See the Dead Birds Fly: A terrifying Swedish serial-killer mystery (The DI Stella Cole Thrillers Book 7) by Andy Maslen

Author:Andy Maslen [Maslen, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tyton Press
Published: 2022-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

32

Stella got a call from Henrik at 2:30 p.m. that same day.

‘Hey, Stella, you might want to come over to take a look at the latest victim,’ he said. ‘Things have changed up a gear.’

The body on Henrik’s dissection table bore the brutal Y-incision of all post-autopsy cadavers: two diagonals from the outer points of the collar bones meeting at a point just below the sternum, then descending in a straight line to the pubic bone. Thick black sutures closed the wounds. But it was the face and neck that held her attention.

Numerous livid bruises disfigured the pale flesh of the throat. More mottled the cheeks and forehead. The lower lip was swollen and the face bore numerous lacerations and scrapes.

The nose had suffered the most damage, however. The right nostril was split for a centimetre and a half up from the tip. Henrik held the flap of flesh up with a steel rod. The septum was damaged and the skin on the inside of the nostril was cut.

‘What do you think?’ Henrik asked her.

‘It looks like he’s been in a fight. Did you find the same imprint of a screwdriver on the underside of his skull?’

‘Exactly the same. A PZ2 Pozidrive.’

‘He tried to fight off the killer,’ Stella said. ‘In the struggle, the screwdriver gashed his nose before being jammed home.’

‘That’s consistent with the other abrasions and contusions to the face and neck,’ Henrik said. ‘I think the killer eventually managed to get him in a headlock then dealt the coup de grâce.’

‘How, though?’

‘Our victim is a big fellow,’ Henrik said. ‘I’m only speculating, but I would guess that the killer didn’t use enough ketamine to keep him under for the duration of the operation. He must have woken up halfway through.’

‘Oh God, the poor man,’ Stella said. ‘Can you imagine what he must have been feeling?’

Henrik nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose.

‘Not being a psychopath, unfortunately I can. He would have been disorientated, terrified.’

‘But he still had enough left in him to at least try to fight back.’

‘What about his arms and legs? They looked as though they were held up and apart somehow. More aluminium?’

Henrik went to a side bench and returned with three narrow aluminium rods, each about fifty centimetres long.

‘Inserted between the ribcage and the triceps brachii of each arm, and between the semitendinosus and biceps femoris muscles of each leg. The tips were prevented from further travel by the humeruses and femurs.’

‘It reminded me of something,’ Stella said. ‘The way he’d been posed. I’m sure I’ve seen it somewhere before.’

Henrik grinned. It was an expression she’d come to know. It meant he was pleased that a cop had come to the same point of enquiry he had.

‘Me, too. Do you know the British sculptor, Jacob Epstein?’ Stella shook her head. ‘I’m a fan of his work. I knew it straight away. Come to my desk. I’ll show you.’

Stella skirted the dissection table and went to join Henrik at his desk. He jiggled the mouse and there it was on screen.

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