Inspector and Fish

Inspector and Fish (5)

CHAPTER FIVE

He didn't know why he did, it was not like him, it would start rumors, people were talking, looking at him, the young policeman was looking at him, staring, he was suspicious of him.

'Clunk!"

He sat the jar at the heel of the dead mans foot. That was it, whatever was left of his sanity had said a final farewell, when he filled the jar with water.

He was now that bizarre oddity of an old inspector who carried around a fish in a jam jar.

"Inspector?"

He ignored Clones enquiring glances at the jar and fish, and proceeded to examine the body.

He had spent the best hours of daylight that morning combing through and studying every detail to the Sergeants reports, he now knew.

That when the body was found it was crammed roughly into a ball on the floor of a broom cupboard in the heart of the maids quarters, the local doctor had concluded that the victim had received many heavy blows to the head with a blunt object, causing his brain to bleed, then was partially strangled to unconsciousness and left in the cupboard to slowly die, his death did not occur until around four in the morning, predicted three hours after the initial first blow.

The inspector shivered, horrific.

He remembered while reading the report that the crime must have been concluded out of laziness, the perpetrator not having the will or strength to strangle the butler to death. But now as he stood staring at the corpse, he realized, it was an act of cruelty. To keep him alive in one of the lowest parts of the house hold, to remind him that even if he worked in a rich environment, he was still dirt compared to it.

"BALLLL-UHHH-HUH-WUHHHH!"

"Clones?"

Cassidy's train of thought broke as he turned to find Gerard staring down at a puddle of his own vomit.

"Officer! Out of this room! Now!" He barked as the boy stumbled to the door.

He didn't blame him, nothing is worse than seeing a body which has been subjected to a violent crime, even worse when there's still a bucket of deep red blood under the head of the table, plus the smell of death and despair all rotting into one vile odor.

But in his line of work, you had to get used to it in order to bring justice.

He could hear more gagging from outside.

He sighed.

Robert drew his eyes down over the body, Mr William Highsmith, the butler. He was found still in his uniform even though it was so late at night, the maids claimed that it was because Madame Florengrove, the old bat, often used the small hours to make unnecessary demands to her staff, it was wonder that most didn't leave but it turned out she give quite a high standard of pay.

The butlers shoes were still shiny on the toe but scuffed at the heels and sides, revealing that his body must have been attacked it another area of the house then dragged to the broom cupboard, that would also explain his cramped position he was found in as he was dumped and couldn't stand in crime scene.

His trousers clean and pressed around the left side but worn and dirty on the right, still topped with a fine layer of coal dust from his dying night.

His uniform was in full as his shirt, waistcoat, jacket and handkerchief were all in place with an silver pocket watch hanging from its chain. This proved that the crime was murder and not the result of a robbery.

Curiously Cassidy picked up the watch and clicked it open, the pearly white face glowed up at him as the ink black hands circled. It was set five minutes fast, probably to make the butler be five minutes ahead of his duties. The inspector turned his attention to the inside of the watches cover, engraved:

"W.H, a million apologies, R.D"

In deep thought he carefully closed the watch, "R.D?" He murmured "apologies?"

Rubbing the watch with his thumb, he stored it in his own pocket.

Continuing his inspection, he approaches the mans neck, it was horrible swollen and scarred in a deep color consisting of purple blue and red, the bold prints of rope used for strangling. Who ever did this had something personal against the victim and wanted him to suffer.

The head did not look any better, Williams face seemed frozen in a look of distorted pain and horror, blood stains browning around the nose, eyes and ears. Centimeters from the large black mark, the memory of the painful blows.

The inspector could feel himself shaking, out of rage, he rarely felt this much emotion towards a case, he knew he would find this murderer.

He lifted his jar, the fish looked duller as he stored it in the same pocket as the watch, before taking the dead mans shoes and leaving the sadness and disgust of the pantry.