When the Evil Waits M Lee (e book reader .txt) 📖

major observations. Here,’ he pointed to the boy’s mouth, ‘there is bruising and a cut on the right upper lip as well as the musculus nasalis. These injuries are usually produced by a punch or slap to the face.’

‘And the injuries were not old?’

‘Definitely not – recent. They were perimortem.’

Ridpath raised his eyebrows, uncertain what this meant.

The doctor explained. ‘Around the time of death. I found some grass seeds lodged in the hair and evidence of insect activity on the feet but nothing anywhere else. I checked the skin and a strong soap had been used to clean it, including the area around the mouth and nose.’

‘So you concluded the body had been washed and cleaned to remove any DNA evidence before it was deposited at Chorlton Ees?’

‘Correct. Normally, I would expect to see blood from such a cut on the face or lodged in the nostril but there was none. Nor was there any evidence of clothing fibres anywhere on the body.’

‘Interesting. It suggests somebody who knows about forensic evidence.’

‘Everybody knows the basics of forensics these days, you don’t have to be a professional. I call it the CSI effect.’

‘It hasn’t helped our work.’

‘No, but it was inevitable. Fortunately, our killer was unable to remove the toxicological evidence as easily.’

‘Your report said there was evidence of triazolam in the bloodstream.’

‘Quite a heavy dose. This boy had been heavily sedated before he was murdered. There was also the remnants of a meal – spaghetti and a tomato sauce – in the stomach. The food remains showed evidence of another drug, temazepam. Again, in a significant dose.’

‘Our killer laced the food? When did he eat?’

‘Our estimate is between eight to twelve hours before death.’

Ridpath nodded, trying to work out a timeline of the abduction in his head.

Schofield carried on. ‘And now we come to the most distressing part of the post-mortem. Distressing for me even though I have performed over 1500 previous post-mortems.’ The doctor took a deep breath. ‘The boy was sexually assaulted multiple times both pre- and post-mortem.’

He reached forward to turn David Carsley onto his front.

Ridpath noticed the boy’s hands for the first time, slightly curled inwards with the nails bitten down to the quick. ‘I don’t need to see, Doctor.’

Schofield stopped and stepped back. ‘There is multiple evidence of anal penetration over a period of time.’

Ridpath didn’t understand. ‘Even before he was kidnapped?’

Schofield shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. There is anal tearing but it occurred sometime in the twenty-four hours after his abduction. Some of the tears had already begun the process of healing before death.’

Ridpath was desperately thinking of a question but couldn’t formulate the words. What sort of animal would do this to a young child?

Finally, he decided he had heard enough. ‘Can you tell me the time of death?’

‘Not accurately. It had been a cold morning even though it was summer. Typical Manchester. The closest I can give you is the same as I told DCI Turnbull. Between four and eight hours before the discovery of the body.’

‘So between two a.m. and six a.m.?’

‘Correct, but it could have been another hour either way. Time of death is not an exact science. It’s the closest I ever come to guesswork and that’s why I hate doing it.’

‘Thank you, Doctor. Anything else?’

‘That covers the main points of my post-mortem.’ He snapped his fingers as if remembering something. ‘Not in my report but something I noticed later: the boy has bruising on the top of his arm.’

‘Done by the killer?’

‘Maybe during the abduction. It is much earlier than any other injury on the body.’

Ridpath made a note in his book. ‘Finally, Doctor, if you have completed your examination of the child, could I release him back to the family for burial?’

Schofield stared down at the small body in front of him. ‘I don’t see why not. I’ll send the release form to Sophia after my class. How is she, by the way?’

‘Fine, I think. To be honest, we haven’t seen each other much since my return.’

The doctor nodded as if understanding how work sometimes got in the way of human relationships. ‘One last thing, Ridpath, and I don’t normally say this. But the man who killed this child, and it was a man, needs to be caught and stopped. You have to catch him before he does it again.’

‘You think he will?’

The doctor nodded. ‘I’m sure of it.’

Chapter 25

Ridpath left the mortuary desperate to remove the stench of the cleanliness from his nostrils. He was tempted to cadge a cigarette from one of the passers-by, but didn’t, walking briskly to let the diesel-tinged air of Manchester clear his lungs.

The image of the boy dwarfed by the stainless steel table stayed with him. The way the fingers curled as if trying to hang on to life.

He shook his head, driving the image from it, alternately tapping his fingers on his shoulders and thinking of his safe place.

He strode down Oxford Road, past the Students’ Union and turned left before the museum. He hadn’t been in this area for years, not since a school trip had taken him to see the Egyptian mummies. He should bring Eve here one day – she might enjoy all the beetles pinned and stuffed in row upon row of identical wooden cabinets.

They had arranged to meet in Christie’s Bistro. Emily came here often but neither Ridpath nor Chrissy knew it even existed. As soon as he stepped through the doors, he understood why. The cafe was set in the middle of an old library, with paintings of famous luminaries, soaring plasterwork ceilings and pristine whitewashed walls, all in a gothic building created in a far less utilitarian age.

Emily was already sat at a table waiting for him. ‘I ordered you a latte, Ridpath. I hope that’s what you wanted.’

Actually what he wanted was a total nose and lung transplant to get rid of the smell of the mortuary. What he said as he sat down opposite her was, ‘Great,