Fighting for the Dead by Nick Oldham Read Free Book Online Page B

were being a bit aimless, like they were playing bumpsy-daisy. They needed some direction, as there wasn’t much for them to do here, so Henry took charge and told them all to get back on the streets. The offenders had gone before the first officer had arrived, therefore Henry wanted cops out on the streets pulling any vehicles with two or three men on board. It was more miss than hit, he knew, but he wanted to get things moving and keep the scene of the crime as pristine as possible for the CSIs.
    When all the uniforms had dispersed, that left him, Baines and the PC who’d been helping out with the property, as well as the mortuary staff, who had all retreated to a refreshment room, drinking tea, traumatized by the events, unable to do any work in the foreseeable future. They all had to be interviewed and statements taken. Henry also guessed they’d all need counselling, too. Par for the course. He didn’t even consider that luxury for himself.
    If it hadn’t hurt his head to do so, he would have shaken it in despair.
    Baines and the PC, however, seemed pretty unaffected by it all, fortunately.
    â€˜Right,’ Henry said, ‘let’s see if anything’s missing.’
    Other than having been scattered everywhere, the clothing and possessions were as Henry and the PC had recorded. It seemed the only thing taken was the constable’s PR.
    â€˜I suppose it’s possible I might’ve missed something in a pocket,’ the PC admitted.
    â€˜Or sewn into a seam,’ Henry added – but he knew he and the PC had run their fingers carefully over each item of clothing and unless they’d missed something tiny, maybe the size of a SIM card or smaller, they’d missed nothing. They had searched the property diligently, and Henry assured the PC of this.
    They hadn’t even taken the very expensive-looking jewellery.
    Which was a mistake, Henry thought, because that turned the incident into something more sinister.
    If they had taken the jewels, then it was more than likely the police would have looked on it as just a robbery. Leaving the good stuff gave it a whole new twist, which unsettled Henry.
    A wave of pain and nausea, beginning at the very top of his head, rolled through him.
    He had been squatting down by the property bags, but as he cranked himself up, the sensations hit him. He staggered a little, keeping a grip, then caught sight of himself in a wall mirror and shivered in horror.
    His face was a contorted mess. He already knew that, but what made him extra cross was the amount of blood down and over his jacket and shirt, which were ruined.
    â€˜Shit,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll go and get patched up.’
    The first thing the triage nurse did when Henry presented himself at casualty and explained what had happened – and that he thought he’d passed out for short time – was to sit him in a wheelchair and get a porter to push him down to the X-ray department.
    Baines accompanied him.
    â€˜All I want is a plaster and some Savlon,’ Henry moaned ungratefully as he was wheeled along the corridors.
    â€˜I’ve been waiting a long time to say this,’ Baines chuckled, ‘but you need your head examining.’
    â€˜Ho bloody ho,’ Henry grunted as they arrived at X-ray.
    Then the waiting began, during which time Baines told him that the doctors would probably want to keep him in overnight for observation. The news cheered Henry no end.
    â€˜I don’t have time to spend a night in a hospital. I don’t have time for this.’ He grumbled a few more things, then looked at Baines. ‘You need to go, too. People to dismember.’
    â€˜They can wait . . . they’re dead, after all.’
    â€˜No,’ Henry insisted. ‘You have things to do. I’ll be OK . . . and I’m not staying the night unless I collapse of a brain aneurysm.’
    â€˜Don’t joke,’ Baines said