Viridian Tears (26 page)

Chapter 27

Eden stared at DI White. “You’re not serious? Are you really suggesting I’d murder someone and toss the body onto my own compost heap? I mean, I know I eulogize about environmentally-friendly funerals but even I’d draw the line at that.”

White held up a placatory hand. “Not at all, Mrs…er…Maguire. It’s just a necessary question, you understand. I don’t think you had anything to do with it at all but if I submit a form without the relevant boxes ticked it all goes pear-shaped when the wrong person is arrested. You see my problem?”

“I suppose so.” Eden rubbed the exhaustion from her eyes. “Last night? I worked here until David came home at about eight. Then we had a late dinner of mushroom risotto and garlic bread. We cleared up by about nine and he watched
Long Arm
on the BBC while I had a bath. We went to bed at about ten-thirty whereupon we indulged in a bondage scene for about an hour before going to bed.” She leaned forward. “Do you need to know the details of the bondage scene?”

White’s placatory hand became one of caution. “No, that’s quite all right.”

“Would you like to?”

“No, thank you. While what goes on in people’s bedrooms may be of interest to some, Mrs. White and I have been very happy in that department for a large number of years, mostly by utilizing separate beds.”

“That’s very sad, Inspector.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. I snore, you see, and I’d far rather have a night spent away from my beloved wife than discover she’s not slept the following morning. She can be a bit short when she’s not had sufficient sleep. The secret to a happy life is a happy wife.”

“I could use that on a gravestone.” Eden picked up a pen. “May I?”

“Be my guest.” White consulted his notebook. “Did you or your husband happen to notice any suspicious behavior last night? People poking around or trespassing? Anything on the canal bank, especially.”

“I can’t say I did, no. And David would have mentioned it if he had.”

“David’s your husband?”

“That’s right. He’s a solicitor. You’ve probably met him. He does a lot of legal aid work.”

White’s mouth turned to an O of realization. “David Maguire, of course. I’m sorry. I should have made the connection sooner.”

“That’s all right, inspector. He’s happy to keep my business and his separate wherever possible.”

“It’s almost a pity we did away with the death penalty.” White chortled over his notebook. “He could have sent business your way.”

“Is that what passes for humor in the police force?”

“Barely.” He sobered quickly by referring to his notes again. “Were you acquainted with the deceased?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know anyone called Joseph. I might know him by sight, if you have a photograph.”

“Er…I’ll have to get back to you on that, I think.”

“Why? You have a camera phone. Didn’t you take a photograph with that?”

“Actually no. I have a hard enough job sending texts. I don’t want to complicate matters.”

“Here. Pass it to me.”

“What are you going to do?” He picked up his phone and held it protectively. “This is official police property, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m just going to show you how to take a photograph.”

“Well, all right. No going through my calls, mind.”

“I won’t.” Eden demonstrated. “You just slide the lens cover at the back, look, then the image appears on the front and you press this button to take it.” She demonstrated by taking one of him and showing him the result. “See? And all you need to look at them afterward is to scroll through to the ‘pictures’ album.”

“It does look quite straightforward.” He retrieved his phone and repeated the instructions. “Stand over there in front of that painting. What’s it called?”

“Portrait of Helen.”

“A portrait?” He raised his eyebrows. “It doesn’t–”

“Look much like a portrait. Yes, Inspector. Believe it or not, you’re hardly the first to point that out, stretching in a long line from my mother who begged me to get a proper job when I left art school. I’m not certain she was thinking of mortuary work at the time, mind.” She blinked as the flash went off.

“Was it supposed to flash? It didn’t when you took one of me.”

“Yes. I set it to automatic for you. You weren’t standing in a dark corner. Have you got any more questions for me?”

“I don’t think so. Wait, yes. Will you be handling the Shirley Burbridge funeral?”

“I only heard about it this morning. It depends on the family. I hope they were pleased with the service for the father.”

“Apart from that whole business with the face.” White circled his own with his finger.

“Apart from that. I do have a clause about slippage in the contract. I don’t use formaldehyde, you see.”

“Because of the environmental thing?”

“Partly, yes, but mostly because it cuts the cost of a funeral right down. I do provide it as an extra service, but generally only for burials.”

“I see.” White stood and held out a hand. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Maguire. I’ll see myself out, shall I? I know the way.”

“Of course.” Eden stood to shake the proffered hand. “Left out of here and through the two doors at the far end.” She turned to the following day, the interview with the inspector already gone from her head. There was another funeral tomorrow. “Detective Inspector?”

He paused at the half open door.

“May I show you something?”

“By all means.” He stepped back to allow her through the door first, than closed it behind them. “Is this something to do with the case?”

“A case, anyway. Will you follow me?” Eden led him through the corridors at the back of the cryotorium to a door marked
Cold Room
. She typed a code into the keypad and ushered him inside.

“It’s like the morgue, only smaller.” He turned a full circle. “Only eight drawers, though? You’re not geared up for an epidemic, are you?”

“I don’t need to be.” She gestured at the empty wall opposite. “I’ve left room for expansion.” She turned him back to the drawers. “This is what I wanted to show you.” She slid out the drawer containing the late Francis Dibben. “There, Inspector. What do you think of that?”

