Dead Famous

DAY THIRTY-THREE. 9.00 a.m.

The forensic technician brought the report on the sheet that had shrouded the killer to Coleridge personally.

“Glad of the opportunity of a break from the lab,” he said. “We don’t get out much and it’s not often that anything involving celebrities comes our way. I don’t suppose there’s any way you could blag me a trip behind the scenes, is there? Just next time you’re going. I’d love to see how they do it.”

“No, there isn’t,” Coleridge replied shortly. “Please tell me about the sheet.”

“Absolute mess. Tons of conflicting DNA. Dead skin, bit of saliva, other stuff. You know sheets.”

Coleridge nodded and the technician continued.

“I think they must have been sharing this one, or else they all slept together, because there’s strong evidence of four different male individuals on it, one of whom is particularly well represented. There are also traces of a fifth man. I presume that the prominent DNA represents the four boys left in the house and the fifth is Woggle. Let’s face it, he’d leave a pretty strong trail, wouldn’t he? Of course, I can’t be sure without samples from them all to compare it with.”

“All of them? On that one sheet?”

“So it would seem.”