Chapter 2
The Scene of Crime team had finished with the body. Zipped in the black bag made infamous by the media, the corpse was carried off for identification and examination. Onlookers had started to gather at the park gates and, as the officers went past, a gasp of horror went up. Many had a grotesque idea of what would happen next. An idea created and fuelled by "Silent Witness" and Kay Scarpetia. The superhuman female pathologist who went in too deep but saved the day.

As the body was placed in the ambulance flashes from cameras went off. The press had arrived. Inspector Hartley knew a statement would have to be made, but that any statement would only become the source of gossip. That the press would take the juciest bits and leave the rest, thereby stoking the fires of fear.

Leaving the overall clad team doing their finger tip search, he headed towards the crowd. As he approached the gates, David steeled himself to face the journalists.

The words were chosen carefully. "Today, at around ten am, the body of a young female was found by passers by. As yet it is too early to make any conclusion as to the identity of the victim or how she died. A fuller statement will be made as and when we have more information. Thank you."

Ignoring the questions fired out by the journalists, Inspector Hartley turned and returned to the police cordon. The park was large, with five or six entrances. As soon as they could they would have to let people into the park. The only blessing of where the body was found was that it was only of the only spots in the place that was relatively secluded. But, though David, why the Temple?

As the ambulance pulled into the hospital, a blue Ford Mondeo turned into the police car park. Getting out of the car, Constable Roundtree went round and openned the back passanger door. He felt that he had to admit that Mrs Anderson was a pro. All of the time that the mayor was in view her composure had never failed her. She looked shocked, and, as they drove off from the Church, as if she was about to break down, but she had carried on. Together with his partner he escorted Mrs Anderson into the station and found an office where they could talk.

On being offered a drink, the mayor asked for coffee, white, no sugar. When it arrived she took out some artifical sweeteners, clicked the button twice, and stirred her drink with a spoon that she carried in her bag.

"I'm sorry your Worship," Constable Roundtree's voice quivered with uncertainty over whether the title was correct, "but we will need you too see the body in an attempt at an identification."

The mayor looked out of place, due to both her chain of office and the fact that she was drinking out of a polystyrene cup. When she finally spoke, her voice was near breaking point. "I, I, I know." She dabbed her eyes with a hankerchief. "I just hope she didn't suffer."

The door to the opened. A uniformed officer put his head round the door. "The hospital has just rung. They're ready when you are."

Andrew Roundtree looked at the mayor. As she had heard the words, Cynthia Anderson had turned a nasty shade of green. The reality of the situation seemed to catch up on her.

"Do you think you are up to it?" It was Andrew's female colleague who had spoken. A young girl from Manchester named Grace Malunde.

The mayor seemed to call upon some higher power, to get her through. She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and muttered something. Looking up she turned to face Constable Malunde. Cynthia Anderson's voice held a note of submission, "Yes, I'm ready. I think its better to get it over with."

While the mayor had been at the police station, Inspector Hartley had finished at the crime scene. He had driven down to the Royal Infirmary, and was now waiting for the arrival of his colleagues and the mayor. The first time was one time too many. Four in as many months, including this one.

The entourage arrived and, with the formalities soon overwith, the group made their way down to the morgue. As they apporached the door, David Hartley indicated to Andrew that he should wait outside. Andrew breathed a sigh of relief as the group went through without him. Dead bodies were not something he enjoyed.

As he entered the mortuary Inspector Hartley shivered. The place was kept cold to help prevent the process of decay. But this was not the only reason. The place smelt of death. The mix of chemicals, from disinfectant to formaldihyde, created an aroma that was - memorable. Once smelt, never forgotten. This combined with the smell of decaying flesh to create a pungency which assaulted the senses. The inspector heard the mayor catch her breathe as she adjusted to the room. Waiting a moment for the effects to wear off, David led the way to where a body lay covered on the table.

"Mrs Anderson. If you're up to it, we need you to tell us whether the body is that of your daughter." The mayor nodded and, as David Hartley pulled back the cover, Constable Mulunde stepped quietly up to support Mrs Anderson in case she felt faint.

After what seemed like an eternity, the mayor spoke. "Yes. It's Sandra."

Inspector Hartley pulled the cover back across the body of the mayor's daughter and led the now sobbing lady out of the room. This was not the first time that David had been through this process of identification, but it never got any easier. Niether as a police officer, or as a lay reader, did he know what to say.