Once at the mortuary, Anna and Barolli lost no time in finding the head mortician, who showed them the freezer in which the unidentified body was held. Anna told him that the body was believed to be Samuel Peters, a Jamaican citizen visiting the UK at the time of his death, upon which the mortician wrote the information on the wipe board with a question mark beside it.
‘Dropped dead in the street from a heart attack. It’s nice to finally have a name. He – sorry, Samuel – was due for a pauper’s grave this week so you’re a bit lucky. He’s as stiff as a Christmas turkey at the moment. If I’d known you were coming I’d have got him out of the freezer so he could thaw out.’
Anna asked where the clothing and property that was taken from Samuel was, and the mortician said it was in the storeroom and once he’d got the body out he’d go and get it. Using a hydraulic trolley-lift table he removed the body from the middle shelf of the freezer and pulled back part of the white shroud that covered the face. The black skin had a light covering of ice on it, most notably round the eyebrows. The mortician pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave Samuel’s face a quick wipe-down, making the features more visible.
‘Best not touch him; those dreadlocks snap off like icicles when they’re frozen. Is it the same Samuel you were looking for?’ he asked.
Anna looked at the body and said she believed it was, but a further forensic post mortem would need to be done. She suddenly felt the presence of someone stood behind her before hearing them speak.
‘Well I can tell yer now, like, I won’t be bloody doing it again. Already said cause of death was heart attack so case closed.’
Anna immediately recognized the voice as that of the objectionable Dr Harrow. Turning to face him, she found he had a cup of tea in one hand and the inevitable biscuit in the other.
Anna was not in the mood to put up with the man or his facetious remarks. ‘You’re quite right, Dr Harrow, you won’t be doing another post mortem. I will be calling upon the services of another pathologist.’
‘Yer can’t do that, I’ve done me report and Coroner has accepted it.’
‘Oh, yes, I can, and I will be informing the Coroner that this man was probably poisoned with atropine.’
The dishevelled doctor glared at Anna. ‘Atropine! Well there’s no way I could have known that, is there? I sent his blood off for toxicology!’
‘I appreciate that, Dr Harrow, but I have read of poisoning cases where the pathologist suspected something was amiss, simply due to skin rash and dilated pupils. I don’t suppose you looked for either, did you?’ Anna asked, facing him down. She had not liked him previously and now she felt even more distaste, as the biscuit crumbs scattered over his white overall like dandruff.
Harrow’s face looked like a mass of blood vessels that were about to burst.
‘How dare you insinuate that I have not done my job in a professional manner? I’ve bloody years of experience.’
‘I am very aware that you have, Dr Harrow, but do not go anywhere near Samuel Peters’ body, because if you do I may find myself having to arrest you for interfering with an investigation,’ Anna said.
Harrow gasped, but said nothing and stormed off.
‘Was that true about the skin rash and pupils?’ Barolli asked.
‘As symptoms of atropine poisoning, yes, but the bit about the pathologist suspecting it, I haven’t read it anywhere,’ she admitted.
‘You sly thing, I bet he’s in his office right now searching it on the Internet,’ Barolli said.
Anna remembered the mnemonic Blane had used.
‘They say atropine makes you hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet, and mad as a hatter.’
At first, Barolli didn’t make the connection. Anna tilted her head and grinned, then it dawned on him.
‘It wasn’t the bloody chicken! Holy shit, I could have dropped down dead.’
‘I suspect it was the spiced rum. Marisha didn’t know it was in there when she poured some into your coffee. Looks like she unwittingly drank some herself – that’s why she was odd in the interview with you and Dewar and had a heart attack.’
Barolli closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Oh, no, I knew I shouldn’t have done it…’
‘Don’t look so worried – you weren’t to know.’
‘No, not the poison. I told the council hygiene officers to raid the chicken place and shut it down.’
Anna tried but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud.
At that moment the mortician returned with a cardboard box that contained Samuel’s belongings and Anna put on some protective gloves so she could look through them. The clothes were folded neatly and on top of them sat a large key ring with six keys attached in sets of two.
‘I bet these will be for Marisha’s, Esme’s and Josh Reynolds’ flats,’ Anna muttered. She picked up a black donkey jacket and started to check through the pockets, even though the mortician assured her that he’d already searched it. Politely insisting she’d like to check again as sometimes things got missed, she placed the coat down on a nearby table, opened it out and started to pat her hands all over the lining. Suddenly she felt a small bump and traced the tip of her finger over the shiny material to get a better feel.
‘Something’s in here,’ Anna said as she put her hand into the inside pocket and found that it had a deliberate scissor cut in it. She could feel some loose paper and, on pulling it out from the pocket, saw that it was five sheets of A4 paper stapled together. They were folded so that the fifth page was outermost, which was covered in something that resembled blood spatter.
‘I think this may have been on the sofa beside Josh when he was shot. It’s the right size to fit the void that Pete Jenkins spoke about.’
She read the top page, and then looked at Barolli.
‘It’s Aisa Alleyne’s birth certificate.’
‘What are the other pages?’ Barolli asked.
Anna told him that they were birth and marriage certificates that Samuel had ordered online and probably used to blackmail Gloria. As she spoke she flicked each page over so Barolli could see whom they referred to.
‘My God, this is dynamite, but how on earth did you know?’ He was so impressed he took a step back, shaking his head.
‘A colleague of one of the tutors at Quantico made some discreet enquiries in Jamaica, and sent me copies,’ Anna said diplomatically.
She placed the certificates in a plastic property bag that the mortician gave her. ‘Let’s take this up to the lab so Pete Jenkins can get to work on a DNA profile of the blood.’
As soon as she got to the lab, Anna gave Pete Jenkins a hug and a kiss to thank him for all his hard work. Pete laughed and she asked him what was so funny, so he told her that after her second call the previous evening he had commented to his wife that Anna was so worked up about the Reynolds case that it wouldn’t surprise him if she jumped on a plane and came home.
‘I found these in the lining of Samuel’s coat,’ Anna said, handing him the plastic bag containing the certificates. ‘Look at the direction of the blood – could this be what caused the void on Josh’s sofa?’
Pete held the certificates up. ‘On a first glance, yes, it could, but obviously I’ll need to examine it closer, plus there’s DNA and fingerprint work to do.’
‘Did you manage to get a set of Samuel Peters’ fingerprints from the Border Agency?’
‘Yes, and I compared them to the set taken from the unidentified body at Fulham mortuary and they matched.’ He handed Anna a copy of Samuel’s visa application photograph and she confirmed it was the body they had just seen in the mortuary.
‘Okay, you’d better come on through,’ Pete said, handing Anna and Barolli lab coats and protective gloves to wear before leading them into the working area. Items of property were laid out on sheets of white lab paper. As they moved along the table Pete pointed to each one and gave them a run-down on the forensic results.