"What the . . .? Damn people dumping their dead dogs at this tip! Don't worry mate, I'll bury you with the others in the lower paddock." The driver turned off the earthmover's engine. He climbed down from the cabin, and walked around to the huge bucket at the front to take a closer look. "Oh my God!" Vomit rose into his mouth. He leaned against the machine and shivered. It was some minutes before his fingers were steady enough to call the police.   

Excerpt
Jane couldn’t get the image out of her head. She walked away from the earthmover's huge bucket.
Damn! We need the rest of you mate, and fast. What's your connection to Malloy? If only the dead could speak! No, I can't think about ghosts.
She looked around the immediate area of the tip, where she stood. Huge mounds of waste surrounded her, plastic bags, both sealed and torn, bulging with putrid garbage, dwarfing her in mountainous piles. Some bits and pieces caught her eye. A old twisted handbag, a frayed ladies blouse, and a summer straw hat without any crown, oddly out of place in the rain-sodden winter setting.
A collector's paradise . . . if one is interested in peoples' discarded rubbish and junk. Thank God it's winter. This place would really stink in summer! Phew, the odours are still pretty bad though.
"Boss?"
Jane, jolted from her thoughts, looked up at the handsome face of her sergeant, Steve Ho.
"Steve?"
"Boss, can the Doc let the mortuary van take the trunk back to the morgue?"