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They watched him for half an hour more but Poe could tell the thin coat Bradshaw was wearing wasn’t keeping out the biting wind. He told Carroll they had somewhere to be.
The man promised he’d get back to them about the logo designs as soon as he could.
Chapter 25
Bradshaw hadn’t attended a post-mortem before. Poe wasn’t sure she was even allowed to. He’d leave it up to Estelle Doyle – as she’d said many times before: ‘My house, my rules.’
They found a parking space close to the mortuary at the Royal Victoria Infirmary. The last time Poe had been there some building work had just begun. This time it was in full swing.
The mortuary was in the basement but the corridor he usually followed no longer existed. Instead there was a new sign and a ‘You Are Here’ map with their location marked with a red star. Poe memorised the new layout and, with Bradshaw in tow, set off to find Estelle Doyle’s new hangout.
Part of the ongoing renovation work included the mortuary. Gone was the door anyone could walk through, the door that always had one of Doyle’s trademark signs Sellotaped to the frosted window – ‘Pathologists Have The Coolest Patients’, ‘People Are Dying To Get In Here’, and Poe’s all-time favourite: a straight to the point ‘Go Away!’ – had been replaced with an automatic, sliding glass door.
It opened with a quiet ‘whoosh’ as they approached. The room that used to contain the staff lockers was now a reception area.
Poe pressed the bell.
‘Bit different to last time I was here,’ he said.
‘It smells new, Poe.’
It did. And everything looked clean and shiny and untouched.
A man stepped through a door behind the reception desk.
‘Can I help you?’
Poe flipped his ID card. ‘I’m here to view a post-mortem at two. One of Estelle Doyle’s.’
The man took their names and asked them to take a seat. Two minutes later he was back.
‘That’s all fine. If you’d like to follow me.’
He led them through a keypad-protected door into the staff area.
‘You ever worn a forensic suit before, Tilly?’ Poe asked.
‘I haven’t, Poe.’
He hadn’t thought so. There’d have been no reason for her to. Although she got out into the field these days, her role was still primarily analytical.
‘And you won’t need to wear one this time,’ the man said.
‘Oh, why not?’ Poe said. He hoped the post-mortem hadn’t been cancelled. Nightingale asking him to attend in her place had been a bonus.
‘Professor Doyle has a dedicated PM room now. She’s been asking for one for years and the lab she works for offered match funding if the hospital agreed to her demands. It has a bespoke, fit-for-purpose viewing area.’
Poe whistled in admiration. Doyle was in high demand. She was a partner in the private laboratory that handled most of the forensic and pathology work for the north-east, a Home Office pathologist and a highly paid guest lecturer at any university and teaching hospital who could afford her.
They had occasionally spoken of what her ideal mortuary would look like. It would have a dedicated room so that the urgent nature of forensic post-mortems wouldn’t disrupt anything and it would have a new viewing area. She’d never liked the old one. It was too far away from the examination tables, the dissecting bench couldn’t be seen at all and it could only comfortably fit four people. It was why she’d always insist on the SIO being suited and booted and in the room with her. If they didn’t need to get changed then Doyle must have got the viewing area she’d wanted.
The man led them down a new corridor and to a door with ‘Observation Area’ stencilled on the frosted glass. It was a small waiting room, about ten feet by ten feet. A low table with a jug of water was in the middle. Plastic-moulded seats were stacked against the wall.
‘You should stay here, Tilly.’
‘I’d like to come in if I may, Poe?’ she said. ‘I believe seeing a post-mortem will make me a better analyst.’
‘OK, but if you want to leave then do. Plenty of cops can’t cope with them. There’s no shame in it.’
