Colder Than Ice (28 page)

Rob
disappeared and returned minutes later with the Sarah and Michela in tow.

“Wow,”
Sarah exclaimed. “You’re really getting down to the bits and pieces now.
This is like the museum exhibit I saw years ago in Auckland. Someone had gone
to the trouble of recreating Scott’s accommodations. I thought that was good,
but this is like going back in time.”

Allison
motioned Michela and Sarah to her. “I suspect somewhat too real for my
liking.”

Sarah
sobered and looked at the lump on the bed. She touched the fabric and ran her
hands along its contours. “It looks like someone’s used a sleeping bag as
a funeral shroud.”

Rick
peered over Michela’s shoulder. “What, you mean there’s a body in there? That’s
disgusting.”

Sarah
shook her head. “No, not disgusting. In fact I’d say it’s entirely
practical. If someone died it’d be just as easy to sew them into their bag and
allow the climate to do the rest.”

Dianne
put as much space between her and the body as was possible. “Why would
someone die in here? And why wouldn’t they be buried outside?”

“There
could be a number of reasons. There could have been a blizzard that prevented
his burial or the person or people who did the sewing may not have been capable
of moving the body outside. I won’t be sure without further
investigation.” Sarah studied the stitching at the top of the bag.

“That’s
what I wanted to speak to you two about,” Allison said. “I’m
interested to find out what’s within, but I didn’t know where I stood, it being
a possible body and all. Michela, as team leader, what’s your call on
this?”

Michela
looked as if she was taken off guard. “I’m not quite certain, but as long
as we’re respectful with how we check the body, then this shouldn’t be a problem.”
She tapped Sarah’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

Sarah
stood. “I think you’re right. Of course, it does help that before I
studied to become a doctor I trained for a while in forensic
anthropology.”

Rob
scratched his head. “Bugger me, woman, is there anything you didn’t
do?”

Sarah
casually shrugged. “When you’re a child prodigy you’ve got to do something
to occupy your time. After I finished my first degree, this seemed like a good
way to fill in time before I worked out what I wanted to do next. I studied it
for a while but found the whole thing too morbid. But it did prepare me for my
medical degree.”

Dianne
shuddered. “That’s awful. Playing with dead bodies.”

Sarah
turned to Dianne. “I found it pretty interesting. And, in this case,
helpful. Allison, I can review the body for you without creating too much of a
mess, and at the same time try and determine a cause of death. I’ve already got
an idea regarding the cause of death, but that’s all it is at this stage.”
Her gaze trailed the length of the body and she pointed to a box under the
feet. “What’s that?”

Allison
gently removed the box from its resting-place. “It’s a suitcase, as if
someone left it there in the hope it would some day be found. It’s heavy too.
Let me see if I can open it.”

She
gently put the suitcase on a wooden table and tried the clasps but they refused
to budge. She gave the clasps a determined jiggle and it finally opened.
“Oh my.”

Rob
peered over her shoulder. “What are they?”

“They’re
glass photographic plates. I’d say this belongs to the expedition’s
photographer, Ian Ross, and I assume that’s his body on the bed. This is
physical proof the expedition did indeed spend time on the continent. Here’s
our pictorial history.” Allison reverently sorted through the plates. At the
bottom of the case her fingers closed around a book, and she pulled it out and
opened it. Reading the front page, she nodded. “It’s the diary of Ian
Ross.”

Rick
seized the diary from her hands. “This is fantastic. If we find nothing
else this will make the museum a tidy sum and more than cement my, er, our
position in the museum.”

Allison
smugly smiled at Rick’s egocentricity. “Yes, it’ll be interesting to see
what kind of information it contains. It’ll need to be photographed before we
leave the site, in case something happens to it.”

Rick
put the document to his chest. “Di and I can do that. You can occupy
yourself with the body.”

Before
Allison could object Rick and Dianne strode out of the hut.

“No
worries, mate,” Rob muttered. “So what do we do now?”

