Blood Red Roses by Lin Anderson Page A

explained.
    She nodded, already thinking about death.
    She pulled the front door behind her, knowing he wouldn’t be there when she got back. Making love to a forensic scientist might be exciting. Waiting for her to come back from a murder scene was not.
    Excalibur
had a big sword above the door. Long and hard. Frequented mainly by singles, the symbol promised more than it could deliver.
    Bill was waiting in the corridor beyond the saloon doors. He looked at her, bleary eyed.
    â€˜Happy birthday,’ she said.
    He pointed her towards the toilets.
    The twisted body was sprawled half in, half out of a cubicle, devil horns blinking red. She woreblack lycra, stretched over full breasts. A forked tail lay motionless on the tiles among the broken glass of an alcopop bottle.
    â€˜A hen night,’ Bill said. ‘Her mate found her. They called 999. The paramedic that tried mouth to mouth reported a strange tingling in his lips. He called us.’
    Rhona ran a latex-gloved finger over the blue lips then touched her own. The spot she touched tingled then went numb. She picked up a piece of glass and sniffed it.
    â€˜What’s up?’ Bill said.
    â€˜Not sure. Could be poison.’
    Bill looked surprised. ‘I thought it was drugs.’
    Rhona took a sample of the small sticky pool of browny-purple liquid.
    â€˜I’ll collect the glass. If she was poisoned, the bottle was the murder weapon.’
    Rhona cleared the face of hair and caught a faint scent of something other than booze and makeup.
    â€˜Did she have asthma?’
    â€˜Her mates are next door. We’ll ask.’
    Four devils sat side by side, smeared mascara,eyes clouded by drink. Three seemed unable to speak. Rhona spoke to the fourth, who said her name was Tracey.
    â€˜We were pissed,’ she muttered. ‘Donna went to the toilet and never came back. I went looking for her. She was jerking and moaning. It was horrible. I got scared and called 999 on my mobile.’ She looked at Rhona. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
    Rhona nodded.
    â€˜We drank the same amount. How come she’s dead?’ Tears ran black down her cheeks. ‘She was getting married tomorrow.’
    â€˜We’ll need to inform her family.’
    â€˜She didn’t have one. Only her mates... and Jonny.’
    â€˜Jonny?’ Rhona said.
    â€˜Her fiance.’ She spat out the word.
    â€˜You didn’t like him?’ Bill said.
    Tracey was defiant. ‘He wanted Donna to change. I liked her the way she was.’
    â€˜Did Donna take her drink to the toilet with her?’ Rhona asked.
    Tracey looked puzzled. ‘Why would she do that?’
    â€˜Was she asthmatic?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Did she have asthma?’
    â€˜Not that I know of.’
    â€˜Are any of you asthmatic?’
    They shook their heads.
    â€˜Fucked up, yes,’ Tracey said. ‘Asthmatic no.’
    Rhona opened her forensic bag and set about taking samples. The girl’s body was already showing signs of rigor mortis. The muscle stiffening and the macabre grin suggested poison, probably strychnine. But finding the cause of death was the pathologist’s job. Hers was to find traces of the attacker.
    There was no evidence of violent or sexual assault, apart from grazed skin from the broken bottle. Rhona sampled the lips and bagged the gloved hands. Then she set about picking up the glass.
    The pathologist arrived as she was finishing. Dr Sissons gave her a weary look.
    â€˜Drugs or drink?’
    Rhona shook her head. ‘At a guess, strychnine poisoning.’
    Now she had his interest. Poisonings were not the usual manner of violent death in Glasgow on a Friday night.
    When Rhona got back to the flat, dawn was streaking the sky with red. Her cat, Chance, ran towards her, looking for food. She smelt coffee, then heard Sean humming. Naked, he smiled as she entered the kitchen.
    â€˜Okay?’
    She nodded, unsure whether