in far worse condition than the average gynaecologist would come across in a lifetime. ‘You speculated that she’d been penetrated with a blunt instrument.’
He made another jotting, looking at her shrewdly. ‘She was raped
after
the head injury. Penile penetration was probably difficult. She was probably assaulted by something like a rubber torch, since there were abrasions consistent with – blah, blah, blah.’ He waved an elegant hand. ‘Anal penetration too. Same instrument.’
‘At least she’d have been unconscious while all this was going on.’
‘Possibly. Probably,’ he conceded. ‘According to my neurological colleagues, she might even have been technically dead at the time.’
She nodded. ‘So we might be looking for one of those monsters who get their kicks by having sex with the dead. Necrophilia, isn’t that what it’s called?’
‘In that case, wouldn’t you have other people with similar penchants on your files?’
‘There was no DNA match on file, I’m afraid. But—’
‘—that doesn’t mean there isn’t now!’ he said. ‘Surely that sort of attack wouldn’t be a one-off.’
‘I couldn’t second you on to my team, could I?’ Fran laughed. ‘Seriously, this was one of our lines of enquiry,but it’s so far proved entirely fruitless. As have all our other lines, to be honest.’
‘You know they want to discontinue treatment?’
‘That’s why we’re reopening the case. If she dies – officially – it’s a murderer I’m after, Mr Roland-Thomas .’
‘I believe if anyone can find him, you will.’ He looked half-amused.
‘Elise has my solemn promise that if it’s humanly possible to bring him to justice, I will. Now, thank you for your time.’ She stood, extending a hand. ‘Your everyday observation was just as useful as your technical information.’
‘Chief Superintendent, may I make another everyday observation? Please sit down, and please don’t be offended. You are clearly going through a very awkward time of life. How you tackle it is up to you: there are as many suggestions as there are women with your experiences.’
‘I’ve had at least three suggestions this week,’ she agreed. ‘All entirely unsolicited. It seems a woman’s health enters the public domain when she reaches a certain age.’
‘You’re lucky it wasn’t more. And I’m sorry to have become the fourth with possibly unwelcome advice.’
‘If anyone is in a position to offer it I should imagine it would be you,’ she conceded.
‘In that case, may I suggest – shall we say – a quick fix? Provided there are no contra-indications, I thinkyour GP might prescribe a course of HRT. No?’
‘She doesn’t approve of it.’ She let her anger ooze out.
He responded with an ironic smile. ‘Or her practice budget manager doesn’t approve of it.’
‘Or possibly she’s simply too young to have any idea what the menopause is like.’ She sank back on to the chair. ‘My symptoms include… No, you don’t need the litany.’ Surely to God she couldn’t be weeping. Damn and blast, she was.
He leaned forward and pressed his phone console. ‘Could you offer coffee, please, Anna, to our next patient. Apologise profusely. I’ll be engaged here at least five more minutes.’
Fran dabbed with a tissue she balled and lobbed – accurately – into his waste bin.
‘So it
is
a matter of life and death!’ Anna’s voice tinnily filled the room.
‘Very much so,’ he said gravely. Flicking the switch, he continued, ‘I can’t advise you formally when I don’t know your entire medical history, and heaven forbid I tout for custom.’
‘Would you take me as your patient?’ she asked, making her voice as crisp as she could.
He pulled a face. ‘Referral by a GP is the usual protocol. Shall I at least take your blood pressure, which is a good indication of whether I can suggest the H word.’ Suiting the word to the deed, he nodded approvingly. Then he checked her heart.
He made another jotting, looking at her shrewdly. ‘She was raped
after
the head injury. Penile penetration was probably difficult. She was probably assaulted by something like a rubber torch, since there were abrasions consistent with – blah, blah, blah.’ He waved an elegant hand. ‘Anal penetration too. Same instrument.’
‘At least she’d have been unconscious while all this was going on.’
‘Possibly. Probably,’ he conceded. ‘According to my neurological colleagues, she might even have been technically dead at the time.’
She nodded. ‘So we might be looking for one of those monsters who get their kicks by having sex with the dead. Necrophilia, isn’t that what it’s called?’
‘In that case, wouldn’t you have other people with similar penchants on your files?’
‘There was no DNA match on file, I’m afraid. But—’
‘—that doesn’t mean there isn’t now!’ he said. ‘Surely that sort of attack wouldn’t be a one-off.’
‘I couldn’t second you on to my team, could I?’ Fran laughed. ‘Seriously, this was one of our lines of enquiry,but it’s so far proved entirely fruitless. As have all our other lines, to be honest.’
‘You know they want to discontinue treatment?’
‘That’s why we’re reopening the case. If she dies – officially – it’s a murderer I’m after, Mr Roland-Thomas .’
‘I believe if anyone can find him, you will.’ He looked half-amused.
‘Elise has my solemn promise that if it’s humanly possible to bring him to justice, I will. Now, thank you for your time.’ She stood, extending a hand. ‘Your everyday observation was just as useful as your technical information.’
‘Chief Superintendent, may I make another everyday observation? Please sit down, and please don’t be offended. You are clearly going through a very awkward time of life. How you tackle it is up to you: there are as many suggestions as there are women with your experiences.’
‘I’ve had at least three suggestions this week,’ she agreed. ‘All entirely unsolicited. It seems a woman’s health enters the public domain when she reaches a certain age.’
‘You’re lucky it wasn’t more. And I’m sorry to have become the fourth with possibly unwelcome advice.’
‘If anyone is in a position to offer it I should imagine it would be you,’ she conceded.
‘In that case, may I suggest – shall we say – a quick fix? Provided there are no contra-indications, I thinkyour GP might prescribe a course of HRT. No?’
‘She doesn’t approve of it.’ She let her anger ooze out.
He responded with an ironic smile. ‘Or her practice budget manager doesn’t approve of it.’
‘Or possibly she’s simply too young to have any idea what the menopause is like.’ She sank back on to the chair. ‘My symptoms include… No, you don’t need the litany.’ Surely to God she couldn’t be weeping. Damn and blast, she was.
He leaned forward and pressed his phone console. ‘Could you offer coffee, please, Anna, to our next patient. Apologise profusely. I’ll be engaged here at least five more minutes.’
Fran dabbed with a tissue she balled and lobbed – accurately – into his waste bin.
‘So it
is
a matter of life and death!’ Anna’s voice tinnily filled the room.
‘Very much so,’ he said gravely. Flicking the switch, he continued, ‘I can’t advise you formally when I don’t know your entire medical history, and heaven forbid I tout for custom.’
‘Would you take me as your patient?’ she asked, making her voice as crisp as she could.
He pulled a face. ‘Referral by a GP is the usual protocol. Shall I at least take your blood pressure, which is a good indication of whether I can suggest the H word.’ Suiting the word to the deed, he nodded approvingly. Then he checked her heart.
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