Tarot's Touch (3 page)

“Inspector Courtney, over here, sir!”

Alex identified the source of the voice and walked toward a young PC who was beckoning him enthusiastically. As he got closer he realized that the young man was dripping wet and looked very cold.

Definitely a candidate for man-flu in the next couple of days.
Alex summoned up a smile.

“And who might you be?”

“PC Naylor, sir. I found the body.”

Alex listened intently as Naylor described how he had come across the body and what he had done to preserve the scene. He had been observant and careful, qualities that Alex approved of. He made a mental note of the PC’s name, thanked him then went in search of the forensics team.

The alley was lit up like a football stadium. Arc lights were strategically placed around a white tent that almost filled the entire width of the lane. Alex hovered outside the tent flap. He wasn’t wearing coveralls and didn’t dare set foot inside without permission. He was just about to shout for attention when a crime scene tech scuttled out from the tent. Alex grabbed him before he could escape.

“Can you let the coroner know that Inspector Courtney is here?”

“Of course, sir.” The tech slipped back the way he’d come.

“Come in, Alex. We’re about done in here.” The voice that called out had a distinct West Country burr. Alex pushed the tent flap out of the way and ducked inside. A photographer was snapping away but Alex’s attention was drawn to a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and an immaculate bun, who was clad in a set of shapeless white coveralls. She stripped off a rubber glove and shook Alex’s hand.

“Alex. Drew the short straw then?”

“Mmm. My night to be on call, unfortunately. How are you, Adele?”

“All the better for seeing you, gorgeous. Now I know this will be done properly.”

Alex grinned. Adele had been one of his tutors at Police College and he had always gotten on well with her, despite the occasional clip around his ear when he played up. Others balked at her acid tongue but Alex knew a kindred spirit when he found one.

“Can I take a look yet?”

“Just a couple more minutes while we finish photography. We got the tent up over the body but it was pouring with rain until about half an hour ago. We’ll be lucky to find any trace evidence in the area. However, as you can see, the body is wrapped in a tarpaulin. Young PC Naylor used his brain and didn’t touch anything, so it’s dry underneath.”

Alex glanced back at the tarp and the semi-exposed body beneath it.

“Cause of death?”

Adele tutted. “You know I can’t speculate, however the multiple stab wounds in the guy probably didn’t help.”

Alex rolled his eyes at her black humor. “Any other observations?”

“I can give you a rough time of death—late last night. He wasn’t killed here—there’s not enough blood on the tarp. The killing blow is likely to be the one to his heart. A lot of the minor wounds are lower down the torso—groin area.”

Alex winced. “Any ID?”

Adele shook her head. “Not yet. If you get suited up, I’ll show you the body. There are spare coveralls in the van.”

“Okay.”

Alex let himself out of the tent and walked across to the coroner’s van. The same tech he’d spoken to earlier handed him a packet of white coveralls, which he pulled on over his clothes. One size fits all was taken to new limits with the voluminous hooded suits.

“One size fits pregnant grizzly bear,” Alex muttered. “I could get three of me in here.” He zipped up the suit and pulled the hood up over his hair, making sure any stray strands were tucked away, then went back to the tent. Adele took one look at him and broke into peals of laughter.

“Good Lord, you look like an abominable snowman!”

“Thanks, Adele. You boost my ego no end. Now, can we get on with it?”

Alex braced himself as Adele lifted the tarpaulin so that he could view the body. He wasn’t squeamish but had never managed to get used to the expressions that fixed themselves to victims’ faces. The shock, terror or bewilderment that left traces in pallid skin and blue lips never failed to make an impression on him. He tried to remain detached as he took in the body, naked from the waist down, punctured with stab wounds and covered with blackened smears of dried blood. The top half of the body was still clothed in a smart shirt and tie, though the shirt was stained with blood and a small tear in the fabric showed where another blow had struck. Apart from some red marks around the mouth, the face was undamaged and Alex guessed that the victim could not have been more than thirty-five. His brown eyes were open. His receding hairline grayed at the temples, but was an unremarkable mid brown shade for the most part.

