The Art of Murder

Chapter 28

Stepney, Monday 26 January, 9.05 a.m. 'What can you tell me about the murder of Father Michael O'Leary?' Pendragon asked, staring down at the disfigured face of the dead priest lying on Neil Jones's slab.

'A carbon copy of the first two,' the pathologist replied. 'At least, the cause of death is. A needle straight into the centre of the brain and a hefty dose of heroin. Of course, after that the killer got his jollies in a different way. Eyelids taped back, mouth stuffed with this plastic ball.' He held up a tennis-ball-sized clear plastic sphere: 'All very theatrical if you ask me, Pendragon.'

'Any other marks on the body?'

'No, the assailant appears first to have stunned O'Leary with Mace. There are traces of Trimyristin, its main component, around the eyes.'

'What about the man's physical condition?' Turner asked.

'What? Other than the fact that he's dead, Sergeant?

Pendragon sighed and Jones turned to him. 'Jack,' he said with surprising familiarity, 'the humour comes free. Relax.'

Pendragon looked down at his shoes and then at Turner. 'What shape was O'Leary in before he was killed?'

'A typical sixty-year-old male. Liver a bit over-used. He obviously liked a drink. Not particularly overweight. No signs of serious injury either old or recent. A bit of rheumatism. Why?'

'We're just trying to establish who O'Leary is… was. He doesn't seem to match up with the first two vics at all, but there must be a link because of what you refer to as the theatre of it all.'

'I'm afraid I can't shed much light on that, Pendragon. But I'll send my report over to Lambeth, and I trust Dr Newman will reciprocate. I find working with her rather rewarding.'

Pendragon raised his eyebrows. Turner was just closing his notebook when Jones stepped around the mortuary table. 'Hey, Sergeant,' he said. 'I have a joke for you.'

Turner stared at the pathologist, tilting his head slightly to one side.

'How many Surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?'

Turner shrugged.

'Fish.'

'What?' Turner said, completely bemused. He glanced at Pendragon, who couldn't stop a smile spreading across his face as he headed for the door.