Scarred by Nick Oldham

Author:Nick Oldham [Oldham, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2021-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

TEN

‘Well, well, well, as I live and breathe,’ the man said. He was holding up a pair of smoke-ravaged lungs in front of him, the blood from them dripping into a stainless-steel bowl in a sink. He was dressed in pathologist garb from head to toe, including a skull cap, face mask and wellington-type boots. The lungs he was holding had just been removed from the body on the slab, the torso wide open, displaying no internal organs whatsoever as the heart, liver, kidneys and stomach had also been removed and laid out on the dissecting table as though being prepared for a meal. The lungs had already been sliced open and the man was just holding them up for further inspection. He had looked over his shoulder as Henry and Blackstone entered the mortuary at Blackpool Victoria Hospital, both in scrubs and fitting their medical face masks in place of their personal ones. ‘As I live and breathe,’ the man said again, ‘if it isn’t that there Henry Christie.’

Even under the camouflage of his protective clothing, Henry recognized Professor Baines, the head Home Office pathologist for the North West region, whom Henry had first encountered for the very first time in the same public mortuary thirty-five years before. And since then Baines had become a ‘sort of’ friend to Henry. Baines had performed many post-mortems for Henry’s cases and the two men had got to know each other well. Baines was also always interested in Henry’s often entertaining love life.

‘And if it isn’t Professor Baines,’ Henry said, recognizing the voice rather than the person underneath the gown.

‘As you’re no longer officially a police officer, I’m assuming this little lady is in charge of the investigation and you’re just tagging along?’

From the corner of his eye, Henry saw the change in Blackstone’s demeanour at the ‘little lady’ remark and he thought that Baines might be lucky if he made it out of the mortuary without having anything chopped off.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Blackstone … and I assume you’re the quack,’ she countered frostily.

Baines’s ears rose half an inch as he smiled under the mask. ‘Touché.’

‘What have you got for us?’ Blackstone went on, all business. She walked ahead of Henry past the mortuary slab to where Baines was still holding the dripping lungs aloft.

Henry followed but stopped momentarily at the empty body shell of Trish Benemy. He’d been to many PMs since his early days as a cop and knew they could be brutal affairs. Some pathologists treated dead bodies as lumps of meat, with disrespect and detachment, which Henry hated. He had even called a couple of them out on their attitudes, which had not endeared him to the police hierarchy, but despite having had the occasional flea in his ear, ironically about showing due deference to the pathologists concerned, Henry was ferociously on the side of the dead and realized that he and people like pathologists and undertakers had a huge responsibility towards their subjects. Baines was always fairly

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