Kissing the Demons by Kate Ellis

of the modern box-like building where a row of huge waste bins stood by a back door. Opposite, on a patch of scrubland, a white tent had been erected to protect the body and any available evidence from the elements.
    After they’d donned protective overalls they walked slowly towards the tent where the photographer’s flash bulbs lit the shadows like forks of lightning.
    Inside the tent Dr Sally Sharpe squatted by the body on the ground going about her gruesome business. As soon as she saw Emily she gave her a friendly smile. Then she spotted Joe and the smile became shyer.
    â€˜So what have we got, Sally?’ Emily asked. She kept her professional distance and avoided looking at the body.
    â€˜Young woman. Late teens, early twenties. Natural blonde. Five foot five.’
    â€˜How long has she been there?’
    â€˜I’d say she’s been dead roughly thirty-six hours. That means some time on Saturday night. Sorry I can’t be more accurate.’
    â€˜That fits with what Matt heard on the phone,’ said Joe quietly. ‘He might have heard her being killed.’
    Emily nodded. ‘Possibly. Has the body been moved?’
    â€˜I’d put money on it.’ She gave Joe a nervous smile. ‘But I can’t say for definite yet.’
    â€˜Cause of death?’
    â€˜She’s been stabbed twice in the heart. But there’s no sign of a weapon.’ Sally hesitated. ‘And whoever killed her cut her tongue out.’
    Emily swore softly. The news of the mutilation had come as a shock.
    As Sally stepped back so they could get a proper look Joe took his wallet from his pocket and extracted the photograph of the four residents of number thirteen Torland Place. He looked at the body sprawled on the ground, half concealed by dusty shrubs with scraps of litter hanging from their twisted branches. Then he looked at the photograph again and handed it to Emily.
    â€˜It’s her alright. It’s Petulia Ferribie.’
    Emily sighed. ‘At least we’ve got an ID. What about the next of kin?’
    â€˜We don’t know much about the next of kin except that there’s a stepmother and her father’s abroad. The university should have more information. We should go and see the housemates . . . break the news.’
    Emily turned to Sally. ‘The tongue – would you say it was removed after death?’
    Sally nodded. ‘Yes. That’s one thing I’m pretty sure of. I can do the post-mortem this afternoon. That OK?’
    â€˜Fine,’ said Emily absent-mindedly. Joe knew she was thinking of all the procedures that had to be set in motion. The incident room. The interviews. Informing the next of kin. And subjecting her housemates to more questions – not quite so gently this time. Someone must know why she died. And the best place to start was at home.
    â€˜Who found her?’ Joe asked.
    â€˜The leisure centre manager,’ Sally answered. ‘He came out to look for one of the maintenance men who was supposed to be on duty but he was round the back having a crafty fag. He spotted the body and dialled nine nine nine.’
    Emily caught Joe’s eye. The person who finds the body is usually the first port of call. And, presumably, this one would be on the premises waiting for them like a good citizen.
    They left Sally and the Forensic team to it and made their way to the building where the staff were gathered in the foyer. A couple of the young women were sobbing, others looked stunned. A young man in a tracksuit with the self-consciously athletic look of a sports instructor had a comforting arm around the shoulders of a pretty black girl who looked more bored than upset.
    The man behind the reception desk was small and wiry with a shaved head and a vaguely military look. He was wearing a red polo shirt but he had a natural air of authority that some required a business suit to achieve. As soon as he saw Emily and Joe enter