Blood Work by Mark Pearson Page B

He opened the front door for Sally.
'I don't know about the girl. It depends if it was an
opportunistic or planned killing. Time of death will
help.'
    'Not going to be wandering on the heath in the
dead of night you mean.'
    Delaney nodded as they walked over to Sally's car.
'It's unlikely.'
    'Mind you, it was a full moon last night.'
    'Meaning?'
    Sally fished out her car keys and opened the
driver's door to her car. 'Well, it brings out the
crazies. And her being a goth. Maybe there's a connection.
The mystic power of the moon and all that.'
    Delaney got into the car next to her and stretched
his legs forward. 'The moon might play a part in
paganism. Witchcraft, Wicca, that kind of thing. Not
sure it applies to goths.'
    'No. But the belt buckle. I've been thinking about
it.'
    'What about it?'
    'Looking at the photos more closely both sides had
a representation of the Green Man. Big pagan
symbol.'
    Delaney nodded thoughtfully. 'Maybe, and there
may have been a full moon last night, but you'd never
have been able to see it. Not with all that cloud cover
and rain.'
    'I suppose not. So, it looks like the body was
dumped there. She could have come from anywhere.'
    '"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania."'
    Sally looked across at him, frowning as she fired up
the engine. 'Sir?'
    'What? You surprised I know a little Shakespeare?
They do have schools in Ireland, you know.'
    'Yeah, I do know that. Put your seat belt on.'
    Delaney sighed and pulled the strap across. 'And
it's cockney rhyming slang.'
    'What is?'
    'John Thomas. So the expression came first.'
    'Oh.' Sally smiled. 'So what does it rhyme with?'
    Delaney considered for a moment, then sighed and
flapped his hand. 'Just drive the car, Constable.'
    'On average two and a half million people use the
tube system every day and I'm guessing something
like bloody plenty of them use South Hampstead
station,' Delaney said as he stood up from the
computer, rubbed his sore eyes and yawned.
    Sally paused the CCTV footage and looked up at
him, amusement quirking the corners of her mouth.
'Must have been some night.'
    Delaney yawned again, putting his hand in front of
his mouth. 'You have no idea.'
    Sally gestured at the computer screen. 'We're up to
twelve o'clock.'
    Delaney nodded and stretched his eyes. 'Let's get
these photos in front of the nurse, see if she
recognises any of them.'
    Sally collected three photos that had been printed
out of some possible men that matched the
description of the flasher they had been given by
Valerie Manners and stood up.
    Kate Walker was sitting at her computer typing up
her notes for the post-mortem on the mystery
woman. She pushed the print icon and some
moments later picked up a ten by eight, black-and-white
close-up of the woman's neck. Someone had
slashed her hard enough to slice the flesh clear to the
bone. What kind of anger could have fuelled such
brutality? Even if the attack was sexually motivated
it still came down to anger. Impotent rage, maybe, as
it was clear the woman had not been sexually
assaulted. No evidence of it at least. The irony of the
thought was not lost on her and she shivered again,
thinking about the possibility that it could have been
her dead body being examined by one of her
colleagues. How close a tightrope to death we walk
in life, she thought. How fragile the human body is.
How soft and defenceless against true purpose, true
will to hurt. And yet we dance on the tightrope
blindfolded, and laugh while we do it. Only Kate
didn't feel like laughing today. She wasn't sure she
ever would again. The telephone rang suddenly,
shrilly. She started, her heart thumping in her chest,
and snatched the phone up, taking a moment or two
to steady her shattered nerves before answering.
'Kate Walker.'
    'Kate, it's Caroline Akunin.'
    Kate took in a deep breath. 'Go on.'
    'I haven't got the blood work back . . .' She
paused.
    'But?' asked Kate.
    'But, I ran a check on Paul