Why Did You Die (excerpt) – thriller novel

Here’s a taste of some more work in progress – Taken from my new thriller: Why Did You Die.

The day I messaged you was the day you died.  

I was staying at the only hotel on the island. It overlooked a beach that could have been made for Instagram. Palm trees, white sand and the turquoise water of the Gulf of Thailand. I sent you a selfie.

I stare out of the car window at Princess Victoria Infirmary’s grey 1960’s concrete edifice from the back of a police car. DI Caroline Carter met me at the airport and has taken me straight here to identify a body. I cross my fingers in a fruitless gesture, hoping there’s been a mistake and the body won’t be Rob’s. Carter parks in a space marked for emergency vehicles. Strictly speaking this can hardly be called an emergency. Rob isn’t going anywhere. But Carter likes to pull rank. It’s a bit above her paygrade to pick me up and take me for the formal identification, but we have history. Even if it’s not all good, there is still a bond between us.

            I force myself to get out of the car with my heart pounding and my ears pulsing with blood. Caroline gives be a questioning look. She is dressed in a dark blue pencil skirt, and jacket, and wearing dangerous looking heels. Looks more like a top-flight lawyer than a police detective

            ‘Ready?’

            ‘Lets get it over with.’ I mumble.

            She nods and leads me leads me past the modern hospital building, where I had my teenage appendix removed, to the sombre Victorian wing. That’s where the morgue is housed. In the basement. Nearer Hell than Heaven.

            As our footsteps echo down the stone steps to level B, I still cling to the irrational hope that they’ve got the wrong body.

            We reach a reception area, where Caroline mutters to a flunky and fills in some paperwork. The Hall of Rest lies behind oak panelled double doors.

            ‘Would you like a few moments on your own with Rob?’ she asks. 

            I swallow hard and nod, and step inside. The doors click shut behind me and I breath in the faint aroma of formaldehyde on the cool air.

            It’s not a hall at all, but simply a large room with low lighting and subtle colours, all muted greys and beige. Very peaceful. There is even a carpet on the floor. Dark maroon, the colour of dried blood.

            In front of me is a gurney with a large white sheet draped over what is clearly a body. I clench by guts and stride up to the trolley, pulling back the sheet in one movement.

            Rob’s grey lifeless face looks unreal. Not my actual brother, but a latex prop in a low budget film. 

            I feel compelled to touch him one last time. But I hesitate. I’ve never touched a dead person before. Rob is my first. I wonder how many more dead bodies I will see in my lifetime. Then I place my hand upon his forehead. It’s cold and surprises me with its firmness.

            ‘God rest your soul, Bro.’ I mumble.

            I bend down to kiss him on the cheek, feeling the cool skin on my lips.

            Can you sense I’m here, Rob?

            I don’t know when I ever kissed him before. Probably never. Used to punch him a lot, when I was little. He was so strong, he’d laugh at my punches. I thought he was invincible. I expected to cry when I saw him. But I don’t. I’m British like that. We don’t wail and cry much do we? 

            The door behind me opens quietly. Caroline. I turn to face her.

            ‘Do you mind if we do the formalities?’ she asks gently.

            My throat tightens and I manage a simple nod.

            Caroline adopts her more formal voice. ‘Can you confirm that this is the body of your brother Robert Whelan?’

            My eyes moisten as the missing tears make a late appearance. I clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurts as I try to push the tears back. I don’t trust myself to speak, so simply nod in answer to her question.

            ‘I’m sorry, Sam but I need you to confirm it verbally.’

            ‘Yes. This is Robert Whelan. My brother.’ My voice sounds strange and choked with emotion. I turn away and wipe my face with my sleeve. I don’t want to cry in front of DI Carter.

            Caroline takes a step towards me. She places a hand on my shoulder. I turn to face her, my eyes unable to focus through with tears. ‘I’m sorry.’

            ‘No need to apologise, Sam. He was your flesh and blood.’ I nod. ‘I know you’re a cynical hack, but you are actually human.’

            I give an ironic laugh, but appreciate the moment of tenderness.

            ‘I’ll be outside. Take your time.’

            When she’s gone, I lean forward and whisper in Rob’s ear, ‘What on earth were you doing in an isolated village like Tamwell? And what possessed you to venture into the graveyard in the middle of the night? Were you with someone? And did you really die of a heart attack?’

            I stare at his frozen lips, willing them to answer. But his lips don’t move. They’ll never move again. The only sound is the low hum of the cooling plant.

            But still I stare. Hoping for some kind of telepathic connection with his spirit.

            Come on Rob. Give me something.

            But there’s nothing.

            Disappointed, I take the white sheet to cover him again, but as I do so, his left arm falls down to one side, which makes me jump. I take the cold hand in a macabre parody of a goodbye handshake, but as I move it back into position, I notice something on his inside forearm. A tattoo. A dragon tattoo. He never had a tattoo there before. He once went as far as swearing he’d never get a tattoo, because being a hypochondriac, he was sure to get an infection from the tattooist’s needle.