Picture You Dead

66

Sunday, 3 November

Cleo helped herself to slices from each of the cheeses, taking a particularly large chunk of the Manchego, then, after hungrily eating several mouthfuls of the cheese and biscuits, as well as a couple of grapes and a slice of cucumber, she said, ‘That gash behind Archie Goff’s ear, right?’

Grace frowned. ‘OK?’

‘Nadiuska said she thought it was made by an object with a sharp edge.’

‘She did, yes,’ he said, picking up a sourdough cracker and smearing some beetroot chutney on it.

‘It reminded me of something I’d seen before – it had really been bugging me all afternoon and I needed to go and check to see if I was right.’

‘Were you? Tell me.’

She popped another grape in her mouth, chewed and swallowed it, then looking decidedly pleased with herself, she said, ‘I think I might be. You’ve been reviewing the case of that art dealer who was murdered in Brighton a few years ago, right?’

‘Operation Canvas. It was one of Nick Sloan’s. His name was Charlie Porteous. Yes, we are reopening it, some significant new evidence has come to light.’

She ate a walnut, then another sliver of cheese. ‘So you’ve looked at the crime scene photographs?’

‘Of course.’

‘I remember it all very clearly: it was the first unsolved murder case I was involved with after joining the mortuary team. Charlie Porteous had a wound on the right side of his face, behind his ear, do you recall?’

Grace thought for a moment, it was coming back to him. ‘Yes, he did.’ He stopped eating, very curious now. Had he missed something?

‘I just looked up the postmortem report on our records – it took a while as it had been misfiled, somehow, when we changed our system. The postmortem was done by Frazer Theobald, and he had put in his notes that the wound was caused by something sharp. Do you see where I might be going?’

Grace looked at her excitedly. ‘Go on!’

She smiled. ‘From my examination, I think the wounds of Porteous and Goff are similar and may have been caused by some sort of ring with a stone. I’ve seen similar injuries on other bodies where they have been badly beaten. Maybe I should be on your team?’

‘Brilliant, Cleo! You are on the team!’ he said.

Humphrey nudged his master’s leg, hoping for another scrap but, deep in thought now, Grace ignored him. ‘You’re right, it could possibly be a link and, if so, a very significant one. Might be a long shot, but – hold on a sec.’ He jumped up from the table. ‘I’ll be back in a mo.’

He hurried upstairs to his den, and it was several minutes before he returned. ‘Sorry, darling, I had to look up the name of a specialist in identifying and matching wounds – I’ve got it. Dr Colin Duncton at Liverpool University Hospital – he’s developed some very smart software that can analyse damage to every skin and muscle cell and run a database search for matches. He’s been to the mortuary before to look at a wound on a case a while back. Talk me through this again, all you have found.’

Cleo showed him the paperwork and photographs and explained what she had identified, with the potential link between the two murders.

‘Darling, this is brilliant. You could be on to something here. I’ll have the team looking at it first thing tomorrow. If the doctor can positively link the injuries this could be a breakthrough!’

She smiled. ‘Good. Now we’ve solved that, how about next weekend, regardless of work, we take Noah to the petting zoo at Middle Farm? He’d love that – and it would do us both some good to at least have an afternoon out together as a family.’ She nestled her chin in her hands, her eyes looking up at him.

‘Love your face!’ he said.

‘I love yours too. I don’t get to see enough of it. So?’

‘You’re right, let’s do that. It’s a plan.’

She patted her tummy. ‘Bump agrees.’

‘He or she?’

Cleo shrugged. ‘We don’t know, do we?’

‘Nope.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But we have that envelope the obstetrician gave us after the last scan. Would you like to know?’

‘Would you?’

He hesitated.

‘It would help us to know, to choose the right colours for the baby’s bedroom, wouldn’t it? Shall we?’

He grinned. ‘It’s in a drawer in my desk. Do you care whether it’s a boy or a girl?’

‘We’ll love her or him just as much. I don’t care at all. Do you care?’

Roy Grace smiled back at his wife. ‘I’ll go get it, but I’m the same as you, I don’t care.’