Death Row - Mark Pearson [63]
‘The evidence isn’t going anywhere.’
‘I beg to differ,’ said Kate.
‘I beg your pardon, Doctor Walker?’ said Duncton, incredulous.
‘The head – it’s already melting.’
‘Melting? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘The head was frozen. In fact, I would say that the whole body was frozen or at least chilled significantly before the head was removed.’
‘Why do you say that, doctor?’ asked Sergeant Halliday.
Duncton glared at his assistant but let the question stand.
‘The cut marks. The flesh is already softening. Kate took another few shots. ‘In an hour’s time you won’t be able to get this detail.’ She stood up again and pointed at the altar cloth under the severe head. ‘Very little blood seepage.’
‘Because the head was frozen?’ asked Delaney.
‘Partly. Probably also partly due to the severance taking place post-mortem and the subsequent exsanguinations taking place in a different location.’
‘Are you saying her head being chopped off wasn’t the cause of death?’ asked the female sergeant.
Kate shrugged. ‘Impossible to tell at this stage.’
‘But it wasn’t done here?’
‘No.’
‘Which is why we need to wait for the pathologist,’ said Duncton.
‘No …’ said Kate again.
‘It’s why we need to find the missing body,’ said Emma Halliday.
‘Quite so,’ agreed Kate and smiled at her as a teacher might smile at a bright student.
‘Let’s just remember that we are the lead on this investigation here,’ Duncton barked at his sergeant, trying to recover some ground.
Delaney’s mouth quirked in the faintest of smiles. He was pretty sure Duncton didn’t like the fact that his sergeant was taller than him and he had to look up at her when trying to assert his authority. ‘Nobody gives a shit whose collar it is, Robert,’ Delaney said. ‘All we care about is finding the sick fucker who has done this and finding the missing boy.’
‘If the two are related,’ replied Duncton.
Diane snorted. ‘Yeah, they’re not related – and if my granny grew a cock she’d be my grandad.’
Delaney nodded. ‘Garnier is at the heart of all this, depend on it.’
‘What I depend on are the facts, inspector. It’s called good police work.’
‘Do we know who she is?’ asked Emma Halliday
Diane Campbell shook her head and pointed at the bucket and the basket of polishes and dusters that was to the side of the altar. ‘We think it was the cleaning woman, but the good Father didn’t look too closely. We’re waiting for him to come in and make a formal identification.’
Duncton walked over and looked into the bucket, grimaced and moved away. ‘Let’s get him back in, then.’
*
If any colour had returned to Father Carson Brown’s face in the time since he had last let his gaze fall upon the severed head that still sat in the centre of his altar like a blasphemous obscenity, it had drained away again now. He still had a blanket draped around his shoulders. The comforting hand of Sergeant Emma Halliday rested on his left one as she guided him reluctantly back up the aisle to the altar.
‘Just take your time, Father.’
‘Okay.’ The priest knelt down and made another sign of the cross on his chest. He stood up, his gaze raised and fixed on the benevolent eyes of the crucified god above the altar. A few steps further and he stopped in front of the small raised dais, took a deep breath and looked down.
He held his unblinking gaze for a moment or two as he stared at the unfortunate woman’s head, taking in the absolute horror of it. Her skin had more colour now – some red veins were standing out against the mottled blue skin. Tears formed in his eyes and he did nothing to blink them away. ‘Yes, it’s her,’ he said simply.
‘What’s her name?’ asked Duncton.
‘It’s Maureen Gallagher,’ said Father Carson Brown.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ said Diane Campbell.
‘And who is she, then, apart from being the church cleaner?’ asked Duncton, puzzled.
Delaney gave him a flat look. ‘She was the only person ever to visit Peter Garnier in prison,’ he said. ‘She went to see him once, six months ago.’
Duncton blinked his eyes rapidly as he took it in. ‘So why in God’s name has she