Read A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) for Free Online Page A

but what do you have? Des asked me to drop into the lab and he’s got to leave by five.”
    “Part-timer.” They both laughed, before John added.
    “Still, I suppose your wife going into labour is a valid excuse, she was admitted to St Marys about an hour ago. I tell you what, we’ll head up there now and let him leave, I can update you afterwards. Bring your coffee and I promise not to spill it.”
    They took the stairs two floors up to Des Marsham’s world, where things went bleep in the night. As they entered, he was leaning over a souped-up microwave, his thin tie stained with some nameless chemical.
    “Making dinner, Des? That’s decent of you.”
    “I’m cooking something, but it’s not your dinner.”
    “I hear Annie’s in labour. Congrats.”
    “Don’t congratulate me too early, I’ve hours of swearing to go through first. I was called names I never knew existed when she had Martin, and she’s learned some new ones since then. You two won’t know this yet, but labour is all men’s fault.”
    John nodded sagely, “Every woman swears and every man gets sworn at, it happened with every baby I delivered. Just think of it as a rite of passage. What do you have for us?”
    “Well, there are a few interesting bits and pieces. We have a clear fingerprint on the doorjamb, and another on the victim’s phone. We have a distinctive white cream on the petrol pump, on the wire and on the victim, with a smaller amount beside the door print. And we have two very unusual weapons; the wire and the weapon that fractured his skull.”
    Finding the prints made Craig immediately suspicious, but he wasn’t sure why. He knew he should welcome any print, but somehow he thought the fact they’d been left was bad news, not good.
    “First of all, the print. It’s a clear index finger, small enough to be a woman or boys. If we had the technology we could try for a sex.”
    “I didn’t know you could sex a print?”
    “In theory, yes. The technology uses urea levels; men’s are higher than women’s, but we’ll have to make do with size today. It’s not in our system, so can Davy do a wider search for us, Marc?”
    “Sure, send it over.”
    “Thanks. Number two, the cream. It’s white, and there were two sizable smears on the pump and the victim’s face. And patches on the wire and beside the print. Its main constituents are zinc oxide, benzyl derivates, with a few other substances like lanolin in small quantities.”
    “Some sort of diesel or lubricant? Maybe car wax? There were used cars for sale at the garage.”
    Des smiled down at his papers, shaking his head knowingly.
    “I know exactly what it is, but I’m in the mood to make you guess. Here’s a clue. It’s a cream I’ll be using in huge quantities for the next year, and that I’ve had to use before.”
    Craig looked at his beard. “Well, it’s definitely not shaving cream.”
    Des shook his head laughing, and Craig looked at John, puzzled. Every answer that sprang to mind, either too strange or too deviant to voice.
    “I’ve absolutely no idea. Put us out of our misery.”
    “It’s Purecrem. Not exclusively, but most commonly used for...nappy rash!”
    “Nappy rash?” John looked at him incredulously. “Was it definitely linked to the body? Couldn’t it be an old patch? Maybe McCandless was a grandfather?”
    Craig shook his head . No grandchildren.
    “Yes, yes, no and maybe. The cream was fresh; it hadn’t dried or congealed to any extent. I’ve spoken to the manufacturer and carried out some tests, and it would have taken eight hours to congeal at yesterday’s temperatures. And it was found within ten millimetres of the clear fingerprint. So, if you ask me, I think our killer was either changing a nappy, or perhaps working in a nursing home or hospital ward, less than eight hours before they killed McCandless. So that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
    “Why nursing home or hospital?”
    John answered before Des could. “Because