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To his left, another ashen-faced constable with watering eyes barred entry into the room behind him.
Filtering out was a strong, overpowering odour Gardener couldn’t place. It smelled of blocked drains and rotten garbage.
“What is that smell?”
The PC pointed to the room.
“Is there a body in there?”
“If that’s what you can call it.”
“What would you call it?”
He hesitated before offering. “A mess!”
“Who found it?”
“The landlady. About half an hour ago. Maybe a bit longer, sir.”
“What’s your name, son?”
“Benson, sir. Paul Benson.”
Benson had curly ginger hair with brown eyes. His smooth voice and pleasant manner indicated he was either a little shy or he felt intimidated in the presence of a senior officer. His face bore the scars of teenage acne. Gardener estimated his age as early twenties. Benson appeared to be standing up well, considering what he’d apparently seen.
“Take me through what happened.”
“The desk sergeant took a call. The landlady was complaining about an offensive smell.
He asked her if that was all and she said no. She wouldn’t go into detail but she couldn’t open the door, and she needed us, quickly.”
“So, you came straight away?”
“Yes, sir. We could smell it as soon as we entered the premises. Me and Rick Johnson. He’s the one you probably passed by on the way in, being sick.”
“We met briefly.”
“Anyway, we came up here. The landlady was still trying to push this door open.” He pointed to the room behind him. “I persuaded her not to go in. She gave us grief, but did as I asked.”
“Have you been in the room?”
“No, sir. Just poked my head round the gap in the door from where she started to open it.”
“I’m still here,” shouted the girl on the stairs. “About time you all fucked off and let us get some sleep.”
Gardener glanced over the banister at her glaring up at them.
He addressed the constable while still staring at the girl. “Go down to her flat, take a statement. Don’t let her mess you around. I don’t care how late it is. Keep her in there.”
Paul Benson nodded and did as he was asked.
Gardener turned to the apartment door. The lock was intact, no damage to the woodwork.
As he pushed on it, he felt resistance. He pressed harder, sliding his head through the gap to see inside. His eyes went wide with horror as the door opened.
“Jesus Christ!”
Chapter Four
