Chapter 3- Bleeding Sweetheart

When we arrive at the scene it's swarming with people. Masochistic bystanders drawn by the action are pressed against the police tape, thirsting for blood. They're like flies, drawn to a corpse. An ambulance is parked by the sidewalk. The backdoors are wide open and two paramedics are sitting in the doorway, drinking from a steaming thermos.

There's no body, which I take to be a good sign, at least for me. Hopefully they haven't touched the victim. I know that they're only trying to help, but they have an annoying habit of accidentally disturbing the evidence.

Two squad cars are sitting in the street. A couple of officers are leaning on one car. A young female officer is comforting a sobbing, shaking women in the other car.

Jim Brass approaches us from his unmarked car, behind the twp squad cars. He nods towards the crying woman.

"The victims sister. She found the body."

I glance at the woman, feeling a pang of sympathy. Ignoring it I turn back to Brass.

"Has anyone touched the body?" I ask.

Brass shakes his head.

"No one's even been into the room except to look round the door. Even the Vics sister could see she was dead on first sight. She fled the house screaming, before calling the cops. There was no point in sending in those guys," he points towards the ambulance. "There's nothing they could do."

Something tells me that this scene is going to be nasty. I pick up my kit and Nick and I follow Brass into the house. The house is dark and silent. A chill hangs in the air. He indicates to a door stood slightly ajar. Soft light leaks out through the gaps around the door. Brass gives us a small, regretful smile and heads back downstairs and outside, back to the waiting public.

Nick looks at me, raises his eyebrows and pushes open the door. We both stop dead in our tracks, just inside the room. Nick gives a low whistle.

"Well," he hesitates, "If it was a suicide then she was hurt by love. If it was murder the it was a crime of passion."

"Or this is a brothel," I say brightly.

Nick looks at me, confused.

"Well," I explain, "Look at the decor. This is a mans idea of romantic or a hookers."

"A man?" Nick looks sceptical.

"Sure. It's tacky and tasteless."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Well our vic is most definitely female."

We both turn our attention to the naked women, hanging from the huge, elaborate light fitting in the centre of the room.

The rope around her neck is tight, cutting into the rank flesh about her neck. It's sticky with blood. Her face is a deep, unnatural shade of purple, blemished almost black in places. Her bloodshot eyes protrude sickeningly from her face. Her swollen tongue lolls crudely out the side of her mouth. Her long matted hair is knotted in the old, dirty rope.

Her arms, hanging limply at her sides, are a mass of cuts. All neat and parallel, starting just above her elbow and repeating down her inner arms to the base of her wrists.

Her arms are coated in dried blood, clinging thickly around the cuts. Beneath the body is a shallow pool of blood. In the soft light it looks inky, black almost. Mostly it's dry, but in places it's still sticky. To one side, a blood soaked knife is stuck in the puddle.

Unwilling to touch her yet, we survey the rest of the room. Hearts and flowers seem to be the theme. Shining, deep red hearts are tacked to the walls. Many are torn. Some have been shredded and thrown to the ground. Every surface is coated in rose petals. Blood red and snow white. Pathetic and dieing now. The floor is littered with ripped sheets of pale pink paper. Neat, curly handwriting covers every sheet. Some is stained, splashed with blood. I wonder if maybe they're love letters or the pages from her diary.

Aside from these destroyed pages, I can see no sign of a possible suicide note. Unusual for a woman. We like to have the last word. There's a fallen, straight-backed wooden chair, some distance from the body. There's blood on it, visible even from our position. I guess it was used for the hanging, but I'm almost certain that the victim couldn't have kicked it over there herself.

I see Nick's also looking round the room. I can almost see his mind working behind his eyes. I know he's reached the same conclusion as I have.

"Looks like we got ourselves a homicide."