Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

nod.
    ‘Morning. He’s in there. They only pulled him out of the water about half an hour ago, poor old sod. It’s a bad business alright, leastways for him. The pathologist’s with him now.’
    Geraldine returned his greeting with a perfunctory ‘Good morning constable,’ and hurried on towards the tent, reassured to learn that the victim wasn’t their missing female witness.

     
    Her fingers numb with cold, she fumbled as she donned her contamination suit, white face mask and blue gloves. Finally she approached the opening to the tent. Pausing outside to pull on her overshoes, she ducked her head to enter and blinked in the bright artificial lighting that had been rigged up inside. The dead body was lying on the ground, half concealed by the pathologist who was kneeling beside it, gently probing discoloured flesh with delicate gloved fingers. The victim’s drenched coat, shirt and vest had been neatly ripped open to reveal his mottled wrinkled skin. Gazing down at the dead man’s flesh, Geraldine felt like a voyeur intruding on an intensely private scene. The body was childlike; pitiful.

     
    The pathologist twisted round on his heels and she recognised Miles Fellows. He smiled wearily up at her before clambering to his feet to tower over her.
    ‘Hi there, Geraldine.’
    She nodded wordlessly, caught up in the suppressed excitement of her first viewing of a victim. She tried to focus on a factual analysis of the data in front of her, but was unable to distance herself from an instinctive response to the raw presence of death, as though her emotional reaction to George’s corpse had relaxed the self-control she had previously shown in similar situations.

     
    Grey and shrivelled, the body looked shrunken, almost impossibly small, like a wizened child.
    ‘Did he drown?’ she asked, wondering why her presence had been requested at the scene.
    ‘I don’t think so. I can’t be sure until I’ve had a chance to examine his lungs but I’d say he was dead when he fell in the water.’
    ‘Did he fall or could he have been pushed?’ Geraldine enquired automatically, although she was still puzzled as to why she had been summoned.
    Miles heaved a loud sigh.
    ‘It’s impossible to say how he ended up in the water. But I can tell you he’s been in the water all night.’
    ‘How many hours are we talking about, exactly?’
    ‘I’d say he’s been in the water for at least twelve hours.’
    ‘Since yesterday evening then?’
    ‘Sometime yesterday evening, yes.’
    Geraldine took a step closer, her eyes fixed on the dead man.
    ‘So if he didn’t drown, how did he die?’
    But she already knew the answer.

     
    Miles pointed at a large purple area of bruising on the dead man’s left temple surrounding a deep laceration.
    ‘He was hit on the side of the head, here.’
    ‘The skin’s broken. Could he have knocked himself when he fell in the water?’ Geraldine asked, as a matter of form.
    She didn’t need Miles to point out the nasty mash of bloodless flesh where the victim’s genitals should have been.
    ‘What about DNA?’ she asked. ‘Is there any sign of female DNA on this body?’

     
    Miles shook his head.
    ‘There’s no evidence of any contact, as far as I can tell. The water’s affected him of course, but apart from the injuries to his head and genitals, he looks reasonably intact.’
    Looking down at the withered and bloated corpse, Geraldine wasn’t sure she would have chosen those words to describe the body.
    ‘I might find something more for you when I get a proper look at him, but he doesn’t appear to have put up much of a struggle. I’d guess he was taken by surprise. The killer’s been more careful this time.’

     
    Geraldine stared down at the dead man. Even with swollen features and distended torso, the body was still recognisably that of an old man. He appeared to have been small and although it was difficult to tell, he gave an impression of frailty.
    ‘Maybe this victim was just easier to deal with,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t look like he would’ve put up much resistance.’
    ‘Yes, the joints are severely arthritic and he wasn’t exactly what you’d call robust.’
    He pointed to the victim’s spindly legs.
    ‘He would have been easy to overpower.’

     
    Having seen more cadavers than she could readily call to mind, Geraldine was taken aback to feel her eyes begin to water. She couldn’t help wondering whether the dead old man had a wife and children,