Chapter 5

The sound of a jackhammer from the park across the street filtered through Martha's pulled curtains and right through the ear plugs she had placed inside her sensitive ears to insure getting a much needed rest before striking out on a search for a suspect with plausible motivation in her niece's death. She had no doubt it was a homicide even though the original coroner's report indicated that it was either accidental or suicide. She had to laugh at the suicide aspect because she couldn't picture the egotistical young girl ending her own life sprawled naked upside down on her own staircase with a small child under her care. It seemed to her that the mysterious Mister Han was involved but for what reason she had absolutely no idea.

Her head felt fragile this morning and she remembered she had champagne the night before. She should have known better because champagne always had that effect on her when she hadn't eaten properly. She took the concoction that her departed husband imparted to her and swallowed it all down despite her repugnance at the smell. The foul-smelling mixture did the trick and within a half hour she was herself again.

She buttered her toast and added some of the jam that the nice man at the shop, Mister Patel, had gifted her to "sweeten up your day, kind lady!"

It was kind of humorous to watch Mister Patel as he hovered about her in the little shop because she was certain he had only one thing on his mind and it wasn't the selling of his wares. She had considered allowing him to do something dreadfully naughty like taking his head and mouth between her legs whilst seated in the chair behind the counter. It had been a long time since she had the pleasure of a nice tingle from a strange tongue and the very thought of it made her want to rush over to Inspector Tower's residence and seal their new partnership with a bit of slap and tickle. Of course, that was completely out of character for her because she was too old for such foolishness and was a bit fearful that she was "out of touch" with the kinky attitudes of the current sexually promoted best practices. She knew that her husband had been quite conventional in his requirements and she had gotten used to just staying motionless on her back and giving him a good ride. He very seldom indicated any interest in oral or anal activities and her only memories of such things were her dim and hazy university days.

Martha was certain that if she looked into a mirror she would be blushing but all she could see was Mister Patel or Inspector Tower or the dreadful Mister Higgins with their heads bobbing like apples between her knees and how wet they seemed to make her. She was beginning to think she was falling apart sexually now that she was a widow and with no steady source of cock to keep her smiling. Her spouse was no Don Juan and that was a fact but at least he was there if she felt the need.

Today she was meeting Inspector Tower for lunch, but before that pleasant interlude, she had an appointment to look over the coroner's report again and to look at the photos of her niece which were fortunately taken prior to the time she was released for cremation. Martha had argued against the cremation to no avail, thinking it a bit premature since they hadn't caught the killer, but the other relatives looked at her like she had just escaped from the asylum and told her it was "probably only an accident".

There was a new fellow in the forensic specialist's chair whom she hadn't seen before. He was quite rotund almost fat if one is allowed to make such a commentary. She approached him cautiously not wanting to seem too forward but still in need of certain information to further her investigation. She had been really comfortable with Doctor Brown, the young forensic scientist who had been mentored by her dead husband and who she knew instinctively was often focused on her hidden undies. It was unfortunate that so many years separated them from some experimental research of a carnal nature. She was in a position now to "test the waters" with her spouse six feet under but the poor lad was just recently married and she was certain he had not yet tired of conjugal bliss. She quite enjoyed flirting with him outrageously but it was all in good fun. This strange fellow seemed to be both dour and strictly a professional sort with very little humor.

"Excuse me, Doctor, I was looking for Doctor Brown, the forensic specialist for the Metro."

The man looked at her over his thick glasses.

"Not going to find him, are you? At least not with him up in Scotland at the training course."

She could see he was enjoying her discomfort.

"I am Martha Goodpenny. My dear departed husband, Chief Inspector Goodpenny used to coordinate the police and lab paperwork for many years."

He looked at her with the hint of some amusement in his steely grey eyes.

""I know who you are, my dear lady, Chief Inspector Tower informed me of your visit and I have all the reports in that box right there. I am Doctor Geordie McTavish but you can call me "Doctor"."'

The churlish old fool had the effrontery to chuckle at his own joke.

Martha hid her impatience and took the indicated box over to the empty desk in the corner. She immediately sat down and began to scour the details of the reports for any hint of a clue that would implicate Mister Han or some other miscreant with the opportunity to do in her unfortunate niece.

She saw that the residue under the fingernails was sufficient for a DNA analysis but that was no match in the UK database. They had not used the Interpol database as yet because that would require some sort of evidence that it was truly a crime like homicide or even manslaughter. She was reasonably certain her niece had been the victim of foul play but her proof was lacking in many respects. She started to formulate a plan to get a sample of Mister Han's DNA from his workout gym at the earliest opportunity.

She approached the distracted Doctor and asked in a polite voice at least she hoped it sounded polite,

"Would you be able to do a comparative DNA analysis for me if I bought in a sample, Doctor?"

The crafty old thing looked her up and down like he was buying a roast for Sunday dinner and replied,

"I would be happy to do so if you do me a favor in return, dearie."