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reinforced by the gaping wound in the man’s side. There was no sign, that Tess could see, of the weapon that created the wound.
    The torso was criss-crossed by cuts: some deep, some shallow, barely breaking the skin. But the odd thing was the length of the cuts, the length of the lateral lines. Could you cut that straight if the man was struggling? She looked more closely at the pinioned arms.
    â€˜What is that thing he’s fastened up to?’
    â€˜It’s a tie rod,’ the CSI said. ‘This is an old house; that and two others are keeping it from falling outward. If you look outside you’ll see two great iron cross pieces on the wall.’
    Tess nodded, understanding. ‘And what’s he held up with? It looks like … well, fishing line.’
    â€˜It could be. It’s certainly a monofilament of some kind by the look of it.’
    â€˜And it’s strong enough?’
    â€˜Some lines can have more than a hundred pounds breaking strain. And it’s wrapped and wrapped, so yes, no problem with it being strong enough. Trouble is, it cuts in. It doesn’t break, just … well, you can see. We think that’s what caused the cuts on the body. He was wrapped in the stuff, it was tightened, something threaded through at the back here and then twisted to tighten.’ She pointed at some marks on the man’s back that Tess couldn’t see. She made no effort to go round and look. Her imagination was already into overdrive.
    She tried to focus on the questions she should ask and just nodded, not trusting herself to speak now. Where the man had been tied to the beam the line had sliced deep into skin and muscle, disappearing into the cuts it had made, seeming almost to dissolve into him. She tried not to think about the other monofilament that would have wrapped the man’s body, bitten and cut his chest and abdomen. She had seen nothing like it before; heard of nothing like it.
    â€˜The fishing line, or whatever it is, stopped at the bone,’ the CSI said and, though she was doing her best to sound matter of fact, Tess could see that she was somehow awestruck by this. That it had gone beyond the usual level of horror.
    Tess nodded again. She managed to ask, ‘But round the neck … wouldn’t it have …?’
    â€˜Decapitated him? Yeah, probably; it looks like they used a nylon climbing rope or something similar instead. Step round there a bit and you can see.’
    Reluctantly, her brain still screaming out its flight response and her heart now hammering twice as hard, Tess moved to the next plate on the pathway.
    â€˜See?’
    A yellow rope stretched down from the dead man’s neck. It had been stretched taut and then tied off round the back of a chair. The chair was then wedged beneath the heavy table so that the tension was maintained.
    â€˜I’m speculating, you understand,’ the CSI said. ‘But he’s not a big man; two people could have grabbed him and strung him up. I’m guessing they used the rope round the neck to haul him up, then tied him. They could have kept him alive for quite a while, releasing the tension, then … I guess the filament wrapped round the body was just additional incentive. I’m not sure, yet, if it was the rope or the stab wound in the side that finished him off. That’s where all the blood came from, so logically he was still alive when the knife went in. Whoever stabbed him, they twisted it in the wound, just for good measure.’
    â€˜They tortured him. I get the picture.’
    â€˜Yeah. Wish I didn’t.’
    Tess nodded, knowing they’d both be waking in the night, unable to clear the image and what it insinuated from their minds.
    â€˜I’ll get out of your way,’ Tess Fuller said.

SIX
    I f Harry was shocked to find Gregory mashing potatoes in his kitchen, he hid it well, expressing only polite surprise as he shook hands.
    â€˜Kettle’s