Doors Without Numbers by C.D. Neill Page B

length with a scalloped edge. Hammond studied the picture silently. He couldn’t identify the shape of the pattern, even though he knew it was familiar to him. Henderson printed him two copies of the photograph, and the two men returned to their appraisal of Robert’s body.
    “Did you find any foreign samples?”
    The pathologist looked at Hammond sharply and nodded.
    “I was just coming to that. Yes, there are two samples of interest. We found a fragment of nail on the shoulder of the victim. It wasn’t his own. We found vulpes hairs on the right side of the body, not surprising since he had been laying there for a while. A sensitive nose would have smelled him from quite a way away...”
    Hammond interrupted. “A vulpes hair?”
    “Latin for fox, I take it you do not remember your school lessons?” Henderson continued talking with a rather smug expression.
    “Also, there was a dark stain on the trousers. I gave it to the others for analysis but whilst you are waiting for the results, I am guessing there will be components of something like Barium, Lithium or Sodium Soap.”
    Henderson coughed, raising a closed fist to his mouth. Too much talking has dried him out, Hammond thought wryly.
    “That of course, would explain the patterned bruise on the thigh.”
    “It would? How?”
    Henderson draped the sheet back over Roberts and sealed him away, indicating their meeting was about to conclude.
    “Bike grease transferred to the trousers when the bike pedal hit him.”
    Hammond thanked the pathologist and left him in silence, eager to return to the station and share the findings with the rest of the team. He could taste an imminent arrest and was excited. For a second, he was reminded of why he had loved his job.
    It was cold inside the car, but he was thankful it had stopped raining. He switched on the air conditioning, letting the engine run in neutral whilst he unlocked his mobile keypad and searched for Jenny’s mobile number. Her phone rang several times before her answer service asked him to leave his message. He lowered his voice and attempted to sound as professional as possible.
    “My name is Doctor Yule. B. Sari. I have a message here for Ms Wilma Lecsgro. It is with regret that I must inform you that you will always be short. I apologise for the disappointment this will cause but wish you a good day.”
    He hung up giggling like a schoolboy as he depressed the clutch and slid the gearstick into first gear.
    The sounds at headquarters were a melody of intense activity. Various conversations happening at the same time within the enclosed area sounded like a hybrid of pitches and tones. As he swiped his security pass by the door to the headquarter offices. Hammond recognised Dunn’s red raincoat that had been left to dry on the back of the chair by the radiator. Soon there would be the exchanging of the information gathered that morning. Hammond was encouraged. If Beech enquired how the investigation was progressing, his positive feedback would be genuine. He saw Edwards at the end of the corridor, talking into a telephone receiver whilst chewing on a bread roll at the same time. Hammond found Edwards rather coarse at times, but he was a good detective and reliable. He held up a hand in greeting as their eyes met. Edwards returned the compliment by taking another bite and turning his back, continuing his conversation on the phone with his mouth full.
    “Inspector?” Someone tapped him lightly on his back. He spun around, recognising a woman who worked downstairs in Reception. She smiled at him and informed him that there was someone waiting to see him.
    “Who?” It wasn’t the best time to receive visitors at the office, the team meeting was due to start in fifteen minutes.
    “Mrs DiMarco. She has been waiting almost an hour already. She is most keen to talk to you.” Wallace Hammond strained his memory, he didn’t recognise the name DiMarco, but he was in a good mood and the name DiMarco suggested a