush threatened to rise again and drown his freckles. ‘And I’ll be more careful. It’s tricky, though, when you – when you like someone, isn’t it? You can’t not think about them and being with them gets to be – well, rather important.’

  She thought of herself and Gus and felt a wave of affection for her junior colleague. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is tricky. And thanks for being aware of it. Now …’ She needed to change the subject. ‘How are things going in general for you? Are you managing to keep up with everything?’

  They settled to talking about the flow of work through the lab and the various tasks he had taken off her hands. Most of her time in the past had been swallowed up in minor jobs that really did not require a consultant’s attention. To have a junior registrar to relieve her of them was a major asset, and she told him as much.

  He went away ten minutes later, a much happier young man, and left her feeling a little better too. And more determined not to let her concern with Gus get in the way of work any more. She’d allowed her concentration to slip and that would never do.

  She still intended to go and see Gus that evening, however, but only because she truly didn’t believe that Roop was up to handling these cases. The more she thought about the way the fire victim might actually have died, the more certain she was that this was a very difficult one, and needed Gus’s superior skills; however able a man Dudley might be, Gus, she thought with some pride, was even more able. The case needed him.

  She was ready to leave the lab at about half past six when Jerry put his head round her door.

  ‘Dr B., I’ve done some work on those fibres,’ he announced. ‘Not a lot, but enough to tell you it’s all a bit odd.’

  ‘Odd?’ She lifted her chin sharply. There was nothing she liked better than unexpected findings. They could point the way to all sorts of important conclusions. ‘How odd?’

  He inserted the rest of himself into the office and came and perched on the edge of her desk. She’d been dealing with the last of her day’s dictation and as he talked she stacked her letters neatly and unclicked the cassette from the dictation handpiece ready to send it over to the typing pool.

  ‘It’s the variation that gets to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve found – let’s see …’ He pulled a sheet of scrap paper from his pocket. ‘I’ve made a few notes. I’ll get the rest of it properly dictated tomorrow and then we can get it typed up. But so far I’ve found … um wool. Well, fair enough. I dare say a chap who’d wear shoes and socks like that’d also wear a hundred per cent good wool. These are very fine lightweight fibres, so I’d say they came from his trousers. Look to be a sort of brown b
ut it’s hard to be sure. There’s a good deal of blood staining. But then there’s all these others. Polyester. Cotton. Some felted stuff that looks like really cheap – well – felt. There’s some rayon too. I mean, you’d think he was wearing two layers of long underpants there, all in different fabrics and some of ’em very cheap and nasty. Crazy, hmm?’

  She stopped tidying her papers and folded her hands on her desk, thinking hard. ‘Well, it’s certainly not what you’d expect,’ she said slowly. ‘What did you say? Wool, polyester –’

  ‘Cotton, felt and rayon,’ Jerry finished. ‘The felt is the hardest to be sure of. It could be compressed wool, but there’s some tow in there too – you know, rough hemp fibres.’

  ‘Could it be rope?’

  ‘I wondered about that, but the fibres are so short it must have been pretty crummy rope if it was.’ He giggled. ‘Ropey rope.’

  ‘Still, maybe he was tied up and the cut when it came went through the rope and pushed fibres into the tissues?’ She was thinking aloud. ‘Or maybe the leg was tied up in some way afterwards and collected the fibres then?’ Her face fell after a moment. ‘In the water. Bumping around the sides of boats with ropes dangling from them. That’s the most likely.’

  ‘That still doesn’t account for the other things, though,’ Jerry said. ‘The wool is explicable. So is the cotton, I suppose. Underwear – though who’d wear full length underwear in the summer I can’t imagine. But the rayon and polyester? And there may be more yet. I haven’t completely finished. Like I said, this is a sort of interim report. The rayon and polyester make no sense to me at all.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she said. She sat there thinking and he too said nothing, just watched her. After a full minute had gone by he slid off the desk to go to the door.

  ‘Well, there it is. I’ll let you have a proper written report as soon as I can twist a typist’s arm. But I’ll be dying to get my hands on something pulled out of other chopped-up stuff like that leg. It’ll make it a hell of a lot easier if I can do some comparatives, won’t it?’

 

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