Murder Most... Theatricalmature
Prologue
THE air was typical for September, Autumnally crisp and cool. As James stepped out of his Flat the fresh air hit him like a car driving a 50 miles per hour. It might well have done.
His mobile chirped in his pocket. He quickly took it out, flipped it open and pressed it to his ear…
“Good Morning James… Scared of Death?”
*
“So! What have we got?” Sergeant Scott Quinn asked as he stepped out of his brand new, Black, BMW 5 Series.
“27 year old, Caucasian male, bullet entry wound to the front of the head. Probably the cause of death, Coroner’s checkin’ it out now. Neighbours confirmed his as James Gordon,” DI Ben Cole informed Quinn, “He was discovered by a passing Jogger. Witness noticed the blood spatters on the front door and went to investigate. He found the body and immediately dialled 999. Unfortunately he also saw the slug in the door and the bullet hole in the head, and vomited. Luckily he avoided the body.”
“That certainly was a stroke of luck then,” Scott said, mildly relieved, “Did he move the body at all?”
“No, Sir.”
Scott sighed with relief. He began to walk away from the car and toward the scene. Took one look at the body and immediately muttered;
“Lovely.”
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