26
Paul Gitsham
For Nana. You never got to read it, but I think you’d have enjoyed it.
The town of Middlesbury, the University of Middle England, Middlesbury CID and all characters featured in this book are entirely fictional and not intended to represent any real-world individuals or organisations. It is also important to stress that whilst Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire Constabularies are real organisations, they are not in any way affiliated to this book and my depiction of them and their officers are entirely imaginary. I have only the deepest respect for what they do.
Blood.
Everywhere. Across the walls, over the desk, even splattered on the glowing laptop computer. The human heart is a powerful, muscular pump and a cut artery bleeds out in seconds, spraying red, freshly oxygenated blood across the room like a fire hose.
Tom Spencer removes his gloved hands from the dead man’s throat and rubs them down the front of his lab coat, leaving bloody trails across his chest. Hands shaking, he picks up the blood-covered telephone and presses 9 for an outside line, followed by another three 9s.
“You are through to the emergency services. Which service do you require?”
Spencer’s voice is shaky, his breathing rapid. “Police. There’s been a murder.”
Detective Chief Inspector Warren Jones slid
