the blood spray and then lashing out with his boot.
Surviving. Ducking the blade, where others had fallen …
PART TWO
CHAPTER 10
‘You only had three pints, Hector,’ Pharaoh had chided, standing in the doorway of the incident room like a head teacher on the lookout for truants and laughing as McAvoy had raced up the stairs, red-faced and panting, his bag tangling on the banister and yanking him backwards as if lassoed. ‘I’d love to see you after a session at my place sometime. You wouldn’t get out of bed for a fortnight.’
She had been wearing a knee-length red leather skirt and a tight black cardigan that accentuated her impressive chest. She was heavily made-up and her hair was perfect. She had outdrunk McAvoy by a ratio of 3:1 last night, but were it not for the dark semi-circles beneath her eyes, she might have just returned from a holiday on a sugar daddy’s yacht.
‘Ma’am, I’m so sorry, the traffic and Fin, and …’
‘Don’t fret,’ she’d said with a smile. ‘We muddled through without you.’
‘On the radio,’ he panted. ‘House fire? Orchard Park.’
She nodded. ‘Given it to the lads at Greenwood. We can’t spare the manpower. Sergeant Knaggs is taking it on. I thinkhe was a bit upset when he took my phone call and realised there still wasn’t room for him on Daphne’s case.’
Daphne
, noted McAvoy. Not
the Cotton case
. Pharaoh was really feeling this one.
‘Straightforward, is it?’
‘Not sure. Whoever got roasted, it isn’t the homeowner. He’s in hospital already. One of the decent ones from the estate. Nice old boy. His wife’s staying with their daughter out in Toryville. Kirk Ella, I think. Apparently she sounded over the moon when she heard the house had gone up in smoke. Less so when the uniforms mentioned they’d found a barbecued human being on the sofa. No bloody idea who it might be. I very much doubt we’ll ever get a chat with him, anyway. Ninety per cent burns. No face left. Internal organs all but cooked. There was definitely an accelerant used, but forensics can’t say much more. He’s in the new unit at Hull Royal Infirmary but they’re probably going to move him over to Wakefield. Don’t know why. Unless they’ve got a wetsuit made of skin to zip him into, he’s had it.’
McAvoy nodded. He was vaguely interested in the Orchard Park fire, but if he was honest with himself, he had dismissed the victim as a drug addict or a burglar the second he heard the story on the radio. A shame, but not a tragedy. Worth somebody’s time. But not necessarily his.
‘So I missed the post mortem?’
‘Count your blessings,’ she said. ‘Even Colin Ray kept his trap shut.’
‘Upshot?’
Pharaoh hadn’t needed to look at her notes. Just reeled it off, emotionless, staring into his eyes without really lookingat him. ‘Eight separate slash wounds, each to the bone. The first severed her clavicle and collar bone. An overhand hacking motion with the right hand. Six more slashes in the same area, splintering the clavicle. One spar of bone punctured her thorax. A final thrust, as she lay on the floor, right to the heart. She’ll have been dead by the time he pulled the blade out.’
McAvoy closed his eyes. Steadied his breathing. ‘He meant to kill her, then? The final thrust, that’s just so …’
‘Final,’ Pharaoh nodded. ‘He wanted her dead. We don’t know who he is, why he wanted to kill her or why he chose to do it in a packed fucking church, but we know he was pretty bloody determined.’
McAvoy watched as she pressed her forehead into her knuckles. Worked her jaw in circles. Screwed her eyes shut. She was getting angry.
‘What else?’
‘Proof of what your young lady told you last night. Evidence of old scarring to her collarbone. Same side. Pathologist could barely see it under the mess of new wounds, but it was there. This had happened to her before.’
‘What are we going to do with that information, ma’am? Have you
Surviving. Ducking the blade, where others had fallen …
PART TWO
CHAPTER 10
‘You only had three pints, Hector,’ Pharaoh had chided, standing in the doorway of the incident room like a head teacher on the lookout for truants and laughing as McAvoy had raced up the stairs, red-faced and panting, his bag tangling on the banister and yanking him backwards as if lassoed. ‘I’d love to see you after a session at my place sometime. You wouldn’t get out of bed for a fortnight.’
She had been wearing a knee-length red leather skirt and a tight black cardigan that accentuated her impressive chest. She was heavily made-up and her hair was perfect. She had outdrunk McAvoy by a ratio of 3:1 last night, but were it not for the dark semi-circles beneath her eyes, she might have just returned from a holiday on a sugar daddy’s yacht.
‘Ma’am, I’m so sorry, the traffic and Fin, and …’
‘Don’t fret,’ she’d said with a smile. ‘We muddled through without you.’
‘On the radio,’ he panted. ‘House fire? Orchard Park.’
She nodded. ‘Given it to the lads at Greenwood. We can’t spare the manpower. Sergeant Knaggs is taking it on. I thinkhe was a bit upset when he took my phone call and realised there still wasn’t room for him on Daphne’s case.’
Daphne
, noted McAvoy. Not
the Cotton case
. Pharaoh was really feeling this one.
‘Straightforward, is it?’
‘Not sure. Whoever got roasted, it isn’t the homeowner. He’s in hospital already. One of the decent ones from the estate. Nice old boy. His wife’s staying with their daughter out in Toryville. Kirk Ella, I think. Apparently she sounded over the moon when she heard the house had gone up in smoke. Less so when the uniforms mentioned they’d found a barbecued human being on the sofa. No bloody idea who it might be. I very much doubt we’ll ever get a chat with him, anyway. Ninety per cent burns. No face left. Internal organs all but cooked. There was definitely an accelerant used, but forensics can’t say much more. He’s in the new unit at Hull Royal Infirmary but they’re probably going to move him over to Wakefield. Don’t know why. Unless they’ve got a wetsuit made of skin to zip him into, he’s had it.’
McAvoy nodded. He was vaguely interested in the Orchard Park fire, but if he was honest with himself, he had dismissed the victim as a drug addict or a burglar the second he heard the story on the radio. A shame, but not a tragedy. Worth somebody’s time. But not necessarily his.
‘So I missed the post mortem?’
‘Count your blessings,’ she said. ‘Even Colin Ray kept his trap shut.’
‘Upshot?’
Pharaoh hadn’t needed to look at her notes. Just reeled it off, emotionless, staring into his eyes without really lookingat him. ‘Eight separate slash wounds, each to the bone. The first severed her clavicle and collar bone. An overhand hacking motion with the right hand. Six more slashes in the same area, splintering the clavicle. One spar of bone punctured her thorax. A final thrust, as she lay on the floor, right to the heart. She’ll have been dead by the time he pulled the blade out.’
McAvoy closed his eyes. Steadied his breathing. ‘He meant to kill her, then? The final thrust, that’s just so …’
‘Final,’ Pharaoh nodded. ‘He wanted her dead. We don’t know who he is, why he wanted to kill her or why he chose to do it in a packed fucking church, but we know he was pretty bloody determined.’
McAvoy watched as she pressed her forehead into her knuckles. Worked her jaw in circles. Screwed her eyes shut. She was getting angry.
‘What else?’
‘Proof of what your young lady told you last night. Evidence of old scarring to her collarbone. Same side. Pathologist could barely see it under the mess of new wounds, but it was there. This had happened to her before.’
‘What are we going to do with that information, ma’am? Have you
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