A Vicky Hill Exclusive (Vicky Hill 1) by Dennison Hannah

Author:Dennison, Hannah [Dennison, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781780330600
Publisher: Constable Robinson
Published: 2012-05-16T21:00:00+00:00

23

The morgue was conveniently located at the rear of Gipping Hospital behind a walled courtyard. It was a plain one-storey, redbrick building with a flat roof and no windows, presumably to deter morbid members of the public from taking a peek inside.

Leaving the bustling High Street behind me, I turned into Scalpel Avenue, a quiet residential area lined with dreary Edwardian semidetached houses with bay windows and pebble-dash.

One of these belonged to Messrs Ripley and Ravish, Gipping’s popular funeral directors – Dust to Dust with Dignity. Both hearses were parked on the street – a rare sight during these cold, winter months when hypothermia was one of the main causes of death in the elderly.

It had only just turned 4.30 p.m. With any luck, I’d catch Brian before he went home.

Before I could give this more thought, a horrible sound of grinding gears broke the afternoon silence. A familiar Morris Traveller crawled into view. I was surprised to see Mrs Poultry, who generally only drove into town on market day. If she’d been visiting someone at the hospital – unlikely, as she had no friends that I was aware of – the car park entrance was off the High Street. Then, it occurred to me that Scalpel Avenue eventually became Tripp Lane, which offered a shortcut to Refuse Dump Drive, Gipping County Council Rubbish Tip – and Ronnie Binns! Even though Mrs Poultry had appeared repulsed by my message that Ronnie praised her dustbins, she must have changed her mind.

I gave a friendly wave as my landlady slowly drove past me at her usual snail’s pace but she pretended not to notice. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead, and her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. Obviously she was embarrassed that I’d guessed what she was up to. I wasn’t offended. The thought that I could be responsible for bringing two lonely senior citizens together in such a cruel world brought a warm glow to my heart.

I strolled through the morgue gates and was greeted by the sight of Coroner Sharpe’s black Mercedes Coupé parked alongside a sky blue Vespa LX 50. Recalling Brian’s sky blue scooter helmet, I assumed the bike was his. With half an hour to go, I looked around for somewhere to wait unseen.

A few yards away, tucked against the wall bordering the road, stood a large black and red striped bin marked HOSPITAL WASTE. Ignoring the stench, I settled behind it to wait.

I didn’t have to wait long. Moments later, the tinkling sound of female laughter caught my attention. I dropped to my knees and peeked around the side of the Dumpster.

Coroner Sharpe was helping a woman wearing a stylish Burberry raincoat and matching bucket hat into the passenger’s seat of his car. She had her back to me but from the way she squeezed his arm and whispered something into his ear, I could tell there was a sexual je ne sais quoi between them, especially when Sharpe pinched her bottom.

Sharpe climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and turned the Mercedes around.

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