As Pullen wrote her notes, Jane asked if adipocere could help to determine how long a person had been dead.

‘To be honest, this is the first time I’ve actually seen it in the flesh, so to speak. From my pathology training, I know adipocere can take weeks if not years to form due to different factors such as temperature, embalming, burial conditions, and materials surrounding the corpse. It’s even been found on bodies that have been dead for hundreds of years. When I do a closer examination of the corpse on the mortuary table, I might be able to give you an approximate idea of physical age, though it might be worth consulting an anthropologist for a more exact—’

Rogers was quick to interject. ‘I don’t think an anthropologist will be necessary, Dr Pullen.’

‘Why not?’ Jane asked.

‘Now we know it’s the body of a nun, I don’t see a lot of point continuing.’

‘Are you telling me to stop my examination, PC Rogers?’ Pullen frowned.

‘The coroner will want the body handed over to the Catholic church for reburial,’ he said.

‘You can read his mind, can you?’ Jane retorted.

‘I’ll phone him and seek his opinion,’ Rogers replied smugly, then left the room.

‘He really is an objectionable little prick,’ Pullen remarked.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Jane added, surprised but also pleased with Sam’s candour.

‘Is that dried flower petals on the chest and forehead?’ Boon asked, pointing to the body from across the room because of the smell.

‘They look more like shreds of fabric,’ Pullen replied, using tweezers to lift a piece off for closer examination. ‘I’d say they are bits of satin . . .’ She noticed something odd. ‘Jane, could you pass me the magnifying glass from the table, please.’

Pullen held the magnifier over the piece of satin. ‘There appears to be a tiny fragment of a fingernail embedded in it.’ She put the satin and nail in a small container before delicately lifting the left hand of the body. ‘Thankfully, the adipocere has preserved the hands and the fingernails are still attached,’ she said, examining one of the hands with the magnifier.

Jane noticed a look of concern on Pullen’s face. ‘Is there something wrong?’

‘The fingernail on the left index finger is broken . . . same on the third finger . . . and there appears to be a tiny bit of satin attached to a broken nail tip.’ Pullen moved round the coffin to examine the right hand.

Jane was pretty sure she knew what Pullen was thinking. ‘Boony, help me turn the coffin lid over,’ she said, grabbing one end.

‘What are you looking for?’ he asked.

‘I want to see the condition of the satin lining.’

‘The right hand on the body has a broken fingernail and the others are worn down to the fingertips,’ Dr Pullen informed them as they gently turned the lid over.

The mouldy white satin lining was torn and hanging loose at the head end. Jane gently brushed it to one side, revealing deep fingernail scratch marks on the interior metal.