MURDER IS SKIN DEEP by M.G. Cole (read dune .txt) 📕

press was already asking questions about how the body could have been confused with Fraser from the very beginning. Despite their assumptions, testing a victim’s DNA was not an automatic response if other factors provided identification. There had been no reason to suspect the corpse was anybody else other than Derek Fraser.

Garrick cleared his throat. “We are working on the assumption that the victim broke into the house dressed, for whatever reason, as Mr Fraser.”

The Coroner raised an eyebrow. “That is an unusual assumption.”

“Since lunchtime, this has been an unusual case. It’s possible he was deliberately wearing the clothes to pass himself off as Fraser…”

As Garrick had feared, the request for the public to be on the lookout for Oscar Benjamin had been lost in the white noise of sensationalism. Garrick was still convinced that he had a hand in the murder of… whoever was lying on the slab.

“I sent samples of the clothing to the lab as you requested,” said the Coroner reading the results from a printout. “The washing liquid matches the one found in the house. But then again, it’s a common brand. However, it didn’t erase all traces from the clothing. Mr Fraser’s DNA was found on the inside of the trousers and shirt.”

“They were his clothes?” said Garrick in surprise. “The victim was wearing Fraser’s own clothing?”

“Indeed,” the Coroner said, re-reading the results.

“Weird, but it doesn’t help answer the question of why he was there though.”

“Perhaps as a decoy?” said Chib. “If Fraser knew somebody was out for him. Maybe he paid a lookalike as bait?”

“There is a little more to it than that,” said the Coroner. He used his little finger to indicate to the swollen face. “The damage here around the forehead, ocular orbits, and cheekbones was inflicted with a hammer, like this one.” He wheeled over a small table, on which were several items. He picked up a heavy claw hammer. He gently matched the round hammer head to a slight indentation in the cheekbone. It was a perfect fit. “It was used to disfigure the face at key points, such as the cheeks. And it was done with some precision.”

“To deliberately make facial ID impossible?” asked Garrick.

“That would be my thought. The victim has the same eye colour as Mr Fraser, but the hair. Look here, it has been dyed.”

“Dyed?”

“To match Mr Fraser’s.”

Chib and Garrick exchanged a look.

“Your bait idea may not be so mad after all,” said Garrick.

“These wounds are twenty hours older than the gunshots. Give or take four hours.” He handed the hammer to Garrick and indicated to the claw. “That was used to intentionally damage several teeth, so a dental ID would be unreliable.”

“There were no signs of torture in the house,” Chib pointed out.

“He was tortured elsewhere. Then taken to the house. Then killed.”

The Coroner consulted a chart. “I found substantial traces of gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid in his system.”

Garrick frowned. “GHB?” He noticed Chib’s confusion. “It was a popular date-rape drug in the nineties.”

“And with the concentrations in him, he would have been unconscious for some time. When, or if, he came around, his recollection would have been heavily impaired.”

“Not the ideal state to question him. Maybe the attacker wasn’t fully aware of the side effects?”

The Coroner diligently slid the sheet lower, positioning it just above the man’s groin. The revealed hairy stomach could have been politely described as a muffin top. He indicated to a red welt cutting around the body.

“This was caused by his trousers being too tight. I haven’t been given Mr Fraser’s measurements, but they were not the same size. The trousers were too small by an inch at least, and when I removed them, this man is at least an inch-and-a-half taller than Mr Fraser.” He moved to the corpse’s left side and used his pinkie to indicate to the watch strap indentation still moulded into the dead skin. “He was wearing a watch so tightly that it would have cut off his circulation.”

Garrick’s head was now pounding. The brilliant lighting was stirring a migraine. “There were no bloodstains on his clothing, other than the gunshot wounds?”

“Correct.”

“Then he put the clothes on after the initial assault.”

“In the condition he was in, somebody dressed him. He couldn’t have done it himself. He was alive, but I doubt he was conscious. And he certainly wasn’t conscious when he was shot.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain. There are no defensive wounds on his hands or arms. No sign that he was restrained during any of the attacks.”

“You’re saying that everything was inflicted on him when he was unconscious?”

“I would say that is highly likely. This wasn’t torture. At least, not as we consider it.”

The mortuary car park was poorly illuminated, and the rain had stopped as a hazy fog formed. Garrick and Chib walked back to their separate vehicles, dragging their feet as they worked through possible outcomes.

“Fraser must have known he was being targeted, and this poor bloke was dragged in at the last moment to take the fall,” said Garrick.

“If he was passing himself off as Fraser, then he was abducted and tortured for information? Information he obviously wouldn’t know about.”

“Such as the identity of a valuable artist.”

Chib looked at him in surprise. “You think this was about Hoy?”

“Nobody knows who he is. Fraser conveniently disappears on a retreat the same day this fella turns up dead in his house, dressed in his clothes.”

“And the killer tried to set up the scene like a burglary gone wrong.”

“Yeah…” it sounded weak to Garrick, but the evidence was stacking.

“What use is it torturing him if the victim is unconscious?”

“We need to look into the movements of the gallery owner, Kline-Watson. He’s a lot to gain from knowing Hoy’s identity.”

“Fanta said his rent was in arrears. If his business was struggling, I could see Hoy would be a perfect solution.”

Garrick nodded. “And after spending a few minutes in Fraser’s company, I can see he isn’t the sort of person who likes to share. I can also see why somebody