Page 13 of Dying Breath
‘Who’s the golden boy?’
Lucy laughed. ‘He’s your new DI.’
‘What? No way. Where’s Tom? I work for you and I’ll tell him that.’
‘Calm down, I was joking. That is Patrick Baker – he’s been called in to help out. They’re “looking after my welfare”.’ She made quote marks in the air with her fingers.
He passed her the mug and sat down. ‘About time. Honestly, I think it’s a good idea as long as he’s not a dick.’
She arched an eyebrow at him. Picking up her coffee, she blew the hot steam away so she could take a sip. ‘He’s taking on the body in the woods. Once we catch Melanie Benson’s killer we can take over from him again.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Lucy’s radio began to ring as she received a private call and she answered it.
‘Morning, boss. It’s Heather in control. A street cleaner has found a woman’s body at the back of High Street. Can you attend?’
‘Is it suspicious?’ Lucy had crossed the fingers on her other hand and tucked them behind her back.
‘Well, she’s naked and there’s a ligature around her neck.’
‘Fuck,’ Lucy muttered under her breath.
‘Yes, quite. Should I tell the duty sergeant that you’re on your way?’
‘Yes.’
She ended the call and stared at Mattie. ‘There’s another body.’
He shook his head, stood up and followed her out of the office. She wanted to get to the scene before Patrick even got a whiff of it.
* * *
Lewis Waite opened his eyes, blinked and wondered where the hell he was. His feet hit something solid and he realised he was lying on a sofa. He rolled onto his side and smelt the expensive perfume. Her favourite perfume, which clung to the chenille cushion he’d used for a pillow. He was in Stacey’s flat – he remembered falling out with her in the club, and she’d slapped his face so hard. How did he get in here, though? He felt the ache in his bones and the cramps in his stomach begin – the usual effects when his high was wearing off.
He dragged himself off the sofa and shouted, ‘Stace?’ He was met by silence. The flat wasn’t big; he checked the kitchen, then went up to the second floor where the bathroom and bedrooms were. There was no sign of her. The bathroom door was wide open and he paused before pushing open her bedroom door, knowing she would be angry with him if she had a bloke in there and he was creeping around like some stalker. But the bed was made – it didn’t look as if she’d been here all night. So how had he got in?
Needing the toilet now, he went into the bathroom and shut the door. The window was wide open, so he walked across to pull it shut. He must have climbed up and got inside this way last night. He looked down at the steep drop and wondered how the fuck he hadn’t fallen and broken his neck. Why didn’t he remember any of this?
A flash of yellow appeared in his peripheral vision and he stepped back from the window. What were the coppers doing in the backstreet? Shit – had someone seen him climbing in and rung them? Or maybe Stace had come home, found him on her sofa, then phoned them. He slumped down onto the toilet; his head was a total mess. He needed to get out of here without getting caught and go get some gear, because he couldn’t think straight.
He flushed the toilet and pulled up his trousers, just as someone hammered on the front door so loud that it made him jump. He looked out of the window again but couldn’t see any sign of the coppers. There was only one way out of the flat and that was where whoever was banging on the door was standing, blocking his quick exit. He would have to climb out the way he came in. His forehead broke out into a cold sweat. It was all good and well pretending to be Spiderman when you were as high as a kite, but when you were sober it was a very different matter. He was scared of heights at the best of times.
A fist began pounding on the front door again, this time even more urgently, which made up his mind. He wasn’t getting caught for breaking and entering today. He couldn’t be arsed sitting in a cell all day and night waiting for court tomorrow. He took a deep breath and stepped onto the side of the bath. The he put one leg on the windowsill and swung the other through the open space. Then both legs were out and he was dangling. The drop to the flat roof underneath him wasn’t so bad if he didn’t look down. As long as he didn’t roll off the end of it when he landed, he’d be fine. Otherwise, he’d impale himself on the railings below.
* * *
They drove to High Street in silence, both of them trying to comprehend what another body meant, but too afraid to say so out loud. They got suited and booted and waited on the opposite side of the police tape, which was the inner cordon, waiting for the all-clear from Amanda, who was already present to process the scene. There was a young man shadowing Amanda whom Lucy didn’t recognise.
Lucy had been pleased to see that the first officer on the scene had had the sense to cordon off the roads either side of the backstreet where the body was lying. The ambulance crew had pronounced the death; she peered through the windscreen to see if it was the same team who’d attended Melanie Benson’s murder scene. Luckily for them, it wasn’t; she didn’t recognise either of the men sitting inside the ambulance. When Lucy had questioned the officer, she was pleased to learn that she’d done everything Lucy could have hoped for, including getting the death pronounced and requesting forensics. Until the scene had been thoroughly processed it was far better to seal off a large area; they could always narrow it down later.
There were some uniformed officers and PCSOs milling around, waiting to start the house-to-house at Lucy’s request. She wanted all the flats above the shops at the back of the busy main street checked for any witnesses and CCTV opportunities. From the corner of her eye she saw Tom’s car pull up. Both he and Patrick jumped out. Amanda had already completed her filming and had just finished photographing the scene. The other CSI trailed behind her. She turned and walked along the metal footplates she had laid on the ground, to create a path to and from the body without cross-contaminating any evidence. Lucy waited for her in front of the CSI van.
‘Morning. I’ve asked someone to bring me a tent to cover the body with. At this rate I’m not going to have any of them left. It’s been a busy old week up to now. This scene is too open – I don’t know if the flats are occupied or not. Anyone who is up there has a prime view of the body, though.’
She turned around, aimed her camera at the first-floor windows and took some shots; then she took some more photos of the surrounding area. ‘Just in case. You never know, the killer might be watching us right now.’
Lucy felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked up. She scanned the windows for signs of life, but couldn’t see any. ‘Have you found anything?’
