Tick Tick Tick by G. M. Clark Read Free Book Online Page B

the unexpected. Slowly I open the flat door and instantly recoil from the unbearable stench. Now I know why the other coppers were halfway down the hall – bastards!
    Mack grimaces from the smell of decay. There is no other smell like that of rotting flesh; it seems to invade every pore, seeping right through every single particle of you. No matter how often you deal in death – and as detectives in the murder investigation team that’s pretty often – you can still never get over the reek of death.
    Mack clasps a hand to his mouth over the mask, the other holding his taser steady. I flick the light switch – nothing. Shit!  We pull out our torches, Mack having to let go of his mask – I could see his entire face screw up in a grimace. I enter first as he covers me. I kick open a few doors; the utility room, bathroom, a wardrobe – nobody. My body’s coiled tight as a spring, my fingers hover on the taser’s trigger and I realise I’m just desperate to put 50,000 volts of electric charge through someone, anyone – just to take away the sheer damn frustration of the Kathy Garland case.
    The hall leads directly into the lounge. The dated curtains are tightly closed. Scanning my torch around, I see that the room has been totally ransacked. The coffee table is upside down, the worn brown leather suite has been slashed and numerous pictures are smashed everywhere. I crackle as I tread on the glass, trying my best to avoid it for the forensic team.
    ‘Shit. Watch your feet.’
    ‘Where?’ asks Mack.
    ‘The goddamn glass is everywhere.’
    Mack does his best to manoeuvre around it. We kick open the few remaining doors apart from the back room – nothing.
    ‘Check – empty,’ he calls.
    ‘Next.’
    The smell emanating from the back room is even more blood-curdling. I hate the smell of death, I hated rotting corpses even more and by the smell of this one, I know that’s exactly what we’re going to find. We tiptoe around trying to absorb every last detail before the crime scene techs arrive. I kick at the bedroom door, hard – it bounces open. Flashing my torch I stare, completely frozen to the spot, my pupils fully dilated.
    Raymond Brick, probably late forties, lies sprawled on his bed. He’s massive. His arms have been completely hacked off at the joints, and from the staining I can tell that the severing happened here, as blood has seeped down either side of the sheet. I quickly scan the carpet, nothing visible towards the door, so was he actually killed here? Flies batter at the windows like a hailstorm. His body is completely infested with maggots; they seethe and writhe, wriggling around in one large mass. I try to ignore them, Mack can’t.
    ‘Jesus, I think I’m gonna puke.’
    I glare at him. ‘Give me a break, you’re acting like a flipping amateur.’
    ‘Back off, Downey.’
    I watch his face turn a shade of pale green and try to ignore him. I continue to examine the body from a distance, making sure I don’t compromise any evidence. The body’s completely putrefied; his eyes stare upwards as though he watched something in the last final moments of death; hell, for his sake I hope it was quick. His mouth is set in a grimace that will now last forever, the marks of death are all around his neck, and peering closer I can see small vivid bruises there. A shiver runs up my spine as I get a really bad sense of foreboding.
    Finally the FME arrives – a petite young woman. You don’t get that many women in this line of work, but even through her protective clothing I can tell this one’s a real beauty – and polite. Doesn’t that just make your day? She quickly takes over setting up the crime scene, and if she’s at all bothered about the state of the body she hides it well. You’ve got to give her extra marks for that. Going straight up to him, she begins the routine tests. I stand back and watch, kicking the bedroom door shut behind me. She nods her gratitude.
    Mack almost gags. ‘What did