Free Jack in the Box by Hania Allen

Von.
    ‘The clue to Quincey’s murder may still lie in the old case.’
    ‘Tell that to the Chief Super when he sacks me.’
    He wiped crumbs from his mouth. ‘Two different people, eh? And she’d put money on it? Easy for her to say. As the daughter of a millionaire, she’s got plenty to splash around.’
    ‘Don’t be like that, Steve.’ Von smiled. ‘Money isn’t the cure for everything.’
    ‘It’s the cure for being poor,’ he said with feeling. He nodded at her empty glass. ‘We’ve time for another wee swallie.’
    ‘We won’t get served, you know what this place is like at lunch time.’ She studied him. ‘Can you manage as you are?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    She chose her words carefully. ‘I know you need to be plastered before you can face a cutting room.’
    ‘Thanks for that.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let’s go,’ he said stiffly.

    ‘The cause of death is asphyxia due to ligature strangulation.’ SirBernard peered over the rim of his spectacles. ‘Haemorrhaging in the inner ear is a clear signature.’ He indicated the red welt on the corpse’s neck. ‘Whatever did that was smooth, consistent with the tie we found. There are no fingermarks on the skin, so he wasn’t manually strangled and the tie wrapped round his neck afterwards.’
    ‘How quick would it have been, Sir Bernard?’ Von said. She was sweating under the lights in the windowless room.
    ‘With this type of strangulation, the constriction has to be held even after loss of consciousness. I’d say ten to fifteen seconds before he fell unconscious.’
    ‘Was the attacker left or right-handed?’
    ‘He would have had to use both hands, therefore I can’t tell.’ Sir Bernard peeled off his gloves. ‘I’ve yet to analyse the internal organs but at first glance there’s nothing unusual for a man of his age. The state of the lungs is consistent with his being a heavy smoker. And I can now give you a more accurate time of death: between 8.00pm and 10.00pm.’
    ‘And the eyes?’
    He smiled faintly. ‘I was wondering when we’d get round to that. They’ve been pricked with something sharp. Not a needle. Something wider. A scalpel, perhaps, or a small knife. The incision in the cornea was quite clean, so not a knife with a serrated edge.’
    ‘How much strength would you need?’
    ‘A quick stabbing motion with something sharp would puncture the eye.’ He regarded her coolly. ‘I see where you’re going with this. All it needs is a determined jab from someone with moderate strength so, yes, a woman could have done it.’ He motioned to the corpse’s face. ‘The eyelids were intact so the eyes were open when they were pierced. Quite a neat job. If it was a scalpel, you might be looking for a surgeon.’ He inclined his head. ‘Like myself.’
    ‘Not the result of a frenzied attack, then.’
    ‘The cut was deep enough to pierce both humours, but the weapon didn’t reach as far as the retina. I’ve seen some attacks which were so bad that the eye socket was damaged. This is nothing like that.’
    Then Danni was right. There was a significant difference between Quincey’s attack and those of the rent boys. ‘Did he have sex before he died, Sir Bernard?’
    ‘He did.’
    ‘Anally?’
    ‘He wasn’t penetrated anally. There was no semen in his mouth, but there were traces on his penis, so he ejaculated before he was killed. And he wore a condom.’
    ‘We didn’t find any.’
    ‘Pity. In the absence of the condom I can’t tell whether he penetrated his partner anally, vaginally, or orally. But the lab should be able to identify the brand of condom from the chemicals on his skin.’ He pulled off his robes. ‘There were traces of sweat residue on his body, but I’m not sure how much DNA we’ll extract.’ Like most pathologists she had worked with, Sir Bernard liked to stray onto her patch. ‘I don’t need to remind you, Chief Inspector, that if the person he had sex with was his killer, any DNA the