Tooth And Nail by Ian Rankin Read Free Book Online Page A

hissing, ‘go outside.’ And then the chuckle, throaty and slow like a stalled engine. Rebus half-turned his head and gave a dangerous smile.
    Soon enough, the whole mess of matter was being put together again, and Rebus knew that by the time any grieving relatives viewed the mortal remains of Jean Cooper, the body would look quite natural.
    As ever, by the end of the autopsy the room had been reduced to silent introspection. Each man and woman present was made of the same stuff as Jean Cooper, and now they stood, momentarily stripped of their individual personalities. They were all bodies, all animals, all collections of viscera. The only difference between them and Jean Cooper was that their hearts still pumped blood. But one day soon enough each heart would stop, and that would be an end of it, save for the possibility of a visit to this butcher’s shop, this abattoir.
    Cousins removed his rubber gloves and washed his hands thoroughly, accepted from the attendant a proffered sheaf of paper towels. ‘That’s about it then, gentlemen, until Penny can type up the notes. Murdered between nine o’clock and nine-thirty I’d guess. Same modus operandi as our so-called Wolfman. I think I’ve just examined his fourth victim. I’ll get in Anthony Morrison tomorrow, let him have a look at the teeth marks. See what he says.’
    Since everyone seemed to know except Rebus, Rebus asked, ‘Who’s Anthony Morrison?’
    Flight was first to answer. ‘A dentist.’
    ‘A dental pathologist,’ corrected Cousins. ‘And quite a good one. He’s got details of the other three murders. His analyses of the bite marks have been quite useful.’ Cousins turned to Flight for confirmation of this, but Flight’s eyes were directed towards his shoes, as if to say I wouldn’t go that far .
    ‘Well,’ said Cousins, seeming to take the silent hint, ‘at any rate, you know my findings. It’s down to your lab chaps now. There’s precious little there …’ Cousins nodded back towards the scooped-out husk of the corpse, ‘to help with your investigation. That being so, I think I’ll go home to bed.’
    Flight seemed to realise that Cousins was displeased with him. ‘Thank you, Philip.’ And the detective lifted a hand to rest it against the pathologist’s arm. Cousins looked at the hand, then at Flight, and smiled.
    The performance at an end, the audience began to shuffle out into the cold, still darkness of an emerging day. By Rebus’s watch, it was four thirty. He felt completely exhausted, could happily have lain down on the lawn in front of the main building and taken a nap, but Flight was walking towards him, carrying his bags.
    ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’
    In his fragile state, Rebus felt this to be the nicest, kindest thing anyone had said to him in weeks. ‘Are you sure you have room?’ he said. ‘I mean, with the teddy bear and all.’
    Flight paused. ‘Or if you’d prefer to walk, Inspector?’
    Rebus threw up his hands in surrender, then, when the door was unlocked, slipped into the passenger seat of Flight’s red Sierra. The seat seemed to wrap itself around him.
    ‘Here,’ said Flight, handing a hip flask to Rebus. Rebus unscrewed the top of the flask and sniffed. ‘It won’t kill you,’ Flight called. This was probably true. The aroma was of whisky. Not great whisky, not a smoky island malt, but a decent enough proprietary brand. Well, it would help keep him awake perhaps until they reached the hotel. Rebus toasted the windscreen and let the liquid trickle into his mouth.
    Flight got behind the steering-wheel and started the car, then, as the car idled, accepted the flask from Rebus and drank from it greedily.
    ‘How far to the hotel from here?’ Rebus asked.
    ‘About twenty minutes at this time of night,’ said Flight, screwing tight the stopper and replacing the flask in his pocket. ‘That’s if we stop for red lights.’
    ‘You have my permission to run every red light you