Chapters (43)
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- Epigraph
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- About the Author
- Also by Stephen Booth
- About the Publisher
Normally, Cooper wouldn’t have reacted to something so minor. He’d heard far worse from Fry. In fact, he put up with rudeness and insensitivity from her all the time, because he genuinely believed she had other qualities. But something in the way she spoke so casually about the remains of a human being triggered a response, tipped him over his tolerance threshold. Perhaps it was the personal involvement Cooper felt with Audrey Steele, ever since he’d seen her reconstructed face in the lab at Sheffield. Or maybe it was because he was about to start all over again with another unidentified victim whose remains were even now being recovered from a hillside in Ravensdale. But for once, he couldn’t take it.
‘For God’s sake, Diane, she was a person with a name, you know. A human being. Not some heap of old bones thrown out for the dog.’
Fry looked up in astonishment. ‘What?’
‘Audrey Steele. That’s what she was called, remember? She deserves to be talked about with a bit more respect.’
‘Oh, you think so, do you?’
Cooper was fighting the quickening of his breath, the tendency for his hands to shake when he got angry.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Well, thank you, DC Cooper. I’m sure we’ll bear that in mind.’
Fry had gone faintly red around the ears at being spoken to like that in front of the SOCOs, and Cooper knew he’d suffer for it later.
‘Anyway, be that as it may,’ she said, ‘someone at the lab pulled their fingers out and got us the report through, even though it’s Saturday. They found traces of glycerine, phenol and formaldehyde.’
‘What does that mean?’ said Cooper, trying to steady his breathing and appear calm. ‘Audrey Steele had been working with chemicals? Or would they have been used in her hospital treatment before she died?’
‘Neither. Apparently, those are the common constituents of embalming fluid, the sort used in the preparation room of a funeral parlour. Such as the one at Hudson and Slack.’
‘Who does the embalming there?’
‘I don’t know.’
Cooper got up and walked over to his PC, where he called up Melvyn Hudson’s details.
‘OK, Mr Hudson is accredited with the British Institute of Embalmers,’ he said.
‘So probably Hudson takes care of the embalming, when required,’ said Fry.
‘And the break-in they had – the stuff that was stolen … Chromotech? That was embalming fluid.’
‘The theft was too late to have any connection with Audrey Steele, Ben.’
‘It means they probably have routine access to that kind of material at Hudson and Slack, though.’
‘Of course.’
‘And what about the second set of remains from Litton Foot?’ said Cooper. ‘Any more news there?’
‘I rang earlier this afternoon. The van was just arriving at the lab in Sheffield.’
‘So when can we expect some results? Tomorrow, perhaps?’