Staying Power by Judith Cutler Read Free Book Online Page A

looked him in the eye. ‘The post mortem, Gaffer.’
    He stiffened. ‘You won’t want to be involved – I—’
    â€˜I am involved, aren’t I? May I accompany you to the post mortem?’ she asked, correct as at an interview.
    â€˜Are you sure about – I mean, it’s not the most enjoyable thing even when you don’t know the guy on the slab. Why push yourself? There isn’t any real need. …’
    It seemed as if the equal opportunities course he’d been on hadn’t been a hundred per cent successful. He was trying to protect her, wasn’t he? Quite definitely. Some might think it was as demeaning as being harassed. And there was no gainsaying the fact that to protect someone implied you were strong and they weak.
    What she ought to do was explain about equality. Now. But Graham wasn’t the sort of man to take kindly to a lecture – in this morning’s fluctuating moods it could be counter-productive, in fact.
    And they were supposed to be friends, after all.
    She smiled. ‘I appreciate the thought, Graham.’ Was that a mistake? His eyes flickered. ‘But you know as well as I do you have to take the rough with the rough in this job. The most intimate I got with the man was sucking his barely sugars. I can – forgive the pun – cope.’ She pulled an apologetic face.
    He shook his head, but produced the closest thing to a genuine smile she’d seen that morning. ‘OK. But there’s time to change your mind. And it wouldn’t be a sign of weakness if you did.’

Chapter Five
    They were ready, now, the whole team, gowned, booted and mentally braced. Graham turned to her. ‘There’s still time to back out, Kate.’
    In front of them all.
    â€˜When Robin was killed it wasn’t his wife who did the formal identification,’ she said. ‘It was me. And you never know, having seen this man recently, I might just spot – Ah!’
    Graham followed her eyes. He stepped forward. ‘Morning, Duncan,’ he said, shaking hands with the pathologist, a man somewhere in his forties – not being able to see his hair or even hair-line made it difficult to be precise. ‘You know everyone, don’t you? Except for Kate Power, Duncan – she’s the new detective sergeant in the squad.’
    Duncan who?
    Smiling her professional, dimple-free smile, Kate offered her hand, which Duncan held on to for a moment too long. His eyes – dark brown – opened a little wider under well-shaped brows. All he said, however, was, ‘Good to meet you, Kate.’
    She nodded, said nothing. There was always a lot of loud banter before an autopsy, but flirting in morgue overalls was new to her. At least, she told herself sourly, he had the good taste to do it before cutting into the corpse.
    â€˜You’re very quiet – not going to pass out on me, are you?’ Duncan asked, holding the door for her. The teasing intimacy in his voice matched the overlong handshake.
    â€˜In my experience it’s the particularly macho men that do that,’ she said. Which made her wonder: why wasn’t Cope insisting on being here?
    Her reward – if that was what she’d wanted – was a dazzling smile which revealed dimples to match her own, and a dip of the head, as if he were acknowledging a hit. Then everyone’s smiles disappeared under masks.
    Cameras busy, attendants started to undress Alan Grafton.
    Kate knew how the body would look – she’d looked closely on the faces and necks of several people slowly throttled. But she braced herself to look not just at any corpse but at Alan. How might he have felt about this? His naked body being scrutinised not by the tender eyes of a lover, but by hard, professional eyes, seeking clues not to feelings but to death? There was no more intimate relationship than death, however. She and Alan would never have looked at each other