Chapter 7

Inspector Pigshit slammed the car door behind him and marched purposefully towards the police tape, leaving Morrison to find out how Steve was getting on with the bacon rolls. It had stopped raining and they had, at last, arrived at the crime scene: the far corner of a bowling alley car park.

Pigshit hated ten-pin bowling. Firstly, he was no good at it; secondly, he’d always end up hurting his thumb; and thirdly, he resented the fact he had to change his shoes in order to play. Not that he did play; his last bowling session was on a night out with the lads from the station back in 1997. Since then he maintained that ten-pin bowling was a shite American game intended purely for people who cannot partake in “sporting” activity unless they can stuff themselves with coke and hotdogs at the same time.

He nodded to the uniformed bobby manning the cordon and ducked under the tape. The investigation team was at work around a red hatchback. It was a Honda something, Pigshit noted. Five doors. Or four proper doors and one for the boot. Guys in hi-vis gear and rubber gloves were examining and photographing things.

“All right,” he said, flashing his ID at the officer in charge. “Who’s the dead person? Is it one of the Proclaimers?”

“No, sir,” replied the officer. “We believe it’s a 24-year-old woman called Laura Palmer. At least that’s the name on the bank card and bus pass she was carrying. And the Tesco clubcard. She was found, tied and gagged in the boot of this vehicle. It looks like her heart was removed with some sort of surgical saw.”

“Nasty.”

“Where’s the body now?”

“City mortuary. They’re doing the autopsy as we speak.”

“Whose motor is it?”

“We’re still finding out, sir.”

“Get your arses in gear. I want a name and an address asap.  Who reported this?”

“Anonymous tip off, sir. Over the phone. From an anonymous person.”

“Fucking well find out where that call came from.”

Pigshit turned and surveyed the surrounding area. He took out the first of his new purple notebooks and made a couple of brief notes.

Steve still hadn’t turned up with the bacon rolls.

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