Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(22)

Kim knew what Bryant was going to say before he said it. She was only surprised he managed to keep it in until they were walking towards the morgue.

‘You saw Stacey, right? You know she’s miserable being sent home at five each night?’

Of course she’d seen her colleague. ‘It’s an adjustment period. She’ll get used to it. With all this extra time you’ll make new friends, too, take up cake decorating; now get off my back. There’s nothing I can do.’

‘And what time do you call this?’ Keats asked, as they entered the cold, sterile area.

‘Don’t even start,’ she advised.

‘Working half days, now?’

And of course, asking him to stop doing something only encouraged him more.

‘So, what you got?’ she asked, placing her hands onto the metal dish.

‘Hands off,’ he said, wrapping her knuckles with the ruler in his hand.

‘Oww,’ she said, rubbing at her hand.

‘I’ve just cleaned it,’ he said, reaching for his clipboard.

She looked to Bryant and silently asked him if that gave her permission to haul him over the dish by his lapels.

Bryant’s brief shake of the head said no.

As the ruler was still in his hands she placed her own into her pocket, not least to protect them from the ruler but also from tightening around the pathologist’s throat.

‘So, Belinda and I have been chatting some more and she seemed to have a little more to say. I can confirm that she was sexually active and—’

‘Blimey, Keats, how the devil do you deduce such a thing?’ Kim asked, wondering about the physicality of such a discovery.

‘Because of these,’ he said, placing a photo on the metal dish between them.

She looked down to see raised bobbles of pink skin.

‘Genital warts, Inspector,’ Keats explained. ‘HPV: human papillomavirus. These little terrors are sore, painful and very easily transferred by sexual contact.’

Kim took a moment to digest the information, trying to compute the image of the professional, educated middle-aged lady, well dressed, well presented, appearing to be highly sexed.

‘And that’s not all,’ he said, placing two more photographs on the table.

She reached out, placed them side by side and then shuffled them, unsure exactly what she was looking at.

‘Hands,’ Keats said, again cracking her fingers with the ruler.

‘Keats, I swear if you do that one more time, I’ll…’

‘What you’re seeing here,’ he said, pointing to the first photo with the ruler, ‘is a magnified image of the corners of Belinda’s mouth. Here,’ he said pointing to his own mouth where the lower lip met the upper lip. ‘There are minute tears to the skin on both sides. And this’, he said, turning the second photo around to face her, ‘is the imprint of a circle close to her ears on both sides, cleverly concealed with make-up.’

Kim shook her head.

‘A ball gag, Inspector. Commonly associated with sado-masochism. The ball is placed in the mouth and a leather strap is buckled around the back of the head.’

‘I still have no idea…’

‘Bryant, google it for her, will you?’

Her colleague took out his phone, pressed a few buttons and turned the screen her way.

‘Oh, okay,’ she said, wondering how the hell such an object could enhance sexual pleasure.

‘Keats, how on earth do you?…’

‘It’s my job to know these things, Inspector.’

‘So, it looks as though our victim not only liked sex but also liked sexual games.’

‘I think we need to find out who she was playing those sexual games with,’ Bryant said. ‘And we might just find our—’

‘It’s not sexual,’ Kim said, walking around the table, her hands firmly back in her pockets.

‘Come on, guv,’ Bryant said, incredulously. ‘The woman took condoms wherever she went, she had a sexually transmitted disease and she liked to play games.’

‘Precisely. She was sexual but the murder was not.’

‘Could have been a sex game gone wrong,’ he pushed.

She shook her head, stubbornly. ‘It has none of the signs of a sexually motivated murder. There was no sexual contact—’

‘There doesn’t have to be sex for it to be a sexually motivated murder, guv,’ Bryant argued.

‘Agreed but no clothing was removed; there was no mutilation of sexual organs. Nothing had been removed or tampered with and the marking on her neck was done in an area where her garments didn’t need to be touched.’

‘But if she’d passed on the disease to someone who was less than pleased with the gift?’

‘Still wouldn’t be sexual though, would it?’ Kim observed. ‘That would be revenge.’

Bryant turned to Keats. ‘Help me out?’

Keats tapped his chin with the ruler. ‘Sorry, but, much as it surprises me on this occasion, I have to agree with your boss, may the lord forgive me,’ he said, looking heavenward. He continued. ‘In my experience, sexually motivated murders are unmistakeable: clothing has been removed, destroyed, genitals are on display and often mutilated, interfered with or totally removed. It’s a statement. It’s the first thing the killer wants you to notice whether it be a fetish or whatever the reason. It’s normally on display for the symbolism to be clear. It’s their message.’