Read Online Cambridge Blue by Alison Bruce - Free Book Online Page B

visual obstruction to their view of Midsummer Common. Goodhew turned to look at Matt and, for the first time, he saw tears well in the boy’s eyes, and horror sweep across his face as he fought against the indignity of crying.
    Goodhew laid his hand gently on the lad’s shoulder. ‘How old are you, Matt?’
    The boy’s voice trembled. ‘Thirteen, and I’ve never seen a dead person.’
    The corner of the last house loomed, and then the first glimpse of the black metal railings surrounding Midsummer Common slid into view.
    ‘How did you know she was dead?’
    ‘I touched her hand. It felt cold – not like a person.’
    ‘Did you recognize her?’ Goodhew asked quietly.
    Matt shook his head and whispered, ‘No, her head’s in a bag.’

TEN

    As he turned the final corner, Goodhew had no need to ask Matt to point out the body. It was rubbish day, after all, and a bright-blue dustcart stood with its wheels up on the pavement, and an orange warning light blinking from the roof. Three dustmen, two men and a woman, stood in a huddle at the spot Matt had described. A fourth had returned to the cab of their lorry, and Goodhew could see his free arm waving as he shouted into his radio.
    ‘I’m from Cambridge CID. Don’t touch anything,’he shouted and hurried forward, but Matt slowed. ‘Can I go now?’ he asked. Fear filled his eyes and he looked more like a ten-year-old than a teenager.
    ‘Not yet.’ Goodhew pressed the flat of his hand between Matt’s shoulder blades and kept him walking. ‘You won’t need to see the body again, but I do need your help. Is that OK?’ He gave an encouraging smile and Matt nodded.
    The fourth dustman dropped back down from the cab and joined the others. Goodhew stopped a few feet short of the group, and he beckoned the dustwoman over.
    ‘This is Matt. He found the body and he’s a bit upset. Can you stay here with him until another patrol arrives in a few minutes?’
    ‘Do the maternal bit, you mean?’ The woman scowled and straightened her reflective waistcoat.
    Goodhew shrugged. ‘I just think women are more versatile.’
    He guessed he’d just appeared very sexist, and dustmen were probably now known as waste-management operatives, especially since one of them was female.
    He sighed and approached the corpse. Sirens wailed in the distance.
    Strictly speaking, the dead body wasn’t quite on the ground. She lay heaped on top of a makeshift bed of at least a dozen black plastic rubbish sacks piled on the other side of the railings. Two more had been dumped on top of her, covering her torso in some attempt at concealment.
    Some of the sacks were split, with their innards strewn on the grass. A bloodied meat wrapper lay beside the main pile, obviously pilfered by a fox or cat during the night, and now rested directly beneath her outstretched hand.
    Her head was furthest from Goodhew, and concealed in a plastic carrier bag, just as Matt had described, but Goodhew was relieved to find it still attached to the rest of the body. The bag was black and tied at the neck with a length of ribbon-width black cotton. Goodhew leant over the top railing to get as close as he could without actually stepping on the grass. He could see that someone had poked a sizable hole in the bag with their fingers so that air had entered and lifted it away from the dead girl’s face.
    He held the railing with one hand for support, and gently touched the plastic with the other, thus expelling the air so that the bag sank back against the woman’s face. Vein-chased swollen eyes now stared out, and blue lips, drawn back to expose creamy teeth, her tongue still pressed hard against the prominent gap between the middle two.
    Goodhew suddenly thought of the stuffed fox, mounted on the wall in his local pub, all bulgy-eyed and grinning. He suddenly caught a whiff of the meat wrapper, its slick of dried blood releasing the sweet smell of decay.
    He averted his gaze and it fell on to the woman’s palm.