Impression (DI Gardener 4)

“And the victim is definitely dead?” Gardener asked.

The PC nodded. “If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t be asking that question.”

Both detectives went through the usual procedure of donning scene suits before entering the house.

To the right of the porch, Gardener noticed a staircase leading to the upper floor. A door opened to the left into the living room. As he entered, Gardener detected a stale odour, but not from food; more like whoever had lived there had not cleaned up recently. A two-seater settee, and one chair with a small coffee table, were the only items of furniture. No television, only a radio. The green carpet had seen better days, as had the curtains and most of the furnishings – though they were not dirty – simply old.

“Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Reilly. He was standing by the kitchen door. They’d been partners for a number

of years. Sean had been trained in Ulster and had pretty much seen everything. His reaction told Gardener the scene in the kitchen must be bad.

Gardener joined him, glancing around the room. It was also barren, furnished with only a cooker, a fridge, a washer, and a small table and chairs. A CD player on the window ledge was lit up and working. He didn’t recognize the song; something about someone who lived in a town called Millhaven. Apparently, it was small and mean and cold, but if you were around when the sun went down, the roads turned to gold.

“You recognize this?” he asked Reilly, pointing to the radio.

“No, thank God.”

Across the cupboard doors were traces of blood spatter. A pool had formed on the linoleum floor. The table and chairs were overturned. In the centre of the room, the victim was tied to one of them, on her back. She was naked. In her mouth was a blue rose.

Gardener counted a number of wounds, any of which could have been fatal. There was no doubt, however, that the killing blow had been the bayonet, which ran through her and the chair, pinning her to the floor.

Chapter Three

Despite the problems it would cause, Gardener realized the crime scene was simple and straightforward – if there was such a thing. It was self-contained within the house, so its natural boundaries could be used to keep it shut. He needed to call his team, but wanted to speak to his partner first.

The song about Millhaven finished and then started again. The machine was obviously on repeat, which he suspected was deliberate. Someone was trying to tell them something.

“What do you think, Sean?”

“The bayonet’s foreign to the scene.”

Gardener faced his partner. “I agree. There’s not much here in the first place, but that still doesn’t fit.”

He leaned in closer, studying the corpse. He estimated her age as late twenties, but she’d obviously had a rough life, because emotional scars had taken their toll: bags under her eyes; lines on her face. Her grey eyes were open, registering the fact that she had undergone serious trauma. Through her lips he could see white teeth. She’d been proud enough to keep those clean. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, also clean. Her breasts were pert despite the damage done to them from the wounds. Between her legs she was shaved; he wondered what she did for a living.

He counted eight wounds, mostly deep. If the bayonet was the cause of the cuts he wouldn’t like to speculate, but he couldn’t see another weapon in the room. She had bled heavily from her neck and body.

He glanced at his partner. “You recognize the bayonet type?”

Reilly lowered himself to his knees and studied it. “No. We’ll need an expert from the Special Operations Helpdesk at the NCA.”

“A weapons expert in antiques by the look of it.”

“If it is an antique.”

“If it isn’t, we could be looking at military or service personnel. Could make life difficult.”

Whilst Gardener continued to assess the body, Reilly stood and walked around the room. He opened the fridge.

“Anything?” Gardener asked.

“No. Half a bottle of gin and a piece of cheese… and you’d be hard pressed to eat that.”

The Millhaven song stopped and started again. “Do me a favour, Sean. Turn that crap off.”

“I’ll be doing us both a favour.”

Reilly didn’t touch the machine, but simply flicked the switch at the wall socket. The silence was heaven sent to them both.