Hazard - Chapter 7
Nov. 27th, 2008 07:53 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Title: Hazard
Chapter(s): 7 of 30
Rating: PG
Notes: Based on the song "Hazard" by Richard Marx
“Detective Hickson. I’m glad I caught you. You’re in charge of the Mochrie murder case aren’t you?”
“Yes Harrison, what do you have for me?” questioned the rough talking detective, interest sparked immediately. Harrison peeled a clean pair of latex gloves over his bony fingers, beckoning the detective along the corridor.
“I’ve been examining the body.” he explained. “And I’ve found some interesting marks.” Having reached their destination the detective gazed down at the limp form of Colin Mochrie. Pale and ghost-like, suspended between the fine line of peacefulness and torture. It was almost as if he didn’t exist at all.
A shudder ran down Hickson’s spine. He never was good with corpses.
“Here on his arms. Clean abrasions,” pointed out Harrison, a tall clever man. Hickson peered closer, spotting the marks that shone so clearly. Red ridges on the smooth, ghostly white skin.
Also donning a pair of latex gloves he ran a finger along the wounds.
“Not recent.” he analysed, raising an eyebrow in Harrison’s direction.
“It’s difficult to tell. You see victims discovered in water are problematic, as often times exposure to cold water grates the tissue away over a period of time, smoothing it and making it appear older than it normally would.
Hickson pondered this for a while never removing his gaze from the blank stare of Colin’s glassy, glazed eyes still wide open, looking up to the heavens.
“So you’re saying…?” barked Hickson, impatient as always.
“They may be fresh, they may not be. There’s no way I can give you a clear answer without running further tests on the skin cells. “ Harrison cut off the detective, before he ran into his usual intolerant rampage. “I can let you know for sure in about 14 days.” He frowned, ending the conversation.
Hickson took this as his cue to leave. Stopping in the doorway he called back to his colleague.
“Harrison, what made those marks?”
“From the small incisions, and smoothness of the edge on the skin I’d say a razor blade perhaps or a pair of non-serrated scissors. A household object without a doubt.” Hickson nodded thoughtfully.
“Self inflicted?”
“The positions show it’s possible, although that’s not to say it couldn’t have been done by someone else. That’s all I can tell you at the moment detective. I’ll contact you with further developments.”
Hickson headed towards his office dazed by information, which raised a swirl of questions in his baffled brain. Were the marks relevant to the murder? Why were they there? Who made them?
“Thank you Harrison.” he muttered, pounding the familiar path down the corridor subconsciously.
*****
In solitary reflection Hickson gave a jump as a screaming bell interrupted his thoughts, begging to be answered.
“Hello? Hickson speaking.” the detective muttered, one hand holding the receiver to his right ear, the other digging his palm into his eyes, rubbing the itchy tired sensation away temporarily.
From the desk the red tie sat innocently, the white unblinking eyes pierced through Hickson in the corner of his eye, making him shudder just as Greg had hours previously. Roughly Hickson stuffed the cartoon face into the drawer, out of sight and mind. He had more important things to concentrate on than the childish taunts of the face.
“Hickson, it’s Stanford. We at Mr Stiles’ place of residence as you instructed and we found something we think that you should see.” Hickson stood up so abruptly that the wheeled chair he had been sitting on shot a couple of inches backwards, and the mahogany desk wobbled slightly.
He snatched his large overcoat from the coat-stand and thrusted his arms clumsily into the appropriate arms balancing the telephone by sandwiching it between his ear and shoulder. Wrapping the warm garment around his worn grey suit he growled excitedly down the receiver.
“Well, well… I’ll be right with you.” Slamming the earpiece triumphantly back he grappled with the loosening toggles, which strained further as the coat stretched over the stomach which was now considerably larger than when he had first bought it.
Dashing to the door he neatly whipped around it, heart hammering with a rush of adrenaline. The office door vibrated violently as he slammed it shut behind him. The brass plate spelling out Hickson’s name hummed silently as the shudder reached it.