Greed: A DI Scott Baker Novel Read Free Page A

the presence and movement of all personnel within the designated area.
    The scene guard on this occasion was PC Willits, who lifted the blue tape to allow Scott to enter the edge of the crime scene with a courteous “morning, sir.”
    Scott nodded an acknowledgment as he signed into her scene log, and replied “Is it, Constable?”
    Willits instantly looked uncomfortable and looked down to avoid his cold stare. As he walked off; he berated himself for being so abrupt. He wasn’t ready to be courteous this morning; his body was still numb and fatigued. He craved his morning coffee; a fix which normally would jolt him awake and into something more closely resembling a human being.
    He took a protective suit pack from a brown box beside the PC, and started to get kitted up.
    SOCO were already there, kitted up in the same white, paper protective suits, masks and shower caps with blue shoe coverings that seemed to rob them of any identity; from a distance it was hard to tell who was male or female.
    DC Mike Wilson was dressed in the same attire and stood close to the second of two white tents that had been erected about twenty feet apart to protect and preserve the crime scene.
    Even though you couldn’t tell from looking at him, underneath the protective suit, Mike was an imposing figure. He was a stocky five feet eleven inches, with an expanding waistline that would indicate he was fast becoming best friends with Ginsters Cornish Pasties. He still bore the hallmarks of his ex-Army days with a flat top crew-cut, a multitude of tattoos that catalogued his time in the forces, and his no bullshit, often crude, northern accent, which meant that he was the most unlikely police officer you’d ever meet.
    The Army took pride in instilling loyalty and fortitude in its soldiers, which Mike carried in abundance. He was methodical, precise and more importantly, if the shit hit the fan, he was by your side. Mike was a valuable asset to the team, whom Scott had relied on many times. He didn’t always play by the rules, sometimes resorting to unorthodox tactics and “gentle persuasion” as he put it.
    Despite Scott being his superior, on the odd occasion Scott had turned a blind eye to Mike’s approach if he felt that the end justified the means, but he certainly didn’t openly advocate such behaviour.
    Scott peered into the smaller of the two tents, before walking to the detective constable. Wilson looked up from his notes, “Morning, Guv, he’s inside this tent,” he said pointing with his head. “It’s not pretty.”
    “A dead corpse never is— unless you’re into that type of stuff,” he sighed.
    “Of course, Guv, can’t get enough of them myself,”DC Wilson fired back, a reference to his days as an army sniper.
    Scott took a long deep breath and peered in through the unzipped entrance. He was keen not to step in for many reasons; the first being he didn’t want to disturb the crime scene until SOCO were finished and secondly, the thought of getting up close and personal with a stiff at this moment wasn’t something he was looking forward to.
    There were three crime scene officers inside the tent. One was taking photos of the body from various angles, another was inspecting the waste bin whilst standing on a small two- step ladder, and the third was doing a systematic sweep on a section of pavement. Scott was instantly greeted by the smell of death. It was a smell that got into your nostrils and lingered.
    The body was laid on the floor. His white shirt was now a dark red bordering on black as the blood had dried. From the position of the body, evident to all, was the severe trauma to the neck region. It was hard to determine if the head had been partially severed from the angle it was resting. The mouth hung wide open, expressing the shock of the victim’s final moments.
    What caught Scott’s attention was what appeared to be a paper-like substance stuffed into the victim’s mouth. He’d seen enough and would