Silent As The Grave. Paul Gitsham

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      Present Day

      Sunday 25th March

       Chapter 1

      The body had been concealed well enough for it to remain unnoticed for at least a couple of days, Detective Chief Inspector Warren Jones decided, as he bent his six-foot frame under the branches of the flowering bush. Nevertheless, after a string of warm spring days the smell had finally attracted the attention of a middle-aged couple out for a post-Sunday lunch dog-walk.

      The two witnesses were now busy giving their statements to Detective Inspector Tony Sutton on the other side of the line of blue-and-white crime-scene tape. Both walkers were wearing disposable plastic booties, their shoes impounded by the forensic team to check for any trace evidence they might have picked up and to distinguish their footprints from any that may have been left by the killer or killers.

      “It looks as though he was initially stabbed over there on the footpath, then dragged through the grass and hidden here at the edge of the forest.”

      Crime Scene Manager Andy Harrison used a white-gloved hand to point out the red, bloody smear to the paper-suited detective. A similarly clad CSI squatting carefully amongst the long grass was filling a series of clear plastic evidence bags with bloodstained vegetation.

      “And what about the dog? I’m assuming it’s the victim’s?” Warren gestured at the black-and-white furry form lying next to the old man.

      “It’s early days and we haven’t moved either body yet, but I can’t see any obvious stab wounds. We’ll get a vet to perform an autopsy to work out how it was killed. The dog’s still wearing its lead, but the victim isn’t holding it. We had a look in the pockets of his windcheater but didn’t find any doggy treats or other evidence that he was walking a dog, so I’m not yet prepared to declare him the owner. If it’s been microchipped that could help us link them. Not to mention help you identify the victim if needs be.”

      “And you didn’t see a wallet or phone or other ID?”

      “Not unless he keeps them in his back pocket, which he’s lying on. We haven’t even found a set of house keys.”

      Warren stared at the body thoughtfully. “No wallet or phone suggests robbery, but why would they take his keys?”

      The Yorkshireman shrugged, his protective clothing making a rustling noise. “Not really my place to say, Guv, but if he left the missus at home when he went out to walk the dog he may not have had them on him.”

      Warren conceded the point with a small nod of his head. “It’s possible. But something doesn’t seem quite right. He’s an old man, shabbily dressed, not obviously wealthy and he had a dog—not your usual target for some opportunist mugger. And why conceal the body afterwards? If it was a case of ‘stab first, ask nicely for his wallet after’ then we’re dealing with somebody pretty brutal here—especially if they did the dog as well. Would they have taken the trouble to conceal both bodies?

      “And if it was a mugging gone wrong, I’d have expected them to flee the scene immediately, not risk exposure by taking the time to hide the victims.”

      “Like I said, not really my place to say.”

      Warren sighed. “You’re right. I should stop speculating and wait for your findings.”

      Harrison picked up on the hint. “We’ll probably finish processing the scene tonight and get the bodies removed before morning. I imagine the post-mortem will be tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get you a preliminary report before close of play tomorrow.”

      Warren glanced at his watch—just after six p.m. He sighed and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. It was going to be a long night—he’d better phone his wife, Susan, and tell her he wasn’t going to be back in time to go to the pub quiz. It looked as if he’d be sleeping in the spare room again tonight.