Page 24 of Silent Scream
‘So, what do we know?’
‘Male, late thirties, cut throat. Possible suicide, could be accidental.’
Kim rolled her eyes. A dark humour was necessary to maintain sanity but just sometimes ...
‘Where now?’
‘Take a left just past the school and we should see it from there.’
Kim screeched around the corner sending Bryant crashing against the passenger door. She drove up the hill and threw on the handbrake at the cordon.
A box porch led straight into the front room, where a WPC sat on the sofa comforting a distraught female. Kim walked through directly into an open plan dining room and kitchen.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she whispered.
‘No, that’s just a rumour,’ said Keats.
The male was still seated in the dining room chair. His limbs were limp like a rag doll. His head was torn back, the crown almost resting between his shoulder blades. Kim was instantly reminded of a cartoon. The angle looked almost impossible.
The laws of physics dictated that he should have fallen to the floor but the angle of the back of his neck over the top of the chair had kept him in place; the back of his head resting like a hook.
The gaping wound displayed yellow, fatty tissue torn apart by a blade. Blood had spurted onto the wall opposite and drained down his chest, forming a macabre bib. His T-shirt and joggers were sodden red and the stench of metal almost overwhelmed her.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Bryant offered from behind.
Keats shook his head. ‘One of you needs to fire their scriptwriter.’
Kim ignored him as she committed the scene to memory. She stood above the body and looked down. The eyes of the male were open and wide. His face bore the expression of the horror below.
She saw the empty bottle of whisky on the floor. ‘Alcohol at this time?’ she asked.
‘I think half of the bottle is inside him and the other half is in the carpet. It’s a damn waste. Johnnie Walker Blue sells for over a hundred a bottle.’
‘Bryant, go ... ’
‘On my way.’
Bryant turned and headed back to the lounge. He was much better with distraught females than she was. In her company they often cried more.
She walked around the body, examining the scene from every angle. Nothing in the immediate area was disturbed and no struggle seemed to have taken place.
A white suit hovered around her.
‘Detective, Keegan here is too polite to ask you to move but I’m not,’ Keats said. ‘Stand back so he can do his job.’
Kim shot Keats a look but stepped back into the corner of the room. With satisfaction she noted that the hem on his right trouser leg was down but damn that smidge of decency that kept the observation on the right side of her lips.
Keegan took digital photographs and then took out a disposable camera and repeated the process.
‘His wallet is upstairs so it wasn’t robbery,’ Keats offered, standing beside her.
Kim already knew that for a fact.
‘Type of knife?’
‘I’d say plastic handle, seven inch kitchen knife normally used for cutting bread.’
‘Detailed description for a prelim exam?’
