Read Online Don't Turn Around by Caroline Mitchell - Free Book Online Page A

inside, and keys are in the back of the door, which was double bolted. There doesn’t appear to be a suicide note.’
    ‘There won’t be,’ Jennifer said. ‘He couldn’t read or write.’
    The officer nodded and carried on. ‘A concern for welfare was called in by a Shelly Easton after he failed to turn up at her address. When there was no answer, she looked through the letterbox, and saw him swinging in the hall. Given the intelligence on the system, we left him in situ just in case anything cropped up. I can cut him down when you’ve looked him over.’
    ‘Good job PC—’
    The young man glowed, ‘Clarke, sir.’
    Jennifer frowned. ‘Why wasn’t he found by other residents?’
    ‘I’ve spoken to the landlord; the flats are undergoing redecoration before the next set of tenants move in. He let Johnny stay as he had nowhere else to go.’
    It made sense. Shelly would not have wanted Johnny cramping her style.
    ‘OK PC Clarke. I’ll shout for you in a minute,’ the DI said, walking inside.
    Jennifer followed him into the hall towards the limp body hanging from the banisters. A damp patch patterned the crotch of his jeans, and a dense, sour smell clawed at the back of her throat. She winced at the sight of numerous scratches dragged down his shirtless torso. Pulling on a pair of gloves from her back pocket, Jennifer handed an extra set to DI Allison. The mottled skin of Johnny’s stiff hands suggested he had been dead overnight at least. The dried blood under his long nails also suggested the scratches were self-inflicted. White foam edged the corner of his blue lips, which drooped to one side. Jennifer glanced at the rickety wooden chair, which lay on its side on the tiled floor.
    ‘His neck’s broken.’ DI Allison’s voice snapped Jennifer from her thoughts.
    ‘Do you think Mike Stone had anything to do with this?’ Jennifer said, wondering if there was anything she could have done to prevent Johnny’s premature death.
    ‘I know Stone of old. This isn’t his style. If he were going to do anything, he would have sent his cronies around to give him a pasting. Besides, Mallet wouldn’t have opened the door to anyone. Double check the rest of the flat, but I doubt very much anyone has gained entry.’ The DI called for PC Clarke to cut the body down. Jennifer prepared herself, knowing she would be elected to hold the dead weight as it was released to the floor.
    A black van turned up outside with ‘private ambulance’ in white letters on the side. Neighbours gathered as two grim looking men in black suits wheeled a trolley towards the door, complete with a body bag. The short police community support officer that attended to assist was thrilled at having something more interesting to deal with than ticketing people for allowing their dogs to foul on the pavement.
    ‘Want to have one last look inside, Jennifer? We’re almost wrapped up here,’ DI Allison said, beckoning the PCSO.
    Jennifer nodded, making her way through the open door of Johnny’s tiny bedsit. Like an itch she could not scratch, a distant nagging urged her to investigate the pitiful box space. She squeezed between the bed and kitchen unit on the other side, its sink belching plates caked in dried food. Walking past the wardrobe to the yellow-netted window, she sniffed the bottle of sour milk and empty cider cans littering its frame. The timber was crusted with emulsion paint and impossible to open. She glanced through the window to the houses across the street. Front entry was too visible. Someone would have seen an intruder under the glare of the street lamps. They may not have been keen on speaking to police, but Johnny was well known by local residents and an anonymous call might have been made if anyone was seen trying to force entry. She checked the bed, picking up a discarded t-shirt and dropping it again as the smell of sweat assailed her nostrils. A rolled up duvet served as a pillow, and the green horsehair blanket made