“No,” Ryan returned flatly. “I doubt this was an accidental death but we would be grateful for your observations, as I say.” He paused, considered. “If you feel that your prior knowledge of the deceased would prejudice your task..?”
The other man visibly pulled himself together but his eyes remained sad.
“No, I suppose I must see it as part of the cycle of life. God knows I’ve tried to understand why good people suffer the ravages of cancer and all manner of ailments over the course of my career but I’ve only ever had the misfortune to assess an unnatural death once before.”
Ryan’s ears pricked. “On the island?”
“No, no. Many years ago, when we lived in Newcastle. I worked as a police surgeon for the first few years of my tenure before deciding to become a general practitioner. You expect things like this to happen in a big city, but you just don’t expect it on our little island community.”
“I didn’t realise you had been employed as a police surgeon.”
“Yes, when I was young and thought that it would be an exciting career choice,” the older man shook his head, presumably at his younger self. “Then Yvonne and I were married and Alex was born. We decided we wanted a more peaceful life together, with more sociable working hours.”
Ryan nodded and said nothing while he waited for the doctor to draw himself together.
“I’ll head in now,” Walker said quietly and nodded to both men. They watched him pick his way across the grass, head bent, to the CSI officers working the scene.
“Poor fella,” Phillips commented. “It’s not every day that you have to sign the death certificate for someone you’ve helped birth.”
“Yeah,” Ryan felt his chest tighten again and deliberately exhaled slowly. A light rain started to fall and Ryan watched Phillips fiddle with a flimsy black umbrella.
“Go on inside and get a feel for the scene, speak to Walker. We’ll let the lab boys do their work and see what we see. I need to set up an Incident Room but it’s going to be difficult to do that back at HQ with the tides. Best to have the incident room here on the island, I’m thinking at my place. I’ve got office equipment there.” He thought of the printer, the fax machine and laptop gathering dust.
“It’s not exactly protocol,” Phillips said.
Ryan’s mouth twisted. “Agreed, but the alternatives don’t appeal, either. The base needs to be here on the island but I don’t want to set it up in a communal area where anybody and their grandmother might have a spare key. Best to keep it in the family.”
Phillips nodded approval.
“In the meantime,” Ryan continued, “Contact the pathologist to confirm Walker’s assessment when we have it and tell him to expect to receive the body by mid-morning.” He thought a moment. “Mortuary at the hospital in Alnwick will be the closest, so tell him to get over there.”
“Will do.”
“I need you to oversee the coastguards, for now. I don’t want them involved beyond crowd management.”
Ryan didn’t have to spell it out and, in any case, Phillips was a quick study.
“Everyone’s a suspect?”
“You’re damn right.”
Phillips nodded slowly, popped a stick of gum in his mouth and offered some to Ryan. “Tide went out late last night, around what time?”
“Around eleven forty-five,” Ryan answered easily, shaking his head to the offer of gum. He’d already checked the times the tide had rolled in and out again.
“Five hours dead, that takes us back to around one in the morning.” Phillips looked past the walls of the Priory towards the village beyond. “At least you’ve got a pool of suspects.”
“Oh yeah,” Ryan laughed without mirth. “An entire island of them.”
“Better get started, then.”
Ryan watched his sergeant head towards the tarpaulin, square his stocky shoulders and dip inside. He felt his phone begin to vibrate and saw Gregson’s number flash. He ignored the call, figuring he could buy another thirty minutes if he was lucky.
Besides, he had another call to make and this one needed to be made in person.
CHAPTER 3
Anna Taylor watched the clouds part high in the sky over Lindisfarne. Light streamed down on the island and she smiled from the relative comfort of her racing green mini. She could have sketched the view from memory, it was so familiar, but each time it stole her breath away.
It was an uneasy homecoming.
Slim fingers tapped an irritable rhythm on the steering wheel as she drove the car along the coastal road towards the causeway, sand dunes spreading out to her right. The phone call she’d received early that morning hadn’t left her any choice but to drive up here. DCS Gregson from the Northumbria Police had contacted her through her position at the University. Apparently, he had read her latest work, Pagan Northumberland and her personal knowledge of the island was an added benefit. There had been a ritual murder and he wanted to enlist her as a civilian consultant.