A Species of Revenge Read Online Free PDF Page A

Inspector. You can have another look at him now if you want, before we get him bagged up and taken away,’ Dexter said.
    â€˜Nothing to identify him?’
    â€˜No wallet or credit cards, just his car keys and a handful of loose change in his trouser pocket – though the label on his pants says they were made in Germany, if that’s any use to you ... not that it counts for a lot nowadays, last pair I bought was made in Sweden ... and his shirt and underpants are St Michael. I’ll tell you where his shoes came from when we’ve dried them off in the lab and scraped the mud off.’
    â€˜Probably Taiwan,’ Abigail said, ducking under the tape. Conscientiously, but without noticeable enthusiasm, she took a better view of the body. He was a youngish man – not yet forty, the pathologist had estimated, slightly built and of middle height, dark-haired and seen to be clean-shaven. Froth ballooned from his nose and mouth. The front of his clothing was still caked with mud, but appeared to have been otherwise respectable.
    â€˜Not your usual yob that gets mixed up in a fight.’
    The comment came from Sergeant Kite, who’d just arrived. The scene was now crowded with police, the allotments having been taped off and a uniformed PC detailed to keep away the disgruntled tenants as they arrived.
    â€˜T-L thinks he’d been in some sort of punch-up, Martin, for all that. If he was mugged, they’ve left him his ring and his watch.’ She indicated the plain band on the wedding finger and the flat gold watch with the leather strap.
    â€˜In too much of a hurry, maybe. Just grabbed his wallet and scarpered.’
    â€˜I’m wondering if he had one with him. It was a muggy night, after the rain, too warm for a jacket. You men are at a disadvantage, no handbag, nowhere to put your wallet except your back pocket, but that’s still buttoned up. And I can’t see anybody stopping to do it up again if they’d just pinched a wallet from it. He’d loose change and car keys in his other pocket.’
    Hitching her bag on to her shoulder, she thought about the keys, and the possibility that his car was somewhere near...
    â€˜We shan’t get much from the immediate area around, I have to tell you,’ Dexter was grumbling. ‘Footprints or vehicle marks – forget it.’
    The loose sharp stones, the potholes all over the place, would make this impossible, Abigail could see that. She repeated what the pathologist had said about the wound on the back of the victim’s head possibly having been caused by a heavy stone.
    â€˜Keep an eye out for anything likely, Dave. And Martin,’ she said to Kite. ‘Get them knocking on doors.’
    â€˜We’re not going to be popular.’ Starting with Colley Street and the Leasowes, disturbing folks from their weekend lie-in this fine Sunday morning to find out whether anyone had heard a commotion last night. Would anyone have even remarked on it if they had, this end of Colley Street? Commotion was its normal condition, especially Friday and Saturday nights. ‘We shall need more manpower – more uniforms from Reader,’ he said.
    Abigail pulled down her mouth. The chief inspector in charge of the uniformed branch wasn’t exactly a pushover where his scarce resources were concerned. ‘If he’s awkward, shunt him over to me and I’ll twist his arm. Meantime, all the pubs, not forgetting the Punch Bowl.’
    â€˜As if!’
    â€˜As if you could.’ Saturday night without some sort of disturbance needing police intervention at the sleazy dive in
    Colley Street would indeed be a night to remember. ‘But if we can find anyone who came along here after Mr Nevitt left at half past eight, it’d help – maybe somebody took a short cut after closing time.’
    â€˜We’ll be lucky! Anybody from the Punch, they wouldn’t remember if they fell over an