As it was half past eleven, and her house in Oakdene Avenue was nearby, Jane decided to nip home, have a wash, and change out of her muddy shoes and tights before going to Queen Mary’s Hospital.
Jane had recently bought the two-bedroom property for £25,000. It was cheap because it needed a lot of work done on it, which, at present, she couldn’t afford to do. However, she looked on modernising and decorating it as a long-term project. Above all, she was pleased to have a house of her own with a nice, if small, garden.
Arriving home, the first thing she did was phone DI Stanley.
‘Where are you?’ he asked.
Jane said she was at home, then recounted how Boon had knocked her over at the building site and being covered in mud she needed to change her clothes.
Stanley laughed. ‘I wish I’d been there to see that.’
‘Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny for me. Boon’s a walking disaster zone,’ she replied before telling Stanley about the coffin being taken to the mortuary.
‘If the coffin’s empty, you’ve wasted ‘job’ money by calling out the undertakers and arranging a post-mortem. You could have opened it at the site to save time and money.’
‘I didn’t feel it was appropriate to look inside it on the site,’ she countered. ‘What do I do if there is a body in it?’
‘Under the coroner’s rules, a pathologist has to do a routine examination before it can be released for burial, and they won’t do it for free!’ he told her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that would be the case.’
‘What time are they opening the coffin?’
‘One o’clock. I was going to go to Queen Mary’s straight from here. Will you be attending the mortuary?’
‘No, I won’t. I’ve better things to do,’ he said dismissively.
‘I spoke with the local priest, Father Christopher Floridia. He’s helping me regarding the correct religious procedure, and he said—’
‘I’m not interested in what he has to say! Body or no body in that coffin, hand the bloody case over to the coroner’s officer and he can deal with it,’ Stanley barked before putting the phone down.
Jane was annoyed at how disrespectful Stanley had been – not just to her but also to Father Chris, who was only trying to help. She went to her bedroom to change her clothes and looking in her dressing-table mirror noticed a smear of mud on her face. She felt mortified realising it must have been there when she met Father Chris and he hadn’t said anything so as not to embarrass her. She also knew Boon must have seen the mud and deliberately failed to mention it just because she’d told him to stay at the building site.
Having washed and changed, Jane made a cheese and tomato sandwich, which she ate with a packet of crisps and a mug of hot chocolate. Sitting at her breakfast bar, she looked up the phone number for St Mary’s Church in the phone book and jotted it down in her notebook. She looked forward to meeting Father Chris again and wondered if she should call him and let him know that her DI wanted a coroner’s officer to deal with the case and not her. She picked up the phone, started to dial, then put it down, deciding she would visit him at the church and tell him personally after the coffin was opened.
*
Arriving at Queen Mary’s Hospital Jane went to the coroner’s staff office, next to the mortuary. The cramped, rundown office had two desks facing each other and a chalkboard on the wall. On the board was a list of deceased people, cause and date of death and their fridge numbers. Jane noticed some blood-stained mortuary overalls on a coat stand and white mortuary boots next to it, which made the room smell like a mixture of death and disinfectant. A swarthy, chubby man in his late forties was sitting at a desk typing, whilst puffing on a cigarette that was hanging out of his mouth. His brown two-piece suit was badly creased and ill-fitting. A black tie hung loosely round his neck and the top button of his white shirt was undone.
Jane introduced herself and said she was dealing with the coffin discovered on the old convent grounds.
‘I’m PC Roger Rogers, the coroner’s officer,’ he said with the cigarette still in his mouth. A lump of ash fell onto his desk. He brushed it off and onto the floor.
‘My DI has asked that the case be handed over to a coroner’s officer as it’s not really a CID matter,’ Jane said.
Rogers raised his eyes in disapproval. ‘It’s not for a DI to decide what happens next, it’s up to the coroner after I’ve appraised him of the results of the coffin examination.’
‘I’ve got the details of the local priest who’s happy to speak with his bishop and assist regarding any reburial and restoration of the coffin to the church,’ Jane told him.
‘Having been a coroner’s officer for many years, I am aware of the necessary procedures in cases like this,’ he said tartly.
Jane decided to ignore his confrontational tone. ‘Has the coffin arrived?’ she asked.
He continued typing. ‘It’s in the mortuary examination room, as is your colleague DC Boon.’
What a pompous little man, Jane thought, turning to walk out the door.
‘No need to rush,’ he said. ‘The pathologist is running late.’
‘Is it Professor Martin?’ Jane asked, having worked with him on previous murder investigations.