“Alli,
do you want me to do a preliminary inspection of the body?” Sarah asked.

Allison
drew her brows together and tilted her head. “What, you mean an
autopsy?”

“Not
exactly. That’d involve inspection and dissection and I’m not really prepared
for that. All I’d like to do is inspect the body. I think this will confirm my
preliminary assessment regarding death. Is that okay with you?”

Allison
thought about it and then nodded. “But where would you do it?”

The
room was silent as everyone thought.

“What
about the storage container for the sno-trak,” Allison suggested.
“You know, the container we brought a lot of our gear in. We could rig up
some lighting and put up a makeshift table. It would be tight, but it should
suit your purpose.”

Sarah
nodded. “Yes, it should do. Michela, do you mind helping me with this? I’d
ask Rob, but he’s been known to faint at the sight of blood.” She dodged a
mock blow from Rob. “And the way Alli’s looking at those photographs, I
think I know what she’d rather be doing, am I right?”

Allison
looked up. “What? Oh, yes. The diary would’ve been more interesting, but
these should prove quite a challenge to wade through. But the next diary that’s
found is definitely mine. Do you two mind working on the body?”

Michela
shook her head.

“We’ll
have to get the container ready and then, Rob, we’ll probably need your help to
move the body,” Sarah said. “Where do you two intend to study the
photos?”

Allison
carefully closed the suitcase and handed it to Rob. “We’ll be in the mess
hut. That way we should be able to spread these out so they can be
photographed.”

MICHELA
AND SARAH shifted the majority of the boxes from inside the sno-trak container
to make a temporary morgue. Rigging a string of temporary lighting from the
xenon glow sticks, Michela made the container look more like a Christmas
decoration than a repository for stores. After setting up a makeshift table in
the middle of the space, with Rob’s help, they brought the body to the
container.

Sarah
removed her outer layer of clothing. “Have you ever done anything like
this before?”

Michela
shook her head. “I can’t say I have, although I’m a fast learner.”

“Promises,
promises.” Sarah smiled before holding up her hands. “Only joking.
Could you take notes while I dictate? They don’t need to be detailed, but
should anyone question what we’ve done, then we’ll have a record. Plus, Alli
can use it for her research.”

Sarah
cut the twine that encased the body within the sleeping bag, while providing a
running commentary on her actions. She pulled back the flap and smoothed her
hand across the fur that comprised the inside of the bag. “Hmm, this looks
to be like some sort of animal fur. If it’s like the bags made by later
explorers, it’s probably caribou or something like that.”

Michela
jotted down her notes. “What makes you say that?”

“Caribou
fur’s remarkably warm. The hairs are hollow and trap the heat, making for a
pretty toasty sleep. Not warm by our standards, but comfortable all the
same.” Sarah unraveled the rest of the thick twine, revealing the body.

“He
looks as if he’s just asleep.” Sarah lightly ran her hand over his
clothing. “And look at these old clothes, they’re almost new. In fact,
given the amount of time he’s been down here, he’s remarkably well preserved,
but I believe the bag helped to ensure there was no real deterioration of the
skin.

“He’s
a white male. By the graying whiskers on his cheeks and his face, I’d say he’s
in his late thirties, possibly early forties. However he died it was peaceful,
as there are no signs of struggle or rigor in the face to indicate otherwise.
Could you give me a hand to get this bag off him?” Michela stood on the
opposite side of the table to Sarah, and they peeled the stiff bag from the
frozen body.

“Right.
I want
to
check his body.” Sarah carefully cut through the man’s
jumper, and then undid the buttons of his vest and shirt. After spreading them
open, she cut through his undergarment to reveal the torso of Ian Ross. “I
don’t think we need to go any further.”

Michela
looked down at the body. “What do you mean?”

“See
how his stomach’s concave?” Michela nodded. “Now look at his ribs.
You can count every single one of them. His pelvis is the same as is his
collarbone. This man didn’t die of natural causes, but he did die of
starvation. Hang on, look at the displacement of his left foot.”

