Necessary as Blood

that no one sensible would have had to ask.
    ‘Thanks,‘ Kincaid said, shrugging as he went on. Suddenly, he caught the distinctive smell that had been masked by the cold — decay compounded by chemicals — and he heard Cullen‘s voice. Then, when he reached the office, he saw that the passing consultant might have been referring to the office itself rather than Kincaid‘s navigational abilities.
    Books covered the shelves, made towers on the floor and overflowed the surface of the desk, where a computer monitor looked as if it were fighting for its life. File boxes were interspersed with the books, and the only visible spot on the wall was covered with an intricate bit of graffiti art. There were no chairs other than the one behind the desk.
    Louise Phillips‘s office sprang to Kincaid‘s mind, but while her clutter had seemed indicative of carelessness, this room somehow conveyed enthusiasm, as if its occupant‘s interests had overruled the limits of the physical space.
    The voice he‘d heard responding to Cullen‘s was male, with a cut-glass accent, and now seemed to be coming from beneath the desk. ‘Bloody printer‘s jammed.‘ There was a thump, then a whir, followed by an exclamation of satisfaction. ‘Kicking it sometimes helps. I love technology.‘
    A man emerged, holding a sheaf of papers victoriously aloft. Kincaid grinned. No wonder Coat-and-Tie had radiated disapproval. For if this was Dr Kaleem, the pathologist was at the very least a sartorial nonconformist. He wore a faded, rock-band T-shirt; tattered jeans; and his blue-black hair was gelled into spikes. He was also, as Gemma had curiously failed to mention, extraordinarily good-looking.
    ‘Rashid Kaleem,‘ he confirmed, transferring the papers to his left hand and reaching across the desk to shake Kincaid‘s right. ‘You must be Superintendent Kincaid. Sergeant Cullen here has been telling me you‘re taking over from DI Weller.‘ He glanced round, as if thinking of asking them to sit, then propped himself on a corner of his desk, pushing a stack of books precariously aside as he did so.
    ‘I was telling Sergeant Cullen,‘ Kaleem continued, ‘that I managed to rush the tox scans. I was curious about this case.‘ He tapped a page. ‘Your victim was loaded with Valium, which was not too surprising.‘
    ‘Then he did commit suicide,‘ said Cullen, sounding almost disappointed.
    ‘No, wait.‘ Kaleem waved the papers at them. ‘That‘s not all. I found ketamine as well, and while the high concentration of the two drugs could certainly prove fatal, it‘s an unlikely suicide cocktail.‘
    Kincaid stared at him. ‘What the hell was Naz Malik doing with ketamine in his system?‘ The veterinary tranquillizer was cheap and popular as a street drug, and made veterinary clinics obvious targets for robbery.
    ‘It‘s possible he might have taken the Valium, valid prescription or not, and bought the ketamine off a street dealer to boost the high. In which case, he might have died from an accidental overdose,‘ said Kaleem. ‘But you don‘t think so.‘
    ‘No. This guy would have been out of it. It‘s like I told the old... It‘s like I told DI Weller. I don‘t believe the victim could have got himself into the park in his condition, and there was no evidence indicating that he took pills or used a needle on the site. Nor did I find any puncture marks on the body. So my guess is that somebody walked him, or half-carried him, to the spot where he was found. And then there‘s the head.‘
    Kincaid frowned. ‘What about it? There was no evidence of trauma.‘
    ‘I explained to the DI from Notting Hill...‘ Kaleem paused, a little smile turning up the corners of his mouth, as if he was remembering something pleasant. ‘People don‘t just fall with their noses in the dirt.‘ All trace of amusement vanished, and Kaleem‘s handsome face hardened. ‘I think he was helpless. I think someone held his head in that position, with his breathing compromised, and waited for him to suffocate. And that is very, very nasty indeed.‘

    ‘Why haven‘t I met you before?‘ Kincaid asked, when they had gone over the rest of the report with Kaleem.
    ‘I worked the Midlands for almost eight years. I‘ve only been back in London about ten months, although I grew up here, in Bethnal Green. The prodigal returns, and all that.‘
    The pathologist must be older than he looked, Kincaid surmised. But he was, as Gemma had been, impressed