A Death to Record Read Online Free

‘See?’
    There was something in a corner. All thecows were standing as far away as possible. The barn was dark, the floor covered in a generous layer of fresh straw, which was disturbed around the thing in the corner, so it lay partly on bare earthen floor. Deirdre moved closer.
    ‘It’s a man!’ she said.
    Awkwardly, with her rack swinging out from her chest, she moved to bend over the figure and felt his cheek with the back of her hand. ‘He’s not completely cold, but I think he’s dead,’ she said, turning to look hard at Gordon, who hung back, leaving it to her. She took no more action. Time seemed to be suspended, paralysed. She took in the farmer’s bulging eyes, the bared teeth against white knuckles. The sight of Gordon in such a state had done more to churn her stomach and quiver her bowels than did the body at her feet, in those first few seconds.
    ‘It’s Sean,’ she had announced superfluously. ‘But what on earth’s he doing in here?’ She frowned her puzzlement at the farmer.
    Gordon hadn’t moved. ‘I can’t look,’ he muttered.
    By contrast, Deirdre couldn’t tear her eyes away. Growing accustomed to the poor light, she could now see more of what lay at her feet. The dead man wore a grubby jumper, full of snags and holes, with a quilted body warmer over it.He had a woollen scarf around his neck and thick corduroy trousers. Dark blood streaked all these garments, and was smeared generously over the floor.
    She looked back again at Gordon. ‘The cows couldn’t have done it, could they?’ She stood up straighter, inspecting the animals. ‘None of them’s got horns. Jesus, Gordon, don’t just stand there!’ She heard the shrillness rising in her own voice. ‘We’ll have to phone – police, ambulance, all that.’
    ‘Bit late for an ambulance,’ Gordon said, the words emerging on a strange, bitter laugh. Deirdre steadied herself and squatted down closer to Sean’s body, wondering whether she’d been too quick to assume him dead. But nobody with that strangely inexpressive and cold face could be alive. With those wounds, any flicker of life would have put all its efforts into some manifestation of pain and terror. The absence of either was enough proof that death had already occurred.
    Growing up on a farm herself, she had seen sights as bad before – sheep torn apart by bloodthirsty dogs, or with their eyes pecked out while still alive; blood and muck and agony. She noted that it really wasn’t so different when the victim was human. Especially when it was Sean O’Farrell, whose death was not something she was going to grieve over.
    She nudged the body gently with her boot. It felt wooden, unyielding. She said, ‘He’s dead, Gordon.’ A crazy thought entered her head, bringing a grim smile to her lips: The Recording Day Jinx strikes again .
    Gordon appeared unaware of her inappropriate expression. ‘Yes,’ he breathed, in response to her words. ‘Yes, I know.’

CHAPTER TWO
    Detective Sergeant Den Cooper was flipping through the local paper, a mug of coffee at his elbow, while the call made its way through all the usual channels until it reached Okehampton Police Station. It was almost time to knock off and go home. Nothing much was happening; everyone was too exhausted by the New Year celebrations to carry out any felonies. They were ten days into the new year – the new century – and he was still waiting to feel optimistic, benign, newborn and all the other things that Prince Charles and the Archbishop of Canterbury said he should feel. The weather was depressing, he had a cold, his girlfriend had dumped him and he hated his job. Life was not merely proceedingexactly as it had done before; it was worse. He couldn’t think of a single thing to look forward to. Even his twenty-seventh birthday at the end of the month was unlikely to bring any reason for rejoicing.
    ‘Cooper?’ It was Danny Hemsley, the new Detective Inspector. ‘Den?’ he amended, with a