Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

‘A lot more than I did this morning,’ he said with a grimace. ‘But I’m far from an expert.’

‘Okay, I promise I’ll keep it simple. Basically, a total hip replacement is made up of three parts. A metal shaft that’s pointed at one end. The opposite end is flat and smooth, which allows it to work with the head,’ he added, pointing to the separate metal sphere about the size of a large marble. ‘This ball is normally covered in a polyethylene cap but obviously, as a plastic, its melting power isn’t like that of the stainless steel or cobalt chrome, which are the metals of choice for the primary parts.’ He lifted his head. ‘Are you still following me or …?’

‘Just! So, what about the differences in the sizes and the reason I asked about Olive Johnson?’ Owen said, pointing to the much smaller third prosthesis.

‘That’s a grand question, Owen, but one that’s easy to answer. Different-sized people need different-sized prosthetics. Here we have two prostheses belonging to a large male,’ he said, pointing to the shoulder of the implant and placing the two side by side. ‘While it’s not conclusive that they were taken from the same person, there is a strong possibility. The one on the right is much smaller. It’s very easy to see why it might have led you astray but I’d hazard a guess that it’s been taken from the body of a very small adult female, maybe even of Asian ethnicity simply because it’s well known that they need smaller prosthetics.’

‘Okay, so how do we go about finding out one way or the other? It’s not as if they’re going to have their name and address carved into the metal now, is it?’

Rusty threw back his head and laughed. ‘Actually you’re not too far off the mark, Owen.’

‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me completely now.’

Rusty grinned. ‘With the huge upsurge in medical litigation and the like, particularly around the region of prosthetics, I thought it would be obvious but perhaps not.’ He opened one of the bags and, dropping the artificial joint into his gloved palm, held it out for Owen to see. ‘There, on the shaft right below where it meets the shoulder. The unique serial number.’

Owen’s eyes widened. ‘How do you know all this stuff?’

‘Because I’m a genius,’ he said, his shoulders shaking. ‘The part about the serial number is really only common sense – there needs to be a way of keeping track of all implants in case there’s a problem and they have to be recalled, although once in situ it’s usually too late to do anything about them. The National Joint Registry has a log of all artificial joints inserted in the British Isles over the last eighteen years.’ He pushed over the plastic bags, topping them off with a pair of gloves. ‘I have a meeting shortly but if you call out the numbers – your eyesight is better than mine – I promise to get back to you with the recipients’ names later.’

Chapter 17

Gaby

Monday 3 August, 4.10 p.m. St Asaph Police Station

Gaby arrived back at the station after a brief stop to pick up a bottle of ice-cold water, her mind on the hundred and one things she needed to achieve by the end of her shift and not on Clancy who had to repeat her name for her to take any notice.

‘Detective Darin, DS Davis is upstairs waiting in your office as per DCI Sherlock’s wishes. He had planned for you to take him on a tour of the station but, with the girl still missing, thought better of it. Instead he’s to shadow you for the remainder of your shift.’

Really! But all Gaby did was wave her hand in acknowledgement, when she’d much prefer to bang her head against the nearest wall. Her thoughts dragged her against her will back to Swansea and the DS that had made her life a misery. She hadn’t done any more about applying for the job but, if she didn’t want to be managed out of the door by Bill Davis, she’d better start thinking about it.

She’d only taken a step away from the desk and towards the flight of stairs that led to her office before her mobile kicked into action but her groan of annoyance quickly disappeared when she realised that it was Rusty.

‘Owen has just left. I take it things are busy back at the station and I wanted to check that you’re all right for this evening, Gabriella?’

She loved the way he pronounced her name – the soft burr of his Irish accent elongating the sound. It was a name she rarely heard except on the lips of her mother when she was shouting at her. The world was full of strong women but none stronger than her Italian mama who was determined that she was always in the right. Gaby’s brothers often teased her that the family resemblance she shared with her went a lot deeper than their hair, skin and eyes. She couldn’t see it herself.

‘Can I be a pain and push it back to seven instead of six? I was going to make pizza,’ she said, recalling her plan to drop into the local supermarket in her break instead of the working lunch she’d exchanged it for. Now she’d have to do her shopping on the way home and in the middle of rush hour too, which was all very stressful and exactly the reason why she hadn’t jumped back into the dating game after Leigh Clark.

‘How about you forget making dinner and I’ll bring something with me instead? After all there’s two of us to your one.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’

‘Perfectly. If you’re good enough to have my son along on a date then the very least I can do is to be flexible when your plans go awry. And anyway, I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t.’

Yes, she knew that only too well. Rusty