“How did you end up like this?” Alex muttered the words under his breath, taking in as much detail as he could. Eventually he ducked out of the protective tent and unbent his tall frame. He pulled down his hood and scrubbed a hand through his hair. It had started to rain again, but Alex liked the sensation of the water on his face, cleansing the aroma of death that had soaked into every pore.

The coroner was at the van stripping off her coveralls, so Alex joined her and wriggled out of his own suit.

“Thanks, Adele. Have you got anything else for me?”

“Ah, Alex, you know I always save the best for last.” She pulled a plastic evidence bag from her coveralls pocket and handed it over.

“This was in his hand.”

“Fuck.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Through the clear plastic, Alex could see a brightly colored tarot card. Larger than a normal playing card, the artwork was beautiful.

Adele looked at it over his shoulder. “The card…it’s called The Empress.”

“It’s a sure sign that this killing is not the work of your average thug,” Alex responded.

“The weird ones do seem to have a habit of finding you, my dear. The card needs to go to forensics, but I’ll email a picture over to you.”

Adele rested a hand on his shoulder. “Take care, Alex. I’ll call as soon as I have anything more.”

She retrieved the evidence bag and climbed into the van.

Alex rolled up his coveralls and headed back to his car. His mind was whirring with all the things he needed to do to get the investigation up and running. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was almost six o’clock so there was no point in going home. He’d head straight for the station. His team’s shift started at seven anyway, so that would just about give him time for a mug of tea and a decent breakfast before all hell broke loose.

It was only a ten minute drive back to work. Alex pulled through the barrier to the staff car park and almost slammed his car into the wall at the end of his space. Conor’s motorbike was in the next space and Conor was just dismounting, swinging one long, leather-clad leg across the saddle. The black leather stretched tight across his arse and thighs as he moved. Alex stalled his engine with an embarrassing shudder. Conor pulled off his helmet and looked through the window with a grin.

“Morning, sir.”

Alex sighed—Conor would almost certainly get maximum value out of this. He climbed out of the car and looked around to see if anyone else was nearby.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m the only one to witness your humiliation.” Conor’s green eyes glittered, and Alex had to look away.

Conor in fitted leather was more than a man should have to deal with when he couldn’t touch. And now Conor was unzipping his jacket to reveal a very snug T-shirt…
Oh fuck
. Alex looked heavenward and cursed his cock as it stiffened enthusiastically.

“Why are you here so bloody early?” he asked, knowing that Conor would understand exactly why he sounded so grumpy.

Conor grinned even more. “Well, someone left me in no condition to sleep.” He turned around and deliberately bent over to retrieve the small duffel he kept his work clothes in. Soft, black leather molded to his body and Alex swore.

“For fuck’s sake, go inside and get changed before I’m forced to do something we’ll both regret.”

Conor chuckled and licked his lips provocatively. “Revenge is sweet.”

“You are really pushing your luck. You know that? You’re going to have an interesting evening. That’s a promise.”

The threshold of the station formed an invisible line that turned Alex and Conor from lovers into colleagues. When they were at work, Alex treated Conor just like anyone else—worse in fact—and the rest of the team thought it was great that Conor got all the crappy jobs. Alex was determined that no one would ever be able to accuse him of favoritism. He had made Sergeant Higgs Conor’s supervising officer and knew that Higgs’s gruff manner concealed an intense desire to ensure that younger detectives learned enough to avoid getting themselves killed. Alex often had to remind himself that Conor was just twenty-four and had a lot to learn. Higgs was a great teacher and Alex felt comfortable leaving Conor in his care.

Once they were past reception, Conor strolled away toward the men’s locker room to change out of his leathers. Refusing to be rushed, Alex reverted to his original plan and went to get some breakfast in the canteen. He couldn’t think on an empty stomach and rushing around like a headless chicken would not benefit the investigation. Alex had learned this from observing others make the mistake of hurrying the vital early stages of a case. He chatted with the serving staff then took his time over poached eggs and grilled tomatoes. As he ate and sipped from a mug of strong coffee, he went over the instructions he needed to issue to his team.

