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‘I don’t think so. And you’d expect scavenging animals to have removed some of the bones if it had been left in the open. A lot depends on the presence of flies and maggots too.’
Ruth takes a picture of the skeleton next to her measure. It’s not very tall, which adds to her conviction that they are looking at the remains of a woman. When they start removing the bones, placing each one carefully in a paper bag and marking it on the chart, she becomes more convinced. The skull is heart-shaped with small mastoid bones and a straight forehead. When she mentions this to Nelson, he asks what male foreheads are like.
‘They slope more,’ says Ruth. ‘And there’s a larger nuchal crest at the back of the head.’
‘You make us sound like Neanderthals.’
‘All humans outside Africa have some Neanderthal DNA,’ says Ruth.
‘And I’ve got more than most, right?’
‘I’ve never said that.’
‘I’m pretty sure you have. So, we’re looking at a woman?’
We’re looking at what was once a woman, thinks Ruth. She will never get used to the fact that these bones, now marked ‘femur, tibia, fibula’, etc, were once a human being who walked and talked. Did she walk into this house, Ruth wonders, and never leave it? Is that why the rooms seem so sad and oppressive?
‘I think so,’ she says. ‘The pelvic bones look female too. There’s a wide, shallow sciatic notch. There’s something else about the skull too. See that indentation?’
Nelson leans forward. ‘Yes. Could it be cause of death? Blunt force injury?’
‘Possibly, but could also have been caused by a fall or even occurred post-mortem when the body was moved.’
‘Someone certainly moved this body,’ says Nelson. ‘Any thoughts on her age?’
‘Adult. All the teeth have erupted and the epiphyses– growing ends– of the bones are all fused. Beyond that, it’s hard to tell.’
‘So, we’re looking at an adult female. Is that all you can tell me?’
Ruth sighs. Nelson should know by now that she’s not able to tell a person’s date of birth by looking at their bones. ‘A woman who once broke her left ankle and had a plate fitted,’ she says.
‘What about DNA?’
‘We might be able to get DNA from the bones but it’s often difficult when the skeleton is articulated,’ says Ruth. She is sure she’s told him this before. ‘Putrefaction destroys DNA. Some bodily fluids will have leaked onto the fabric wrapped around the corpse, maybe even onto the concrete below. It would be easier if the body had been buried in the earth. Then we could take soil samples and we might get DNA from the residue. I’ll get Ted to break up the concrete, just in case.’
‘I thought you could get DNA from anything these days.’
‘There is a little bone that’s very useful for extracting DNA,’ says Ruth. ‘The petrous portion of the temporal bone. We always look there.’
‘I always look down the back of the sofa,’ says Nelson. ‘But you know best. I’ll phone Tanya with the good news.’ Ruth is sure that DS Tanya Fuller will get on with the task of identifying the dead woman with her usual energy and efficiency. Tanya is in charge because Judy wants to stay home with Cathbad. Ruth texted that morning to ask how he was and wasn’t completely reassured by the jaunty thumbs up she received in return. For a start, she has never known Cathbad to use emojis.
Nelson stomps upstairs and Ruth and Ted get back to logging and bagging the bones. Ted hums as he works. Ruth wonders if she can tell him to stop.
‘So what do you reckon?’ he says. ‘Someone murdered her and then built the wall in front. Are we looking for a killer builder?’
Ruth thinks of Edward Spens. She doesn’t like him much but she can’t imagine him bricking up a skeleton. He’d get someone else to do it for him.
‘There’s a crack on the skull that could be blunt force trauma,’ says Ruth. ‘But it could have happened when and if the bones were moved.’
‘She could have been poisoned,’ says Ted. ‘It’s often poison in Agatha Christie.’
‘I think poison’s quite tricky in real life,’ says Ruth. ‘I read somewhere that Christie used to work in a pharmacy. Maybe that’s where she got her specialist knowledge.’
‘That metal plate on the ankle looks quite new,’ says Ted. ‘That should help identification. Surely someone would remember a young woman going into a shop and never coming out again?’
‘You’d be surprised,’ says Ruth.
Cathbad is walking on the sands. He knows that Judy has taken the day off to look after him and he’s grateful but, just now, he wants to be alone. Well, alone with his dog, which amounts to the same thing. He tries to empty his mind, to be aware of the sea and the cry of the seagulls, of his own breath rising and falling in his chest, but his thoughts remain earthbound. He thinks of a sign, two children holding hands. The perfect chocolate box image, except that they are both bright green. He thinks of a bonfire, of youthful voices laughing, and the laughs turning to screams. He thinks of holes underground, of tunnels leading to other tunnels, a rabbit warren for humans.