White stared down at the body. It had seen better days. Most of them before his body had arrived at the pathology lab. Now he was in several pieces, the Y-section of his autopsy gaping open from a very loose basket stitch. Plastic bags containing his internal organs were visible past the stitches. The top of his skull and been sliced off and leaned against the side of his head, allowed the brain, safely contained in its own zip-lock baggie, to slide out. Blood and bile seeped out of the loose stitching like gravy out of a steak-and-kidney pie.

“Frank Dibben. Small time thief and occasional confidence trickster. Died of carbon monoxide inhalation from a faulty gas heater in his flat a week ago last Thursday. We thought it might have been suspicious but it came to nothing. What about him?”

“Look at the state he’s in. I’ve got to prepare him for his funeral tomorrow. What’s his family going to think when they see him like that? It looks like I’ve been practising an obscure form of witchcraft on him.”

White’s face went through the process of not smiling, leaving his mouth a twisted line. “This is the Dibbens clan we’re talking about. They’ll be able to say goodbye to the brains of the family.”

Eden allowed herself a small smile. “Could you have a word with your pathology department? An internal memo or something? It really isn’t pleasant to get the cadavers in this state. It’s not all of them, mind. One of your crew has a lovely neat blanket stitch which is much more respectful.”

White nodded as she slid the drawer back. He spoke again when the clanging metal doors didn’t threaten to drown his words. “I’ll have a word with the powers that be. See if I can point out that the bodies they’re stitching up are somebody’s parents or siblings or children. I can’t promise anything will improve, mind.”

“Just making them aware of it would help. Thank you.”

“All part of the service.” He headed to the door. “Is there a quicker way out?”

“Yes, I’ll show you.” She led him to the service bay where her hearse was parked. “There, Inspector. This is the back of the building. Head left and you’ll soon find your colleagues.”

“Thank you.” He paused as he passed the hearse. “And you said my humor was bad.”

Eden glanced at the bumper sticker. David had bought it for her several months previously. “I’ve got a beautiful body: It’s in the boot.”

She smirked. “Grave humor, Detective Inspector. It’s a dying business.”

Chapter 28

Eden followed the inspector as far as the crime scene tape would allow. Malcolm’s compost bins were being carefully dismantled by three figures–Eden couldn’t tell if they were men or women–in white overalls, boots gloves and elasticized headwear. One was shoveling out the soil onto a series of sieves, a second was monitoring the particulates left behind and a third was examining the larger pieces of vegetable matter; those than hadn’t yet broken down into compost.

She saw Malcolm on the far side and headed over to him. “You haven’t left any more bodies under there, have you?”

“Don’t!” He held up his hands as if to push her away. “That’s not funny. They’ve questioned me over and over as if I had something to do with it. If they even think there might be another body under there I’ll be heading off to a cell before you can say Jack Robinson.” He grinned suddenly, earning him a sharp glare from one of the uniformed officers. “You haven’t got one under there, have you?”

“Me? Why would I?”

He lowered his voice. “One of your little art projects, maybe. Don’t deny it.” He pressed his index finger to her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me. I know where they all are and I see you opening the graves when you think there’s no-one about, taking photographs and making notes.”

“Malcolm, I–”

“No need to explain. I can be as discreet as the next man for the right incentive.” He tapped his nose.

“The bodies are perfectly legal. None of them have been claimed by families and my photographs of decomposition could make a valuable study on the decay of the human form.”

“It’s all above board, then?”

“Yes. I have the paperwork for the bodies and the cemetery is private property.”

“So you’ve got no qualms about your little project becoming public knowledge?”

“I’d rather it didn’t. There are enough people campaigning for the cryotorium to be closed. A public scandal might well force me to close down altogether.”

“And you wouldn’t be able to sell the land because of the bodies here.” He surveyed the rest of the cemetery. “We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we? I can keep a secret. Grew up in the East End, I did. No end of secrets there. Some I’ll take to the grave.”

“I always thought you were a local man.”

“Nah. I came here a few years ago and settled. A new start and all that.”

“What did you do before? Were you always a blackmailer?”

“The Business of Opportunity, I prefer.” He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “But no, not always, though when opportunities arose I grabbed them with both hands. It’s how you survived when I was a kid. You got dirt on someone and you either extorted money from them or you used it as leverage.”

“Did you kill the old man?”

“His skull was bashed in. If I were going to kill someone, I wouldn’t use a piece of rock. It’s messy and unpredictable. I also wouldn’t have dumped him in my own pile of compost. That’s asking for a whole heap of trouble, pun intended.”

“Perhaps you intended to shift him into an open grave.” Eden wasn’t serious, but Malcolm gave her such a dirty look that she wondered if she’d been closer to the mark than she thought.

“Just leave it, Eden. I’ve done some things in my life I’m not proud of and let’s just say it wouldn’t be the first time I’d silenced a blabbermouth.”

“I see.” Eden took a step to her right and glanced at the police activity. None of them were watching her and drawing their attention to their conversation might have more consequences than she knew. “So how much do you want, then?”