I Hear the Sirens in the Street Read Online Free Page A

Room and knocked on the door.
    â€œWho is it?” she asked.
    â€œDI Duffy, DC McCrabban,” I said.
    â€œCome in.”
    Familiar smells. Bright overhead lights. Stainless steel bowls filled with intestines and internal organs. Glittering precision instruments laid out in neat rows. And the star of the show: ourold friend from yesterday lying on a gurney.
    Laura’s face was behind a mask, which I couldn’t help thinking was wonderfully metaphoric.
    â€œGood morning, gentlemen,” she said.
    â€œGood morning, Dr Cathcart,” Crabbie uttered automatically.
    â€œHi,” I replied cheerfully.
    Our eyes met.
    She held my look for a couple of seconds and then smiled under the mask.
    It was hard to tell but it didn’t seem to be the look of a woman who was leaving you for another man.
    â€œSo, what can you tell us about our victim, Dr Cathcart?” I asked.
    She picked up her clipboard. “He was a white male, about sixty, with grey, canescent hair. He was tall, six four or maybe six five. He had a healed scar on his left buttock consistent with a severe trauma, possibly a car accident, or given his age, a shrapnel wound. There was a tattoo on his back – ‘No Sacrifice Too Grea’ – which I take to be some kind of motto or Biblical verse. The ‘t’ was missing from ‘Great’ where his skin had adhered to the freezer compartment.”
    â€œFreezer compartment?”
    â€œThe body was frozen for some unspecified period of time. When the body was removed and placed in the suitcase a piece of skin stuck to the freezer, hence the missing ‘t’ in great. I’ve taken photographs of this and they should be developed later today.”
    â€œWhat did you say the tattoo said?” Crabbie asked, flipping open his notebook.
    She shrugged. “A Biblical verse perhaps? ‘No Sacrifice Too Great’.”
    I looked at Crabbie. He shook his head. He had no idea either.
    â€œGo on, Doctor,” I said.
    â€œThe victim’s head, arms and legs were removed post mortem.He had also been circumcised, but this had been done at birth.”
    She paused and stared at me again.
    â€œCause of death?” I asked.
    â€œThat, Detective Inspector, is where we get into the really interesting stuff.”
    â€œIt’s been interesting already,” Crabbie said.
    â€œPlease continue, Dr Cathcart.”
    â€œIt was a homicide or perhaps a suicide; either way, it was death by misadventure. The victim was poisoned.”
    â€œPoisoned?” Crabbie and I said together.
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Crabbie said.
    â€œQuite sure. It was an extremely rare and deadly poison known as Abrin.”
    â€œNever heard of it,” I said.
    â€œNevertheless, that’s what it was. I found Abrin particles in his larynx and oesophagus, and the haemorrhaging of his lungs leaves little doubt,” Laura continued.
    â€œIs it a type of rat poison or something?” I asked.
    â€œNo, much rarer than that. Abrin is a natural toxin found in the rosary pea. Of course it would need to be refined and milled. The advantage over rat poison would be in its complete lack of taste. Like I say it is very unusual but I’m quite certain of my findings … I did the toxicology myself.”
    â€œSorry to be dense, but what’s a rosary pea?” I asked.
    â€œThe common name for the jequirity plant endemic to Trinidad and Tobago, but I think it’s originally from South-east Asia. Extremely rare in these parts, I had to look it up.”
    â€œPoisoned … Jesus,” I said.
    â€œShall I continue?” she asked.
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œThe Abrin was taken orally. Possibly with water. Possibly mixed into food. There would have been no taste. Within minutes it would have dissolved in the victim’s stomach and passedinto his blood. It would then have penetrated his cells and very quickly protein