“That’s right. Of course she may be reported missing by someone within the next day or two.”

“But you don’t think so? May I ask why?”

“It’s not the usual kind of suicide. The pattern’s all wrong. For one thing, the indications are that she did everything possible to conceal her identity before killing herself.” He hesitated. “There’s no chance that she was dumped, is there? Drugged beforehand or something like that?”

Murray shook his head. “Impossible — the eyes were still open. It’s funny you should mention drugs though.”

“Why?”

“I’ll show you.”

It was cold in the theatre and the heavy antiseptic smell could not wholly smother the sickly-sweet stench of death. Her body lay on the slab in the centre of the room covered with a rubber sheet. Murray raised the edge and lifted the left arm.

“Take a look.”

The marks of the needle were plainly visible and Miller frowned. “She was a junkie?”

Murray nodded. “My tests indicate that she had an injection consisting of two grains of heroin and one of cocaine approximately half an hour before she died.”

“And when would you say that was?”

“Let’s see now. You pulled her out just before six, didn’t you? I’d say she’d been in the water about five hours.”

“Which means she went in at one a.m.”

“Or thereabouts. One can’t be exact. It was a cold night.”

“Anything else?”

“What can I tell you? She was about nineteen, well nurtured. I’d say she’d been raised in more than comfortable surroundings.”

“Was she a virgin?”

“Anything but — two months pregnant.” He shook his head and added dryly. “A young woman very well acquainted with the sexual act.”

“What about her clothes?”

“A chap was here from your Forensic Department. He took them away along with the usual things. Scrapings from under the fingernails, hair samples and so on.”