and warm, protected by her body. Flesh of my flesh, Solly thought, the phrase coming to him suddenly.
'Here, sit down. I'll make you something nice. Lemon and ginger tea?'
Rosie slumped down in her favourite rocking chair, settling a couple of cushions at her back. `Ah, that's better. Yes, some of that nice tea would be wonderful. And maybe a wee ginger biscuit as well.I've been having horrible heartburn again. Wee rascal's probably lying up against my tummy. Oh,' she added in a sigh. 'All those poor bits of me squashed up. Can't think what a relief it'll be to be back to normal again.'
The pathologist closed her eyes, feeling the warmth from the early evening sunshine through the glass. Their bay windows faced west and it was a treat to bask in the last rays of the setting sun. Theirs would be an autumn baby, due to be born on the twentieth of October, Rosie mused. A Libran, Emma in the mortuary had informed her. They had chosen not to know whether it would be a boy or a girl. So long as it's like the world, her old aunty had said. And she was right, of course; a normal, healthy baby was what mattered. Solly's mum and dad didn't seem to care either way, or so they had said. Rosie sighed. It was such a shame her own folks were no longer here to see the next generation of wee Fergussons.
'Here you are,' Solly handed his wife a mug of tea and hunkered down beside her. 'Good day? Or shouldn't I want to know?'
'Thanks, love, not bad,' she replied, taking a sip from the china mug. 'I'll spare you the details,' she grinned.
Solly smiled back. Theirs was a strange union in many ways; a man who was squeamish about all things to do with blood and gore and a woman whose profession it was to delve into the innards of a human cadaver. Early on in their relationship Rosie had learned to be sensitive to the psychologist's weakness and was always careful not to dwell on too many particulars of her day to day work.
'Interesting case this one that Lorimer's got on just now.
Probably some gangland falling out, if you ask me, but ballistics are having some fun with it.' She turned away from the sunlight to look at her husband, sitting by her side. 'I vo men gunned down in the flat of a known drug dealer. The flat belongs to the man whose former brother-in-law was killed by the same weapon. Or so they believe.'
Not very mysterious, then,' Solly shrugged.
'Shouldn't think so. The dealer is ex-army so as it stands things seem to point at him. Lorimer's team will likely turn him up then that'll be another case for the records.'
'Will you be required to give evidence in court?'
Rosie bent her head from side to side trying to ease the neck muscles that had stiffened up. 'Spect so. But they have to catch him first and it'll only come to trial if he pleads not guilty.'
'Is that likely?'
Rosie snorted. `Och, they all seem to plead not guilty these days. Hope that they'll have one of our famous celebrity defence lawyers who'll get them off.'
'Well, at least you won't be performing any more post-mortems now,' Solly said, a hint of warning in his voice.
'No, 'spect not,' she replied casually. But as she drained the mug of tea, Rosie wondered if the recent post- mortems she had performed on the two drug dealers would be her last before going on maternity leave. It was becoming more and more difficult to lean over the operating table and sometimes she had experienced tingles in her fingers, not the best thing when wielding a scalpel.
Solly was probably quite right, even though it felt as if he were being a tad over-protective. Somehow this case had intrigued her.
The memory of that nice looking chap with a single hole to his forehead had lingered with her. Especially when Lorimer had expressed his surprise that Kenneth Scott had been targeted by a hit man.
Ah, well, it wasn't her business.
'Look!' SoIly laid a gentle hand across her belly as a ripple appeared, moving from one side to the other. And as both of them gazed at the tiny miracle that was their unborn child, all thoughts of dead bodies and gunmen were forgotten.
'Lorimer always tells us to look at the victim's home,' DS Cameron said, as he strolled down the corridor with Detective Constable Fathy. 'We didn't have too much chance of doing that with Scott so he wants me to take you back there today to have a look around.' `To see what isn't there,' murmured Fathy.
'Right,' Cameron replied. 'We seem to have reached a bit of an impasse with Mr Scott. Far too little known about him. Lorimer reckons we might turn up something back at his house.'
Fathy nodded, increasing his speed to match the other man's stride. 'And he's happy for me to tag along?'
'Of course,' Cameron said. 'Especially as your pal, DC Irvine, is off with DS Wilson to see Sandiman and Galbraith's families,' he added. 'Think we've got the better of the actions today, don't you?' he grinned.
Omar Fathy gave a smile in return. It would be good to have an opportunity to see the detective sergeant in action this morning.
He had warmed to the tall Lewisman who had gone out of his way to make him feel welcome. They had spent time playing pool one evening and he'd noticed that the other man had kept to soft drinks, never making a big issue about it. 'Don't drink,' Cameron had shrugged when offered something alcoholic, as if it was no big deal. Fathy had been impressed. Up in Grampian that might have been remarked upon and he knew some officers there who would have taken the mickey out of Cameron. But the detective sergeant seemed wholly unfazed about being a teetotaller.
It was a short ride across town to Scott's house, a small terraced property in the suburbs that was remarkable only because of the manner in which its owner had died.
The crime scene tape was still tied across the pathway, supposedly keeping anybody from nosing around. It hadn't, of course.
Images of the house had been circulated around all the tabloids, though now it was old news and there was no sign of any reporters hovering in the vicinity.
'Okay, here we are. Gloves on. Keys at the ready,' Cameron grinned. It was important not to contaminate the scene in case further forensics were required so both men put on a pair of latex gloves before leaving the pool car.
As it was a week day the neighbourhood was virtually deserted, a British Telecom van being the only other vehicle parked in the street. Omar Fathy looked around him as Cameron fiddled with the keys to the front door. It was such an ordinary looking place, every garden neat with well-trimmed hedges or low stone walls.
The hanging baskets at the neighbouring doorway were full now, their colours a blaze of crimson geraniums and bright blue lobelia in contrast to the victim's home. There was a patch of lawn, fairly recently mown, but no baskets or tubs full of flowers and only a few shrubs placed next to the garden path. Filling a garden with annual plants was often a woman's pleasure, Fathy thought. It had certainly fallen to his mother to choose what flowers their gardener was to plant each year in their extensive grounds. Something missing, Lorimer had said. Well, a woman's touch out here was missing at any rate, but they already knew that, didn't they? he thought as he followed DS Cameron into the darkened hallway.
Cameron stopped suddenly then flicked on the light switch.
'That's where he was killed,' he said, pointing to a patch on the carpet just feet from the front door.
'He opened the door and was shot right away?' Fathy asked.
Cameron frowned. 'From where the body was it looks as though he had taken a couple of steps backwards before the gunman shot him. That's what ballistics have told us, anyway.'
'Right,' Fathy nodded, then stepped gingerly to one side as the other officer sidled past the spot where the man had died. He shuddered despite the warmth in the house. A man had died just there; one moment he'd been a living breathing person and the next all that remained was a piece of dead meat for the pathologists to pick over.
Fathy exhaled, his eyes fastened on that spot on the carpet, unaware that he had been holding his breath.
'The main room is through here and the kitchen off to the back of the house. Two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs,' Cameron said, waving a hand as he entered the living room.
'You'd make a great estate agent, Sergeant,' Fathy chuckled and was gratified to see the senior officer smile
