Definitely Dead by Kate Bendelow (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

who had spent many years labouring and handling tools, but she couldn’t see any fresh cuts.

‘What are you thinking, Maya?’ Chris asked as he returned with the pathologist.

‘I was just checking his hands to see if there were any fresh cuts or scrapes. I was thinking that if he’d been attacked the chances are, he would have fought back and maybe sustained some defence wounds, but there’s nothing apparent. This is clearly his dominant hand, looking at the nicotine stains,’ she added.

Chris nodded at her. ‘Good observation. Noticed anything else?’

She looked down at the body and around the dishevelled kitchen. Now that he was laid out on the floor and the two men were in the room with her, it didn’t seem as large as it had when she originally entered.

‘Actually, yes. If he had been assaulted here, then surely there would be signs of a disturbance. There’s certainly enough rubbish in here which could have been knocked over or easily disturbed. Look at the dustbin mountain for a start. Also, if someone had been here, then wouldn’t they have taken his phone and wallet? They’re still on the lounge table. The cigarette packet and vodka bottle are both nearly full. Any self-respecting thief would have taken them, surely?’

Chris nodded. ‘Well spotted. That said, the property is still insecure, and we have a dead sixty-five-year-old with an obvious head injury and lots of potential enemies. What are your thoughts, Doctor Granger?’

‘No alarm bells ringing up to now. Let’s strip him off and see what’s what.’

Chris began by easing Gorman’s navy T-shirt over his head revealing a skinny, pale frame. Gases had caused his otherwise concave stomach to bloat like a pregnancy. The wall of the abdomen had begun to discolour and had a green hue to it. Had Gorman lain undiscovered much longer, bloating and discolouration would have intensified until the body effectively popped.

The left side of Gorman’s ribs appeared slightly bruised, although it was hard to distinguish because of the lividity. Maya leaned over to take more photographs and grimaced as a wave of body odour emanated from the corpse, adding to the noxious bouquet of the kitchen.

‘God, he stinks,’ she exclaimed, grimacing under her mask.

‘Ha, wait for the feet.’ Chris chortled to himself as he eased Gorman’s trainers and socks off. Maya baulked at the sight of a shower of dry skin, like sawdust, come away as the socks were peeled off.

Chris began to hum The Stripper tune as he began to wriggle Gorman’s stained jeans down his scrawny legs. Maya’s infamous booming laugh filled the room, causing Doctor Granger to wince and Chris to laugh harder. Granger, unamused, shook his head, which brought them both back to their senses. The three of them had cause to take a step back as the smell of defecation became even stronger.

‘I think we’ll leave his boxer shorts on until we get him in the mortuary. I’ve not seen anything that’s given me any real cause for concern.’ Granger squatted down. ‘The bruising on his knees and ribs there doesn’t look particularly fresh and more than likely relates to the fight he had. Can you just turn him over, Chris? I’ll just check his back and then he can be bagged up.’

Maya continued to take a series of photographs as Chris heaved the body onto its side before lowering him face first on the body sheet. Granger grunted his thanks and told them he would see them back at the mortuary. Chris produced a pre-written body tag and attached it to Gorman’s wrist and asked Maya to take a close-up photograph.

‘I’ve not seen one of those before, what’s it for?’ she asked as she carefully zoomed in to ensure all the details of the tag were recorded.

‘Think of it as an exhibit label that you’d attach to any evidence, as essentially that’s what he is. It helps maintain continuity of the body. Once the duty undertakers come to collect him, they’ll take him to the mortuary. A police escort will follow them to ensure continuity is maintained.’

Chris placed clear polythene bags over Gorman’s head, hands and feet for further preservation. Then they gathered him in the thick, white polythene body sheet. It rustled like a giant crisp packet as Chris tore at pieces of tape to secure the sheet in place. Next, they opened the body bag and shuffled him in it. The bag was fastened up and the zips secured with a plastic tag bearing a unique police reference number. Maya took one final photograph to record the number and then stood back.

‘He’s all done. Well, Maya – your first body in the bag, quite literally. How does it feel?’

‘It’s a relief to have it over and done with. At least I know what to expect in future. I feel okay about it. I think it helps knowing he was a shitbag. What happens now?’

‘A baptism of fire, that’s what. Might as well get another first out of the way. You can come to the mortuary with me and watch the post-mortem. We’ve just got enough time to grab some food on the way, I dunno about you but I’m bleedin’ starving.’ Maya heard his stomach rumble in agreement.

‘Nope, couldn’t eat a thing. I’ll get something later.’

‘Well, it’s up to you but personally I always find post-mortems make me hungry. It’s all those ribs. Let’s get out of these scene suits so I can ring DI Redford.’ Chris stretched noisily as he straightened himself up. ‘He might actually want to meet us at the mortuary. He’ll be in the viewing gallery, of course. He’ll tell you it’s so he can make calls while the PM takes place, but I think it’s so he can avoid being in the splash zone.’

Surveying the dishevelled kitchen, Maya took a few final photographs. While focusing the lens she suddenly felt concerned that they had missed something. Nothing she could put her finger on. It was more of a sense that the room was keeping