The Investigation Read Free

Anyway, the body disappeared before dawn. We were able to pinpoint the time because around three o’clock that morning a certain Burton died. His sister—he lived with a sister—was so afraid to stay alone with the deceased in the same apartment that she woke up the local undertaker. The body was delivered to the funeral home at exactly three in the morning. Two employees put it next to the stevedore’s body…”
    “You were going to say something?” asked the Chief Inspector.
    Farquart bit his mustache.
    “No…” he said after a moment.
    The steady drone of airplane engines could be heard outside the building. Overhead, an unseen airplane flew past on its way southward. The windowpanes rattled in quiet unison.
    “That is,” Farquart added with an air of decision, “in arranging the newly delivered body, one of the employees moved the stevedore’s body because it was in his way. Well … he claims it wasn’t cold.”
    “Hmm,” the Chief Inspector murmured, as if commenting on the most ordinary thing in the world. “It wasn’t cold? And how did he explain it? What were his exact words?”
    “He said it wasn’t cold,” Farquart spoke reluctantly, pausing between words. “I know it sounds idiotic … ridiculous, but he insists on it. He claims he mentioned it at the time, but the other employee doesn’t remember a thing. Gregory questioned both of them separately, twice…”
    The Chief Inspector, without saying a word, turned to the lieutenant.
    “Well … uh … he talks too much. Not reliable at all,” Gregory explained quickly. “At least that’s my impression. He’s one of those clowns who will do anything to get some attention, ready to give you his version of the history of the world at the drop of a hat. He insisted it was a trance or ‘something worse’—those are his words. Frankly, he surprised me. People who work professionally with corpses usually don’t believe in trances—it goes against their experience.”
    “What do the doctors say?”
    Gregory was silent, yielding the floor to Farquart. Apparently unhappy that such a minor matter was receiving so much attention, Farquart shrugged his shoulders.
    “The stevedore died the day before. Signs of rigor mortis were clearly evident… He was as dead as a doornail.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Yes. Like all the other missing bodies, he was dressed for burial. The only body that wasn’t dressed was Trayle’s—the one that disappeared in Treakhill. The undertaker was supposed to dress him the following day because the family didn’t want to give him any clothing at first. That is, they took the clothing away after the body was brought in. When they came back with different clothing the body wasn’t there anymore…”
    “What about the other incidents?”
    “The body of the woman with the cancer operation was dressed also.”
    “How?”
    “Well … in a dress.”
    “What about shoes?” the Chief Inspector asked, his voice so soft that Gregory had to lean forward to hear him.
    “Yes, shoes also.”
    “And the last one?”
    “The last one… Well, it wasn’t dressed, but a black cloth disappeared from the mortuary at the same time, or so it seems. The cloth was used to close off a small alcove. It was attached to a curtain rod by some small metal rings. There were still a few shreds of material on the rings.”
    “Was it torn?”
    “No, the rod is so thin that it would have snapped if anyone had given it a good pull. The shreds—”
    “Did you try to break the rod?”
    “No.”
    “Then how do you know it would have snapped?”
    “Well, by sight…”
    The Chief Inspector asked these questions quietly, staring at the reflection of the window in the glass door of a cabinet; he acted as if distracted by something else, but he shot out his questions so rapidly that Farquart could hardly keep up with him.
    “Good,” the Chief Inspector concluded. “Were the shreds examined?”
    “Yes. Dr. Sorensen…”
    The medical