Necessary as Blood

‘ID?‘
    ‘Wallet was accessible, in his back pocket,‘ he answered.
    Carefully, Gemma moved round to the other side. From what she could see, the victim‘s profile certainly matched the photos she‘d seen of Naz Malik. But something was missing — she looked at the crime-scene techs. ‘Anyone turn up his glasses?‘
    ‘No, not a trace,‘ said a plump woman who wore oversized glasses herself.
    And was the body positioned exactly like this? Nose down in the soil?‘
    ‘Said we were waiting for the bloody pathologist, didn‘t I?‘ Weller sounded tired as well as irritated. ‘Of course we didn‘t move him. And fortunately the jogger had more sense than most.‘
    ‘Was he already dead when he fell, then?‘ Gemma was asking herself as much as Weller.
    ‘Either that or too incapacitated to move. Drugs, maybe,‘ Weller speculated.
    ‘He didn‘t do drugs,‘ Gemma protested. ‘Not according to my friend. Maybe he was ill...‘
    ‘And just managed to break the fence while having a heart attack?‘ Weller didn‘t bother to moderate his sarcasm.
    ‘You can‘t know—‘
    ‘I suspect you are both theorizing in the absence of fact.‘ The voice that interrupted Gemma was clipped, precise, and made Weller jump.
    Glancing up, Gemma saw that a man had come up behind Weller. He was Asian, thirtyish, with skin slightly darker than Naz Malik‘s. His short, jet-black hair was gelled into spikes, and he wore frayed jeans and a black T-shirt that said The Rotten Hill Gang on its front. He also carried a pathologist‘s kit.
    ‘Good God, man,‘ said Weller. ‘You want to give me a heart attack?‘
    ‘Maybe you should get your hearing aid checked, Inspector.‘ The man opened his kit and pulled on gloves.
    ‘And you, Rashid — you decide to have a lie-in this morning, or what? We‘ve been waiting more than an hour.‘
    ‘I had another case, in Poplar, and unfortunately, levitating across London is not on my list of accomplishments.‘ The pathologist gave Gemma a speculative look, and she realized that his eyes were not the expected brown, but a dark grey-green. ‘You have a new colleague, Inspector?‘
    Gemma stood, lurching awkwardly on the uneven ground, and spoke before Weller could reply. ‘Gemma James. Detective Inspector, Notting Hill.‘
    ‘Bit off your patch,‘ said the pathologist, looking interested.
    Weller didn‘t offer an explanation. ‘Inspector James, this is Dr Rashid Kaleem, esteemed Home Office pathologist and local wise guy.‘
    There were a dozen or so accredited Home Office pathologists practising in Greater London and the south-east, many of whom Gemma had met in the course of her work both at the Yard and at Notting Hill. But if Kaleem were new to the service, he and Weller appeared to have an established relationship, and in spite of the banter it seemed friendly enough.
    Gemma made way for Kaleem, trying to retrace exactly her steps to the path.
    Kaleem worked efficiently, snapping photos with his own digital camera, murmuring observations into a pocket recorder as he conducted his external examination. He then eased up the tail of Naz Malik‘s polo shirt to insert his temperature probe, and Gemma looked away from the sight of Malik‘s exposed back. It was somehow worse than blood or a wound, that expanse of smooth, bare skin.
    A shaft of sunlight penetrated the trees, burning Gemma‘s bare shoulder, and she realized she had forgotten to put on sunscreen. Shifting position slightly, she watched as Kaleem took more close-ups of Malik‘s head. Then, without asking for help, he gently turned the body over.
    ‘Lividity is fixed,‘ he said. ‘I don‘t think he was moved. What time was he last seen yesterday?‘
    When Weller looked at Gemma, she answered, ‘He left his house around two yesterday afternoon. That‘s the last confirmed report.‘
    Kaleem shook his head. ‘Rigor mortis is still fully developed. There are other factors, of course, but in this heat, if he‘d been dead almost twenty-four hours, I‘d expect it to be passing off.‘
    ‘If he died before sunset, it‘s likely someone would have seen the body last night,‘ Weller said, frowning. ‘Although the park stays open till half-past nine this time of year, so it would have been fully dark by closing . .
    ‘He might have been here for some time before he died — perhaps between the park closing and the early hours of the morning.‘ Kaleem put the last of his things into his kit and stood up.