Rogers sighed. ‘No, it’s Dr Pullen.’
She picked up on his uneasiness. ‘I’ve not met him before. Is there a problem?’
Rogers frowned. ‘She’s a woman, and about to be fully registered as London’s first female forensic pathologist. Personally, I think it’s a bit early to let her go solo.’
Jane could tell by his tone he was a chauvinist. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything. If Dr Pullen was trained by the renowned Professor Martin, I’ve no doubt she will be as good at the job as her male counterparts,’ she said.
‘That remains to be seen, love,’ he smirked.
Jane had had enough of Rogers’ attitude. ‘I’m not your “love”, PC Rogers, I’m a sergeant and that makes me your superior officer . . . and as such I prefer to be addressed as sergeant.’
‘Yes, sarge,’ Rogers said, with a mock salute and look of disdain, before going back to his typing.
At that moment a woman appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead with a tissue. ‘Sorry I’m late, PC Rogers. I’ve just run all the way up the hill from Sidcup railway station.’ She paused for breath. ‘Bloody hell, I’m knackered . . . and there was me thinking I was reasonably fit.’ She turned to Jane. ‘I’m Dr Samantha Pullen, but everyone calls me Sam or Sammy.’ Pullen was in her late thirties, about five foot seven, thickset, with dark collar-length bob and a straight fringe. She had green eyes, a round face and wore red lipstick, which accentuated her rosy cheeks and broad smile.
Jane thought Pullen looked rather trendy in her burgundy raincoat and matching Baker Boy hat.
‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison from Bromley CID. Congratulations on your forthcoming appointment as a Home Office forensic pathologist.’
‘Thank you, Jane. I’ve a couple of weeks to go yet . . . hopefully I won’t screw up before then,’ she added with a big smile.
Rogers stood up, took two stained mortuary gowns from the coat stand and handed one to Jane. ‘Right, let’s get this coffin open.’
‘I’m fine without the gown, thank you,’ Jane replied, putting the gown back and wiping her hand on the side of her skirt.
He shrugged. ‘Please yourself.’
‘I’ll just nip to the mortuary technician’s locker room to get changed, then we’re good to go,’ Pullen said.
Jane followed Rogers to the examination room where Boon was leaning on a work surface, reading a newspaper while eating a Mars Bar.
‘Food is not supposed to be eaten in here, DC Boon,’ Rogers barked, scowling at the resident mortuary technician, Jack, for allowing it to happen.
Jane thought this rather rich coming from someone who was wearing a dirty blood-stained gown that he kept in his office.
The coffin was on an adjustable examination table and Jane went and stood beside Boon. I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Boony.’
He looked alarmed. ‘What have I done now?’
‘It’s what you didn’t do.’ She touched her face where the mud had been.
‘Sorry, I thought you were going straight back to the station.’
‘You’re lucky I saw the funny side of it,’ she said, half-smiling. ‘But remember, revenge is a dish best served cold.’
*
‘Right, let’s get started,’ Dr Pullen said as she entered the room, now wearing protective clothing and carrying a clipboard and pen. ‘I just need everyone’s names for the records, please.’
Boon’s eyes lit up. ‘Nice-looking for a mortuary technician,’ he whispered to Jane.
‘PC Rogers, Jack the mortuary technician and DS Tennison I already know.’ Pullen looked at Boon. ‘And you are . . .?’
Boon who was still admiring Pullen’s figure didn’t hear her question. Jane nudged him with her elbow. He stood straighter, and puffed out his chest.
‘Detective Constable Simon Boon, Bromley CID. I accompanied the coffin from the building site to the mortuary. I am also assisting DS Tennison with this case and will perform the role of exhibits officer.’
‘Good for you, Simon,’ Pullen said with a wry smile.
‘May I say how refreshing it is to meet a lady mortuary technician,’ he said. ‘You must have a strong stomach for this job.’
‘I’m not a mortuary technician,’ she said, still smiling.
Boon looked confused. ‘Oh . . . are you a coroner’s officer?’
‘No. I’m Dr Samantha Pullen, a forensic pathologist.’
Boon flushed and mumbled an apology.
‘I’m so sorry, doctor . . . I didn’t realise . . . I was expecting a man . . . I mean Professor Martin.’
‘I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations, DC Boon,’ she said, not smiling anymore.
Pullen put her clipboard down on a work surface then picked up a mortuary hammer and chisel. She looked at Boon with a steely expression. ‘These should do.’
‘Do for what?’ he asked nervously.
