Chapter Six
The Scent of Death
Jason knew death when he saw it. It was something that had been emblazed on his mind so many times, he knew it far too well. The look, the presence, the smell. It never got any easier.
Marc pushed against his shoulder, trying to get around him. Jason raised an arm to block his way. “Stay back. You’ll contaminate the scene.”
“We have to help him,” Marc said.
“We can’t.”
“It might not be too late.”
The catch in Marc’s voice, his natural instinct to do something good, struck a chord, but it was hopeless in this case. “We can’t,” Jason said firmly. “It’s too late.”
Marc gave a sharp intake of breath. “He’s dead?”
There was nothing Jason could do for Dan Blumel now except preserve the crime scene. Leave his body untouched so the police forensic team could do their job. What he could do was make it easier on Marc. He turned around and put both hands on his shoulders. Marc’s body trembled. His lips drew back from his teeth in twisted anguish. “Come on,” Jason said, keeping his voice calm, firm but kind. He edged Marc towards the door. It seemed to work. Marc stopped resisting and moved back into the gym.
“Don’t touch anything,” Jason told him. “It’s best that we return to the car, okay.”
Marc was frozen for a second, and Jason was about to repeat himself when he nodded. Jason put a hand on his back and encouraged him to the front door. As they moved through the gym, Jason’s eyes searched every corner of the room, behind each piece of equipment as they passed. Dan had not been dead for long, he was certain of that. Just minutes before they had arrived. The floor he’d been mopping was still wet. Either whoever had slaughtered him had fled the scene when they pulled up, or they were still in here. He’d put money on the first option but wasn’t about to take a risk when Marc was with him.
They made it to the car. Jason told Marc to lock the doors then he called the police.
The rain clattered on the roof and obscured the view as they waited.
“He’s…he’s been stabbed.” Marc’s hand was on his face, agitatedly roaming across his chin.
“Almost certainly.” The bloody T-shirt had masked the injuries, but there was no other explanation for such a severe bleed-out. From his appearance alone, Jason guessed he’d been stabbed multiple times. Whoever was responsible for the attack had done it in a frenzy.
“Because of us?” Marc looked at him across the dark interior of the car.
“Not necessarily.” Though it’s a huge coincidence that it happens on the exact same night he chose to talk to us. “There could be all kinds of reasons. ”
“Like what?”
“A disgruntled employee or a customer. Jealous partner. Drug dealers. You saw that place. It doesn’t look like the most reputable gym in the city.”
“But Theo was killed. And now the first person prepared to talk about what happened to him is also dead. It’s… There’s a connection… There must be.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions without evidence.”
“But if I hadn’t insisted on digging all of this up…”
“You’re not responsible for this. Get that idea out of your head because it will only fester. Do you hear me? You hired me to find evidence. And right now, I don’t have any. So, we have nothing to connect the two deaths.”
Marc did not reply. They sat in silence.
Jason heard the sirens before the blue lights rounded the corner and two police cars pulled in front of them.
“Stay in the car,” Jason told him. “I’ll talk to them.”
But by the time he’d got out, Marc was beside him on the pavement. Neither of them cared about getting wet and Jason didn’t argue with him.
Four uniformed officers approached. Jason gave them a concise account of what they had found. A moment later, an ambulance arrived.
“You didn’t try to administer first aid?” the lead constable asked.
“There was no point. He was already dead.”
“And how do you know that if you didn’t check?”
“I’m ex Royal Navy Police,” he answered flatly. “He was dead.”
Two of the officers went inside, followed by paramedics. Jason and Marc sheltered in the doorway of the building next door as the inevitable procedure unfolded. A police van arrived, and a barrier was erected in front of the gym. One of the constables, a stout young woman, came over to take their initial statements.
“Why were you here after closing time?” she asked.
There was no point in hiding the truth. They would see soon enough from Dan’s phone records that they had been in touch.
“He agreed to talk to me about a case I’m investigating. It was just a routine interview,” he added. “Dan thought he could help us out.”
“You’d never met him before?”
“No, only on the phone.”
He was aware of Marc beside him, shivering. It could have been from the cold, but he was just as likely to be in shock.
“Do you mind if we wait in the car?” he asked after a giving a very brief summary, leaving out the details of his case. “We won’t go anywhere. Just to get out of the rain.”
She nodded and they hurried back to the vehicle.
“Why didn’t you tell them about Theo?” Marc asked.
