The Cold, Cold Ground by Adrian McKinty Read Free Book Online Page B

was murdered.”
    â€œWe prefer the term ‘unlawful killing’ at this stage, Dr Cathcart. It’s the
mens rea
of the killer that determines if he or she is guilty of murder as opposed to some other kind of unlawful homicide,” I said to get a bit of my own back and annoy her – which I could see was mission accomplished.
    Dr Cathcart sniffed. “Shall I continue?”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œAnother man’s hand was placed at the scene. This man was considerably older than the victim. Perhaps sixty. For what it’s worth this hand shows evidence of callusing on the fingers in a pattern which suggests that he played the guitar. Perhaps professionally.”
    â€œHow long ago was this hand removed? Days ago? Weeks ago?”
    â€œIt is difficult to say. However there is no evidence of freezing and thawing in the blood or skin cells so I would assume that it was removed around the same time as the victim was killed.”
    â€œWhen was the victim killed?”
    She picked up her notes and read: “Between 8 and 11 pm on 12/5/81.”
    â€œThe cause of death was the gunshot wound?”
    â€œThe chest wound probably killed the victim but he was then shot in the head, execution style.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œThe victim had had sexual intercourse with a male before or after he was killed.”
    â€œHow can you tell that?”
    â€œThe victim’s exterior sphincter was stressed and I found semen in his rectum.”
    â€œWas this consensual intercourse?”
    â€œIf the sexual encounter was also postmortem then I would hazard a non-consensual encounter.”
    This was beginning to look a little less like your ordinary run-of-the-mill execution of an informer.
    â€œLeaving aside the sexual episode, the chronology of the murder seems to have been this: the victim was shot in the chest, shot in the head, there was an interval of some time and then the assailant removed the right hand with a hack saw,” she continued. She stifled a yawned.
    â€œTired or already jaded by death?”
    â€œSorry. Helicopters woke me up last night. Couldn’t get back to sleep. We couldn’t possibly do the rest of this outside, could we?”
    â€œCertainly. Over a cup of tea or something?” I asked.
    â€œThat would be nice,” she said and smiled.
    â€œI’ll just need to fingerprint this character. Is that ok? We’ve got the prints from the other hand working their way through the system.”
    â€œYes, that’s fine. But I should show you this first.”
    She went to one of the stainless steel bowls and I winced involuntarily as she reached inside and gave me something large and slippery. I opened my eyes and was relieved to see that it was merely a plastic bag with a curled-up piece of paper inside.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œI also recovered this from the victim’s anus and perhaps this was where the subcutaneous stressing came from.”
    â€œJesus Christ! That was up his arse?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThe bag and all?”
    â€œJust the paper.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œWhy don’t you meet me in the hospital cafeteria in ten minutes while I wash up?” she said.
    â€œOk,” I replied. I took out my kit and fingerprinted John Doe’s left hand. I went back outside and along the gloomy corridor until I found Hattie Jacques again. “I need to make a phone call,” I said.
    Her eyes bulged as if I had asked for her firstborn but then she directed me to an inner office. I called McCrabban and told him to get over here right away not sparing the horses. I went to the cafeteria, got a pot of tea and waited for both of them at the window seat next to the garden. I examined the bullet: 9mm slug shot at point-blank range. I looked at the bag Dr Cathcart had given me.
    Keeping it within the plastic I unrolled the piece of paper she had recovered.
    â€œWhat the fuck?” I