Eventually, he pushed his plate aside and headed for the large office that provided accommodation for his team of five. As an inspector, he got his own small office on another floor but he preferred to sit in with his men most of the time. His office was reserved for soul-destroying paperwork and disciplinary conversations—more commonly known to the team as bollockings. Alex smiled to himself at that thought. His tolerance was limited and Conor had been treated to several ‘conversations’ for not following his orders to the letter. The problem was that Conor had confessed to finding Alex so sexy when he was pissed off that reprimands had entirely the wrong effect.

By the time Alex got to the office, the entire team was present. He took a moment to look at each of them. Sergeant Higgs was at the back of the office pinning something to the incident board for the arson investigation he was leading. Eric and Phil were huddled around a computer arguing over the latest email directive from the Chief Superintendent. Pete was setting up a clean board in readiness for the new case and Conor’s dark head was bent over some paperwork.

Alex cleared his throat and all eyes were immediately on him. He took a seat on a table at the front of the room and gathered his thoughts before speaking.

“Okay, everyone. It looks like the body discovered in an alley off the High Street this morning is not a straightforward case. We are looking at multiple stab wounds, a possible sexual motive due to the location of the wounds and the fact that the victim was naked from the waist down. The body was partially concealed under a tarpaulin, but the killer wanted it found. If the beat PC hadn’t discovered it then an early delivery guy or the postman certainly would have.” Alex paused and frowned. “There’s something else, something that makes me think this won’t turn out to be gang or drug related. A tarot card was found with the body.”

Questions were fired around the room alongside lurid speculation. Alex let the chat continue for a while—it was important that the initial excitement of a new case was given an escape route before the serious work began. After a few minutes he shouted, “Enough already!” and put a stop to the banter.

“Eric, Pete—you’re on house-to-house. There are a bunch of uniforms lined up to help you so get to it, and be persistent—it’s not the most police-friendly area but there were plenty of gawkers at the scene. Someone may have seen or heard something useful. Phil, you head over to the coroner’s office and pick up hard copies of the crime scene photos and reports from the doc. It’ll be quicker than waiting for her secretary to email them over, because she never gets in much before nine. Higgs, I’m afraid you and Conor are going to have to double up and help out too.”

Higgs nodded. “That’s fine, boss. We’re meeting the fire service investigator on site this morning but after that, we’re all yours.”

“Good. Conor, you take research. I want everything you can find on tarot cards, their meanings, local readers, news articles—anything even remotely related. The card found this morning was The Empress, so I’m most interested in that to start with. Forensics have it at the moment but once they’re done, you may be able to trace a source for the card.”

“Yes, sir.” Conor scribbled a few notes on the pad in front of him.

“You and I will work on identifying the victim, Higgs. I’ll catch up with you later when you get back from the arson scene.”

As everyone went about their assigned tasks with quiet efficiency, Alex commandeered a spare desk and got to work.

Chapter Two

At exactly nine o’clock, Conor and Higgs were standing on a narrow pavement looking at the burnt-out shell of a building on the opposite side of the street. The ninth chime from the nearby clock tower had Higgs checking his watch, but Conor’s gazed was fixed on the ruins. Fire had torn the heart out of the place and left a blackened husk of charred timbers and scorched brick. Strangely, the buildings to either side had hardly been touched.

“We’re not very far from the boss’s body dump here, are we?” Conor asked Higgs, trying to get his bearings.

“The High Street is a couple of roads across that way, as the crow flies.” Higgs pointed. “Ah, here’s Mike Gilbert.”

Conor and Higgs were joined by a third man, who strolled across the road and stood next to them.

“Sergeant Higgs. Still breathing then?”

“Hey, Mike. Yep, still depriving the planet of some oxygen.” Higgs grinned as he shook hands with the newcomer. “This is DC Trethuan. Conor, meet Mike Gilbert, Fire Investigation Unit.”

Sharp eyes studied Conor before another handshake was offered. Gilbert had a firm grip but didn’t exert too much pressure. He was a tall, broad-shouldered six-footer with a face that had seen plenty of action. Conor thought that Gilbert’s nose had been broken at least twice and a small scar divided one of his bushy eyebrows.