“I will. But it’s not important at the minute. They’ll want a more detailed statement from us later. I’ll decide what to tell them then.”
“Why keep it secret?”
He exhaled. A long and weary sound. “Blyham police…it’s best to keep them at arm’s length.”
“You said you used to be police yourself.”
“Royal Navy Police,” he corrected. “Not the same, but I know enough about policing to know this lot are not to be trusted. They’re not all bad. There are some good officers on the force. But it’s rotten too. And when it comes to dealing with minorities, it’s got to be one of the worst in the country. You must have seen how badly they fucked up the Blyham Strangler case. How many men died before they took the threat seriously? Even then, they didn’t actually find the killer through police work, it was some potential victims and members of the public who caught the bastard.”
Marc watched him from the dark of the car. “What does that have to do with the murder tonight?”
“I would have thought it was obvious. It’s three months since your brother died and they haven’t brought in a single suspect for the hit-and-run. What does Theo have in common with the Blyham Strangler victims?”
Marc seemed to struggle with the answer, until, “He was gay.”
“Exactly. If I know this lot, they’ll have filed his case a few days after the crash, and no one will have bothered with it since. And now Dan, a gay sex worker. Black too. They won’t know how fast to write this off as a drug debt or gang vendetta and move on. But if they think we came to see Dan in connection with Theo, they’ll come down on us heavy. Especially if they find out we’re also interested in a certain politician.”
“So, we’re going to say nothing?”
“We’re going to say just enough.”
The windows were misting up. Jason wiped the condensation with his sleeve to get a better look.
“Turn on the engine to get this clear,” he said.
When visibility improved, he took in the latest scene. A plain clothes detective had arrived and was speaking to the uniformed officers. A PC pointed at Marc’s car and the detective turned to look, before entering the building .
“Well, at least that’s something,” he said, recognising the attending officer. “Benito Coppola. Detective sergeant.”
“You know him?”
“A bit. He’s one of the better ones. Conscientious. He does care about the victims. Unfortunately, he’s also brutally ambitious, which means he does what he’s told from above. He’s probably just the duty officer tonight. I doubt he’ll be involved in the case beyond managing the crime scene until CID come in tomorrow.”
Marc let out a long, mournful sigh and slumped back in his seat. He closed his eyes. In the dim light of the car, he appeared to have aged ten years.
“Are you all right?”
He kept his eyes closed and shook his head. “How can anyone be all right, after this.”
Jason put a hand on his brow. His skin was clammy and cold. “You need to get out of here and get dry. Give me a few minutes to clear it and we’ll be off.”
Jason got out of the car. The rain was heavier than before and colder too. He hurried over to the cordon and wasted no time arguing with the PC standing guard.
“I’m one of the witnesses,” Jason asserted. “I want to talk to DS Coppola. Now .”
After speaking into his radio, the stoney-faced PC raised the cordon tape and Jason ducked under.
DS Benito Coppola met him just inside the door. Benito was in his mid-thirties, very handsome with dark, Italian looks. He wasn’t Jason’s type, but he’d always had a strong respect for him as the only openly gay officer he was aware of on the Blyham police force. Unfortunately, his intent to climb the greasy pole all the way to the top kept Jason from ever fully trusting him .
“Is there anything else you need from us?”
“What’s your hurry?” Benito asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Marc is in shock. He’s not handling it well, and he’s also soaked to the skin. I need to get him somewhere dry and warm. We’ve already given our statements.”
Benito tilted his head, a smirk hovering on his lips. “Your statement raises more questions than it answers.”
“I told your officer everything that happened from the moment we arrived. We didn’t see anyone else in the building and no one left after we went back outside. Whoever did this was either long gone when we got here, or there’s a back way out.”
“You were here on an investigation? What’s it about?”
“I’m looking for information on someone that Dan used to know. He told me to drop by after his shift and he’d tell me what he could. It was nothing important. Clearing up a few details, that’s all.”
Benito’s face was emotionless. He stared at Jason. Oldest trick in the book. Create an uncomfortable silence until the target feels compelled to fill it with more information. Jason returned the stare, his lips pressed tight. He could play this game as well as anyone.
“Ah, fuck it,” Benito said at last. “Take him home. But make sure you’re both available tomorrow morning. Someone will be in touch to take a fuller statement. And it had better be more worthwhile than the bullshit you’ve given us tonight.”
“Will do,” he said, attempting to put some reverence into his voice while having none.
Jason hurried back to the car and Marc.