anything more in here.’ He pushed his way out, batting aside clinging garments that snapped with static electricity. They’d sent the new guy, a tall, freckled Scot named Stuart Cameron. He was annoyed, Sarah thought, about being cooped up in such a small, dark space between a corpse and a wardrobe – so undignified, and it spooked him a little. But he could hardly protest because the EMT team had followed the book.
The clatter coming up from below proved to be his van drivers, heaving a gurney up the narrow stairway. In the tiny foyer they unfolded its legs and maneuvered it through the cramped kitchen and across the living/dining room, setting chairs and a small table out of their way as they came. At the door of the bedroom they stopped and leaned in, eyeballing the even smaller spaces around the bed.
‘Yeah, all right, it won’t fit in here,’ Cameron said. ‘We’ll have to carry her out. Come in here, both of you.’ The two men sidled in reluctantly as the photographer ducked out. With three men packed around a body and surrounded by clothes, the closet became a suffocating squeeze box. Cameron’s nice, quiet voice, muffled by fabric and taking on an edge of irritation, said, ‘I don’t know, this is a good, heavy nylon line and that’s a helluva knot. Damon, you got a knife?’
‘No,’ Damon said. ‘Ain’t you the knife man?’
‘No way I’m using a good scalpel on this,’ Cameron said. ‘Find something.’
‘Here are scissors,’ Sarah said, passing a pair in from the desk space in the kitchen counter.
Leo Tobin signed in just then with the officer at the door. He ducked under the tape and came in to stand behind her, watching – she felt his breath on her neck.
They heard the doctor say, ‘I don’t think they are sharp enough to cut … Mike, can you lift up a little on your side?’ A good deal of grunting and breathless swearing followed and then, ‘OK, I think I’m getting it now, have you both got a good grip? Because here she comes—’ There was a clatter as many clothes hangers crashed to the floor and then the three of them staggered out under their burden, trailing blouses and belts on their shoulders. None too gently, they laid Angela Lacey’s dead body on the gurney.
Delaney and three more detectives, plus two crime-scene specialists, had come up the stairs during the struggle. Clustered uneasily in the kitchen, they stood by the stove, wanting to come in and start work, but not sure where to put their feet.
The doctor and his two helpers leaned above the victim, breathing hard. ‘No, leave the noose where it is till we get her back to the lab,’ the doctor said. ‘Where’s that body bag now?’
Delaney said, ‘Well! Looks like we’re going to have to organize a quick viewing for detectives and then let the doctor get on his way, huh? So, Ollie and Sarah, have you …?’ The detectives all began filing around the gurney, like caring relatives at a wake.
Angela Lacey had bruises on her neck, noticeable though not as bad as Sarah would have expected. Her eyes were open and the petechiae of strangulation were easy to see on her eyelids and lips. She had voided her bladder and bowels, of course, but again, the smell was surprisingly mild.
Delaney came last in line. He asked and answered a few quick questions with the doctor, who seemed intrigued to see so much quick reaction by so many detectives and lab personnel to what to his eyes looked like the death of a totally unimportant person. Cameron was new in town and had never read a word of the Frank Martin story. Delaney promised to send him some background and warned he would be asking Cameron’s superior for results asap.
Cameron shrugged and said, ‘I’m the new kid on the block. Contact my boss – whatever he says to do, I’ll do.’
They made even more of a racket getting down the stairs than they had coming up. All the tenants watched Angela Lacey’s body leave the building – she was probably
The clatter coming up from below proved to be his van drivers, heaving a gurney up the narrow stairway. In the tiny foyer they unfolded its legs and maneuvered it through the cramped kitchen and across the living/dining room, setting chairs and a small table out of their way as they came. At the door of the bedroom they stopped and leaned in, eyeballing the even smaller spaces around the bed.
‘Yeah, all right, it won’t fit in here,’ Cameron said. ‘We’ll have to carry her out. Come in here, both of you.’ The two men sidled in reluctantly as the photographer ducked out. With three men packed around a body and surrounded by clothes, the closet became a suffocating squeeze box. Cameron’s nice, quiet voice, muffled by fabric and taking on an edge of irritation, said, ‘I don’t know, this is a good, heavy nylon line and that’s a helluva knot. Damon, you got a knife?’
‘No,’ Damon said. ‘Ain’t you the knife man?’
‘No way I’m using a good scalpel on this,’ Cameron said. ‘Find something.’
‘Here are scissors,’ Sarah said, passing a pair in from the desk space in the kitchen counter.
Leo Tobin signed in just then with the officer at the door. He ducked under the tape and came in to stand behind her, watching – she felt his breath on her neck.
They heard the doctor say, ‘I don’t think they are sharp enough to cut … Mike, can you lift up a little on your side?’ A good deal of grunting and breathless swearing followed and then, ‘OK, I think I’m getting it now, have you both got a good grip? Because here she comes—’ There was a clatter as many clothes hangers crashed to the floor and then the three of them staggered out under their burden, trailing blouses and belts on their shoulders. None too gently, they laid Angela Lacey’s dead body on the gurney.
Delaney and three more detectives, plus two crime-scene specialists, had come up the stairs during the struggle. Clustered uneasily in the kitchen, they stood by the stove, wanting to come in and start work, but not sure where to put their feet.
The doctor and his two helpers leaned above the victim, breathing hard. ‘No, leave the noose where it is till we get her back to the lab,’ the doctor said. ‘Where’s that body bag now?’
Delaney said, ‘Well! Looks like we’re going to have to organize a quick viewing for detectives and then let the doctor get on his way, huh? So, Ollie and Sarah, have you …?’ The detectives all began filing around the gurney, like caring relatives at a wake.
Angela Lacey had bruises on her neck, noticeable though not as bad as Sarah would have expected. Her eyes were open and the petechiae of strangulation were easy to see on her eyelids and lips. She had voided her bladder and bowels, of course, but again, the smell was surprisingly mild.
Delaney came last in line. He asked and answered a few quick questions with the doctor, who seemed intrigued to see so much quick reaction by so many detectives and lab personnel to what to his eyes looked like the death of a totally unimportant person. Cameron was new in town and had never read a word of the Frank Martin story. Delaney promised to send him some background and warned he would be asking Cameron’s superior for results asap.
Cameron shrugged and said, ‘I’m the new kid on the block. Contact my boss – whatever he says to do, I’ll do.’
They made even more of a racket getting down the stairs than they had coming up. All the tenants watched Angela Lacey’s body leave the building – she was probably
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