Just as he throws the last of the wet wipes into the disposal unit, the ambulance turns off the main road into the hospital grounds and pulls up in front of an anonymous door, tucked away around the back of the hospital: the mortuary. A few seconds later Trisha throws open the back doors. Even that’s a performance.
‘I knew I couldn’t trust Bill, something about his eyes, too close together. I should’ve listened to my instincts. What a shitty thing to do. You know your Jackie’s a lucky lady. Wish all guys could be as decent as you. You all right? You were very quiet in the back there. Thought you’d nodded off.’
He unclips the trolley and together they manoeuvre it off the back of the ambulance. Trisha presses the buzzer to the mortuary and a disembodied male voice invites them in.
They wheel the trolley into the building and park it in the corridor. Through a large window, the voice’s owner, Gary, the assistant mortician, is sitting at his desk in the main office. He waves at them.
‘Hi, guys. Come in.’
His face is half beard, and a scraggly ponytail hangs over his shoulder. He’s heard that Gary’s in a heavy metal band. He can just imagine this idiot screaming into a mic about drinking alcohol and having sex.
Trisha hands the paperwork over.
‘There you go, Gaz. All yours.’
He smiles back at her.
‘And how’s my favourite paramedic?’
Trisha giggles like she’s thirteen. So much for Bill being the only one for her. Faithless tart. His Jackie would never behave like that.
‘Fine, how’s my favourite assistant mortician?’
‘Think you’ll find I’m the only assistant mortician, but I’ll take that.’ Gary winks at Trisha and she giggles some more.
Their radios hiss into life and Trisha looks to him to respond, but he pretends he hasn’t noticed, taking the paperwork from Gary to check something over. She taps her radio a few times before giving up. ‘The reception down here is crap. I better find out what they want. Back in a bit.’
Trisha disappears and he passes the paperwork back to Gary who runs a surprisingly careful eye over it. He doesn’t look the meticulous type.
‘Thanks, mate. This is fine.’
Mate. He hates that word. He’s not Gary’s mate. He’s not anyone’s mate.
‘Where shall I put her?’
‘Just leave her where she is.’
‘What, in the corridor?’
‘Well, it’s not like she’s gonna get up and walk out, is it?’ Gary’s eyes mock him and it takes all his resolve not to punch this lout in the mouth.
‘It just seems a little disrespectful, that’s all, to leave her out in the hallway, like a piece of rubbish.’
‘Nothing I can do about it, fella. We’re full. Don’t know what they’re doing on the gerry wards, but these oldies are popping off all over the place.’
‘But she’s a murder victim.’ He can’t bear to think of her all alone.
‘So? There’s no pecking order down here, mate. It’s first come first served. Don’t worry. The undertakers are due. That’ll clear the backlog and then we’ll see if we can find her a cabinet. Anyways, she’s in for a PM this afternoon. I might just take her straight into the examination room.’
He gives the idiot a side glance.
‘You guys must be a bit worried at the moment.’
Gary continues ticking boxes on a form.
‘Why’s that?’
‘I hear this place is next in line in the cuts.’
His pen stops mid-tick.
‘What? You’re kidding, right?’
‘No. I know someone in the chief exec’s office. They’re thinking of cutting the number of staff and shifting some of the work to the Exeter Royal.’
He shakes his head.
‘I can’t go to Exeter. I live in Barnston, it’s miles away. I’d have to give the band up and everything.’
Simon nods sympathetically.
‘That’s rough.’
‘Too right it is. That band is my life.’
‘Well, nothing’s confirmed, but you might want to start looking for something else. Mate.’
‘For fuck’s sake. They won’t be happy until they’ve got rid of us all. Thanks for the tip. Sign here for me.’
He holds his clipboard up and Simon signs his name with a flourish.