THE UNIFORM an utterly addictive Scottish crime thriller (Detective Helen Carter Book 1) by JODIE LAWRANCE

Author:JODIE LAWRANCE [LAWRANCE, JODIE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2021-06-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

‘What’s his name?’ Helen approached the dead fat man, who was slumped over in his leather armchair in the back room of the sweet shop.

‘Arnold Richard Heath, he’s the owner,’ the uniformed officer said, following her.

‘Was the owner,’ she corrected him. ‘Age?’

‘Fifty-six.’

The room was not much bigger than a cleaning cupboard. Alex Winston was mumbling to himself as he rummaged through his briefcase. He didn’t look up as she entered. The door frame had grooves for hinges but no door attached. Heath’s chin rested on his chest, eyes closed. He could almost pass for sleeping had it not been for the crimson stain. The blood had seeped from his stomach and collected in a pool on the floor and over his slippers. Helen looked at the angle of the chair. It was positioned so that he could sit in the back and still have full view of the shop. The pungent aroma of shit and stomach bile hit her suddenly. It was like that rotting cat she had discovered under her shed in the back garden a few years ago. She dry-retched a few times and covered her mouth.

Craven chuckled as he walked up behind her and patted her on the back. She leaned on the door frame for support.

‘C’mon, hen. You’ll need to be a bit harder than this to last in CID. Bloody women, eh? This is what we get when nepotism exists in the force. If you’re going to be sick, go outside. I’m no’ wanting you ruining my crime scene and I could do wi’ a cup of tea anyway.’

Helen batted him away. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Go get your own tea.’

She glared at him and took a few short breaths through her mouth to steady herself, her face scarlet and sweaty. Fuck off! she wanted to shout. Nobody has done me any favours.

She leaned down so that she was level with Heath’s forearms. His nails were filed short and clean. His hands were free of any defensive wounds. Three stab marks were visible under his rolled-up shirtsleeves. The wounds were distinctively star-shaped rather than like a blade.

She felt Alex’s eyes on her and he pre-empted her question.

‘It looks like he was stabbed with a screwdriver in the arms before being shot in the stomach.’ He shook his head. ‘What a way to go, eh?’

‘Our victim the day before yesterday was stabbed with a screwdriver as well.’ Helen swallowed and looked at Craven.

‘It’s too similar to ignore.’ Craven stood in the doorway rustling a bag of Treets. He popped a handful into his mouth and stood waiting for the crime scene officer to take the last of his photos at the back of the shop.

The victim’s final meal sat on the table beside him. A half-eaten spam sandwich and a nearly full mug of milky tea. An Agatha Christie paperback looked as if it had been knocked off the table.

‘He’s been dead a couple of hours at most. The killer would most likely have been known to him, or they might have looked like they were nothing to worry about,’ Craven stated.

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