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‘Is this your first?’ Penn asked Tiff as they headed to the morgue.

She nodded. ‘I’ve obviously seen bodies, but never a live post-mortem.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ he reassured her. ‘Keats is a legend.’

Even more so because he had made the request for the transfer of the body and had also been in contact with Esther Nixon for permission to investigate further.

Penn had taken the opportunity of Lynne being on a late shift to educate himself on what happened in a digital post-mortem. He now knew that it was a non-invasive process using CT and MRI scans to develop three-dimensional images that allowed a virtual exploration of the body.

One of the first documented studies had been conducted at the department of neuroradiology in Germany in 1980, where stillborn and live-birth infants had been studied. The technology had advanced since the eighties to include multiplanar reconstructions and high-definition 3D rendering. These days, digital autopsies tried to answer the same investigative questions without actual dissection.

Taking everything into account, it was a shift he supported.

‘Hey, Jimmy,’ Penn greeted Keats’s assistant as he passed through the first set of doors.

Jimmy nodded towards the counter and two piles of protective equipment. They worked silently to put the gear on until Jimmy indicated that they were suitable for entry.

‘Ahh, Penn,’ Keats greeted them, turning towards the door. ‘What a strange choice you’ve made for a first date.’

‘I’m Tiff. I’m?—’

‘He knows,’ Penn said. ‘He’s just messing. No one gets in here without Keats knowing who they are.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘So, Penn, care to explain why you found it necessary to add to my already considerable workload?’

‘Trust,’ Penn answered.

‘In the pathologist or the process?’ Keats asked as Jimmy wheeled in the gurney.

‘Don’t really want to answer that.’

‘Wrong answer. It’s the process you should distrust the most.’

‘Doesn’t digital autopsy have many benefits?’ Penn asked, hoping to put his recent research to good use.

‘Name them.’

Not sure if he was being led into a trap or if Keats was actually inviting healthy debate, he decided to proceed with caution.

‘It’s impossible to preserve the body after dissection. This method lets you gather the findings with non-destructive and contamination-free procedures.’

‘Spoken by a man who crammed on the subject last night. I don’t disagree, so please continue.’

‘It makes it easier to see some areas of the body.’

‘Agreed. Data acquisition from some areas is problematic. Continue.’

Penn now knew for sure that he was being led somewhere.

‘Keats, you’re scaring me now.’

‘Have you made all your points?’

‘I think so.’

‘You forgot to mention that it can speed up data acquisition in disasters, but I’ll forgive you that one. It’s true that bodies can be examined digitally multiple times. However.’

Penn groaned. Here it came.

‘However, a very obvious difference is the real colour of internal body organs and their changes in the deceased, in comparison to what is simulated in the visualisation software. Even vague colour changes in organs can offer clues on the cause of death. Plus this novel technology hasn’t been given enough time in action to be sure of its findings. In addition?—’

‘Okay, Keats, you got me,’ Penn said, holding up his hands in defeat.

‘Oh no, young Penn, a little information is a dangerous thing. You wanted to learn, but you failed to realise the most important fact.’

‘Which is?’ he asked resignedly.

‘That there aren’t many justice systems around the world who accept digital autopsies in court, so to put it in a nutshell, without dissection, you have no case.’ He sighed heavily. ‘And unfortunately that may be the situation we find ourselves in with this poor fellow too.’

Penn waited but sensed it was not going to be good news.

‘I’m happy to carry out a full post-mortem, but on first inspection, there is nothing obvious to tell us how this man ended up in the water.’

‘But the marks…’

‘Could very easily have been made by the body moving around in the water after death. I’m sorry, Penn, but—Oh, hang on one little minute.’ He peered down at the man’s right hand. ‘Hmm…out you go for a second,’ he said, ushering them towards the door.

They stood in the anteroom silently and watched as Keats wheeled over the portable X-Ray machine. He positioned it over the right hand.

Both he and Tiff watched as Keats pressed a few buttons on the machine and then beckoned them back in.

The screen on the wall sparked into life and a skeletal hand appeared. Before Penn had a chance to try and make sense of it, Keats was already pointing.

‘That’s the right thumb, and you’ll see we have a fracture of the second phalanx.’

‘The middle one,’ Penn offered. As far as he knew, fingers had three phalanges.

Keats offered him a withering glance. ‘Basic biology, my boy. Unlike fingers, the thumb has only two and one of them is broken.’

Every day was a school day, especially with Keats, but Penn was unsure why the pathologist was looking so pleased with himself.

‘Could have been an existing injury,’ Penn said.

‘Said a man who has never fished,’ Keats scoffed. ‘You try operating a fishing rod with a broken thumb. Never gonna happ—’ Keats stopped speaking as his phone rang.

He listened, frowned and ended the call.

‘Jimmy. Please put our friend back to bed.’

As though they were invisible, Keats rushed back to his anteroom and began to disrobe.

Penn had a feeling his boss was about to get a call.