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At the door, Gardener turned. “You wouldn’t still have a copy of all those old games, would you?”
Sinclair smiled. “I wish.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Gardener and Reilly pulled up at the mortuary. After having left Sinclair’s house, Gardener telephoned Gary Close and asked him to concentrate his Internet search on the local game manufacturer, Walker Brothers. He asked Close to find out everything he could about the company, and whether or not any of the directors were still around. More importantly, did any of them live in or around Leeds, and were they available for an interview.
After that, he spoke to Cragg and gave him the names of the two companies who made and supplied the pumps and ICDs. He then asked for two men to be sent over to the local office in Hunslet.
Gardener and Reilly entered the building and walked down the corridor leading to the pathologist’s work quarters, the sound of their heels bouncing off the walls. Gardener nodded to the receptionist as they passed. The warmth of the building was welcoming, but there was an air of trepidation. The SIO knew all too well that he had in fact tampered with a crime scene by demanding that Andrew Jackson remove the ICD. A reprimand from Fitz would be imminent.
Both men continued towards the silver steel door at the end of the corridor. Before going through, Gardener checked his reflection, adjusting his tie slightly. He glanced down. His suit now bore the hallmarks of a day’s work, and his shoes were in need of a polish. All his life, he had taken a pride in his appearance. Despite the rigours of the scenes he had to visit in his job, he still wore clean clothes and a pressed shirt and tie every day, something Sarah would have demanded.
Fitz was working on Sonia Knight. He was dressed in a green surgical gown and gloves. He wore a mask, and his glasses were incongruously perched on the end of his nose, very close to joining whatever else was in Knight’s chest cavity. Above him were a camera and a microphone. Fitz glanced up at the two men as they entered.
“I’d like a word with you two.”
Here it comes, thought Gardener.
The pathologist switched off the microphone and camera, and asked his lanky assistant Richard to clean up. He removed his work gear, and disposed of everything except the gown, which he threw into a laundry basket.
After washing his hands, he beckoned them to his office.
“What were you thinking of?” Fitz asked Gardener.
“I know what you’re going to say. I tampered with a crime scene. But I had good reason, Fitz.”
“I could understand it of him.” Fitz pointed to Reilly.
“Oh, that’s right, go on, have a go at me. What have I ever done to you to earn such a low opinion?”
“How long have you got?”
“Never mind all that now. Let’s have a cup of that lovely coffee you keep brewing.” Reilly stood up and poured three cups without the approval of the pathologist, then started poking around.
“Now what are you after?”
“I’m trying to find a wee snack. I know you have them.”
“My God, is nothing sacred?” Fitz handed out the biscuits from his desk drawer as he continued to speak to Gardener.
“It’s definitely the same hallmark. I spoke to Andrew Jackson at St. James’s Hospital. He told me it was an ICD in her throat. What I did find out was that all of the wires except one went into her teeth.”
“And where did he lead that one?” Gardener asked.
“The spinal cord. The cables in the teeth probably wouldn’t have killed her. They would almost certainly have caused diabolical pain, but once they had been removed and she was talking again, she would quite naturally tell us everything.
“He somehow managed to split the charge, so that her teeth received a separate jolt to the brain. That must have come last, because when it did, it caused the brain to explode. Literally.”
“Jesus Christ! Her brain actually blew up?” asked Reilly.
“As good as. It certainly isn’t in a position to be weighed, and the details recorded. It’s very unlikely I can take a biopsy, either, although I shouldn’t think you’ll need it.”
“Did you find anything else, Fitz?” Gardener asked. “Any clues left on the body?”
No. She’s naked, and she’s hairless. There are no further clues, and nothing else seems to have been tampered with. If you want the technical stuff on what it would do to her brain, you’ll have to ask Robert Sinclair, or his partner, Iain Ross.”
“We’ve just come from there.”
