Page 4 of Her Lips Are Sealed

Dressed in the standard white crime-scene overalls, plastic shoe covers, and double gloved, Morgan tucked her hands into her pockets, so she didn’t inadvertently touch anything, and walked up the tiny front path into the open-plan kitchen/living room. The house was pristine, all primrose yellow walls, painted white furniture and a compact, yet squashy, lemon sofa that looked the perfect place to lie on and read. Behind the small breakfast bar Morgan saw two bare legs sticking out, looked down at the pastel pink painted toenails, and felt her nerves kick in at what she was about to witness. No matter how many times she did this, she would never feel complacent about the fact that someone had lost their life. She walked towards the legs, noting the half-empty coffee cup on the marble worktop, the laptop that was open, and then she moved so she could see the body.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat.

The woman was dressed only in her underwear, with her face scrubbed clean of make-up except for her lips, which were painted a shade of red so deep it looked as if they were bleeding. Around her neck was a deep, red groove where the killer had strangled her with a pair of tights, and there were tiny bruises on her wrists. Morgan’s knees trembled a little at the thought of this woman sitting in her perfect little flat, working on her laptop, being murdered so coldly and callously. The lipstick didn’t fit, it was so gaudy and loud, and she looked around for photos, finding one of those multi picture frames on one wall. Walking towards it she studied the pictures. The woman whose name she didn’t even know was laughing or smiling in them all, with friends, some on her own, and in all of them she wore little or no make-up and in the ones she was wearing lipstick, it was a pale nude colour.

‘Good afternoon, Morgan, I believe you went to see Theo for the world’s shortest visit before.’

Declan’s voice startled her. She had been so immersed in the pictures she hadn’t heard him come in. ‘Hi, Declan, yes, I did.’

‘Thank you, he appreciated it more than you could ever know. He messaged to say I should make myself available because he thought something bad had gone down.’ He walked towards the feet and sighed. ‘I guess he was right. Mary, mother of God, what in the name of Jesus has gone down in here?’

Tearing her gaze away from the photographs, she shrugged. ‘I’m not sure yet, but I will be.’

He smiled at her. ‘I have no doubt you will.’

‘I’ll let Ben come in.’

Morgan took one more glance at the perfectly manicured feet, and her heart ached for the woman. She walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, and the warmth of it as it hit her face felt so good after the darkness inside of that flat.

‘Thoughts?’ Ben asked.

‘Still processing them. I’ll let you go in as there’s not enough room for all three of us.’

He nodded and squeezed past her, ducking his head to get inside. Wendy was waiting patiently for Declan to finish.

‘It’s awful, I’ve seen a lot but that, well, it’s weird.’

‘I know, whoever did this staged her body for maximum impact. How did they get in?’

Both women began to study the door frame for marks. Wendy shook her head. ‘He didn’t get in through that way, as the only way to get in is with a key. These composite doors are impossible to jemmy open, even task force struggle with them.’

They turned to the small sash windows, all pristine, white with no marks on any of the ground floor ones to suggest they had been prised open.

‘She let the killer inside.’ Morgan sighed.

‘Yep, how scary is that? You open your door and let someone into your house who is full of evil intentions, and she didn’t even realise what was about to go down.’

‘No, because she either trusted them or had no reason to feel scared by them. Ben said the cleaner found her. Where is she?’

‘He has gone back to the office, said he was going to be sick and was shaking so much he looked as if he was about to pass out.’

‘Could it have been him? If he had a key and if she knew him, she wouldn’t have felt threatened by him.’ Morgan was thinking out loud.

Wendy was nodding. ‘Worth checking out.’

‘Where’s the office, did he drive here?’

‘Literally around the corner.’ Wendy pointed to the little back street. ‘Next to the Post Office.’

‘Tell Ben I’ve gone to speak to him.’

Morgan walked in the direction Wendy had pointed to and less than two minutes later was standing outside what used to be a second-hand shop and was now called Windermere Clean & Co. She pushed open the door and was greeted by a woman who was in the middle of making tea for an older man who was staring into space. Tugging out her lanyard with her warrant card on it from inside of her black shirt, she showed it to them.

‘Detective Morgan Brookes.’

The woman smiled at her. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘No, thank you. I’ve come about the crime scene you discovered.’ She stared at the man. His balding grey hair was cut short, he was clean shaven and his blue eyes were watery. He tried to smile at her and failed miserably. She felt bad for him. He looked like he was someone’s cute grandad.