Read Online HS03 - A Visible Darkness by Michael Gregorio - Free Book Online Page B

joints.
    ‘
Rigor
makes the joints stiff,’ I murmured. ‘So far, she appears to be uninjured.’
    Placing one hand over the other, I pressed down hard at various points along both sides of her ribcage, then over the sternum and the breastbone.
    No sounds came at all.
    ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Apart from the visible damage to her face.’
    The colonel watched suspiciously as I removed my gloves and reached for my shoulder-bag. I took out my drawing-album, and released a piece of graphite from the narrow silver tube that Helena had given me several years before for my birthday.
    ‘What now?’ he asked.
    ‘I want to sketch her,’ I said. ‘The corpse will rot. She must be buried soon.’
    ‘What’s the point? Will anyone want a picture to recall her by? In this state . . .’
    ‘The sketch is for my own use,’ I explained. ‘I will need to remember her as she is. Professor Kant . . . my
maestro
maintained that the exact physical details of every crime are revealing, especially if comparisons are called for. There may be others . . .’
    ‘I hope there won’t be!’ he exclaimed sarcastically. ‘You are here to prevent it from happening again.’
    I did not speak, I was busy moving the graphite point over the paper.
    ‘The killer went to work on the face,’ he said, pointing to her forehead. ‘When I first saw her, I thought that she had fallen from a great height. A heap of bones was found further down the coast shortly before I arrived. Another amber collector, they say, who fell off a cliff. But there was no cliff near the spot where this one was discovered.’
    ‘This one?’ I repeated coldly. ‘Do you mean Katiuscka Rodendahl?’
    Were all Prussian women nameless in his eyes?
    ‘This one here,’ he confirmed. ‘No rock did that.’
    I nodded, continuing with my work, finishing my sketch of the profile of her brow, her fractured nose, and the jagged contour of the unnatural cavity below. As I worked, I wondered about the shape of the part that was missing.
    ‘Was she married?’ I asked.
    ‘None of the girls . . .’ les Halles began to say, but then he stopped. ‘There are no Prussian men inside the camp. Not one, except for yourself.’
    ‘Was she naked when found?’ I asked him next.
    ‘Not a stitch of clothing on her.’
    ‘Did you examine her back and shoulders?’
    ‘Not a mark. No wound. Nothing, except for the damage to her face.’
    ‘Did you find her yourself?’
    That question provoked a laugh. ‘Do you see me as a man with time to stroll along the seashore, Herr Stiffeniis? I’ve been here four months, and I have hardly had the time to take a piss! She was found by one of my men.’
    ‘What is the name of the soldier?’
    ‘Pierre Grillet,’ he hissed, as if reluctant to reveal so little.
    ‘What sort of a man is he?’
    ‘First-rate.’
    His answers were becoming shorter, as if he resented being questioned. The fact that I was a Prussian, a civilian, and a magistrate who threatened to block his schemes, went ill with him, I suppose.
    ‘May I speak with him?’ I asked carefully.
    The colonel was silent for a moment.
    ‘My men work very hard. Most of them will be sleeping. You can have a word tomorrow morning,’ he conceded finally. ‘I’ll send him to you.’
    I thanked him, wondering at the same time whether concern for his men and their sleep, or a reluctance to allow what I asked, had inspired his answer.
    I put my album away, picked up the hanging shroud, and was about to cover the body again, but the left hand of les Halles shot out and seized my wrist.
    ‘What do you think you are doing?’ he said, separating his words like a teacher telling off a boy who has been too bold.
    ‘This body has been deprived of every dignity,’ I said. ‘I see no reason for her to go naked into the ground.’
    ‘You have not done yet, monsieur,’ he said roughly, pushing my hand away.
    ‘What do you mean?’ Did I need to explain to him what must be obvious to any