Fatal Quest Read Free

‘Sorry, Sarge.’
    â€˜Where’s the body?’ Woodend asked.
    â€˜This way. Mind ’ow yer step.’
    Woodend followed the constable over the heaps of rubble which must once – before a Luftwaffe bomb paid it an unwelcome visit – have been part of a substantial building.
    There were thousands of sites like this all around London, because even though the War had been over for five years – and even though there was a desperate housing shortage – the capital city (like Britain as a whole) was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, and simply could not
afford
to rebuild.
    Four men were gathered around the corpse on the ground – three uniformed officers and a civilian whose stethoscope and black bag conveniently identified him as the police doctor. Despite the gagging smog, they were all smoking cigarettes, and Woodend felt his own hand reach automatically in his jacket pocket for his packet of Capstan Full Strength.
    â€˜DS Woodend,’ he told the doctor, as he lit up. ‘What’s the story?’
    â€˜She’s a girl, and she’s dead,’ the doctor replied curtly.
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜I’ll save the details till your guv’nor gets here, because there’s no point in me saying everything twice, now is there?’
    â€˜My guv’nor won’t be comin’,’ Woodend told him.
    â€˜A bit too damp for him, is it?’ the doctor asked.
    â€˜Somethin’ like that,’ Woodend agreed.
    Although what DCI Bentley had actually
said
, when Woodend had phoned him at home, was, ‘I’ve spent years arsing round this city, cleaning up other people’s shit, Sergeant – and now it’s your turn.’
    â€˜I’ll have a look at the body now, if you don’t mind,’ Woodend said.
    â€˜Be my guest,’ the doctor replied indifferently.
    Woodend knelt down and shone his torch on the girl’s face.
    â€˜Bloody hell!’ he said.
    â€˜Didn’t I mention the fact that she was a nigger?’ asked the doctor innocently, though his tone suggested that Woodend’s obvious surprise was a source of some amusement.
    â€˜No, you didn’t,’ the sergeant replied coldly.
    He objected to the use of the word ‘nigger’ on principle and, in fact, though she had black curly hair and a broad nose, this girl was not particularly dark at all.
    â€˜I don’t expect you’ve got many niggers up Norf, Sarge,’ one of the constables said.
    â€˜I’d like you to refer to her as “coloured”, if you don’t mind,’ Woodend told him.
    â€˜Oh, come on, Sarge, what’s the harm?’ the constable asked. ‘It’s not as if she can hear me, is it?’
    â€˜An’, in case I didn’t make myself clear, I’d like you to refer to her as “coloured” even if you
do
mind,’ Woodend said, with an edge to his voice.
    â€˜Fair enough,’ the constable replied sulkily.
    He’d been right about one thing, though, Woodend thought – there
were
no coloured people in Lancashire, and the first time he’d ever seen a black face, it was in London.
    â€˜Cause of death is a slit throat,’ the doctor said.
    â€˜I’m no medical man, but I think I might have been able to work that out for myself, even if you hadn’t been here,’ Woodend replied, shining his torch on the violent gash beneath the girl’s delicate chin.
    â€˜Do you think she was on the game?’ the doctor wondered.
    â€˜It’s possible,’ Woodend said cautiously.
    â€˜Wouldn’t be the first time a prostitute’s met a sticky end in London, would it, though?’ the doctor asked jovially. ‘Shades of Jack the Ripper, eh?’
    â€˜Not you as well!’ Woodend growled.
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Can’t you show a little respect for the dead, for Christ’s sake!’
    The doctor shrugged. ‘You see a