T.M.E. Walsh - The Principle of Evil - A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller

Iris paused, watching her closely. ‘You’re up early. Couldn’t you sleep?’

‘No. I had a nightmare… Silly really.’

‘Weren’t you supposed to be seeing some doctor about all this?’

Claire shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. ‘I’m fine.’

Iris’s face softened a little. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault, you know. Everything that went on with that man and that thing, that woman, what she did–’

‘I said I was fine, Mum, really. You talking about it doesn’t help me, it takes me back there, and it’s not somewhere I want to go.’

‘I just think–’

‘Anyway,’ Claire cut in, ‘I’ve got to attend the post mortem of Nola Grant and it’s an early one. I didn’t see much point in staying in bed when I couldn’t sleep.’

She flicked through the channels until she found Sky News. ‘Are you going to be able to amuse yourself today, Mum? I’ll be away until late this evening.’

Iris looked up, frowned but backed down. She sat in a nearby chair and nodded. ‘I’ll be all right. I may pop into town, do some early Christmas shopping.’ She paused to listen to the headlines, then said, ‘Who’s Nola Grant?’

Claire’s eyes narrowed. ‘Since when do you take an interest in my work? Thought it depressed you?’

‘Oh, it does,’ she said, now more animated. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can’t ask, does it?’ Claire looked at the television screen ahead.

She knew her mother was just making idle small talk, pissed off Claire wouldn’t talk to her about last year. Iris needn’t have felt offended. Claire made it a habit never to discuss it with anyone. It was officially off limits.

The only part of Claire’s life Iris usually showed interest in was either her love life (or lack of) or the house. When her eyes crossed back to her mother’s, she noticed Iris genuinely looked intrigued.

‘Grant was a prostitute. Her body was found dumped in Haverbridge Lon Bonfire Night.’

Iris held up her hands, and shook her head. ‘OK, sorry I asked. It’s far too early for gore. Nasty business.’ There was a long pause. ‘I take it she was murdered?’

Claire stopped and stared at her from the living room door. ‘Some things never change with you, do they, Mum?’

CHAPTER 10

Stefan Fletcher hated standing in on autopsies. It wasn’t because watching the whole process unfold was unpleasant – nobody liked doing it, not even the ones with an iron stomach – but because it made him think about his own life and regrets. Life was fragile. Death could take anyone of any age at any time.

Death didn’t discriminate.

He thought about Nola’s life, cut short having never achieved much. She had no second chances, no time to say her goodbyes. It wasn’t as if death had claimed her after a battle with illness, when she had time to prepare for the inevitable. Death had struck quickly and indiscriminately. There was no coming back. She had no time to lay to rest any past grievances, or right any wrongs.

Life was cruel and the motto “live each day as if it were your last” felt evermore poignant. Today would be no different, and as soon as he saw the naked body of Nola Grant laid out on the slab in Haverbridge Hospital’s morgue he suppressed the urge to walk out.

He stood alongside Claire, dressed in protective clothing, masks over their mouths. Danika had come to escort them from reception and down to the mortuary. She was one of the good guys: respected, intelligent and one of the best Claire had ever worked with by a long shot.

She didn’t hold grudges and Claire sometimes wished she could be more like her in that respect. Claire could take a grudge and bury it deep inside her, but it never went away. If you wronged her, she’d take the hurt it caused her to the grave.

Danika appeared as normal: hair tied back, face and body clear of make-up and jewellery. The mortuary technician, Paul Farringdon, had already helped her photograph and swab the body in the external examination and now stood patiently beside the body, hands clasped loosely in front of him.

‘While we waited for you,’ Danika said, turning to address Claire and Stefan head on, ‘the body was photographed, samples taken from under the fingernails, and surface traces of debris collected from her body and hair. Despite being in the water, we still managed to collect some samples.

‘We also used the ultraviolet light. Mainly to check for any signs of sexual activity, which came up negative for any traces of semen externally, but since she was in the water, this could have easily washed away or been contaminated. I will check internally for any signs of trauma, but so far, I’m not convinced she was raped. I know some people have already been speculating,’ she said, casting a sly look at Paul before continuing. ‘She does have some minimal bruising around the groin, but given her choice of job, it’s to be expected.’

‘Some men like it rough,’ Paul said.

Stefan smirked.

Claire’s face was stony.

Danika visibly shuddered. ‘Yes, thank you for that.’

‘OK,’ Claire cut in, ‘let’s assume the bruising is old until you check internally.’

‘It’s not old,’ Danika said. ‘It’s recent, but could have been caused before she was taken off the street by the killer.’

Claire wrinkled her nose. She hated cases involving rape even more than murder, no matter how vicious it was. She moved Danika’s attention on.

‘Anything else?’

Danika nodded and pointed to Nola’s body. ‘External examination shows she put up some resistance, but she was restrained by the wrists. Handcuffs maybe,’ she said, pointing to the bruising around each wrist.

‘This obviously restricted her ability to effectively fend off whoever did this. You already know she was found weighted down by that heavy chain, and there are marks around her ankles which are consistent with her being bound, but not by the chain.’ She pointed to the dark-coloured bruises around Nola’s ankles. ‘I believe the chain was added afterwards.’

Claire lowered her head for a closer look. ‘How’d you know that?’

‘The width of the chain. The links themselves are much thicker than the marks around her ankles, which means it was added afterwards.’

‘To make sure she stayed at the bottom of the water,’ Stefan said.

Danika nodded again. ‘Yes, and for a while, she would have done. But whatever was used to bind her before death was much thinner.’

Claire’s eyes wandered back to Nola’s skin and her eyes narrowed. ‘These ligature marks,’ she said, pointing so Stefan could have a look, but directing her question to Danika. ‘The surface is uneven.’

‘Yes, well spotted. I think her ankles supported her weight at some point, when she was tied up. It looks as though she was suspended.’

Stefan looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

‘Ready for the kill?’ Claire offered.

Danika nodded. ‘Yes, it’s a reasonable assumption.’

‘But she could’ve been dragged by her feet, couldn’t she? That would also leave the same uneven marks.’

‘You’re right, but then I would expect to see scratch marks up her body: back, legs, hips, arms,’ she said, trailing off. ‘Although her skin had begun to deteriorate in the water, I can still see there’s nothing consistent with her being dragged. The only other cuts and bruises that she does have are on the face, along with the defence wounds.

‘I also inspected her mouth and found some abrasions to the tongue, not to dissimilar to razor blade cuts, small little nicks in the flesh.’

‘Did she do it herself inadvertently with her teeth? Maybe when she struggled?’ Stefan asked.

‘These cuts are too perfect. I’m guessing someone else inflicted those wounds. The cuts are neat and identical. The cut on the right side of the tongue is an exact mirror-image to the cut on the left. They are the same length and depth.’