Murder of a Dead Man by Katherine John Page A

hope.’
    ‘Forensic reports came in.’ Bill waved a sheaf of paper at his office door and they followed him inside.
    ‘Did they get any prints off the hands?’ Trevor asked.
    ‘They’re working on them. Trying a new technique, but nothing useable has come of it so far.
    They did come up with a set of smudges and a beautiful set of clear prints from the bottle.’
    ‘Smudges as in gloves?’ Dan questioned.
    ‘As in gloves,’ Bill agreed. ‘Looks like it was handled by two people. The prints are being checked through the computer now. They’re also running the boot past manufacturers, but even if they track down the maker I’ve a feeling it’s not going to be that useful. We’ve circulated the charity shops with a description in the hope that someone will remember selling them.’
    ‘He could have picked them up directly from the hostel or a clothing skip.’
    ‘I’m aware of that, Trevor,’ Bill said irritably.
    ‘I’m also aware that the press are having a field day.’ He pushed a newspaper across his desk. The headlines were three inches high. “WHO CARES?”
    ‘According to that, not the police. There’s a graphic description of lingering death by burning, screams, and us not trying very hard.’
    ‘Looks about par for the course to me.’ Dan slid the paper back to Bill.
    ‘Upstairs isn’t happy.’
    Trevor crossed his arms and leaned against the door. In his experience upstairs was never happy.
    And the pressure always came with the impossible cases. He’d never heard of an officer receiving a pat on the back for solving a case quickly, but they always got a kick in the rear for some reporter’s vivid imagination.
    ‘I’ll get back to you after we’ve spoken to Patrick, Bill.’ Dan went to the door.
    ‘Where are Peter and Anna?’
    ‘Checking out the phone ins on the victim’s identity.’
    ‘The dead man?’ Mulcahy said. ‘Surely you’re not wasting time on that?’
    ‘We’ve had no other positive I.D.’
    ‘It could be a relative,’ Trevor suggested.
    ‘Keep me informed.’
    ‘We will, sir.’ Dan led the way out.
     
    ‘I thought you’d be round this morning.’ Patrick delved into the abdominal cavity of the corpse laid out before him and snipped. Moments later he lifted out a liver.
    ‘Found anything else in our burn victim?’ Dan asked.
    ‘Alcohol in the bloodstream. There was enough left in the foot to test.’
    ‘High?’
    ‘Yes, but the reading we took can’t be taken as gospel. Some blood sugars turn to alcohol after death.’
    ‘Given that we found a whisky bottle nearby, was there enough to assume he was drunk?’
    ‘Double the drink-drive limit.’
    ‘Forensic found one set of prints and a few smudges on the whisky bottle.’
    ‘Someone wore gloves?’ Patrick looked up in interest.
    ‘Could be, if the bottle is connected to the case.’
    ‘I came across a couple of other things that might interest you.’ Patrick dumped the liver into a tray and handed it to his assistant. ‘Freeze, then slice for cross sections.’
    ‘Nice job,’ Dan commented.
    ‘Evidence in an industrial compensation case.’
    Patrick pulled off his gloves, binned them, and put on a fresh pair before walking to the bank of drawers against the far wall. He pulled out the one that held the charred remains of the victim. He picked up the piece of cheekbone with the shreds of flesh clinging to it, and another sliver which resembled a slice of dried bark. ‘This is, or rather was, facial skin. We peeled it off the kneecap.
    Under the microscope we found a series of slashes running across it.’
    ‘Like a skinning?’ Trevor suggested.
    ‘Not like a skinning at all. Some of these slashes can be matched with cuts in the skull.
    Whoever did this cut the face to ribbons. Even if the victim hadn’t been burned, I think identification would have been pretty difficult.’
    Dan looked up from the notes he was making.
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘Some people are never