‘Opening the coffin.’
As Dr Pullen lowered the examination table, Boon whispered to Jane, ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was the pathologist?’
‘Remember what I said about revenge,’ Jane replied. ‘And by the way, your chat-up lines are awful.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘Blindingly!’
‘Right, let’s unseal this coffin,’ Pullen said.
‘What’s it sealed with?’ Boon asked Pullen, but Rogers answered.
‘Metal coffins are normally sealed with a rubber gasket that goes all the way around the edge of the lid. The sealing clasps then lock the lid in place.’ He pointed to one. ‘And the rubber gasket forms a tight seal that prevents air and moisture from getting in.’
‘So, if there’s a body in there it might be in good condition?’ Boon asked.
‘Not necessarily,’ Pullen said. ‘Sealing a casket won’t prevent a body from decomposing, even if it’s been embalmed.’
Pullen undid the clasps, then put the chisel in between the two halves and gave it a knock with the hammer. To her surprise, the chisel slid in easily. ‘Looks like the rubber seal has degraded.’ She pushed the handle of the chisel down, and the top of the coffin started to open. ‘Although it may be heavier than it looks, I think this lid will come off fairly easily.’ She looked at PC Rogers and Boon. ‘Can you give us a hand to lift it off, please? The protective gloves are over there.’
Boon was worried about his clothes. ‘Have you got a spare overall?’
Jane frowned. ‘I’ll help,’ she said, putting on a pair of latex gloves.
They stood round the coffin, one at each end and two in the middle, waiting for Pullen’s order.
‘One, two, three . . . lift.’
Boon inched forward, eager to see what was inside as they put the lid on the mortuary floor.
‘Jesus, that stinks of rancid cheese!’ Boon exclaimed, putting his hand to his mouth and starting to retch.
‘Don’t be so squeamish, it’s just a dead body,’ Rogers scoffed.
‘Dead bodies don’t bother me, I just hate cheese!’ Boon retched again.
‘If you’re going to be sick, do it in the sink,’ barked a stern-faced Rogers.
Jane thought it strange the body didn’t smell of decay and rotting flesh as she’d expected. The face looked gruesome, yet fascinating. The skin was shrivelled and cracked, with a chalky white, almost yellowish colour to it with flecks of grey. There were empty sockets where the eyes had once been, but the mouth was eerily wide open revealing an intact set of teeth. The cracked and shrivelled hands were clasped together. A rosary with a small wooden cross was wrapped around the right hand.
Parts of the clothing were disintegrating and discoloured, but it was clear the body was dressed in a black ankle-length gown and black lace-up shoes. A black veil covered the head and shoulders, with a stiff white wimple under it. The wimple was tight under the chin and hung in a semi-circle below the neck. Tied around the waist was a brown cord with tassels on each end. The interior of the coffin was lined with satin, which was now covered in mildew and a dirty grey colour.
‘It looks like the body of a nun from the clothing,’ Jane remarked.
Pullen nodded. ‘I agree, though I will have to confirm it by further examination.’
Boon laughed. ‘Imagine if . . .’
‘Imagine what?’ Jane asked.
‘Imagine if it turned out to be a transvestite priest! That would raise a few eyebrows at the Vatican,’ Boon grinned. ‘Then again, maybe not.’
‘I expected a corpse that would be badly decomposed, but in fact the face and hands look almost mummified,’ Jane remarked.
Pullen was about to explain the phenomenon when a smug-looking PC Rogers interjected.
‘It’s due to adipocere on the body, which can occur in sealed coffins when no air can get in.’
Pullen picked up her clipboard and pen. ‘That’s a very astute observation, especially as it’s a condition that’s quite rare to observe.’
‘I have an excellent memory, Dr Pullen,’ Rogers replied pompously. ‘I first observed adipocere a few years ago, in a case Professor Martin was dealing with.’
‘What’s adipocere?’ Boon asked.
Pullen explained. ‘Adipocere is Latin for fat wax . . . adipo, meaning fat, and cire, wax, though pathologists generally refer to it as grave or corpse wax. Although rare, you are more likely to find it on females and the obese, due to their higher fat content.’ She looked at Jane. ‘Adipocere looks similar to mummified flesh, but it’s actually quite different and varies in colour from dirty white to light brown or grey. It’s also what causes that rancid cheesy smell DC Boon dislikes so much.’
‘What causes the adipocere to form?’ Jane asked.
