Murder in the Raw Read Online Free PDF Page A

to commit the perfect crime, he reflected. If you could pitch a body far enough into the sea, you could hope the sharks would get to it before the police did. And one week had already gone by.

The next morning, Rex set out with Paul Winslow for the promontory where Sabine Durand’s trail had ended. He was relieved to see that Paul had donned tennis shorts for the expedition. Dick and Penny Irving, the couple from Toronto, were just returning from an early jog along the shore, bodies replete with artful tattoos and rings in their genitals. Their sole items of clothing were matching white sweatbands embroidered in red with “The Body Beautiful.”
    The presence of such athleticism made Rex momentarily consider liposuction on his love handles. Luckily, the imperfections of his body were concealed in court by a black robe, but he decided then and there to go on a diet.
    “Ideal specimens of the human anatomy,” Winslow remarked of the Irvings as they ran by. “Puts one to shame, doesn’t it?”
    “You’re in pretty good shape.”
    “Nowhere near those two, but then I’m too lazy. I suppose they have to be good advertisements for their health spa chain. Vernon works hard at it too. Wouldn’t go with the image of an aggressive New York entertainment attorney to be covered in flab.”
    “Was he in the military?”
    “Served in Vietnam, I believe.”
    “That explains his upright posture and stern demeanor.”
    “Well, he hasn’t much to be happy about with Sabine gone—unless, of course, he had something to do with it. But he never was much of a live wire to begin with.”
    They approached the boat rental shack, which had not yet opened for the day, and continued past it to the rocky promontory, which rose in their path, gradually sloping into the water.
    “Watch yourself on the rocks,” Paul warned. “They’ll be slippery.”
    They walked out over the wrinkled wet sand to a low part of the promontory and climbed over to the strip of shore on the other side. Without any wind, there was not enough swell to break on the rocks out at sea.
    “Today will be a scorcher,” Winslow commented absent-mindedly, staring out to the ocean as though it held the answer to Sabine’s disappearance. “I can’t bear to think what happened to her.”
    “I canna understand why she would come out here,” Rex said, looking about him. “Especially after dark.”
    Broken shells and bottles littered the windward part of the island. Scrub grew on the far side, adding to the desolate appearance. A rugged cliff blocked direct access inland, providing a cove hidden from view.
    “I always think the water looks forbidding at night,” Winslow murmured.
    We bathed in the sea off the moonlit beach.
    The poetic sound of Sean O’Sullivan’s words had taken root in Rex’s mind for some reason.
    “It’s still grey this time of morning,” Winslow remarked. “Makes you wonder what’s lurking beneath.”
    “Aye. That’s why I don’t like the water. I won’t go in where I canna see the bottom.” Rex scoured the narrow shoreline, but he knew the chances of finding anything of interest were remote. Too many people had traipsed over the sand, not to mention the tide flowing in at regular intervals.
    “This is where the gendarmes found her ankle bracelet.” Winslow pointed to a spot above the waterline midway along the outcrop of rocks.
    “What about the bloody scrap of material?”
    “Up there where you’re standing. It was caught on a piece of driftwood. The blood matched Sabine’s. She had a rare blood type, so there can be no doubt it was hers.”
    “Who did the testing?”
    “Vernon found a lab in Philipsburg. The police wouldn’t pay for it. They combed the beach and questioned everyone at the resort, but they refuse to pursue the enquiry until a body is found. They did give us a swatch for the testing, though it took a bit of arm-twisting on our part.”
    “What did you match the blood with?”
    “Max von Mueller