Body on a Sofa

She had been stood up, so decided on a quiet night in on the sofa in front of the telly.....

Body on a Sofa

Chapter 1

He had recently come across a woman with whom he had been at school. He did not fancy her then, but now her having matured somewhat, in his eyes, dead attractive.

He laughed to himself when he thought that. She might be dead attractive, but she would be dead ugly when he had finished with her. Whatever adjective, or qualification you wanted to use, she would be dead. In fact, dead dead. He laughed again.

Her name was Morgan, and she had recently split from her husband. He was not naive enough to think that she would fall for him, but he thought it worth a try. He contrived an accidental meeting, and they talked and went for a coffee. He asked her for a date, and she said yes. It was decided they would go to a local pub for some tea. He was due to pick her up at 7.00pm, but stood her up, without telephoning her.

Previous to asking for a date with Morgan, he thought of why he felt she should die. Well for starters, she had been a bit of a bully. Not being the most popular girl in school, she had tried to impress other girls with her tough attitude. especially to boys, who had had a bad time of it. He was included in this, and had been the recipient of a few punches in the line for school dinners. As Morgan was a girl, there was little he felt he do about it then. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Rather like the veg on his school dinners. Perhaps not enough really to sentence somebody to death, but he set the bar pretty low.

He had bought a large carving knife, which he spent ages honing, and some duct tape. He had gloves and a hammer. He dressed in black, found a scarf and a beanie hat, and put the knife in his jacket. He had made sure it was wrapped in a tea towel first though. He decided not to take the hammer.

He left quite openly, and drove towards the town. There were no cameras between here and where he intended to stop. When he reached a quiet lane about half a mile from the town, he pulled into it and parked up. It was now time to walk the rest of the way, but luckily there was a path from this lane. By now it was dark.

He set off and got all the way to the outskirts of the town without seeing anybody, and walked along the back alleys and quiet streets to Morgan's. It took him about five minutes. Going round the back, there was an unlocked gate which opened smoothly. Although the kitchen light was on, there was no one in that room. He could see a light coming through the curtains in the room to the right of the kitchen. The lounge, he knew, was at the front, and as he crept up the back garden path, he heard the television.

Trying the back kitchen door, he found that unlocked, and he was able to open it quietly. Stepping inside, he looked around and could see some pots and plates in the sink. The clock above the hall doorway read 8.45pm. He turned off the kitchen light at a switch by the door and listened. Apart from the television there was only a soft murmur of a voice. All sound was coming from the front room, and he crept along the passage way to it.

Peering around the door frame, he could see Morgan's head just above the sofa, which was angled so the back was to him. She could not see him. He pulled his scarf up, and his cap down, and taking two steps grabbed her hair, tipping her head back and bought his knife down and around to severe her inferior and superior vena cava.

Morgan reacted by kicking her feet forward, trying to get purchase on the carpet. In doing so she kicked the coffee table and dislodged her glass of red wine onto the carpet, a stain spreading across towards her feet.

Her arms went back as she struggled to reach her killer, knowing she was dying, but trying to survive. She was growing weaker, quickly, but could not think of a way to leave a message. She knew who was killing her, or thought she di……… Her last thought.

He stepped as far back as he could, holding on to her head, and allowed her to bleed out. He let go of the hair and was about to step out of the room, back to the kitchen, when he realised there was another person sitting behind and to his right in an armchair.

‘What’s happening’, this person said. It was an old lady, and appeared to be either blind or very poor sighted. He did not wish to harm her, and knew she would not have seen him very well, so he went across to her, took her glasses and a mobile that was on the coffee table next to her. These he threw across the room.

He took some gaffer tape and gagged the old girl, taping each wrist to the corresponding leg. Again, there was very little struggle. Having done this, he left the way he had come. He had not said anything, to prevent his voice from incriminating him. Although there was a lot of blood around, there were no footprints in it. Except a scuff mark by the woman’s chair. He quickly smudged this with his feet, and then wiping his trainer with a tissue.

Once outside, he retraced his steps, at every opportunity wiping his shoes, just to be safe. When he got back to his car, he removed a plastic bin bag and put his outer clothes in the bag. He put on a fresh jumper and shorts, and then drove home. As he drove off it just started to rain, and quickly got heavy. This was too his advantage he felt, because it would wash away any trace evidence left outside.

On arrival and checking his shoes, he saw a small patch of blood on the left side of the shoe, which had not been wiped off by the tissue or rubbing on grass as he had gone back to the car. He put his trainers into the bag with the outer clothes.

What he did not know was that some of this blood had been transferred to the left-hand side wall of the drivers footwell. This would be invisible against the black background.

The black bag of clothes he left for the moment in his garage. It would be safe enough overnight and he would bury it the following day. Feeling satisfied he went to bed, quickly falling asleep, without any feeling of remorse or regret. She had it coming to her. Didn’t they all?

At 2 o’clock he woke with a start, not knowing why. He lay there and listened, but could hear no noise. But his mind started to wander, and the thought of the black bag in the garage loomed large in his mind. It was the only thing, well the contents, that linked him to the murder of Morgan. He would have to dispose of the bag, as early as possible, the police could come to interview him any time.

He suddenly had an idea. He would wash the clothes first thing, dry them, and then mix them in with a pile of clothes going to the charity shop. But instead, he would take them all to the tip and dispose of them there. Being in the middle of a pile of innocuous cast offs would arouse the least suspicion and less likely to be noticed.

