The Dark Room by Minette Walters Page A

chaps, I don’t earn enough to make it worth my children’s while. A little kudos now and then for
getting it right, that’s my only real satisfaction for all the hours I put in on your behalf. Look for the bloodstains. Your individual, or more likely your duo or trio, will have had
quantities of bright red haemoglobin splattered across their fronts. Someone, somewhere will have seen it and said: Ah!’
    ‘Assuming Joe Public notices anything beyond his stomach and his prick,’ said Maddocks sourly.
    ‘All being well,’ went on Clarke, opening the door, ‘I should be able to pin-point their ages a little better for you by the end of the day, probably get some
usable fingerprints and, in addition, tell you if the woman has ever given birth.’ He ushered them into the corridor. ‘But first I’ll have to unzip those charming bags. Care to
lend a hand, any of you?’ He was chortling to himself as he headed for the lab.
    ‘He’s a miserable old fraud,’ said Superintendent Cheever to the others. ‘He earns twice as much as I do and puts in half the hours.’
    The smell of death issued from the lab as the pathologist opened the door and went inside.
    ‘I suppose you noticed,’ said Maddocks, grinning at his boss while nodding towards the young sergeant, whose face had taken on an unhealthy hue under its thatch of blond
hair, ‘that the good doctor ate his biscuits without washing his hands.’
    Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – midday.
    Jinx was standing in her bay window, leaning against the back of a chair for support. She was aware of the ginger head poked around her door for a long time before she said
anything. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ she said finally to the pane of glass in front of her.
    ‘You talking to me?’
    ‘There’s no one else here.’
    Matthew eased his thin frame through the gap in the door and joined her in her study of the garden. He found it impossible to stand still for very long and, out of the corner of her
eye, she watched his nervous twitching with amusement. God, he was unattractive.
    ‘Are you religious?’ he asked bluntly.
    ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘You had a vicar in here yesterday. Thought you might be one of the God squad.’
    She flicked him a sideways glance, saw he was busy picking at the spots on his chin, and resumed her own scrutiny of the sunlit lawn and the people on it. ‘He’s the
brother of a friend of mine. Came to see how I was. Nothing more sinister than that.’
    He gestured towards a man on the right. ‘See the guy in the checked shirt and blue trousers? Recognize him? Singer with Black Night. Used to shoot smack every two hours. Now
look at him. And the guy next to him. Owns a freight company, but couldn’t do the business unless he downed two bottles of whisky a day. Now he’s dry.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘I’ve done group therapy with them.’
    ‘Did Dr Protheroe ask you to come and see me?’ she asked cynically. ‘Is this group therapy by the back door?’
    ‘Do me a favour. The Doc never asks anyone to do anything, just sits back and rakes in the loot.’ He kicked his toe at the carpet. ‘The way I see it, the less he
does, the longer we’re here, and the better he’s pleased. It’s money for old rope, this lark.’
    ‘He’s obviously doing something right,’ Jinx pointed out, ‘or none of the patients would improve.’
    Matthew ran a shaky hand around his stubble. ‘Just keeps us away from temptation, that’s all. There’s no booze here, no drugs, but my guess is everyone looks for a
hit the minute they leave. I’m sure as hell going to. Jesus, it’s a bloody morgue this place. No excitement, no bloody fun, death by boredom. I’d fix myself now if I could lay my
hands on something.’
    She was suddenly tired of him. ‘Then why don’t you?’
    ‘I just said, there are no drugs on the premises.’
    ‘There must be some. I was offered a sleeping pill last night. Why don’t you dissolve a few and shoot