Dead Level (The DI Nick Dixon Crime Series Book 5) by Damien Boyd Page B

going down to Poole to tell her family.’
    Janice shook her head. ‘Well, there’s not a lot we can do here. I’ve sent the others home.’
    ‘Anything from the farm on the other side of the river?’ asked Jane.
    ‘Harry never came back. Useless tosser’s probably gone straight home.’
    ‘What about Scientific?’
    ‘They’ve finished and secured the property. We’ll get a call if they find anything.’
    ‘And the post mortem?’
    ‘Poland’s doing that now, so we’ll get his report tomorrow, I expect .’
    ‘You going?’
    ‘No. She was stabbed. It’ll be down to the forensics, this one. We’ve just got to hope they find some DNA in that puke or on the cigarettes . In the meantime, I’m going home before I end up in the divorce courts and I suggest you do the same.’
    ‘When will we get the test results?’
    ‘They’ve been expedited so possibly tomorrow or Boxing Day. Depends on their staffing at the lab, I suppose.’
    ‘What about the murder weapon?’
    ‘If he didn’t take it with him, it’ll be in the river and there’s no way we can get divers in there at the moment.’
    ‘It just doesn’t seem right somehow,’ said Jane.
    ‘What? Going home?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Look, it’s all under control, Jane. And there’s nothing else we can do now anyway. So go home and relax for a bit. Mark will be here until midnight and Dave’s back on at six in the morning so we’ll get a call if anything crops up.’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘Anyway, I’m off,’ said Janice, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Happy Chris . . . no, perhaps not.’
    Jane rang Dixon back. She watched Janice walking towards the lift and turned away when Dixon answered.
    ‘Everyone’s gone home,’ she said.
    ‘No one’s gone to the PM?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’d better go then,’ said Dixon. ‘Just look in and see if Roger’s found anything interesting. Give me a buzz when you’re on your way and I’ll put the supper on.’
    ‘You’ll make someone a lovely wife,’ said Jane.

    ‘Don’t just sit there. You know the drill,’ said Poland.
    Jane closed her eyes. For a moment there she thought she might have got away with it but Poland had spotted her sitting in the anteroom. She opened the door and walked into the pathology lab.
    ‘That’s better. You won’t see anything skulking about in there.’
    ‘Thanks, Roger,’ said Jane, rolling her eyes.
    ‘Janice not here?’
    ‘Gone home. It was either that or divorce, I think.’
    ‘I keep forgetting it’s Christmas Eve. Hardly feels like it, does it?’
    ‘No.’
    Jane looked down at Elizabeth Perry lying on the slab. A large incision ran the full length of her torso and abdomen. It had been stapled up so Jane had missed the internal examination. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.
    ‘Was she pregnant?’
    ‘Three months.’
    ‘And the time of death?’
    ‘Early hours of this morning. Say between midnight and 3 a.m.’
    Jane stood at the end of the slab, looking down at Elizabeth Perry. Her brown hair was swept back and her eyes closed. There was bruising on her upper arms and some lighter bruising was now visible just above her wrists.
    ‘What d’you think happened then, Roger?’
    ‘An attempt at restraint first. That’s the bruising. Then she was stabbed in the neck.’
    ‘She survived that?’
    ‘It missed the carotid artery so she would have been able to walk the few steps out onto the landing.’
    ‘Where she collapsed . . .’
    ‘Yes. Then she was stabbed in the back.’
    ‘Cold blooded.’
    ‘Very,’ replied Poland. ‘A determined effort to finish her off.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘That’s your department.’
    ‘And the murder weapon?’
    ‘There were two knives . . .’
    ‘Two?’
    ‘The first one penetrated to a depth of about six centimetres. The blade’s two centimetres wide at the base and coated in pink paint. There are tiny deposits left behind where it hit bone. I’ll get them off to the lab after