Read Online The Silent Sleep of the Dying (Eisenmenger-Flemming Forensic Mysteries) by Keith McCarthy - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith McCarthy
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nodules of tumour, most about a centimetre in diameter, although one was significantly larger and measured nearly ten centimetres. Similarly the omentum — the sheet of fat which hangs from the lower border of the stomach — had been infiltrated so that it was thickened, stiff and solid. Beneath this, the coils of intestine also showed nodular tumours.
He knew that it wasn't ovarian and as soon as Belinda got there, she opined similarly. "That greenish staining looks like bile."
"Hepatocellular carcinoma?" he said quickly before she could, "Yes, that's what I was wondering." Primary cancer of the liver was the only type that produced bile.
"But there are also tumours on the intestinal wall — small intestine, too."
The small intestine — a rare site for tumours.
He nodded, as if understanding her consternation from the vantage of greater knowledge.
Lenny had been opening the chest. He took a steel tenon saw and began to cut through the ribs on the left hand side, starting at the bottom perhaps ten centimetres from the midline and working up and in so that at the clavicle the cut was adjacent to the sternum. He came round to the other side of the table and repeated the process on the right hand side. Then he lifted the bottom end of the sternum and began partly to pull and partly to try to cut the sternum off the underlying tissues.
Only it wouldn't come.
It ought to have been easy, the sack around the heart and the soft tissues in the middle of the chest coming away like sticky grey candyfloss.
Lenny looked up at Hartmann who was watching him. Lenny was sufficiently well trained to know that it was Hartmann's job if something untoward occurred; this, of course, suited Lenny and it was therefore one of the few rules he obeyed.
"What's up?" asked Hartmann.
"It won't come. There's something sticking it down."
Hartmann took the knife back and, grabbing the sternum in his right hand, began to cut at the tissues under it. The knife met fibrotic, almost solid tissue. He took a firmer grip of the handle and began to saw through it. Ten minutes later, the sternum came away at least and revealed what had glued it down so firmly. Hartmann could only stare at it.
The entire chest seemed filled with friable, mottled tissue laced with areas of fresh bleeding. The bag in which the heart was hung was encased in it and the lungs on either side were lost in it. A few pockets of fluid in irregular spaces were all that was left of the space around the lungs.
Her chest had become merely a box of tumour.
He heard Belinda mutter something beside him. It was only after a few seconds that he realized what she had said.
"Bloody hell."
*
It took Hartmann and Belinda an hour to take out the organ mass and a further hour to dissect the organs from it. Lenny retreated, claiming that it was Hartmann's job, given the extent of the cancer, and Hartmann couldn't really argue. Denny dropped by, taking a break from whatever mysterious tasks occupied his time and earned his wages, to whistle, much as he would have whistled at a mate with a penis of impressive size.
"Poor bitch," he offered but empathy was again absent from his voice.
The organs were now neatly arrayed on the dissection board, and on Hartmann's face was arrayed a look of deep bewilderment. Belinda stood beside him, trying to make some sense of it all.
Every single organ had some form of tumorous involvement. True, some had more than others, so that the lungs were effectively completely effaced as were the liver, ovaries and thyroid, while the kidneys, intestines, heart and uterus still retained their overall structure albeit liberally dotted with cancer. The brain was also affected, Hartmann's neat slices revealing a large mass of dead and dying tumour in the left hemisphere that measured eight centimetres across, another, smaller one in the right and two in the cerebellum.
One by one he had sliced into the organs and one by one had revealed a greater or less degree of
He knew that it wasn't ovarian and as soon as Belinda got there, she opined similarly. "That greenish staining looks like bile."
"Hepatocellular carcinoma?" he said quickly before she could, "Yes, that's what I was wondering." Primary cancer of the liver was the only type that produced bile.
"But there are also tumours on the intestinal wall — small intestine, too."
The small intestine — a rare site for tumours.
He nodded, as if understanding her consternation from the vantage of greater knowledge.
Lenny had been opening the chest. He took a steel tenon saw and began to cut through the ribs on the left hand side, starting at the bottom perhaps ten centimetres from the midline and working up and in so that at the clavicle the cut was adjacent to the sternum. He came round to the other side of the table and repeated the process on the right hand side. Then he lifted the bottom end of the sternum and began partly to pull and partly to try to cut the sternum off the underlying tissues.
Only it wouldn't come.
It ought to have been easy, the sack around the heart and the soft tissues in the middle of the chest coming away like sticky grey candyfloss.
Lenny looked up at Hartmann who was watching him. Lenny was sufficiently well trained to know that it was Hartmann's job if something untoward occurred; this, of course, suited Lenny and it was therefore one of the few rules he obeyed.
"What's up?" asked Hartmann.
"It won't come. There's something sticking it down."
Hartmann took the knife back and, grabbing the sternum in his right hand, began to cut at the tissues under it. The knife met fibrotic, almost solid tissue. He took a firmer grip of the handle and began to saw through it. Ten minutes later, the sternum came away at least and revealed what had glued it down so firmly. Hartmann could only stare at it.
The entire chest seemed filled with friable, mottled tissue laced with areas of fresh bleeding. The bag in which the heart was hung was encased in it and the lungs on either side were lost in it. A few pockets of fluid in irregular spaces were all that was left of the space around the lungs.
Her chest had become merely a box of tumour.
He heard Belinda mutter something beside him. It was only after a few seconds that he realized what she had said.
"Bloody hell."
*
It took Hartmann and Belinda an hour to take out the organ mass and a further hour to dissect the organs from it. Lenny retreated, claiming that it was Hartmann's job, given the extent of the cancer, and Hartmann couldn't really argue. Denny dropped by, taking a break from whatever mysterious tasks occupied his time and earned his wages, to whistle, much as he would have whistled at a mate with a penis of impressive size.
"Poor bitch," he offered but empathy was again absent from his voice.
The organs were now neatly arrayed on the dissection board, and on Hartmann's face was arrayed a look of deep bewilderment. Belinda stood beside him, trying to make some sense of it all.
Every single organ had some form of tumorous involvement. True, some had more than others, so that the lungs were effectively completely effaced as were the liver, ovaries and thyroid, while the kidneys, intestines, heart and uterus still retained their overall structure albeit liberally dotted with cancer. The brain was also affected, Hartmann's neat slices revealing a large mass of dead and dying tumour in the left hemisphere that measured eight centimetres across, another, smaller one in the right and two in the cerebellum.
One by one he had sliced into the organs and one by one had revealed a greater or less degree of
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