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May 2016
The DCI put the phone down and pulled his jacket from the coat stand. Mobile in his pocket, he left his office and waved Sammy over.
“Grab a couple of spare bods. Get them to take radios and a job’s car and tell them to follow us up to Southport. We’ll go in mine.”
Sammy’s inquisitive look got the better of him.
“Local CID are on the bones of their arse. They’ve got absolutely no one. There’s a bobby and a PCSO at the scene of what looks like a sex game gone wrong. We’ve to babysit it. If we’re lucky, it’ll be straightforward.”
Fifty minutes later, he stood contemplating the pallid face that stared back at him through lifeless eyes and a couple of layers of clingfilm. “Well?”
The FME rose and peeled off her gloves. “Very, thank you.” She smiled. “I know what you meant but don’t you think a sense of humour is important in our line of work?”
He smirked. “Some days, it’s the only important thing.”
“I know where you’re coming from.” She forced her breath out of the side of her mouth. “Right! That one, I’d be fairly certain, from the paraphernalia and track marks, died from an overdose, bad batch probably. But, she’s been bound around her hands and ankles at some point, and only for a relatively short time. The wealds on her buttocks indicate it was part of the game, possibly.” The body of a female lay sprawled on the carpet in suspender belt and stockings. “He, on the other hand, is most likely to have died of asphyxiation although, given what I estimate his age to be, I wouldn’t rule out a heart attack. Rigor mortis has set in so all I’m prepared to say is they’ve both been dead approximately twelve hours or so, give or take.” They both looked down at the naked man handcuffed to the slat backed carver chair.
“Of course, which one died first I couldn’t say. The pathologist will tell you that.” She picked up her bag. “Odd thing is, I haven’t seen any of his stuff in here and there are little bits of thread on and around the chair. I’d almost think his clothes were cut off.” A smile and a wave; she was gone. He stared at the headmaster’s cane propped in a corner by the door.
Sammy tapped his arm. “Boss, we’ve had a look around. He’s got an overnight bag with some clothes and the usual stuff, Aall neatly packed. No sign of any other clothing for him. Her clothes are on a chair in the bedroom, no overnight bag or toiletries and we’ve recovered three mobiles. Hers is old-style, calls only and the other two are smartphones which I assume are his, though why he wants two is a mystery to me.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, there’s no ID for him anywhere. We’re running some checks on the stuff we found in her handbag and ...well ...”
“Well what?”
“Well, the smartphones don’t feel like the usual sort. They’re a bit more robust. No maker’s name and when you turn them on there’s no maker’s ident coming up, just a PIN request and not the usual four-figure one. This one’s six.”
Thurstan sighed. He’d be ‘babysitting’ this one a bit longer than he’d thought or wanted. “Do you know, Sammy? It’s at times like this I wish I smoked. Ok. Have the CSIs arrived yet?”
A nodded reply.
“In particular, don’t forget to tell them about those threads on the chair, otherwise it’s the full hit.” He walked off towards the back door and the garden, calling over his shoulder, “I’m just off for a breath of fresh air.”