Geoff Good was alone in the interview room at Puddleminster Police Station. It had been on the local news about body parts being found in Queen Victoria Memorial Park, that’s why he had joked that as a pathologist at the hospital he did post mortems on deceased patients and did not chop up bodies. He did not expect them to use that as evidence of guilt.
The two CID officers came back in with a cup of tea, he assumed they were going to apologise for wrongful arrest and give him a lift home.
‘Doctor Good, we have some important questions to ask you with regard to your work, now new evidence has come to light.’
What on earth could they mean, had they found mortuary instruments lying in the park, no they were all present and correct when he left work yesterday. Was the victim someone he knew? Unlikely they would have identified the body so soon, you couldn’t even tell by tattoos these days, everyone had them.
‘You must have spoken to the woman in the CCTV picture, I saw her coming into the police station.’
‘No one has come forward to help with our enquiries.’
‘We know the victim was already dead when he was dismembered,’ chipped in the smug DC chap ‘very dead.’
‘That’s a relief, I mean for the victim.’
‘Dead for a while, but not decomposed, our forensic team have established the corpse had been kept somewhere cold.’
Geoff remained silent, he did not like where this was leading, but surely they did not think he regularly murdered people and kept them at the mortuary? Every body arrived or left the mortuary properly identified and recorded.
They stared at him, he tried to look them in the eye and not appear nervous or guilty. A thought came to him which he tried to dismiss. His new assistant did not disguise his ambition to get involved in proper forensics, not the boring bodies they dealt with at the hospital. He watched all the CSI programmes Geoff’s wife loved, but being fascinated with murder did not make him a murderer. Besides, he could not have hidden a spare body, all the drawers were occupied at present.
‘Did you wish to call your solicitor Doctor Good?’
How did things get to this stage already. He did not have a solicitor, only the school boy who had dealt with his great uncle’s will, or the local chap who had done the conveyancing for their house twenty years ago, probably retired by now.
‘No, I do not need a solicitor.’
Suddenly the DS brightened up. ‘We will be getting a warrant to search the mortuary, accompanied by your good self. In the meantime you are free to leave now as a person of interest. You may go home, but do not go to work and make sure we can contact you at any time.’
Geoff walked down the road in a daze, years of clinical and logical thinking did not help him process what was happening. He almost bumped into her, the woman from the picture. She recoiled and he automatically put his hands in the air. They both started to speak at once.
‘Sorry, sorry, I’m not a murderer.’
‘Sorry, nor am I didn’t mean to react like that.’
‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘I’m on my way to the police station to explain, I chickened out the first time. This is a nightmare.’
‘I’m so sorry you got involved.’
‘No I’m sorry, Lottie, Lottie Lincoln the novelist.’
‘Erm, I don’t read novels, Geoff Good, pathologist.’
‘Goodness, how interesting, life is stranger than fiction for sure.’
They both automatically looked around for hidden CCTV cameras.
‘Are we allowed to talk to each other?’
‘We both have a reason for walking down this road, I’ll be quick and tell you my situation. They seem to think I could have murdered and hidden the body in the mortuary, because it had been kept somewhere very cold, ridiculous of course, but at least they can’t possibly think you were involved.’
‘Do you have assistants?’
‘They are not murderers either, though the new one’s totally obsessed with forensics and CSI dramas. Oh, do you write dark crime novels, they’re all women writers.’
‘Indeed not, life affirming stories, family dramas, but I can see a story in this situation.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Perhaps no murder was committed, your assistant wanted to see a bit of drama so borrowed a body, chopped it up and created a fake crime scene. He would not be suspected, no blood soaked clothing and all that. Anyway, I had better get to the police station, good luck.’
The mortuary was empty of live persons when Geoff was escorted in by a team of plain clothed and uniformed officers. The person they had to show the warrant to was Geoff himself. It seemed the rest of the hospital was unaware of the mortuary drama. Had anyone even noticed Geoff’s absence? There obviously had been no deaths at the hospital in the past twenty four hours and he recalled the new assistant was starting some annual leave.
No bodies on the slabs, pity, Geoff would have enjoyed making them feel queasy. He showed them all the computer and written records, then opened each labelled drawer one by one, assuring them it was a full house this week.
‘Everyone sleeping peacefully’ he joked nervously as they reached the last drawer.
The last drawer was empty, the name still on the front of the drawer, John James Smith.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 