Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(23)

Keats pulled up the sheet around Jemima’s feet.

Kim immediately pictured her recent experiment at the site. She already knew.

She stepped to the end of the body and looked at her. ‘He dragged her up the hill,’ Kim said, forming her hands around the ankles. Her fingers matched the bruise marks almost perfectly.

‘He, Inspector? You’re already assuming it’s a male without the presence of sexual assault?’

Kim nodded slowly.

He shrugged. ‘Your suspicion may explain the fresh graze mark on the small of her back and the small pieces of gravel embedded in her skin.’

Kim lifted up the sheet and viewed the faint marks on the upper arms. ‘I think these are from when she was taken.’ She paused for another ten seconds. ‘And I’m guessing our guy is about five foot seven or taller.’

Keats sighed. ‘Inspector, you cannot possibly…’

His words trailed away as she removed her jacket.

‘Oh dear, you’re not staying, are you?’ he asked.

She stood beside Keats. His five-six stature fell three inches below hers.

‘Okay, now move me from here to the door,’ she instructed.

‘Excuse me.’

‘It’s simple enough, Keats. Move me from here to the door,’ she repeated.

Keats looked at Bryant who shook his head.

‘Must I stop this side of the door?’

‘Just do it,’ she snapped.

He shrugged and stood behind her.

‘Are you dead?’ he asked.

‘You wish, Keats. Not dead but let’s just say I’m pliable…’

‘Now that would…’

‘Don’t think about it, just do it.’

‘Okay,’ he said, placing his hands above her waist but beneath her breasts.

He began to propel her forwards towards the door. Like air from a tyre she let some of the rigidity fall from her legs. She stumbled and weaved. Keats’s hands moved all around her back and to her waist to keep her steady and moving.

She put the brakes on her feet just short of the doorway.

‘Okay, thanks,’ she said, returning to the starting point.

She turned her back on Bryant. ‘Now you do it.’

He stood behind her and she knew that the top of her head was level with his nose.

Instinctively he grabbed her upper arms and marched her forwards. She did the same with her gait but still she moved at speed, propelled towards the door.

‘And what has that little role play told us?’ Keats asked.

‘Height,’ she said, pointing at the spot on her arms. She looked at Keats. ‘You are… umm… shorter than I am so you had to grab me around the middle. Bryant is taller and his natural instinct was to grab my arms and push me forwards.’

Bryant considered. ‘Either a male or a very tall woman.’

Kim conceded the point.

‘Well, if the floor show has quite finished, the stomach contents have been sent for analysis. Not easy to identify, just mush.’

Kim stood at the top of the metal tray. As she looked down she noticed two kinks in the front of the thin blonde hair.

She held out her hand towards Bryant. Like any assistant surgeon he knew exactly what she wanted.

The evidence bag landed in her palm. She held it forwards, towards Keats.

‘Not sure if this is anything…’

‘Where the hell did you get that?’ Keats asked, staring down at the bag.

He took it from her and turned it over to get a better look.

‘Near to where Jemima’s body was found,’ she explained, surprised by his reaction. ‘What’s the problem?’

Still carrying the bag, he moved towards the table in the corner. ‘I have a matching one here,’ he said, holding up an identical bag.

Kim was confused. ‘I didn’t see that yesterday.’

‘You wouldn’t have done, Inspector. I had to dig it out of her face.’

Bryant’s gasp preceded a veil of silence that fell between them. Kim knew they were all pondering the level of force required behind the blows to bury that object in her skin.

Eventually Keats broke the silence. He coughed before he spoke. ‘So time of death – I would say you’re looking at between one a.m. and three a.m. yesterday morning.’

‘Okay, Keats, is there anything else I should know?’

‘How to speak to people would be a start.’

‘About our victim,’ she growled.

‘Actually, there is one curious thing.’

He drew back the sheet gently and Kim’s gaze immediately rested on the handcuff ring that circled the thin wrist.

Razor bumps and skin irritation on Jemima’s legs were visible beneath the bright white lights of the morgue. Kim got the impression that she had been preparing herself for a good night out.

Keats gently touched the body an inch above the belly button. A faint red line stretched across her waist approximately one inch wide.

Kim briefly considered that she’d been tethered but the mark would have been wider and not as straight.

‘On her back?’ Kim asked. Perhaps it was something that had been placed around her.

‘Not her back but here.’

Keats rolled the body slightly so that she was lying on her side.