Extract from : Ruso and the Disappearing Dancing Girls

Extract from Medicus and the Disappearing Dancing Girls by R. S. Downie

Someone had washed the mud off the body, but as Gaius Petreius Ruso unwrapped the sheet there was still a distinct smell of river. The assistant wrinkled his nose as he approached with the record tablet and the measuring stick he had been sent to fetch.
  "So," said Ruso, flipping the tablet open. "What's the usual procedure here for unidentified bodies?"
  The man hesitated. "I don't know, sir. The mortuary assistant's on leave."
  "So who are you?"
  "The assistant's assistant, sir." The man was staring at the corpse.
  "But you have attended a post-mortem before?"
  Without taking his eyes off the body, the man shook his head. "Are they all like that, sir?"
  Ruso, who had started work before it was light, stifled a yawn. "Not where I come from."
  The description should come first. Facts before speculation. Except that in this case much of the description was speculation as well.
  Female, aged... He spent some time frowning over that one. Finally he settled on approximately 18-25 years. Average weight. Height... five foot three inches. At least that was fairly accurate. Hair: red, scant. That too, although it might not be very helpful if no-one had ever seen her before without a wig. Clothing: none found. So no help there, then.
  Three teeth missing, but not in places that were obvious. Someone would need to know her very well indeed to give a positive identification from that.
  Ruso glanced up. "Did you go over to HQ for me?"
  "I told them we'd got a body and you'd sent the details over later, sir."
  "Did you ask about missing persons?"
  "Yes, sir. There aren't any."
  "Hm." This did not bode well. Ruso continued working his way down the body, making notes as he went. Moments later his search was rewarded. "Ah. Good!"
  "Sir?"
  Ruso pointed to what he had found. "If somebodty turns up looking for her in a month's time," he explained. "We'll be able to tell them who we buried." He recorded Strawberry birthmark approximately half an inch long on inside of upper right thigh, eight inches above the knee, and sketched the shape.
  When he had completed the description, Ruso scratched one ear and gazed down at the pale figure laid out on the table. He was better acquainted than he wished to be with the dead, but this one was difficult. The water had interfered with all the signals he had learned to look for: There was no settling of the blood to indicate the position in which the body had been left, presumably because it had rolled over on the current. The limbs were flexible... so that meant, what? Men who died in the stress of battle often froze and then relaxed again much faster than was normal. So if the woman had been frightened or struggling... On the other hand, how would the aftermath of death be affected by cold water? He scratched his ear again and yawned, trying to think what he could usefully write on the report that would not cause more stess and confusion to the relatives.
  Finally he settled on Time of death: uncertain, estimated at least 2 days before discovery and gave his reasons.
  He glanced up at the assistant's assistant again. "Can you write legibly?"
  "Yes, sir."
  He handed the tablet and stylus across the body.
  "Place of death," he dictated, then corrected himself. "No, put Location of body."
  The man laid the tablet on the end of the table, hunched over it and repeated, "Location... of... body" as he scraped with awkward but determined obedience.
  "Found five hundred paces downstream from the pier, in marshes on the north bank," said Ruso, wishing he had carried on writing himself.
  "F... found... five hundred..." muttered the man, suddenly breaking off in mid-sentence to look up and say,
"She could have drowned a long way upstream and come down on the river, sir. But then, she might have gone in further along and come up on the tide."
  "Pardon?" Ruso blinked, taken aback by this sudden display of initiative.
  Moments later it was apparent that although this soldier knew nothing about hospital adminstration and very little about writing, he had devoted his spare time to learning everything there was to know about the local fishing. The asistant's assistant's detailed description of all possible points of waterborne departure which might end in an arrival in the marshes on the north bank of the River Dee left Ruso baffled, but one thing was clear. In a land where coastlines shifted in and out and rivers flowed backwards twice a day, anything that floated could end up a very long way from where it fell into the water.