in. She hoped Palmer would be assigned the task if they were forced to follow that line of enquiry. It wasn’t her decision to make, of course, but surely Palmer would relish a trip to London.
Of Andrew Fisher’s next of kin, there was just his mother, Pamela, still living in Bampton. He had an elder sister living in Australia. Another one keen to spread her wings, by the look of it.
Connie frowned and looked around the room. Damian Palmer was leaning over his desk, flicking rapidly through a report and frowning. She shouted over to him. ‘Do you know who told Andrew Fisher’s mother about the discovery of her son’s body? The recent discovery I mean. There’s no note on the file yet. I want to read her reaction to the news.’
Palmer lifted his head and took his time to focus on her. He looked like he was in another world. ‘Sorry, mind elsewhere. She was told by a family-liaison officer but Llewellyn’s also been to see her. Damage limitation and all that.’
‘Oh.’
Palmer looked across at her. ‘He’s just come back and is in a foul mood according to his secretary. I wouldn’t go chasing him for a report if I were you.’
‘As if I would. Interesting, though. I wonder what her reaction was.’ She walked across to him. ‘What are you so engrossed in anyway?’
He sat down, as if staking claim to his chair. ‘I’ve been going through the post-mortem file of the man we thought was Andrew Fisher in 2004. We need to give him a name, and I’ve thought of one. How about Joe Tagg?’
‘Joe Tagg?’ said Connie. ‘What’s wrong with John Smith? It’s what we usually use.’
Palmer looked defensive. ‘Joanne and I went to a folk night in a pub a few days ago. The band played some local tunes, and one of them stuck with me. It was about a Derbyshire man named Joe Tagg.’
Connie stared at him. ‘Are you taking the piss? We’re not a bunch of yokels around here to be laughed at.’
Palmer was smirking at her. ‘Don’t be so touchy. It was only a suggestion. John Smith gives us no idea about his personality. I think my choice is better. Gives us something to help construct a real person.’
‘And you think Joe Tagg sounds better? Suit yourself. I’m not sure Sadler will go for it though. Anyway, what did you discover from the PM?’
‘Well, Joe Tagg’s physical description is very similar to that of the real Andrew Fisher. Listen.’ He picked up the report and started to read. ‘Muscular build, height five foot ten, weight 201 pounds, and so on. Virtually identical to Andrew Fisher, in fact.’
‘You think it was deliberate? An intention to deceive by killing a physically similar man?’
Palmer was peering at the report again. ‘Well, maybe. But listen to this. On the deceased’s right arm is a scar indicative of excision.’ He lifted his head. ‘That’s surgical removal at some point in the past.’
Connie rolled her eyes. ‘I know what excision means, thanks, Palmer. Do you think I’ve never read an autopsy report before?’ She snatched the file out of his hand. ‘You think it’s important? The fact that at some point he had something removed? A tattoo maybe? It could have been a suspicious mole or something.’
Palmer calmly took the report back from her. ‘I don’t know. It’s the only thing I can find that might help with identification. I’m going to run with this for the moment. Try to find an ID. Can you give me a hand? You know, with the database?’
Connie pulled a face and looked at the clock. Time to go home. She thought of her empty flat. ‘Of course.’
17
Kat set the alarm for 6.30 a.m. and reached for the phone after stumbling out of bed. Her eyes were gritty from the lack of sleep, and there was a heavy pressure behind them. It was a bad sign. If she started the day with a headache it was unlikely to clear until the next morning. She looked to see if there were any messages on her phone from Lena. Nothing. Charlie was curled up in the middle of the
Of Andrew Fisher’s next of kin, there was just his mother, Pamela, still living in Bampton. He had an elder sister living in Australia. Another one keen to spread her wings, by the look of it.
Connie frowned and looked around the room. Damian Palmer was leaning over his desk, flicking rapidly through a report and frowning. She shouted over to him. ‘Do you know who told Andrew Fisher’s mother about the discovery of her son’s body? The recent discovery I mean. There’s no note on the file yet. I want to read her reaction to the news.’
Palmer lifted his head and took his time to focus on her. He looked like he was in another world. ‘Sorry, mind elsewhere. She was told by a family-liaison officer but Llewellyn’s also been to see her. Damage limitation and all that.’
‘Oh.’
Palmer looked across at her. ‘He’s just come back and is in a foul mood according to his secretary. I wouldn’t go chasing him for a report if I were you.’
‘As if I would. Interesting, though. I wonder what her reaction was.’ She walked across to him. ‘What are you so engrossed in anyway?’
He sat down, as if staking claim to his chair. ‘I’ve been going through the post-mortem file of the man we thought was Andrew Fisher in 2004. We need to give him a name, and I’ve thought of one. How about Joe Tagg?’
‘Joe Tagg?’ said Connie. ‘What’s wrong with John Smith? It’s what we usually use.’
Palmer looked defensive. ‘Joanne and I went to a folk night in a pub a few days ago. The band played some local tunes, and one of them stuck with me. It was about a Derbyshire man named Joe Tagg.’
Connie stared at him. ‘Are you taking the piss? We’re not a bunch of yokels around here to be laughed at.’
Palmer was smirking at her. ‘Don’t be so touchy. It was only a suggestion. John Smith gives us no idea about his personality. I think my choice is better. Gives us something to help construct a real person.’
‘And you think Joe Tagg sounds better? Suit yourself. I’m not sure Sadler will go for it though. Anyway, what did you discover from the PM?’
‘Well, Joe Tagg’s physical description is very similar to that of the real Andrew Fisher. Listen.’ He picked up the report and started to read. ‘Muscular build, height five foot ten, weight 201 pounds, and so on. Virtually identical to Andrew Fisher, in fact.’
‘You think it was deliberate? An intention to deceive by killing a physically similar man?’
Palmer was peering at the report again. ‘Well, maybe. But listen to this. On the deceased’s right arm is a scar indicative of excision.’ He lifted his head. ‘That’s surgical removal at some point in the past.’
Connie rolled her eyes. ‘I know what excision means, thanks, Palmer. Do you think I’ve never read an autopsy report before?’ She snatched the file out of his hand. ‘You think it’s important? The fact that at some point he had something removed? A tattoo maybe? It could have been a suspicious mole or something.’
Palmer calmly took the report back from her. ‘I don’t know. It’s the only thing I can find that might help with identification. I’m going to run with this for the moment. Try to find an ID. Can you give me a hand? You know, with the database?’
Connie pulled a face and looked at the clock. Time to go home. She thought of her empty flat. ‘Of course.’
17
Kat set the alarm for 6.30 a.m. and reached for the phone after stumbling out of bed. Her eyes were gritty from the lack of sleep, and there was a heavy pressure behind them. It was a bad sign. If she started the day with a headache it was unlikely to clear until the next morning. She looked to see if there were any messages on her phone from Lena. Nothing. Charlie was curled up in the middle of the
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