For a stocky man, Dr Wolf had an uncanny ability to melt into the background. Bill stood beside Dan in the morgue and tried not to glance in the direction of the motionless psychologist with his tiny voice recorder tucked into the elbow of one of his crossed arms.
Percy Quillam’s body was on a slab again, face down with a neck block keeping his forehead tilted to the table. This time all attention was on his head and his scalp, separated and flapped away from the bone at the base of his skull.
Molly wasn’t happy but Bill didn’t know why. She had hardly spoken since their arrival and looked at Wolf with open dislike. She had barely skirted asking what possible reason he could have for being present but picked up a warning cue from Dan – who didn’t look more pleased with the situation.
‘There are multiple lacerations and contusions everywhere the body wasn’t covered with layers of clothing,’ Molly said. ‘This isn’t news. What appear to be injuries to the head – and other places – they might well have been made by contact with rocks and general rubble. By the pond would be a good guess. But there’s this.’ She indicated an area low on the back of the head – first on the scalp layers, then by peeling that back to expose the bone.
Leaning closer, Bill studied the areas she indicated.
‘He sustained a blow here – a significant blow that we believe was the result of an object being used to hit the head, or a heavy fall onto something, possibly of considerable size.’
‘Like what?’ Dan asked, looking up from his own close examination. ‘Why didn’t we see this before?’
‘Bruising continues to increase post-mortem.’ Molly stood back, a grimace pulling at her lips. ‘The blow didn’t fracture the skull but there is an indentation. You can see how bruising has blossomed. And if something had not got in the way, we would have identified this at once.’
Bill met Dan’s eyes and they both remained silent. She would reveal what was on her mind in good time. At least Wolf still didn’t attempt to speak. He kept his heavy lids lowered over rather protruding gray eyes. His blond hair was meticulously slicked down, and his thin lips pursed. Warming to him under any circumstances might have been difficult but given his silent scrutiny, he encouraged antipathy.
‘So’ – Molly cleared her throat – ‘it was the hair – the tail or whatever. With the tissue swollen from being submerged and the knot of hair over it – although it was shaved during the examination – this wasn’t immediately obvious.’
Glossing over anything Wolf might feel it was his duty to point out, Bill hurried to say, ‘Understandable. Any idea what weapon we should be looking for.’
It was Molly’s turn to cross her arms. ‘It could be almost anything, a rock even given the grit in the skin. Werner came up with an interesting idea. A golf club, a driver perhaps. But we haven’t really identified anything that remotely matches the shape of injury.’
Bill was struck again by the closeness between Molly and the crime scene manager. They ribbed each other cruelly but were obviously also respectful friends.
‘There are some pretty strangely shaped clubs these days,’ Dan said. ‘Some of them look as if they shouldn’t be allowed at all.’
‘I know, but I don’t think that’s our answer. If there had been more damage I’d have put in a vote for a hoe, or some garden tool and it could still be that, but we’re going to have to think harder. There is a second, smaller wound quite close, but it didn’t do much damage.’
‘Are you suggesting this blow killed him?’ Bill asked.
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind on a cardiac event. But this is unusual enough it could be a leading clue, Bill. That’s what’s on my mind. It takes me back to the theory that the killer might not have known when his victim was dead and was still trying to finish the job after it was all over.’
‘Doesn’t sound like a seasoned killer,’ Dan said and was greeted by mumbled agreements.
They thanked Molly and Dan followed Bill out of the morgue. Dr Wolf was close behind.
‘Are your observations helping with your project?’ Bill asked him, trying for polite interest.
‘This study will not be soon over,’ Wolf said dismissively. ‘There are some years of unsatisfactory resolutions to examine. At least this one is not a closed case so there’s room to impact the outcome and reach conclusions about connections that haven’t been made between previous cases. I have a meeting but I’ll check the schedule for tomorrow. Let me know if anything changes, will you?’
Not waiting for a response, the man walked away and pushed through swinging doors at the end of the corridor.
‘And what would we bet that he’s on his way to make another report to the chief constable?’ Dan said. ‘Wolf isn’t even pretending we’re on the same side anymore.’
Bill looked at the doors that had closed behind the man. ‘He behaves as if he’s the superior around here. In charge or something. Almost as if he wants to put us on edge. It’s difficult to like him.’
‘If I were a vindictive man, I’d be considering how to sink the puffed-up tosser,’ Dan said.
‘But you aren’t vindictive?’ Bill asked, grinning.
‘I’m working on it. How about you?’
‘Let’s compare progress as we go along. I think we’re likely to be vindictive experts in no time.’ Bill glanced back over his shoulder. ‘I know what the next move has to be in the Quillam case.’
‘Surprise me,’ Dan said. ‘Or are you also thinking that pond they say leads to the middle of the earth must be searched regardless.’
‘Great minds,’ Bill said.