He got up and went to the garage via the adjoining door. He got the bag, and took it to the washing machine. Pulling the trousers and top out, he looked at them. Even on close inspection it would not be obvious that may have blood traces on them. In they went with a sachet, and turned right on up to 90c’, and 2 hours of drying time added in.

When he got up later that morning, he checked the washing machine and found the trousers and top were dry. He pulled them out, folded them and then bundled them into another black bag with his ‘charity’ donations. The bag went into the boot of the car, along with some other junk, and he headed out to go to the Lancaster refuse and Recycling Centre in Salt Ayre Lane.

At that time of the morning, he got caught up in the Lancaster-Morecambe traffic, and took some time getting across the bridge to Torrisholme Road. Even here it was bumper to bumper, but eventually he got there. Dumping the bag in the non-recyclable bin gave him a smile. Bye, bye dead Morgan.

The body was found soon after this, by the mother’s carer when she came into give her a bath. The police where informed and an ambulance called. After a brief check, the ambulance crew drove Morgan's mother to hospital, where she was seen in casualty, checked over, rehydrated and released. She was taken home to her other daughter, Morwenna, Morgan's sister.

DS Morrow viewed the scene of the killing, noting the blood spatter pattern, and the angle of the sofas. He could see the head of Morgan as the body was still in situ. He walked around the sofa, from the opposite side to the pool of blood on the carpet, and viewed the body from the front. It was slightly slumped forward but supported by the cushions. The blood had spread across her front turning her shirt crimson, the smell was typical of a blood spill, metallic and tangy. It was a smell you never really quite get used to. It signified the traumatic loss of life.

There was not much more to see so Alfy left, knowing that the scenes of crime would photograph everything. When they had finished, he would come back and walk the murder through.

His DC was looking at the back door. ‘Sarge. I think he came in this way, there’s a slight smudge of mud on the floor by the door.’

‘Mmmm. Most likely. The carer could not get in because the front door was bolted so came around the back. We need to know which shoes she was wearing and take them in as evidence, at least for elimination. It’s very unlikely she is the murderer as the pathologist thought the time of death was some time yesterday evening. When she is strong enough you need to question the mother. Ask her what programme was on the TV when the murder happened. Can you could get along to the hospital and check.’

‘Ok sarge’, the DC said and left.

Alfy looked at the door. There was no evidence of it being forced, and indeed the carer had said it was open when she arrived. Scenes of crime had already finished in the kitchen, and some had gone outside to look at the garden. There was not much more to do until they were finished so Alfy went in search of DI Walker, his superior. He found him in the hallway.

‘Right Alfy. I’ve given the carer a preliminary interview. She says the back door was open, and there was nothing unusual to see until she got to the lounge. Where she obviously saw the body, and the mother taped up. She freed the mother and dialled 999. We have taken her shoes as evidence and given her a lift back home.’

‘Okay Sir that’s good. DC Strange has found a mud mark at the back door, so we need to get that checked against the carer’s shoes. It might be worthwhile checking Morgans and her mum’s shoes too. Though If the soil doesn’t match any mark on their shoes, it could be anyone, friend, tradesman or foe. I’ve asked the CSO to take a sample.’

‘Agreed,’ said DI Walker.

‘I’ve also sent DC Strange to the hospital to check up on the mother. He’ll report back when he has something. With any luck she may have recognised her assailant. He would have had to get pretty close to tape her up,’ continued Alfy.

‘Good work Alfy. We’ll see what those leads bring. We need to get on top of this.’

‘Sir.’

With that they both went to their cars and hence to the station. The post Mortem would be that afternoon, but the cause of death was probably obvious, but they would still learn more. It was all ways the case, the body would give up secrets not in plain sight.

When Alfy got back to the station, he made a coffee and settled back to write up his notes. He finished quite quickly, and then spent the rest of the time before the PM going over his notes from his cold cases.

When it was time to go to the PM, DI walker came to fetch him. Alfy was going to drive and so he got the pool car keys and they both went down to the fenced car park that served the station. The trip to the hospital took 20 minutes because of the traffic along Garstang road, but they had left in plenty of time.

Professor Abe Sanderson was performing the PM, and he already had the body on the table. When he saw the detectives he said hello and then turned to the table.

‘Let’s start then, now we are gathered. The subject is a female, Caucasian, about forty. Looking around the body there are few marks other than a slit across her throat which looks deep enough to have severed both vena cava. This is most likely to be the cause of death, but I shall reserve judgement until I have completed the post mortem.’ Abe carried on with the PM doing a thorough job. The body was tidied up and wheeled back to the mortuary fridges.

‘The woman, Morgan, was killed by a single cut from a long bladed knife. Probably a kitchen knife. With a left to right side cutting motion. A right handed murderer most likely. This severed both vena cava, causing severe and fatal loss of blood. At the same time the killer pulled her head backwards with her hair, there are hair strands separated from her scalp, to allow his cut to be made. The fact that Morgan was sitting down and that he yanked her head back meant she couldn’t react and defend herself. The element of surprise would also have contributed to that. She couldn’t even have moved her head from side to side, as the blood spatter pattern on her, her clothes and the carpet were all forward. She would have died pretty quickly, been aware and suffered pain throughout. Her body would have gone into shock and her brain would have given up the unequal fight to keep her alive, and shut down.’

‘Does anything from the site, or anywhere else suggest the size of the killer, or even their sex?’ asked DI Walker.

‘I can’t be certain of the height, but I’m confident that it’s a male killer. He may be between five foot six and six foot. As I say i can’t be certain about the height.’

‘Ok. Thanks, Prof. We’ll await the full report. Bye.’ And with that the rwo detectives took their leave.