Sarah
felt the length of the Ian Ross’ leg. She cut his left trouser leg, revealing a
rudimentary splint. “Poor bugger, he broke his leg at some stage. That
must have hurt like Hades.”

Michela
nodded. “Probably the reason why someone as important as a photographer
was still in the hut rather than part of any inland expedition.”

“You’re
right,” Sarah said. “Without a full dissection, I don’t think we’re
going to get much more out of Mr. Ross. I suggest we re-dress him and re-sew
the bag. Once we’ve done this we’ll put him back where we found him. At least
there we can preserve his remains.”

THE
TABLE OF the kitchen hut was strewn with the mess made by Allison and Rob.

“Look
at this one,” Rob exclaimed. He held a glass plate to the light. The image
was of a group of people standing on a wharf, as if in the process of bidding
someone or something farewell. “Can you read the name on the banner
there?”

Allison
held up her magnifying glass and strained her eyes to read the infinitesimal
writing. “It says Christchurch. This must have been taken during their
last stop.” She slapped Rob’s back. “Bless the industriousness of Ian
Ross, he’s left us with visual proof of what sort of expedition Finlayson led.
And bless the person who had the presence of mind to lay him to rest in
proximity of his photographic plates. Let’s see if we can divide these into
some logical sequence.”

A
half hour later Sarah wandered into the hut. “Bloody hell. He certainly
was a shutterbug.”

Rob
and Allison looked up. “Yep, he sure was.” Rob pulled his chair in to
allow Sarah access to the sink. “Did you and Michela find out
anything?”

“In
a way, yes. I think we can assume by what was found at the foot of the bed, if
not the diary in the suitcase that the body we’re dealing with is that of the
expedition’s photographer, Ian Ross. He must have suffered a fall at some stage
during the expedition as someone’s done a pretty good job of splinting his
leg.”

“Did
he die from the fall?” Allison asked.

“Nothing
that dramatic. By the state he’s in I’d say he died of starvation. His body was
pretty thin. I’ve put him back in his sleeping bag and Michela and I returned
him to his bed in the hut. That should keep him well preserved until you work
out what you want to do with him.” Sarah took a mug from the drying rack.

“Still
that’s a pretty terrible way to go, getting progressively weaker and
weaker,” Rob said, a concerned look on his face.

“You’re
right, but in the end he most likely went to sleep and didn’t wake up. It could
have been a lot worse.” Sarah’s words hung in the air. Allison knew that
Ewan was still on everyone’s mind.

Dianne
and Rick, carrying the diary, entered the hut.

“He
starved to death,” Rick said.

Allison
looked up, a nonplussed expression on her face. “We know that already.
Sarah told us.”

Rick
scowled at Sarah. “But does she know there were two expeditions, the first
one leaving within days of arrival and in direct contravention to Finlayson’s
orders. They never returned. Only a handful of dogs made it back. The second
expedition left and Finlayson couldn’t go with it—he’d badly sprained his
ankle.”

Allison
eagerly sat forward. “Does he say what happened to him? Did he go after
the others?”

Dianne
shrugged. “We don’t know. We only got so far into the diary and then,
well,” she looked sideways at Rick, “we got sidetracked.”

Ugh,
too much information and by the look on Rick’s face, he’s glad she said it as
well. The sooner I see the back end of you, mister, the better.
Allison maintained a calm outward stance. “I’d be
grateful if you could keep working on it. Are you photographing as you go
along?”

“Of
course we are. What do you take us for? Amateurs?” Rick asked.
“When’s dinner, I’m starving.” He jumped at the voice behind him.

“It’ll
be cooked as soon as I can get some space in here.” Michela walked around
him and stared at the photographic plates spread across every flat surface in
the hut. “Alli, Rob, I’m sorry but if we’re to eat I really do need a
little space. The last thing I’d want to do is spill something on those
plates.”