‘Basically, after death, fat tissue in a corpse starts to break down. Bacterial enzymes from the intestine and the environment convert unsaturated liquid fats to saturated solid fats, which causes the development of a soft waxy, soap-like material on the body. Adipocere acts as a barrier against the usual process of decomposition and in turn preserves features of the body.’
‘But the hands look dry and shrivelled, not waxy or soapy,’ Boon observed.
‘Recent adipocere tends to be white, yellow or reddish brown. The older it is, the greyer and more solid it will become . . . as on this body. We’ll need to be careful when we remove it as dried adipocere can crumble and split.’
Jane was pleased Pullen described the condition of the body in layman’s terms, unlike Professor Martin who, she knew from experience, loved to play to the gallery during a post-mortem and use obscure medical jargon.
Pullen crouched down and looked at the rim of the coffin. ‘I think this coffin’s been opened recently.’
‘How can you tell?’ Jane asked.
‘There’s fresh indentation marks on the rim, possibly from a jemmy, plus the sealing glue has been stretched and separated . . . which would also explain why we were able to remove the lid so easily. It looks as if someone has used a crowbar to prise it open.’ Pullen pointed to the marks. ‘The state of the body suggests this coffin was previously airtight, and yet there are some beads of water on the rim and inside.’ She dabbed her finger in a droplet and showed it to Jane. ‘It could be recent rainwater.’
Jane turned to Boon. ‘Do you know anything about this?’
Boon looked offended. ‘No, I don’t! You said not to open it, so I didn’t. I also know for a fact no one went near it after you left the building site.’
‘Well, someone’s opened it since it was dug up,’ Pullen said.
‘What about the undertakers?’ Boon suggested. ‘I nipped to the hospital canteen to get a drink and a Mars Bar when we got here.’
PC Rogers shook his head. ‘No way. I watched them unload the coffin and leave, as did Jack, who then had a cup of tea with me.’
‘Dermot the builder said his mate Barry wanted to open it, so it could have been him before we even got to the building site,’ Boon recalled.
‘Good point,’ Jane said. ‘It may also explain why Barry was in a hurry to leave when we got there.’
Pullen pointed to the nun’s habit. ‘There’s some distinct marks here that look like the outline of a crucifix . . . and two faint lines that run up towards the neck, which could be from the chain.’
‘Whoever opened the coffin might have taken it, especially if it was silver,’ Boon suggested.
Jane frowned. ‘I think we need to have a word with Barry.’
‘He’s not that bright if he thought we wouldn’t notice the coffin had been opened,’ Boon added.
As Pullen wrote her notes, Jane asked if adipocere could help to determine how long a person had been dead.
‘To be honest, this is the first time I’ve actually seen it in the flesh, so to speak. From my pathology training, I know adipocere can take weeks if not years to form due to different factors such as temperature, embalming, burial conditions, and materials surrounding the corpse. It’s even been found on bodies that have been dead for hundreds of years. When I do a closer examination of the corpse on the mortuary table, I might be able to give you an approximate idea of physical age, though it might be worth consulting an anthropologist for a more exact—’
Rogers was quick to interject. ‘I don’t think an anthropologist will be necessary, Dr Pullen.’
‘Why not?’ Jane asked.
‘Now we know it’s the body of a nun, I don’t see a lot of point continuing.’
‘Are you telling me to stop my examination, PC Rogers?’ Pullen frowned.
‘The coroner will want the body handed over to the Catholic church for reburial,’ he said.
‘You can read his mind, can you?’ Jane retorted.
‘I’ll phone him and seek his opinion,’ Rogers replied smugly, then left the room.
‘He really is an objectionable little prick,’ Pullen remarked.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Jane added, surprised but also pleased with Sam’s candour.
‘Is that dried flower petals on the chest and forehead?’ Boon asked, pointing to the body from across the room because of the smell.
‘They look more like shreds of fabric,’ Pullen replied, using tweezers to lift a piece off for closer examination. ‘I’d say they are bits of satin . . .’ She noticed something odd. ‘Jane, could you pass me the magnifying glass from the table, please.’
Pullen held the magnifier over the piece of satin. ‘There appears to be a tiny fragment of a fingernail embedded in it.’ She put the satin and nail in a small container before delicately lifting the left hand of the body. ‘Thankfully, the adipocere has preserved the hands and the fingernails are still attached,’ she said, examining one of the hands with the magnifier.
Jane noticed a look of concern on Pullen’s face. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘The fingernail on the left index finger is broken . . . same on the third finger . . . and there appears to be a tiny bit of satin attached to a broken nail tip.’ Pullen moved round the coffin to examine the right hand.
