Read Fighting for the Dead for Free Online

presume this’ – he indicated the coffee – ‘is just a social brew between mates and not an interrogation.’
    â€˜Suppose so. And to say thanks for doing what you did. Good stuff,’ Henry conceded.
    â€˜Anybody would have.’
    â€˜No they wouldn’t.’
    â€˜So what’s the poor woman’s story?’
    Henry shrugged. ‘Not sure. So far it’s just a uniformed issue, not CID. Might stay that way, but I’ll have a look at the circumstances leading up to her going missing. It could just be one of those things, a fatal slip.’
    Flynn took a long drink of the coffee and set down the mug. ‘I really need to get dried out properly, maybe even go into Lancaster for some new gear.’
    â€˜I’ll give you a lift,’ Henry volunteered.
    â€˜You’re a real trooper.’
    Henry cracked a smile. ‘Touché.’
    â€˜But a lift back into Glasson would be helpful. I’ll take it from there.’
    Flynn watched Henry drive away, leaving him standing outside the chandlery. He had a tight expression on his face as he thought about Henry, then dismissed him from his mind and let himself into the shop. Although he’d considered going into the city for some new togs, he’d realized there was no need because the chandlery had a fair selection of clothing that would do just fine. It wouldn’t exactly be his favourite Keith Richards T-shirt and baggy three-quarter-length pants, but it would have to suffice.
    He selected a shirt, trousers, socks and a pair of stout shoes that he packed into a large carrier bag. He thought his best course of action would be to get back to the canal boat, work out the heating system for himself, have his second shower of the day, then get changed. He would get lunch at the cafe on the other side of the sea lock – fish and chips – and get back to the chandlery to meet Diane for more induction as arranged.
    Flynn locked the shop and made his way along the canal in his wet clothes.
    The canal boat was still cold inside, but he managed to fettle the vagaries of the heating system, stripped off and hung his clothes over a rail and re-showered.
    Afterwards, changed into his new togs, comfortable and practical rather than stylish, he sat next to the gas fire in the living area, surprised at how efficiently it had warmed up.
    He sat back, flicked on the small flat-screen TV and found a news channel.
    The warmth permeated him until he was glowing. Then the combination of a late-night flight, early morning arrival and the excitement of dragging a body out of the river seeped over him like an anaesthetic. He could not have stopped himself if he’d wanted and before he knew it his head had lolled forwards and he was asleep.
    By the time Henry returned to the scene from dropping off Flynn, Professor Baines had arrived in his pristine E-type Jaguar.
    He was at the body, squatting down, carefully examining the head. He was speaking in low tones through the side of his mouth into the barely visible microphone that looped down from his ear and was linked to a voice-activated recorder inside his jacket.
    He rose as Henry arrived and stood on the opposite side of the body. They nodded at each other. Henry tilted his head, inviting Baines to speak.
    â€˜I pronounce life extinct,’ Baines declared, checking his watch and reading out the time.
    â€˜I was pretty sure of that one,’ Henry said.
    â€˜Needs to be said and done,’ Baines said loftily.
    â€˜And beyond that?’
    â€˜Looks to be a drowning. External signs are what you would expect. She does have head injuries, but they could have come after immersion. Not unusual for a drowning person to have injuries like that, especially one drowned in these circumstances. River debris, tides . . . she could easily have struck something hard.’
    â€˜But you’ll be able to tell?’
    Baines gave him a withering look. ‘I am a