High Moor 2: Moonstruck Read Free Page B

foul.
    A door swung open, and his assistant, Susan Turnbull, stepped into the corridor. She already wore her hospital scrubs, ready for the afternoon’s procedure.
    “How was lunch, Henry? Did they manage to come up with something edible today?”
    He shook his head. “Not even close. It was the hotpot again, but I have no idea what meat they put in it. If it was lamb like they claim, the poor thing must have had something very wrong with it. Are we set for this afternoon?”
    Susan nodded. “Jenkins brought the body down from the morgue about ten minutes ago. It’s still bagged up, so I’ve not had a chance to see how bad it is yet,” she winked at him, “I thought I’d save the honours for you.”
    He groaned. “You’re too kind. I’ll go scrub up, and meet you in the lab. Don’t start without me.”
    Susan smiled sweetly at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Henry. I don’t want to deprive you of all the fun.”
    Five minutes later, Henry entered the pathology lab. The black body bag rested on the metal table in the centre of the room. He sighed, put on a pair of rubber gloves, and waited while Susan turned on the light above the autopsy slab. Steeling himself, he unzipped the bag.
    The corpse was in remarkably good condition. He noted several bites and scratches, but it was nowhere near the horror show that he’d been expecting.
    “So, we have a female. Mid−thirties. Hmm, the police report says the cause of death appeared to be multiple gunshot wounds, but I can’t see any evidence of that, just several contusions that seem to be from an animal attack,”
    Susan pursed her lips in annoyance. “It’ll be that idiot, Jenkins. He’s fucked the paperwork up again. I’m going to put my foot up his arse when we get done here.”
    “Well, never mind that now. Let’s see if we can establish exactly how Miss Williams, if that is her name, really did die. Susan, can you pass me the scalpel?”
    Henry took the blade and pressed it against the dead woman’s stomach. The scalpel sliced through the flesh easily as he opened her up. Blood welled up from the cut.
    “Jesus Christ!”
    Susan looked puzzled. “What’s the matter?”
    “Look, she’s bleeding! Dead bodies don’t bleed. This is a living person. Get a crash team down here now, and tell intensive care to get ready to receive a patient, while I sew this incision closed. Then tell that cretin Jenkins that I’d like a word with him in my office.”
    ***
    15th November 2008. High Moor Police Station. 16.25.
    The door to the interview room swung open, disgorging the two police officers into the corridor.
    Olivia turned to her boss. “Well, that was quite a story, wasn’t it? Do you believe any of it?”
    Phil laughed. “What? That he’s a werewolf? Don’t be daft. Mr Simpson should really check his facts. Last night wasn’t even a full moon. He’s taking the piss out of us, and angling for an insanity plea, that’s all.”
    “So what do you think really happened?”
    Phil shook his head. “Damned if I know. Given that most of the casualties were naked, I’d guess that it was some sort of sick, drug−fuelled sex act gone wrong.”
    Olivia grinned. “You think they were dogging?”
    “That’s not funny, Olivia.” He smiled in spite of himself. “OK, maybe a little. I don’t want a word of what he said repeated. There’d be hell to pay if the press got hold of the werewolf angle. Franks would nail both our arses to the wall.”
    “Fair enough. So, what do you think we should do next?”
    “That’s the question, isn’t it? I want you to go to the magistrates and get a search warrant authorised for John Simpson’s house in High Moor and, while you’re at it, get one for the Wilkinson place as well. I want to have forensics teams in both properties by the end of the day.”
    “We might struggle for resources. Do you want to pull one of the teams out of the Harrison house?”
    Phil considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yes,