A Sketch of Murder

112 Down River Lane. A body had been found.

A police officer stood inches away from the body. With both hands interlocked carefully behind, a dithered look creased every corner of his forlorn face.

On the other end of the scarcely plastered wall, sonorous melodies rend the air, bringing to close heartfelt supplications.

A tree shuddered; driving out the blistering cold that had seeped unwanted though its branches. Underneath, curious feet shifted, with hands hurling back at the earth twigs and broken leaves.

Eager lips exchanged whispers, at a loss for why the victim had chosen to sojourn at an abandoned fuel station. Cell phones towered above heads as flashes of camera light tore through the morning air.

Every five minutes, a new face emerged, save the gentleman in the brown jacket, an umbrella in one hand and a finely bound piece of leather in the other. Face covered in streaks of dust, his well combed beard ran longer than the Nile.

Towering well over six feet, he tipped his toes an inch higher, locking his gaze on the victim’s body.

Hands sprawled across the grass, she lay in an almost crucifix position. Her face took on the appearance of a near grimace and beads of dew sat in tiny drops on the necklace hung around her neck. The gentleman craned his neck higher seeking a better view. He wasn’t sure but the pendant he could tell was shaped like a cross.

Large amounts of map-like shaped blood formed across the blue turtle neck long sleeved shirt the victim wore with a few drops trailing their way to her black skirt.

“So I’m speculating time of death to be around say—” the medical examiner stole a glance at his watch and continued, “twelve hours.”

At Jason’s raised eyebrow, he added, “It’s just a speculation. The lady has been dead at most twelve hours—” he raised his head and squinted at Jason – “You see her eyes?”

Jason nodded, giving the body a closer stare as the medical examiner’s hand trailed around the victim’s eyes.

“If she were fairer, there would be a visible discolouration, but for obvious reasons, there isn’t. However, they’re slightly darker than the pictures of her which you showed me—just slightly though. Then there’s the cloudy appearance of the cornea, give it a few more hours and it goes opaque.”

Jason made a sound that showed he quite understood.

“That tells me a lot. The temperature must have been unusually fair enough last night, causing rigor mortis to set in pretty fast. We’ll know more when a full autopsy is carried out but she died as a result of a knife wound made too close to her heart at two consecutive times and a rope around her neck which I’ll say is similar to—that.” He pointed the tip of his ball point pen at the lace of Jason’s shoes. “I can’t be definite about the type of knife used just yet.” He looked up at Jason and gave an exaggerated smile. “But then again, that wouldn’t be too important to you would it? We still haven’t found either murder weapon yet.” Nodding, Jason let his gaze travel through the curious crowd. The presence of a medical examiner at the crime scene was one step in the midst of a thousand, but still he was appreciative.

Spotting the first officer on the scene, he smiled in weak humour, recalling their conversation earlier that morning.

“When you arrived, the victim’s car was over there?” The officer followed the trail of Jason’s hands and nodded.

“But you got in and drove it over here.” It wasn’t a question. The officer nodded again.

“And that would be because?”

“I felt it would make everyone’s job easier having the car close to the crime scene. Besides, I had to search the car.” The officer stood, broad-chested, unappreciative of his investigative skills being put on trial.

“And her handbag?”

“It was lying beside her car. It contained her driver’s license which actually helped me identify her.” The officer held his head high, proud of himself.

Nodding in weak commendation, Jason let his lips part halfway, swallowing his words of protest before they hit the damp grass. Not being familiar with contaminating a crime scene wasn’t a short coming; at least in this part of the world.

“You didn’t happen to protect your hands in any way when you handled the victim’s possessions did you?” Jason hoped he could still make use of some evidence at the crime scene; whatever good that would do considering the poor biometric database the Police force controlled. Throwing his head backwards, the officer laughed heartily. Seeing the lost look on Jason’s face, he shook his head making an exclamation in the local vernacular.

“I understand the changes you are trying to make and we will do our best to keep up with you, but things don’t quite work that way around here. We may not be as sophisticated as you expect us to be, but we get the job done. All you have to do is tell everyone you are on top of the situation and if you give us a chance, in the next two hours, we will parade not less than thirty suspects for you. And they always confess; trust me, they do.”

Jason had remained speechless.