Deadly Deeds Read Online Free Page A

remained above thirty for the last few days. It’s just that it had been so hot in the apartment, anywhere else felt cool in comparison.
    The paramedics had already left the scene, but a crowd of on-lookers were still hanging around like flies over a decomposing body.
    Before the Channel 10 media crew launched its attack on me, I managed to get to the Constable I had spoken to when I arrived at the scene of the crime.
    ‘Why isn’t there any crime-scene tape around the area?’ I asked. Before he had time to answer and rationalise his lack of experience at a crime scene, I went on, ‘I want the area sealed off. I also want anyone who’s not a potential witness out of the perimeter immediately. I don’t want you or anyone else to speak to the media. That’s my job. Is that clear?’
    ‘ I’ll get on to it.’ He took my orders well, and as a result, I liked him straight away.
    ‘ What’s your name?’ I asked, realising I had forgotten since I last spoke to him.
    ‘ Constable Gus Patterson,’ he said, extending his hand while I checked his name tag.
    I gave him a quick but firm handshake and said, ‘All right, Gus, you’re in charge out here. I’m counting on you to keep everything in order. I want you to prevent any unnecessary walking about in and out of this building, control people moving items anywhere within the crime-scene perimeter, anyone touching surfaces of any type, or removing items from the scene. You think you can handle it?’
    ‘Yes, Dr Malina.’
    ‘ And make sure you keep everyone on the other side of the crime-scene tape.’
    He nodded.
    I managed to get to Frank’s Ford without the media hassling me, but I wasn’t so lucky on my way back. I carried a large silver hard case filled with camera equipment when they blocked my path. I hadn’t noticed straight away, but there were more media 4WDs and vans than when I first went inside the apartment. Journalists from the Age , the Herald-Sun, Radio National and 3JJJ were also present.
    In the distance, I recognised Tim Simons, my personal media-liaison contact at the Herald-Sun. We had a mutual respect for each other. Tim Simons, dark-haired, blue-eyed and with a hint of a British accent, had worked with Frank and I on many homicides. He helped us with press releases and fed only enough details to the public for an investigation to proceed with a greater chance of success. In return, whenever an investigation was over, I gave him exclusive rights to a story. For the past two years, Tim Simons won the prestigious Gold Walkley Award for outstanding contribution to journalism.
    ‘ Dr Kristin Malina,’ yelled a broad-shouldered, blond male journalist. ‘You promised you would keep us informed.’ That must have been the journalist who’d been hiding behind the two-thousand watt light when I arrived at the scene.
    I knew I’d promised to comment later on, but there was no time for a long chit-chat.
    ‘Okay, but this will only take a few seconds, I said. ‘We’ve got one person down and another seriously injured.’
    ‘ Do you speculate murder at this stage?’
    ‘ We believe it is. Burglary might have been the motive.’
    ‘ Any idea who did this?’
    ‘ It’s too premature to comment at this stage.’
    ‘ Any relation with this case and any others? Is this the work of a serial killer?’
    This journalist had been watching too much television. ‘Like I said, it’s a bit premature to give details at this stage. All I can confirm is that yes, it is murder, a probable burglary gone wrong. No, we have not established a link between this crime and any others. And no, it certainly isn’t the work of a serial killer. You must be thinking about Seattle or something. That’s all I’ve got for you.’
    I began pushing my way towards the apartment.
    ‘ How did the victim die?’ The journalist went on. ‘You didn’t tell us how he was murdered.’
    ‘ Decapitated,’ I answered dryly and entered the building.
     
    Frank Moore and I