Read Online Slice by David Hodges - Free Book Online Page B

attendant skilfully pulled the scalp of the corpse back over the severed lid of the skull, then ran a finger lightly across the forehead of the corpse. ‘See?’
    Fulton and Gilham almost collided with each other in their eagerness to look closer, but it was not difficult to spot the indented band of bruising that seemed to encompass the head at this point.
    ‘Something was applied to the head almost as tightly as the cuffs on the wrists,’ she explained. ‘In my opinion it was some sort of clamp or restraint to hold it rigidly in position.’
    Gilham looked puzzled. ‘And what would be the purpose in that?’
    She shrugged. ‘I can only point out the physical marks I’ve found and what, in my professional judgement, is likely to have caused them. It’s up to you to decide the whys.’
    Fulton shot her a keen glance. ‘But you do have a theory of your own, don’t you, Ab?’
    She pursed her lips. ‘Well it’s pretty obvious your man was secured to a chair or something similar to severely restrict his movements, but the presence of the band mark to the forehead suggests to me that your killer wanted to ensure his victim’s gaze was focused on one particular spot – that he couldn’t look away.’
    ‘Like into a mirror?’ Fulton suggested.
    ‘So, you haven’t lost your touch after all then, Jack?’
    Gilham looked totally nonplussed now. ‘I have to admit I’m confused,’ he put in. ‘What are we saying?’
    ‘He wanted his victim to watch his own throat being cut,’ Fulton answered with brutal frankness.
    ‘Now that really is sick.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Fulton replied, ‘and so is chopping off someone’s balls.’
    Gilham closed his eyes briefly at his chief’s crudity, darting a reproving glance in his direction, then reddening under Abbey’s half-amused gaze. ‘Strange though,’ he went on quickly, ‘how our killer seems to have managed to kidnap and subdue his victim so easily.’
    Fulton raised his eyebrows. ‘We don’t know it was that easy.’
    ‘Well, there were no signs of a struggle at his home, were there? And I take it there were no other marks of violence on the body?’
    Abbey shook her head. ‘Not indicative of a struggle, no. He had some deep cuts – no doubt from the weapon – to his inner thighs, which I was coming to in a moment, but, apart from those and the other injuries I’ve already pointed out, nothing else that I could see.’
    ‘Yet you would have thought that a man like Lyall would have put up some kind of resistance,’ Gilham persisted. ‘After all, he was ex-army and probably quite a tough old bird. Any chance he could have been drugged in some way?’
    She nodded. ‘Very possible, I would think. I’ve taken the usual samples and we should know one way or the other following toxicological analysis.’
    ‘And the murder weapon? Any ideas on that?’
    ‘As I said to Mr Fulton at the scene, judging by the wounds inflicted, I would say it was a very thin blade with an extremely sharp edge – something like a cut-throat razor.’
    She frowned. ‘Your man was not that competent, though. Did a clean job with the throat – sliced right through the carotid artery – but he made a bit of a mess removing the testicles. Very much a hacking job there, hence those deep slashes to the inner thighs where he evidently tried to manoeuvre the weapon.’
    ‘Our killer is a bit of an amateur, then?’ Gilham summarized.
    She treated him to a grim smile. ‘At the moment, yes, but we all improve with practice, don’t we?’
    The implication of the remark was not lost on the two policemen, but before either got the chance to pursue the subject further, all conversation was interrupted by the melodic ring-tone of a mobile.
    Gilham hurriedly jerked the offending telephone from his pocket, wincing his embarrassment.
    The call did not last long and after a series of nods and grunts, he rejoined them. ‘Someone wants to see me,’ he said.
    Fulton raised a quizzical eyebrow.