Jane was pretty sure she knew what Pullen was thinking. ‘Boony, help me turn the coffin lid over,’ she said, grabbing one end.
‘What are you looking for?’ he asked.
‘I want to see the condition of the satin lining.’
‘The right hand on the body has a broken fingernail and the others are worn down to the fingertips,’ Dr Pullen informed them as they gently turned the lid over.
The mouldy white satin lining was torn and hanging loose at the head end. Jane gently brushed it to one side, revealing deep fingernail scratch marks on the interior metal.
‘Oh my God, she was buried alive!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘Her mouth must be wide open because she died gasping for air.’
Pullen looked closely at the scratch marks and torn satin, then pointed to a strand. ‘There’s a bit of fingernail just there.’ She used the tweezers to pick it up then looked at Jane. ‘I’d like to treat this as a suspicious death and carry out a full post-mortem.’
Jane nodded. ‘I agree, and I’m sure the coroner will concur when he hears what we’ve found.’
‘I don’t mean to sound silly, but could she have been buried alive by mistake?’ Boon asked.
‘It’s possible but highly unlikely,’ Pullen said. ‘There was a case from my medical studies which has always stuck in my mind. In the early 1900s Essie Dunbar, who was thirty, suffered a severe epilepsy attack. It was so bad she passed out and everyone thought she was dead. Even her doctor couldn’t detect a pulse. For religious reasons the funeral was arranged for the next day and the body was put in a burial coffin. Essie’s sister, who lived out of town, arrived after the coffin had been covered in soil, and demanded the body be removed so she could see her sister one last time. When the coffin lid was opened, Essie sat up and smiled at everyone around her . . .no doubt frightening the crap out of them at the same time.’
‘No way,’ a disbelieving Boon grinned.
‘Apparently it’s true, and then she lived for another forty-seven years.’
‘So, if our body was deliberately put in the coffin when she was alive, murder could be hard to prove,’ Jane remarked.
‘As strange as it may sound – and excuse the pun – but the hand of God might help us here,’ Pullen replied.
‘I didn’t take you as the religious type, Sam,’ Jane said.
Pullen laughed. ‘I’m not. The last time I was in a church was at my sister’s wedding, eight years ago. It’s the adipocere that might help us. It sometimes preserves the soft tissue and internal organs, thus allowing a pathologist to identify internal injuries on the body. She may have been attacked, knocked unconscious and then sealed in the coffin, so I want to do some X-rays on the body and skull for any fractures before we remove it for a full examination.’
Jane looked at Boon. ‘Go tell Rogers what we’ve found and make sure he tells the coroner and asks for a full post-mortem.’
‘It will be my pleasure, sarge.’
‘I think it may be advisable to have a lab liaison sergeant present and take photographs before the body is examined any further,’ Pullen said, removing her latex gloves.
‘I’ll call the lab sergeant after I’ve deflated Rogers’ ego,’ Boon smiled.
‘See if you can get DS Paul Lawrence to attend,’ Jane said.
‘Any particular reason?’ Boon asked, clearly wondering if she had a soft spot for Lawrence.
‘I’ve known him since I joined the Met and he’s the best at what he does when it comes to forensics and murder. Something tells me this case isn’t going to be straightforward, so his knowledge and experience may prove invaluable.’
‘Looks like a dull day at Bromley just got exciting,’ Boon remarked as he hurried out of the room.
‘You’re right about DS Lawrence being good at his job,’ Pullen said. ‘I’ve met him a few times whilst assisting Prof Martin, who also rates him highly. Paul is a very nice man.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you know if he’s single?’
Jane wasn’t sure what to say as Lawrence had confided in her he was gay and lived with his boyfriend. ‘Paul’s not married, but he’s in a relationship with someone.’
‘Is it serious?’
‘As far as I know . . .’
Pullen sighed. ‘That’s a shame. I was thinking of asking him if he’d like to go for a drink sometime.’
*
A smug-looking PC Rogers was on the phone as Boon entered his office.
‘I’ve some new info for you about the—’
Rogers put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Can’t you see I’m speaking to the coroner?’ he growled, before resuming the conversation. ‘Yes, sir. I’ll write the death up as natural causes on my report and contact the Catholic archdiocesan office in Southwark so they can arrange a reburial of the nun.’
Rogers was about to put the phone down when Boon grabbed it from his hand.
‘Sir, it’s Detective Constable Boon from Bromley CID—’
Rogers reddened. ‘What do you think you’re doing!’
