You Are Dead by Peter James Read Free Book Online

first choice.”
    â€œI suggest we leave the scene secured overnight, and ask her to come first thing in the morning, if she’s free.” Grace nodded at the remains. “I don’t think she—if we’re right and it is a she —is going anywhere in a hurry.”
    Dave Green nodded. “It’s my wedding anniversary. I’d be earning myself a pink ticket with Janis by getting home in time to celebrate it.”
    â€œHappy anniversary,” Grace said.
    Glenn Branson came back into the tent. “Yeah,” he said. “I just spoke to Philip Keay, the on-call Coroner’s Officer. He thinks we should get the death certified, just to be safe.”
    â€œFor fuck’s sake, it is such a ridiculous policy!” Green said exasperatedly. He jerked a finger at the skull. “How much more sodding dead does she need to be?”
    Outside, they heard the yap of a dog. Moments later the tent flap opened and CSI Chris Gee peered in.
    â€œSir,” he said. “There’s a gentleman walking his dog across the lagoon who saw the police vehicles and asked if he could help—he said he’s a doctor.”
    Grace and Branson looked at each other. “A doctor?” Roy Grace said. “Well, how convenient is that? Yes, ask him if he would be willing to confirm a death.”
    A few minutes later, a short, fit-looking man in his mid-fifties, in a protective suit, mask and shoes, entered the tent. “Hello,” he said cheerily. “I’m Edward Crisp, I’m a local GP. I was just walking my dog—your colleague at the barrier is kindly looking after him—and saw all the activity. Just wondered if I could be of any help? I used to serve Brighton and Hove Police as one of your on-call police surgeons up until about fifteen years ago.”
    Grace nodded. “Yes, I remember your name. Well, your timing’s impeccable.” He pointed down at the exposed remains. “Some workmen uncovered this earlier today. I know it sounds a little strange, but we need a medical person to confirm life extinct. Would you be able to oblige?”
    Dr. Crisp peered down, then knelt and stared for some moments at the skull, then at the rest of the exposed bones. “Well,” he said, “I really don’t think there’s much doubt about that. Poor woman.”
    â€œWoman?” Grace said. “Definitely?”
    The doctor hesitated. “Well, it’s a long time since I was a medical student, but from all I can remember I’d say from the shape of the skull it’s female. And from the condition of the teeth, late teens or early twenties.”
    â€œAny idea how long she might have been here?” Glenn Branson asked.
    He shook his head. “I couldn’t begin to hazard a guess—you’d need a forensic archaeologist to give you that kind of information. But, yes, indeed, there’s no question of life here. I would be happy to confirm that I can see it is a skeleton and there is no life. Is that helpful?”
    â€œExtremely,” Roy Grace said.
    â€œIs that all?”
    â€œLeave your details, I’ll send someone round to you tomorrow to take a formal statement.”
    â€œAbsolutely! No problem at all.” He smiled. “Bye for now!”

 
    11
    Thursday 11 December
    Jamie Ball sat perched on a stool at his kitchen breakfast bar, drinking beer after beer, phone in his hand, calling each of their friends in turn, his back to the rainy darkness beyond the window. He focused first on Logan’s girlfriends, then her sister, then her brother, then her parents, asking if by chance—slim chance—she had gone over to see them. As he spoke he stared either at the tropical fish in the tank or at the photograph on the bar counter of the two of them in their ski suits taken on top of the Kleine Matterhorn at Zermatt last March, with snow-capped peaks framing the horizon. They were laughing at some joke