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

time I would have considered it, but now she’s fucking humiliated me there’s no chance. Aiden’s already paid her a visit but that’s nothing compared to what I’ve got in mind. Nobody will be able to stomach looking at her by the time I’ve finished.’ He stubbed out his roll-up angrily and returned to his bunk, turning his back on Naylor, making it clear the conversation was over.

Naylor didn’t mind. He welcomed the peace and quiet. He had a lot of thinking and planning to do.

55

Being the master of manipulation that he was, Andy had orchestrated events to ensure he was tasked with examining Spence’s sister’s house. Bloody Elaine had interfered as always and insisted she go. He had argued the toss, fully aware that his sudden insistence of volunteering for a job was out of character. At one point they were both clutching hold of the job sheet in an almost comical tug-of-war until Kym had stormed out of her office and split the pair of them up. Furious, she had ordered Elaine to do a stock check on the vans and told Andy to go straight to the scene, annoyed that the argument meant the detectives had been kept waiting.

As Andy pulled up outside the house, Turner stormed down the driveway towards him, tapping his watch.

‘Why’s it taken you so bloody long? We’re on the custody clock you know?’

‘Elaine and I had a misunderstanding and I…’

Turner silenced him with a raised palm. ‘The suspect’s room is at the back of the house. We started searching and found a knife wrapped in a bloodstained cloth at the back of the wardrobe. Obviously, we’ve not searched any further until you’ve forensically recovered it.’

Andy nodded as he wrestled himself into a scene suit. Donnelly had already told him that Lurch had previously entered the address and hidden the knife. That way, on the off-chance that Andy had not been able to ensure he attended the scene, the most crucial evidence would have been discovered anyway. Now he was here, Andy could proceed with planting additional evidence, ensuring Spence was even more culpable.

‘How long will you be?’ Turner made no effort to keep the impatience from his voice as he and Malone followed Andy up the stairs.

‘It shouldn’t take too long.’ Andy glanced at his camera bag on the landing floor next to Reynold’s feet, anxiously aware that it contained dried, bloodstained items which had been passed to him by Donnelly. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ he added, horrified to realise that neither of the detectives were intending on leaving him to it. They appeared to be resolute in remaining on the landing whilst watching him work.

‘Crack on then,’ Turner said as he nestled against the banister rail.

Sweat snaked down Andy’s back, his face growing red as Malone reached down for the camera bag and handed it to Andy. ‘Can I do anything to help speed things along?’ he said, his fingers twitching at the zip.

‘No!’ Andy was aware of the high-pitched squeak that emanated from him as he grabbed at the bag. ‘No offence, gents, but I work quicker on my own. If you stand and watch me, I’ll be all fingers and thumbs. Why don’t you two carry on downstairs and I’ll let you know when I’m done.’

Turner eyed him suspiciously before grunting something inaudible. He tapped his finger against his watch again before sauntering downstairs with Malone at his heels. Andy’s heart was pounding against his chest as he hurriedly opened his camera bag. He took a few frantic photographs before removing the dried, bloodstained items from Nowak, including tissues he had used to wipe his hands on after the attack.

Andy planned to dampen the items using the vial of sterile water he carried, then rub them against Spence’s trainers. He could then photograph the bloodstaining and take swabs which would put McCluskey’s blood on Spence’s footwear. He would do the same with the hem of a pair of jeans.

He would make suggestions on his scene notes that it appeared to him that the jeans had been washed, and he had detected traces of blood in the stitching. Plausible enough if the clothing had been washed at low temperature using non-biological soap powder. Andy would also comment on his scene notes that the trainers appeared to have been wiped. This would explain the lack of blood spatter, which would ordinarily be evident on trainers worn by somebody present during a bloodied assault.

Any self-respecting forensic scientist would be able to ascertain that the location of the staining had not been distributed at the scene of the assault, but Andy hoped the investigation wouldn’t be taken that far. He was relying on current financial restraints dictating that it would not be cost effective to submit the trainers and clothing for further forensic analysis. After all, this was a Section 18 assault, which despite being serious, did not carry the same budget as a murder investigation. His observations alone would hopefully satisfy the detectives and the CPS. He was confident he could convince them that it would be futile to submit the items for further analysis.

Hurriedly, Andy began to dampen the tissue and rubbed the bloodstaining against Spence’s trainer. Beads of sweat were streaming down his forehead and he cursed under his breath as the fragile tissue began to shred and break up. The blood wasn’t spreading as easily as he’d assumed. Fragments of tissue fibre littered the dark-coloured carpet. They were glaringly obvious, like snow on coal. Andy was horrified to hear footsteps ascending the stairs. Wide-eyed, he frantically plucked at the fragments of tissue, the gloves making the process awkward.

‘How’re you getting on?’ Turner called as he reached the top step. Andy kicked the partially bloodstained trainer across the room and sat himself on the floor to cover the carpet.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Just making some notes.’

‘Comfy, are we? Why don’t you just get on the bed?’

‘Not being funny, but I’d be a lot quicker if you gave