Boon ignored him. ‘Dr Pullen has found evidence that suggests the nun was alive in the coffin, which means she might have suffocated to death. DI Tennison would like your permission to treat the death as suspicious and also asked if Dr Pullen could carry out a full forensic post-mortem examination.’
As Boon informed the coroner of Pullen’s findings, Rogers’ face turned pale and he slumped back in his chair. Boon handed the phone to Rogers, whispering, ‘He wants a word with you . . . and he don’t sound happy.’
As Jane walked in, a glum-looking Rogers was putting his raincoat on. ‘I take it DC Boon has updated you?’
Rogers said nothing as he trudged out of the room and Jane looked to Boon for an explanation.
‘Coroner said he wanted to see him pronto in his office.’
‘I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, but he’s only himself to blame. We OK for a full PM?’
‘Yeah, and he’s happy for Dr Pullen to do it as long as Prof Martin agrees. Shall I give him a call first then ask for a lab sergeant to attend?’
‘Yes, please, and I’ll update DI Stanley,’ Jane said, lifting the phone receiver on another desk.
‘Do you think he’ll form a murder squad?’ Boon asked.
Jane shrugged. ‘Depends on the outcome of the full post-mortem and X-rays.’
‘Surely the coroner will want further inquiries made to ascertain who she is and when she died,’ Boon suggested.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be making them,’ Jane said.
‘Why not? We were assigned the investigation so surely we should continue it.’
‘I agree, but more senior officers may not. If there’s no other post-mortem evidence to justify a murder investigation the coroner may NFA the case, and return the body to the Church.’
‘I hope it is a murder,’ Boon said.
‘Well, don’t get your hopes up. Like I said, even if it is you may not be on the investigation.’
‘I know I’ve not been a DC long, but this would be a good case for me to gain more experience,’ Boon said, looking hopefully at Jane.
Jane remembered the excitement she had felt on her first murder investigation. ‘If they do form a squad, and I’m on it, I’ll recommend you be part of the team.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Thanks, sarge.’
Jane then rang DI Stanley.
‘We found the body of what appears to be a nun in the coffin . . .’
Stanley was quick to interrupt. ‘Well, no surprise there then.’ He sounded like he was in a bad temper. ‘Hand the case over to the coroner’s officer then get back here pronto. I need you to deal with an indecent assault allegation against a local councillor and take a statement from the victim.’
‘I’m sorry, but I’m tied up here at the mortuary,’ Jane told him. ‘The coroner wants the death treated as suspicious and a full post-mortem done.’
‘On what grounds?’ Stanley retorted.
‘The death may not have been from natural causes,’ Jane said, then recounted her observations and Dr Pullen’s comments.
‘She was buried alive? Bloody hell, I wasn’t expecting that. What about the body – any idea how long she’s been dead or who she is?’
‘No to both at present, but the Church might be able to help us. The full PM should tell us more about her age and when she died, and we might find something in the coffin to give us an indication of who she is.’
‘So, you haven’t started a full PM yet?’
‘No, we’re waiting for a lab sergeant to attend and Prof Martin’s permission for Dr Pullen to do the PM.’
‘I thought you said a pathologist was already there?’
‘Yes, but . . . she’s not quite fully qualified yet.’
‘Then her initial conclusions could be wrong.’
Jane was getting irritated by Stanley’s attitude. ‘She explained her suspicions to me and pointed out visual evidence to back it up. I think she’s right and the nun may have been murdered.’
‘You’re not a pathologist, Tennison . . . and Pullen is a rookie. Personally, I think it best if Prof Martin does the PM.’
She sighed. ‘You’re beginning to sound like PC Rogers.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘The coroner’s officer dealing with the case.’
‘Oh, so he agrees with me?’
Jane waved her hand at Boon who was still on the phone. ‘Have you spoken to Prof Martin yet about Dr Pullen doing the PM?’ she whispered.
Boon nodded as he put the phone down. ‘Yep, he’s happy for Doc Pullen to do the PM and said to ring him if she needed his assistance or advice. DS Lawrence is already working on a murder in North London, so another lab sergeant will be allocated this case and be with us shortly.’
Jane smiled and did a thumbs-up. ‘Prof Martin is happy for Dr Pullen to . . .’
‘I heard what Boon said,’ Stanley interrupted.
Jane smiled. ‘Well, the Prof obviously has faith in her ability and judgement . . . unlike some people.’
‘I’ll be with you in half an hour. Don’t start the PM without me,’ he added and banged the phone down.