In the unmanned reception of the local medical centre, Sergeant Max Sheehan looked out the window. A rotund officer with several decades of experience, Sheehan was no fan of drama. His brittle white moustache bristled indignantly as he watched Ethan Cole cross the car-park.
‘Well what do you think of that one?’ he asked.
PC Byers, whose boyish face belied the fact that there was less than a decade between them, walked over to join him. Despite standing a head taller than his superior, Byers was forever in Sheehan’s shadow.
Outside, Ethan kicked his battered car in frustration, knocking a large dent into its bodywork. If there had previously been any doubt it needed repair, there was none now. The vehicle definitely needed expert attention.
‘Seems a livewire alright,’ Byers replied.
‘A livewire?’
Sheehan let out a chuckle.
‘Let me tell you, Byers,’ he said. ‘I’ve been in this job for damn near thirty years, and as soon as I saw him, I knew he was a wrong ’un.’
Call it instinct, but Sheehan thought there was something unsettling about this guy. This wasn’t just some young buck eager to display his antlers; Cole was more like a spring wound so tightly it was primed to snap at any moment.
‘Could be he’s just having a bad day,’ Byers said.
‘Could be,’ Sheehan said, ‘but I got a gut feeling about him – and that feeling is he’s a wrong ’un.’
‘Think he’s gonna cause trouble?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sheehan replied. ‘But if that car of his has broken down and he has to stay in town for a while, I’ll be keeping an eye on him.’
Byers nodded.
‘You don’t wanna take any risks.’
‘Not with some smart-mouthed out-of-towner.’
Sheehan rubbed his nose.
‘If he keeps his head down,’ he continued, ‘we got nothing to worry about. But if he steps outta line, it’s up to you and me to come down on him like a ton of bricks. People don’t want no trouble round these parts.’
‘People don’t want trouble,’ Byers echoed.
In the car-park, a second car had come to rest.
‘Looks like our next appointment’s here,’ Byers said.
Sheehan patted Byers on the back.
‘I’ll leave the last one to you,’ he said. ‘Think you’ll know the routine by now.’
Glancing outside again he added, ‘I’m gonna tell sonny Jim here to wind his neck in.’
‘Sure thing, boss.’
Sheehan strutted through the front doors, leaving Byers to check the names of the men now approaching the medical centre. Mr Richardson and Mr Wilson. It was Mr Wilson who Byers had spoken to when arranging the viewing. It was Mr Richardson, however, who’d been brought here for the identification. The police department had been warned Mr Richardson’s mental state was somewhat delicate. If the girl who’d fallen from the cliffs was his daughter…
Byers held the door open to let the two men through, then shook hands with Mr Wilson, an unassuming man in the slightly-worn attire of the seasoned social worker. Mr Richardson lurked behind him, the marked stoop of his shoulders drawing attention away from his otherwise imposing height. His skin was weathered beyond his years and the roughness of his stubble gave the impression of a beard that wasn’t there. When Byers introduced himself, Richardson managed a quiet hello but avoided eye contact.
Byers began to brief the pair on the procedure. While Wilson appeared attentive, Richardson remained withdrawn, and Byers couldn’t be certain he heard a word that was said. Finishing his spiel, he noticed Richardson was transfixed by the inaudible remonstration taking place outside between Sheehan and Cole. Watching from the corner of his eye, Richardson displayed the manner of a man witnessing events he shouldn’t be privy to.
He was probably just grateful, Byers supposed, to have something to divert his thoughts from what he was about to see. Thinking of his own children, both now at college and only a few years younger than the girl who’d died, Byers could only sympathise with Richardson, a great brute of a man reduced to a troubled wretch.
‘Are you ready?’
Richardson looked ashamed for having let his mind wander. Opening the door, Byers led the pair down the corridor to where the consultant pathologist was waiting.