‘Your first mistake was going online.’ Linh pulled out her iPad. ‘So, let’s cut to the chase and then we can spend the rest of the evening talking about our mummy issues and the rubbish men in our lives. You ready?’
Henley felt that she was anything but ready. She gripped the stem of her wine glass as nervous energy travelled through her arm. All she wanted was for Linh to tell her that Ezra was wrong.
Linh carried on regardless. ‘The post-mortem report that Ezra found is not the same one that was included in the case file that was opened when Rhimes’s death was being investigated. The official cause of death as we know was carbon monoxide poisoning as a result of him gassing himself in his garage.’
Henley was never usually bothered by Linh’s blunt approach but this time it hit a nerve. She was brought back to the moment when she’d received the phone call from Rhimes’s son, Nicholas. She’d arrived at the house at the same time as the ambulance in the early hours, the toxic fumes still hanging thick in the air.
‘When you look here at the death certificate, the cause of death is the same.’ Linh continued to swipe the screen. ‘I thought that Ezra had simply made a mistake, put in the wrong date of birth and got a post-mortem report for someone else but something didn’t sit right with me when I was looking at the report in the case file. In my experience, whenever I’ve had someone on my table whose gassed themselves, they usually have a cocktail of drugs or alcohol in their system, but Rhimes had nothing. Not a thing.’
‘That can’t be right. He was on anti-depressants but not even that, the night before, we’d all been in the pub, and he’d definitely been drinking.’
‘The official toxicology screening on file was clean. No anti-depressants, no alcohol. Not even an aspirin,’ said Linh. ‘I called Ezra and asked him where exactly he’d found this second post-mortem report. Bless him, he tried to explain it to me, but I got confused. In simple terms Ezra found the report deep in the equivalent of the bin within an archive file. He said that it’d been deleted but—’
‘Ezra says that nothing is really deleted.’ Henley gulped down her wine.
‘He’s not wrong here. Long story short, I pulled the same report and found the addendum files. Name, date of birth, weight, height. Basically, everything matches but the report that Ezra found pre-dates the report that was filed. Take a look at this,’ said Linh, zooming in on the conclusion on the report.
‘Death by asphyxiation,’ Henley read. ‘I don’t understand the problem.’
‘The question is why is it “Death” and not “suicide by asphyxiation”? Furthermore—’ Linh paused as she looked up at Henley, the tone in her voice become gentler. ‘I’m going to show you some photographs. Don’t worry, they’re not the full autopsy photo.’
Henley tried to steel herself, but nausea swept through her as Rhimes’s face, fixed forever in death, filled the screen. She took a breath and focused on what she did best. Compartmentalise. ‘What am I looking at?’ she asked.
‘His neck.’
Henley saw it before Linh could explain it. Purple bruising, half an inch in width around the circumference of Rhimes’s neck. Ligature marks.
‘The report details vagal inhibition, fracture dislocation of the cervical vertebrae, hypoxia, bleeding in the neck muscles and a tracheal rupture,’ said Linh. ‘Which is what you expect for a strangulation.’
‘They found him in the back seat of his car,’ Henley said quietly.
‘A first-year medical student could tell you it would have been impossible for him to do this himself,’ said Linh.
Henley could feel her resolve and calm collapse within her as she took the iPad from Linh and recalibrated the photograph so that she was looking at Rhimes’s face. ‘Who signed off on this?’ she asked.
‘Doctor Heath Wright. I’ve never heard of him but that’s not unusual. It’s not as if every pathologist in London meets up for Taco Tuesday, but I checked him out.’ Linh faced Henley, her faced fixed with concern.
‘I’m wondering if it would be a good idea to talk to him,’ said Henley still looking at the iPad.
‘Good luck with that,’ Linh replied ‘You can visit him, but you better take flowers.’
‘What do you mean?’ Henley said, trying to process all of the information.
‘He’s in Mortlake Cemetery. Knocked off his bike in Elephant and Castle. Make of that what you will but there are other questions. Doctor Wright was based at Haringey Mortuary. But Rhimes died in Lee which is Lewisham Council, which means his body should have gone to the mortuary in Ladywell or Greenwich. Why was his post-mortem performed all the way in Haringey? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘There’s only one thing that does make sense,’ said Henley, opening the door that led to the back garden. Her head was swimming, and she needed air. She raised her head and inhaled deeply. ‘Rhimes was murdered and someone covered it up.’
‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this yet? Pellacia, Stanford. Your husband?’
‘No.’ Henley shook her head. ‘Just you and Ezra.’
‘The way I see it, you’ve got two choices.’ Linh joined Henley at the door and placed her arm around her. ‘You forget everything that you asked me and Ezra to do and what you learnt, and you walk away.’
Henley wiped her eye and pushed away the tear that had been threatening to fall. ‘But I made a promise to Eloise.’
‘Then that leaves you with the second choice.’
Henley couldn’t handle the wave of emotions crashing over her. It felt as though she was losing Rhimes all over again, but now the grief was also accompanied with guilt. She’d been angry with Rhimes for not just taking his life but abandoning his family. Trying to pick up the pieces after his death, whilst also dealing with the death of her mum had felt like walking barefooted in the rain on broken glass while holding a live wire. She drained the rest of her wine as the image of the ligature marks on Rhimes’s neck flashed in front of her eyes. The guilt quickly gave way to a fury and a determination to uncover the truth. She owed Rhimes and Eloise that.
