Unlikely Graves (Detective Inspector Paul Amos Mystery series) Read Free

rubbish.’
    Slater cheered up visibly. ‘Best get it over with,’ he responded, ‘then you can get back to your muckraking.’
    Anxious to get smell and slime through the system as quickly as possible, Fletcher had decreed that the post mortem on the body should be given top priority.
    ‘Male, quite a short chap. Only about five foot six. Quite slim so he was probably in good trim. Fitness freak, perhaps. Hard to say how long he’s been dead. Most of the flesh has rotted. Good head of jet black hair though. Probably early 20s.’
    A few further moments of cursory examination produced more thoughts: ‘No signs of any sporting injuries to identify him by. The skull and ribcage have caved in but that could be the sheer weight of debris piling up on top of him.’
    ‘How about teeth?’ Amos asked.
    ‘No chance of identifying him from his dental record,’ Slater intoned, the gloomy mood gradually assuming ascendancy again. ‘Perfect set of beautifully formed teeth. Not a sign of any dental work. He may not have visited a dentist in his life.’
    ‘In fact,’ Slater added, ‘he was probably a strikingly handsome young man. Try asking around the 30 somethings in the district. Should be quite a few women out there who will remember him.’
    ‘In that case we shall have to rely on the remains of the rubbish to try to narrow it down,’ Amos said woefully. There was something about Slater’s misery that was catching.
    ‘Ah well,’ replied Slater, brightening once more. ‘Always someone worse off than yourself. Always someone. Wash your hands well on the way out.’

 
     
    Chapter 4
     
    The small mountain of rubbish that Amos had considered sufficient to remove from the refuse tip was not allowed anywhere near police headquarters. Amos had been allocated a derelict hut, courtesy of East Lindsey District Council, on condition that in return for the free loan of an unused asset the police would reciprocate by allowing dumping to resume before the day was out.
    Det Sgt Juliet Swift was in charge, ambition overriding her distaste for the project. A mountain of empty black bags had also been conveniently provided by the council. These had been left over when East Lindsey moved on to wheelie bins. Rubber protective gloves had to come out of the police budget.
    Swift had managed to secure two uniformed constables to help: her friend Jane Wyman, a stunning beauty with looks to match her film star name and who seemed like a rose among the thorns shifting rubbish in a tip of a building; and John Lowe, the officer who had walked the perimeter earlier that day and who was keen to switch to CID.
    ‘We’re separating out papers and clothing as you asked,’ Swift said by way of greeting as Amos arrived just after midday. ‘Plenty of the former, hardly any of the latter.’
    Amos put on a pair of gloves and flicked through the clothing remnants. ‘Nothing to fit a slim, five foot six Adonis,’ he opined. ‘That’s our victim, by the way. Not much to go on.’
    Turning to Lowe, he asked: ‘John, we got interrupted yesterday so I didn’t get chance to ask you how secure the perimeter looked.’
    ‘Not very,’ came the reply. ‘There were several places, including one just beyond the trees, where intruders could get in. The wire fencing had rusted through in places and pegs where it was staked into the ground had been pulled up. There’s no doubt that someone could have got in and dumped the body.’
    Amos thought for a few moments as he sorted through various envelopes that featured among the paper. The addresses on them were scattered across Louth but came predominantly from the eastern half, particularly from East Street.
    ‘Nonetheless,’ he finally said, ‘I think we should work on the basis that this body came in with a regular collection of rubbish. It would be difficult to drag it in and bury it in the tip.  We’ll keep an open mind about it but the addresses from around the body are our best hope of