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THIRTEEN
13
My answering machine is flashing. There are two messages.
The first is from Blanche Bradbury:
Hi Quintus, it's Blanche. I'm at the mortuary. Can you meet me there?
Clunk!
Detective Inspector Brooks.
Mr Noone, I need to speak to you. Would you mind giving me a call?
Just after eight, I dress in casual clothes and make my way to the mortuary. Someone followed me.
I didn't know by who, but I just sensed it. Unrecognisable faces in everyday places.
Blanche Bradbury wore a dark-blue jumpsuit beneath a surgical gown and a bright yellow face mask covering her mouth and nose. Without any apparent awareness of how lovely she looked, she moved nimbly around the table, taking measurements, her white tennis shoes protected by green plastic covers.
She crosses to the whiteboard to scribble up the initial statistics, talking all the time above the squeak of her felt pen. "Alexi Zelenyy weighs one-hundred-f
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