lay on the floor, naked under her bathrobe, her hands bound behind her back with the belt, her ankles taped up. Hanging loosely around her neck was a man’s tie, still knotted tightly at the back, and on the floor beside the body lay a rolled-up ball of material and a man’s glove. The photographer was snapping away, impassively and efficiently.
“Did the FME remove the gag?” Lloyd asked. “I’m sorry—I don’t know your name.”
The young man stood almost to attention. “PC Gary Sims, sir. I removed the gag and got the material out of her mouth. I then attempted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but it failed.”
Lloyd nodded, smiling a little. “I’m not a court of law, Gary,” he said.
Sims relaxed a little. “I wasn’t sure what to do, sir. I thought she was dead, but you know—you’re told you mustn’t assume that, you must try to preserve life, but you’re told not to disturb a homicide scene, and I couldn’t do both, so I just did what I thought I had to do.”
“That’s all you can do,” said Lloyd, and looked down at the body again. “Was she still warm, then?”
“Not exactly warm. But not cold.”
Lloyd nodded, and looked again at the victim. She was in her mid-twenties, fair, probably very attractive before this happened to her.
“Do we know who that glove belongs to?”
“No, sir. It was there when I found her. I didn’t touch it.”
“Why would he remove one glove, do you think?”
“Maybe he couldn’t tie her up properly with his gloves on.”
“But if you had to remove one glove to tie a knot, wouldn’t you have to remove both of them?” It was a little puzzle, he thought. And little puzzles sometimes solved the bigger ones.
“Not if you used your teeth, sir. He would have been hanging onto her with his other hand while he tied her up, wouldn’t he?”
Yes, presumably he would be doing that. So it wasn’t a little puzzle after all, then. Who needed Judy? Everyone could point out flaws in his reasoning. Even little boys in police uniforms.
“There was one of these Sellotape dispensers on the table, and scissors,” said Sims, nodding over to the kitchen table, on which lay a roll of Christmas paper. “Someone had been wrapping presents, I think. The SOCO took them.”
Perhaps, thought Lloyd, the burglar had left a set of his doubtless already-filed fingerprints for them to find when he used the tape. And whether he had or not, Lloyd had every intention of having whoever did this behind bars before the holiday began.
Through the adjoining door he could see the crime scene technicians dusting the window and everythingelse that had been disturbed, examining the carpet, collecting samples of the mud that had been walked through from the garden into the dining room, carefully bagging up the broken glass that lay on the rain-soaked carpet, the brick that lay on the patio. He would wait until they finished before he went in.
Freddie arrived as he went back out into the hallway.
“Lloyd! We meet again. Good of you to let me fit in my game of squash before you called.”
“She’s in the kitchen, Freddie. Constable Sims is with her.”
“Is Constable Sims male or female?”
“Male.”
Freddie pulled a face. “Your police force is sadly lacking in talent at the moment, you know that, don’t you? I think I’ll report you to the Equal Opportunities people.”
“Sir!” called Sims. “They’ve finished next door—they’ve moved out to the patio now.”
“Thank you,” said Lloyd, and left Freddie and Sims to their work, as he went into the large dining room, also decorated for the season. One of the Bignalls obviously made a big thing of Christmas. More garlands, balloons, baubles, and a tall Christmas tree whose lights changed color through the spectrum. Books lay scattered on one shelf, and the other shelves were empty save for a vase of flowers. It looked almost artistic—minimalist, Japanese. He had never been struck by the artistry of a burglary
“Did the FME remove the gag?” Lloyd asked. “I’m sorry—I don’t know your name.”
The young man stood almost to attention. “PC Gary Sims, sir. I removed the gag and got the material out of her mouth. I then attempted mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but it failed.”
Lloyd nodded, smiling a little. “I’m not a court of law, Gary,” he said.
Sims relaxed a little. “I wasn’t sure what to do, sir. I thought she was dead, but you know—you’re told you mustn’t assume that, you must try to preserve life, but you’re told not to disturb a homicide scene, and I couldn’t do both, so I just did what I thought I had to do.”
“That’s all you can do,” said Lloyd, and looked down at the body again. “Was she still warm, then?”
“Not exactly warm. But not cold.”
Lloyd nodded, and looked again at the victim. She was in her mid-twenties, fair, probably very attractive before this happened to her.
“Do we know who that glove belongs to?”
“No, sir. It was there when I found her. I didn’t touch it.”
“Why would he remove one glove, do you think?”
“Maybe he couldn’t tie her up properly with his gloves on.”
“But if you had to remove one glove to tie a knot, wouldn’t you have to remove both of them?” It was a little puzzle, he thought. And little puzzles sometimes solved the bigger ones.
“Not if you used your teeth, sir. He would have been hanging onto her with his other hand while he tied her up, wouldn’t he?”
Yes, presumably he would be doing that. So it wasn’t a little puzzle after all, then. Who needed Judy? Everyone could point out flaws in his reasoning. Even little boys in police uniforms.
“There was one of these Sellotape dispensers on the table, and scissors,” said Sims, nodding over to the kitchen table, on which lay a roll of Christmas paper. “Someone had been wrapping presents, I think. The SOCO took them.”
Perhaps, thought Lloyd, the burglar had left a set of his doubtless already-filed fingerprints for them to find when he used the tape. And whether he had or not, Lloyd had every intention of having whoever did this behind bars before the holiday began.
Through the adjoining door he could see the crime scene technicians dusting the window and everythingelse that had been disturbed, examining the carpet, collecting samples of the mud that had been walked through from the garden into the dining room, carefully bagging up the broken glass that lay on the rain-soaked carpet, the brick that lay on the patio. He would wait until they finished before he went in.
Freddie arrived as he went back out into the hallway.
“Lloyd! We meet again. Good of you to let me fit in my game of squash before you called.”
“She’s in the kitchen, Freddie. Constable Sims is with her.”
“Is Constable Sims male or female?”
“Male.”
Freddie pulled a face. “Your police force is sadly lacking in talent at the moment, you know that, don’t you? I think I’ll report you to the Equal Opportunities people.”
“Sir!” called Sims. “They’ve finished next door—they’ve moved out to the patio now.”
“Thank you,” said Lloyd, and left Freddie and Sims to their work, as he went into the large dining room, also decorated for the season. One of the Bignalls obviously made a big thing of Christmas. More garlands, balloons, baubles, and a tall Christmas tree whose lights changed color through the spectrum. Books lay scattered on one shelf, and the other shelves were empty save for a vase of flowers. It looked almost artistic—minimalist, Japanese. He had never been struck by the artistry of a burglary
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