We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [32]
The other man in the tent was fairer, his nose a little crooked as if at some time it had been broken. He stood a little distance from Jacobson’s chair and stared at Joseph with undisguised curiosity.
“Yes?” Jacobson inquired. He was very pale, his voice sharp. It was apparent that he was nervous, and Joseph guessed that he was probably a civilian policeman fairly recently drafted to the front. The stench of it would turn his stomach, and the scale of death everywhere must be something he had read of, but could never truly have imagined until now.
“Captain Reavley, sir,” Joseph replied. “Chaplain. Dr. Cavan thought I might be able to help.”
Jacobson’s face relaxed; even the tightness of his shoulders eased a little. “Oh. Good. Yes, Captain. I’m obliged. This is a very ugly business, and there are only Sergeant Hampton and myself to deal with it.” He indicated the other man briefly. “We need to question everyone: doctors, orderlies, nurses, and of course the patients…men…injured men.” He did not seem certain what term to use. “I’d be grateful if you could help. You might know better how to deal with it, what to say. Colonel Hook says you’re…experienced.” He was obviously at a loss to understand what that might mean.
“Yes, of course. You’ll have to give me some of the facts, or my questions won’t be of much use,” Joseph said. He had no intention of telling Jacobson about the other crimes he had solved.
Hampton shifted his weight from one foot to the other but did not interrupt, and Jacobson ignored his restlessness.
“Sarah Price,” Jacobson said grimly. “Twenty-five-year-old nurse. Been here just over a year, according to my information, pleasant enough, and good at her job. Turner, the slightly wounded man on guard duty, found her at the back of the Operating tent, on the ground near where the…the waste is left for removal.” He looked embarrassed because he could not think of any words that were decent to describe what he knew were amputated limbs from injured soldiers, parts of their bodies that could not be saved. He was shivering as he tried to control his feelings. “What…” He swallowed. “What do you do with it…the waste?”
“Bury it,” Joseph replied. “As deep as possible.”
“Never be found,” Jacobson said with relief. “Maybe whoever killed her was hoping the same would happen to her. Could be why she was left there.”
“Possibly,” Joseph agreed, trying to save Jacobson’s emotions. Then he realized how false that was. They could not afford to cater to squeamishness, even as a mercy. “Still, bodies come back to the surface here, sir, quite often,” he continued. “New shell holes, craters, even new graves dug. He couldn’t hope to conceal her. More likely he just left her there because that’s where it happened.”
Out of the corner of his vision Joseph saw Hampton nod. He looked as if he had been here at the front longer than Jacobson. Possibly he was not in the regular Criminal Investigation Department, merely seconded for this crime.
“What time was she found?” Joseph asked.
“Just after half past six this morning. You’d better come and see the body, and where she was found.” Jacobson rose to his feet and motioned for Joseph to follow him. “Hampton will get on with investigating the physical facts.” He did not bother to glance at his assistant as he led the way out.
Joseph had seen more dead men than he could think to count: whole ones, white and motionless. They did not look as if they were sleeping; it was profoundly obvious that the spirit that made them unique and alive was not there anymore. And he had seen men who had died in agony and terror, blown apart, half their bodies gone, soaked in blood, mutilated beyond recognition. Some of them had been men he had known in life, friends he had cared for and with whom he had shared deep and unforgettable emotions. Some he had held in his arms as their lives bled away. Still, he had not seen a body that shocked him as this one did.
No one had tried to make her decent, on purpose, so the sight of her would stir rage and pity, and leave whoever saw her