A Body in the Lakes by Graham Smith (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

Despite herself, Beth found that she was being swept along by Forster’s words. The ideas he was pitching at her covered everything she wanted to achieve in terms of helping rape victims get through their ordeal, and of equal importance to her, he was going to help her expose the foul men who forced themselves onto women.

‘I tell you what, DC Young, how about you and I sit down to discuss this properly sometime?’

‘We could do that. When should we meet?’

‘How does tomorrow night sound? I’m free after seven. This place is closed up at that time of night and as it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to visit each other’s homes, why don’t we talk over dinner? You can choose the restaurant.’

Beth suggested a place and time, but it was as she was walking down the stairs that she realised what had just happened. She’d visited the mayor for answers, not just to the case she was investigating, but to try and work out what he’d done to attract the killer’s ire, and here she was, effectively going on a date with him. Except she didn’t think of it as a date and there was no way that she was going to let him think it was anything other than a business meeting.

In light of the fact someone was targeting him with a hate campaign that seemed to be trying to have him locked up, she didn’t think the mayor would be interested in trying to seduce her or anyone else. As it was, she was amazed that he was even thinking about establishing his charity with everything else that was going on.

Things had worked out better than she’d hoped they might, yet there was a little doubt in her mind that Forster had an agenda of his own and that she’d have to guard against it.

Twenty-Five

The door to Dr Hewson’s office was open when Beth arrived at the mortuary and pathology lab beneath Cumberland Infirmary.

She’d been here more times than she cared for, and each time she’d visited she’d been filled with sadness for the people whose last journey started here. It was a sterile environment filled with drab colours and the ever-present whiff of industrial-strength cleaning products.

For Beth, visits here were a necessary evil but for the pathologists and lab workers who spent their days in these basement rooms it would be just another day at work.

Beth stepped into Hewson’s office as she knocked on the door, but the room was unoccupied. A sandwich with one bite missing lay on top of the desk with a piece of cling film spread beneath it to act as a plate. Steam rose from a mug and there was a background sound of muted organ music adding an even greater sombreness to the air.

As she looked at the sandwich Beth’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the bowl of cereal she’d wolfed down after her shower, and even though she now felt the first pangs of hunger cramping her belly, she was more interested in the doctor’s whereabouts.

The half-eaten sandwich and abandoned cuppa spoke of an emergency, but she couldn’t imagine what situation required the urgent response of a pathologist.

She backed out of the office and looked up and down the corridor. An orderly was pushing a trolley laden with containers, but apart from him, there was nobody else to be seen.

The door to the gents bathroom opened and Hewson came scurrying out, a pained look on his face. As always his shock of curly hair was unruly, but his usual smile was missing as he greeted Beth.

‘Ah, DC Protégé, I’m sorry to have kept you. Mrs H tried a new recipe last night and I’m pretty sure that, like your boss, it didn’t agree with me. How is Dowdy anyway? Still too uptight for her own good?’

‘She’s fine.’ Beth gave a tight smile and did her best to ignore Hewson’s bout of oversharing. As much as she respected the doctor, she didn’t want to know about his bowel movements.

As they took seats in Hewson’s office, the doctor cleared away his sandwich and took a sip of his tea.

‘You said you wanted to consult with me on a cold case. How about you tell me the details.’

Beth spent a few minutes bringing Hewson up to speed on the murders of Christine Peterson, Joanne Armstrong and Harriet Quantrell. When she mentioned Harriet’s name she saw the doctor give a sharp nod. He’d performed the post-mortem and it was no surprise that he remembered Harriet’s name.

‘This is all very fascinating, but you haven’t explained how I’m supposed to help.’

Beth passed three folders across the desk. ‘These are the post-mortem reports on all three ladies. I’d like you to take a look at them and give me your opinion. Tell me of the commonalities you find as well as the inconsistencies.’

As Hewson picked his way through the reports, Beth thought about what she’d been able to glean from them herself. It wasn’t a lot if she was honest. Her understanding of medical terminology was her weak spot, and while the reports had been written in plain enough English, her lack of knowledge prevented her from getting any decent insights.

‘Jesus. Thank God the old fool has retired.’

‘What is it? What have you found?’

‘The first victim, Christine Peterson. The man who did this report was an imbecile. He’s left out what may be a key detail.’

Beth was on the verge of telling Hewson to get to the point when he dropped the report on the desk and scowled. She knew the scowl wasn’t aimed at her, but she was burning with impatience.

Hewson’s finger jabbed at the report. ‘Do you see here, where he’s noted down the vaginal and anal tearing?’

‘Yes, what of it?’

‘The damn fool has noted that the vaginal tearing showed signs of fresh bleeding. He makes no such comment of the anal tearing. When you read the transcript of