Page 43 of The Truth Will Out
“I know. I told them as much. All right if we head over there and have a look for ourselves?”
“As long as you don’t approach the victim. I’m assuming he’s been confirmed dead if we’ve been called in?”
“He must be. We haven’t been here long ourselves,” she replied.
Sam nudged Bob, and they set off.
“I sometimes wonder if I’m talking a foreign language,” she said. “I seem to be repeating myself a lot lately.”
“You are? I hadn’t noticed. No more than usual anyway.” His jibe earned him a dig in the ribs.
“Don’t push me, matey.”
“It was a joke, Mrs Sensitive.”
They approached the side of the building where the foreman had told Bob the body was situated. The second Sam rounded the corner, she froze. There, tied to the scaffolding planks, was a man in a navy-blue suit. The air was silent and raw with tension. Sam could see there was a placard on his chest but struggled to read it.
“Can you see what it says?”
“Buried the truth.”
Sam exhaled a large breath and continued to walk towards the body. It wasn’t until she got to within ten feet of the victim that she noticed his head was lying at an odd angle and his lips had been stitched together. She stepped closer until the victim came fully intofocus. The placard wasn’t pinned to his chest; it had been attached with a thick nail. “Fuck, is that what I think it is?”
“Yep. Let’s hope it was nailed in placeafterhe took his last breath.”
“Me too.”
Rustling behind her announced Des’s arrival. “Right, what have we got he…? Ouch, that’s not good. Hurry up, men. Let’s get this area sectioned off. I need a partial tent erected at least. This victim has had an audience for too long as it is. Poor bloke.”
“We haven’t been near him. Can you give him a quick search for ID?
“On it now.” Des slipped his hand into the man’s jacket pockets and drew a blank. “Nothing in either of those.” He stepped around the side and patted down the back of the victim. “Ah, here we are.”
Sam took a few steps closer while Bob withdrew his notebook, ready to jot down the information.
“Stephen Weller. As well as his driving licence, there’s a council ID. He’s a planning officer.”
“Shit. Does that mean he was here in an official capacity, or did the killer bring him here to make a statement?” Sam asked, her voice trailing off as her thoughts began to run riot, not for the first time during this investigation.
“We have no way of knowing. What is clear is that the other murders are connected to this one.”
“That much is obvious,” Bob said without engaging his brain first.
Des ignored him and proceeded to read out the address on the driving licence. “Fifty-six Sillcroft Road, Barepot.”
“Thanks. We’ll take a drive over there once we’ve finished here. Can you tell us how long he’s been dead?”
“Without carrying out the usual tests on the organs, it’s going to be hard to say. You’ll need to find out what time the site was closed down last night. I’m assuming they worked here yesterday. Do we know what time the body was found?”
Sam glanced at Bob. “I’m on my way,” he shouted, sprinting back to the group of builders. He returned after speaking with the foremanand said, “Site closed at five last night. They showed up again at seven-thirty but didn’t discover the body until gone eight.”
“Did they see anyone hanging around?” Sam asked.
“Nope, I checked.”
“So, sometime between what? Sixish and seven-thirty would be my logical answer,” Des grinned.
Sam pulled a face, avoiding the temptation to poke her tongue out at him. She scanned the area. It seemed secure enough, and the knowledge that the front of the site would have been locked at the end of the builders’ shift was a cause of concern for her.
