Boon was worried about his clothes. ‘Have you got a spare overall?’

Jane frowned. ‘I’ll help,’ she said, putting on a pair of latex gloves.

They stood round the coffin, one at each end and two in the middle, waiting for Pullen’s order.

‘One, two, three . . . lift.’

Boon inched forward, eager to see what was inside as they put the lid on the mortuary floor.

‘Jesus, that stinks of rancid cheese!’ Boon exclaimed, putting his hand to his mouth and starting to retch.

‘Don’t be so squeamish, it’s just a dead body,’ Rogers scoffed.

‘Dead bodies don’t bother me, I just hate cheese!’ Boon retched again.

‘If you’re going to be sick, do it in the sink,’ barked a stern-faced Rogers.

Jane thought it strange the body didn’t smell of decay and rotting flesh as she’d expected. The face looked gruesome, yet fascinating. The skin was shrivelled and cracked, with a chalky white, almost yellowish colour to it with flecks of grey. There were empty sockets where the eyes had once been, but the mouth was eerily wide open revealing an intact set of teeth. The cracked and shrivelled hands were clasped together. A rosary with a small wooden cross was wrapped around the right hand.

Parts of the clothing were disintegrating and discoloured, but it was clear the body was dressed in a black ankle-length gown and black lace-up shoes. A black veil covered the head and shoulders, with a stiff white wimple under it. The wimple was tight under the chin and hung in a semi-circle below the neck. Tied around the waist was a brown cord with tassels on each end. The interior of the coffin was lined with satin, which was now covered in mildew and a dirty grey colour.

‘It looks like the body of a nun from the clothing,’ Jane remarked.

Pullen nodded. ‘I agree, though I will have to confirm it by further examination.’

Boon laughed. ‘Imagine if . . .’

‘Imagine what?’ Jane asked.

‘Imagine if it turned out to be a transvestite priest! That would raise a few eyebrows at the Vatican,’ Boon grinned. ‘Then again, maybe not.’

‘I expected a corpse that would be badly decomposed, but in fact the face and hands look almost mummified,’ Jane remarked.

Pullen was about to explain the phenomenon when a smug-looking PC Rogers interjected.

‘It’s due to adipocere on the body, which can occur in sealed coffins when no air can get in.’

Pullen picked up her clipboard and pen. ‘That’s a very astute observation, especially as it’s a condition that’s quite rare to observe.’

‘I have an excellent memory, Dr Pullen,’ Rogers replied pompously. ‘I first observed adipocere a few years ago, in a case Professor Martin was dealing with.’

‘What’s adipocere?’ Boon asked.

Pullen explained. ‘Adipocere is Latin for fat wax . . . adipo, meaning fat, and cire, wax, though pathologists generally refer to it as grave or corpse wax. Although rare, you are more likely to find it on females and the obese, due to their higher fat content.’ She looked at Jane. ‘Adipocere looks similar to mummified flesh, but it’s actually quite different and varies in colour from dirty white to light brown or grey. It’s also what causes that rancid cheesy smell DC Boon dislikes so much.’