Fifth Son Read Free Page A

him to the crime scene lads for the moment, but I should get him on the table tomorrow morning. He’s got a bloody great crack that smashed half his skull, creating lots of bleeding out through the ears, nose and mouth. He’s lying face down, and the rock beneath his head has blood and hairs all over it. Bad luck, that rock. I’d guess the fall knocked him out, and over the hours the intra cranial bleeding killed him. Just a working theory at the moment, of course.”
    â€œAccidental fall or deliberate?”
    â€œWell, I don’t quite read minds yet, laddie. But if I were in the business, I’d have to say he jumped deliberately.”
    MacPhail’s pockmarked face was deadpan, but the slight twitch at the corner of his lip gave him away. “Why?” Green asked. “Did he trace a suicide note in the dirt beside him?”
    â€œNo, but it’s a wee bit difficult to fall off a tower that has a three-foot stone parapet all around the top.”
    Green glanced up at the tower, noting the thick wall around the top. “But I understand some of the wall gave way.”
    â€œIt would still be quite a feat to fall off, unless of course the man was walking along the top, high on something. I’ll do the usual tox screen for mind-altering substances.”
    â€œStill,” Green persisted, “he could have been pushed.”
    MacPhail shrugged. “That’s a job for your lads, I just get the body. However, I don’t see any evidence of it. No defensive wounds, no scrapes on the hands. If someone was trying to force him up over that wall, I’d expect him to be grabbing what he could.”
    Including his assailant, Green thought, but knew better than to tell MacPhail how to do his job. The pathologist would tell him soon enough whether there was tissue under the fingernails. “What’s your estimated time of death?” he asked instead.
    â€œWhen he was found at eight this morning, rigor was developing in his legs and feet. It’s just dissipating now. Normally, that takes about twelve hours, but on a cold night like last night, that process would be slowed down. Body temp readings have the same problem in reverse. At first guess, I’d say some time last evening between four and midnight. But he might have taken several hours to die, so that doesn’t help you much. I’ll have to get inside him to see what the damage was.”
    Green glanced at Sullivan, but before he could even open his mouth to issue the order, Sullivan gave a curt nod. “Ident gave us a description and some shots of the body. The fall made a mess of half his face, but Cunny’s going to pull one of his digital miracles, so soon we’ll have a facial photo. But I’ve already got a street canvass in progress to see if anyone saw anything yesterday.”
    Green held his tongue. He knew Sullivan was a capable investigator who hated it when Green single-mindedly ran roughshod over his case. Instead, Green nodded his agreement. “Anything turn up yet?”
    â€œNo one saw the man. Or at least no one’s admitted seeing him. But he’s a stranger around here, and sometimes these small villages don’t want to get involved.” As if sensing Green’s protest, he raised his hand. “I’ll go over the ground again later myself. Turn on the Ottawa Valley charm.”
    Across the way, Green studied the villagers lingering near the scene. At this time on a regular workday, they were mostly old timers, who probably longed for the good old days when the village was served by a couple of friendly local boys from the Ontario Provincial Police detachment in Kemptville. To the old timers, Major Crimes detectives from the city would seem like alien voyeurs.
    Not so to the children, who had grown up with TV crime shows and would probably be thrilled to be talking to real live cops. Once the children returned from school later in the day, Sullivan and