Читать книгу No One Is Sacrosanct - David Balaam - Страница 8

DCI Dallimore looked at the two buff folders on his desk. He opened the one marked ‘Mandy Silver – Autopsy’, and read the contents praying that no-one had made a mistake. ‘. . . that the direction of tyre marks indicated the car had driven over the body at speed . . . ’

Dallimore studied the photos from the scene, and from the path-lab. They alone showed nothing untoward.

The second file was for Graham King ‘. . . white male, seventy-four, five-foot-ten inches, twelve stone six pounds. . .’ Dallimore scanned the report without noticing anything significant ‘. . . conclusion; subject died of a heart attack following a severe stroke.’

Dallimore leaned back and sighed. “Oh, damn you, Ling . . .” He called the coroners office and requested a second autopsy, but was told Mr King had been cremated, not buried. With nothing else to go on his superiors would never grant the time or resources to look into it further. He wrote an email to Christine Ling setting out what he had found, and that he was not in a position to take the enquiry any further.

Christine read the letter several times, feeling more and more annoyed each time she did so. “He’s right, Christine,” Clive said, trying to play down the situation.

“But what about justice for her parents . . . and me. This doesn't feel right, Clive.”

“I know, love, but we are here and you are retired from the force. You owe it to the girls, and me, to let go.” Clive hugged his wife and was grateful they lived where they did.