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Poor thing was probably terrified.
‘Nobody opened the bag for ID yet?’ she asked, turning back to the victim.
‘We were waiting for—’
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Mitch said, heading towards them. His bottom half was in the white paper overalls while his top half was trying to catch up. ‘We had an away game in Worcester.’
‘Of what?’ she asked as he drew alongside her.
‘Dominoes.’
‘Really?’ she asked.
‘Hey, we’re top of the league.’
‘There’s a league?’
‘There’s a body as well when you two have finished,’ Keats snapped.
‘Double call-out. Testy,’ Kim explained to the forensic techie.
‘Got it,’ he said, taking a good look at the body. ‘Oh dear, this was no accident, was it?’
Kim stayed silent as he walked around the body.
‘Anything touched?’ Mitch asked.
Keats shook his head. ‘Guy that found her touched nothing, and only photos taken so far.’
Mitch nodded his approval. ‘Okay, I’m guessing we want the bag first?’
Kim nodded, hoping there was going to be some kind of identification in there.
Mitch donned his protective gloves and reached for an evidence bag. He clicked open the satchel, removed the poo bags and placed them into the evidence bag. Next item was pay dirt, a purse. He carefully opened it as Kim took out her phone.
He went to the front of the cards section and took out a driving licence. Kim read it while taking a couple of photos. Sandra Deakin, aged forty-one, with an address in Hawne, an area of Halesowen within walking distance of the church. She tried to force the image of the woman’s face in the photo into her mind, to overlay the picture already in her head, but she knew that her initial visual of Sandra Deakin was the one that would stay with her forever.
‘Thanks, Mitch,’ she said as he placed the satchel on the ground and started to bag the hands.
She put her phone away and looked around for a face she recognised. A deeply tanned white-haired man was striding towards her.
‘Better late than never, Planty,’ she said to a police inspector she knew very well.
‘At your service, Inspector.’
‘Can I trust you to do the honours?’
He nodded sombrely as she held up her phone for him to read the address.
‘I’ll get right on—’
‘Hang on just a bit. I’m hoping you’ll be able to take the family dog back.’
He looked around but she didn’t have time to explain.
‘Are you done with me, Keats?’ she asked.
‘Overwhelmed with potential responses to that one, so I’ll keep it zipped.’
