wasn’t supposed to be there. It was probably only a tablecloth or an exhibit that had fallen from one of the tables she supposed, but her natural instinct for tidiness simply couldn’t leave it lying there like that to get dirty.
With a small sigh, she turned and walked further amongst the maze of tables, and then stopped abruptly.
She was looking down at a pair of shoes, with their shiny black soles pointing straight up at the ceiling. Rather fine, black leather shoes, to be exact. And above them, a pair of blue trousers.
Not a tablecloth then, Jenny thought inconsequentially.
Her next thought was that someone had been elected by the taxidermists to guard their stuff after all. Her thought after that was that that someone had been caught lying down on the job.
Then she thought that she was being silly. Whoever the shoes and trousers belonged to wasn’t taking a nap, but was obviously on the floor doing something else. Picking up dropped stock perhaps. Or fixing an uneven table leg.
She abruptly realized that she’d been standing dead still in one place for a little while now, and that whoever it was on the floor hadn’t moved much in that time – if at all. She also realized that she seemed to be breathing rather hard.
She took a step or two closer, and saw a white shirt and a matching blue jacket.
Who was the last person that she’d seen wearing such a suit?
Jenny swallowed hard and took another step closer and then all she could see was scarlet. It seemed to coat the top of the white shirt with a glossy sheen, and was also pooled around arms and elbows, which were lying against the floor at a rather peculiar and downright uncomfortable-looking angle.
Maurice Raines had been wearing a blue suit during his speech, she thought.
Maurice Raines was now lying down in the middle of the tables, oozing scarlet all over the place. He looked distinctly untidy. She couldn’t see his face very well, for his head was tilted back behind him on the hard wood floor.
He looks really uncomfortable lying like that, Jenny thought, and she couldn’t imagine that the fastidious Maurice would be very pleased to be making such a mess, either.
Jenny took another step closer and now she could see his face. His salt-and-pepper hair looked matted with rust. His bright blue eyes, so startling and attractive in life, looked a little like glass now, somehow clouded and dimmed, as they stared sightlessly along a length of floorboard. Jutting out of his neck at an obscene angle was something long and metallic. Scalpel-like.
‘Oh,’ Jenny said.
Well that explained a lot.
She looked down, saw that if she moved any further she would step in Maurice’s blood and took a careful step back. And then another. And then another.
Beside Maurice, she noticed vaguely that a space on thetable had been cleared, and that two cups of coffee had been set down there. They both had just the faintest whiff of steam coming from off the top of the dark-brown liquid. Neither cup looked as if they had been drunk from.
At the entrance to hall, Jenny Starling paused and took a long, deep breath, and told herself not to be an idiot. With fingers that felt curiously numb, she reached into her handbag and drew out her mobile. It seemed to take her a few seconds to remember how to use it, but then she pressed the number nine three times, and waited to be connected.
When a pleasant female voice asked her which emergency number she required, she asked for the police.
Jenny found a chair out in the corridor and sat down. It felt a distinct relief to take her not inconsiderable weight off her feet, which were feeling curiously cold, and far removed from the rest of her.
She’d been told to wait, not to enter the room again or let anyone else enter the room, and that an officer would be with her shortly.
And all of that was fine by her.
So Jenny sat and waited. And thought.
This wasn’t the first time she’d found a body – or been present when
With a small sigh, she turned and walked further amongst the maze of tables, and then stopped abruptly.
She was looking down at a pair of shoes, with their shiny black soles pointing straight up at the ceiling. Rather fine, black leather shoes, to be exact. And above them, a pair of blue trousers.
Not a tablecloth then, Jenny thought inconsequentially.
Her next thought was that someone had been elected by the taxidermists to guard their stuff after all. Her thought after that was that that someone had been caught lying down on the job.
Then she thought that she was being silly. Whoever the shoes and trousers belonged to wasn’t taking a nap, but was obviously on the floor doing something else. Picking up dropped stock perhaps. Or fixing an uneven table leg.
She abruptly realized that she’d been standing dead still in one place for a little while now, and that whoever it was on the floor hadn’t moved much in that time – if at all. She also realized that she seemed to be breathing rather hard.
She took a step or two closer, and saw a white shirt and a matching blue jacket.
Who was the last person that she’d seen wearing such a suit?
Jenny swallowed hard and took another step closer and then all she could see was scarlet. It seemed to coat the top of the white shirt with a glossy sheen, and was also pooled around arms and elbows, which were lying against the floor at a rather peculiar and downright uncomfortable-looking angle.
Maurice Raines had been wearing a blue suit during his speech, she thought.
Maurice Raines was now lying down in the middle of the tables, oozing scarlet all over the place. He looked distinctly untidy. She couldn’t see his face very well, for his head was tilted back behind him on the hard wood floor.
He looks really uncomfortable lying like that, Jenny thought, and she couldn’t imagine that the fastidious Maurice would be very pleased to be making such a mess, either.
Jenny took another step closer and now she could see his face. His salt-and-pepper hair looked matted with rust. His bright blue eyes, so startling and attractive in life, looked a little like glass now, somehow clouded and dimmed, as they stared sightlessly along a length of floorboard. Jutting out of his neck at an obscene angle was something long and metallic. Scalpel-like.
‘Oh,’ Jenny said.
Well that explained a lot.
She looked down, saw that if she moved any further she would step in Maurice’s blood and took a careful step back. And then another. And then another.
Beside Maurice, she noticed vaguely that a space on thetable had been cleared, and that two cups of coffee had been set down there. They both had just the faintest whiff of steam coming from off the top of the dark-brown liquid. Neither cup looked as if they had been drunk from.
At the entrance to hall, Jenny Starling paused and took a long, deep breath, and told herself not to be an idiot. With fingers that felt curiously numb, she reached into her handbag and drew out her mobile. It seemed to take her a few seconds to remember how to use it, but then she pressed the number nine three times, and waited to be connected.
When a pleasant female voice asked her which emergency number she required, she asked for the police.
Jenny found a chair out in the corridor and sat down. It felt a distinct relief to take her not inconsiderable weight off her feet, which were feeling curiously cold, and far removed from the rest of her.
She’d been told to wait, not to enter the room again or let anyone else enter the room, and that an officer would be with her shortly.
And all of that was fine by her.
So Jenny sat and waited. And thought.
This wasn’t the first time she’d found a body – or been present when
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