Ishrugged, quickly recollecting the moments from the last few days. “I don’tknow. Um … they said she fell probably the night before you found her.”
InspectorBrodie looked up at me, startled. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Miss Allan,if I had to guess, I’d say she’s been dead for about five or six days.Y’figure, we found her three days agodurin’rigor mortis, so she must’ve died at a minimum of five days ago.”
“But…” I shook my head, holding a hand to my forehead, hardly believing this washappening. “She texted me. She told me she was fine. She—”
“When?”
“Um,Sunday night. She was supposed to come home on Saturday.”
“AndI got the call on Tuesday …” Inspector Brodie rubbed at his chin, reminding meof Sherlock Holmes and I thought how all he was missing was a pipe.
Then,without finishing his thought, he abruptly pulled the sheet around Grace’s bodyand said, “We need to get out of here.”
“W-what?”
Hehurried to the door and peered into the hallway. “We need to go,” he hissed,looking the other way. Then, he looked back to the shrouded corpse of mysister, stern resolution in his eyes. “And we need to bring her.”
Myheart had only begun to slow in its beating, and now, it quickened once again.“Wait, what?”
InspectorBrodie closed the door quietly and hurried to the window. He undid the lock,then pushed it open, before asking, “Canyefitthrough here?”
Icouldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe that I was in Scotland,barely beginning to mourn the loss of my little sister, and now this crazydetective was trying to convince me to crawl out a crematorium window—with abody in tow.
“Whatthe hell are you talking about?” I demanded to know, speaking firmly as myhands trembled at my sides.
Heturned to me, meeting my eyes with commanding authority, and said, “Miss Allan,I have a lot of questions to ask ye, and I have a lot ofthinkin’to do. But before I can doanythin’, I need to have aproper postmortem done, and that’s notgonnahappenhere. So, I’d appreciate some helpgettin’ her out ofhere. If ye can, that is. And if not,” he shrugged and looked back to surveythe window, “I guess I’ll have to figuresomethin’out.”
He’sinsane, I thought, as he pursed his lips and stared out thewindow, mumbling incoherent nothings to himself. But, insane or not, I had seenwith my own eyes that the police here had lied to me. All but this one,Inspector Brodie, and as much as I dreaded the thought of doing what he hadasked, I desperately wanted answers. And something told me he was the only oneto get them for me.
So,reluctantly, I agreed to help him, and prayed I wouldn’t live to regret it.
CHAPTER TEN
ALEC
Yera piece of shite, Brodie,y’knowthat? A real fuckin’bawbag.Of all the things ye’ve done inyerlife, this is byfar the fuckin’ worst.
Iglanced across the car at the poor woman I’d just talked into assisting me torob a crematorium of her sister’s body. It had surprised me that I’d even beenable to convince her to do it. Not because it hadn’t been the right decision ornecessary, but because this was her sister—one she had clearly beenclosewith—and now she had just done an unthinkable thingwith the corpse, holding it as I stuffed it through a window.
Neverin my career had I thought I’d be in this position. But I had never thought I’dbe questioning the trust I had in my colleagues, either.
Whotold her the body was disfigured? She spoke to Frasier, it was probably him,but he never saw the body, did he? Idinnaethink so,so who told him about the body’s condition?
RosalynnAllan was quiet, but I imagined the state of her mind to be the exact opposite,much like mine. What could either of us even say to fill the stale air? Thememories of feeding her sister’s body through a wee window and then folding itinto the boot were too vivid and fresh. Our hands were still dirty, and theputrid smell was beginning to permeate the car’s interior. There was nothingthat could be said about all that. We could only drive in a silence toouncomfortable to bear.
Butthen, she spoke, surprising me as if it were the corpse herself speaking.
“Oh,my God,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands to her cheeks.
“Wha-wha-w-w-w …” I pinched myeyes shut, took in a deep breath of fetid air, and tried not to gag, thenslowly said, “What’s wrong?”
Brilliantquestion, Brodie. Ye fuckin’ daft prick.
“Myson has been waiting for me at our hotel,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, my God,what the hell is wrong with me? I completely forgot about him. What kind ofmother forgets their child in a foreign fucking country?”
“Doyewannaring him? Or, ah, go to him?”
“I’ll,um … I guess I’ll call him and just let him know I’m okay.”
