The Armadillo

I AT THE HOUSE
The day was beginning to drag. The fifth gcse student on the bounce and Steve could feel the enthusiasm draining from his eyes.
He'd accidentally fallen into tutoring after the disappearance of the headteacher at the school where he used to teach. There was no suspicion of foul play but Steve wasn't altogether sure that his presence at the school was coincidence and had decided to put distance between himself and the strange events.
As for now there was only so many ways he could make box plots seem like a worthy pass time.
Steve could feel the other side of his brain begin to take over. Three yawns was a marker . And so it began- again.
His pupils began to widened as the colour slipped away and his vision became monochrome. This was a sure sign. Steve had little recollection of previous episodes but he knew the tell tale signals and this made him extremely anxious. He needed to get rid of this kid.
Luckily enough the student's time was already up. Steve gestured towards the waiting car outside.
"That'll be your mum's car," he said., simultaneously closing the laptop lid and standing. The boy recognised the cue and shuffled awkwardly towards the door.
"Best of luck with the exam. Remember to answer every question." Steve had rolled out the same standard speil to all of the others earlier that day.
The back door gave a reassuring click as it closed on an average Wednesday in Romiley. Walking away from the door Steve looked closely at the crumpled £20 note on the kitchen counter ; he considered the probability of it being a forgery. The pain in the back of his head quickly stemmed that idle thought and he steadied himself against the sink whilst he poured tepid water from the kettle into a large mug which had the words
" Fuck Off Chris Evans." written in large font across the side. It was a competition prize which had been thoughtlessly donated to a school where he used to work. The mug appealed to Steve's unorthodox sense of humour and the kleptomaniac in him could not allow it to be locked away in the schools security locker.
He poured a large mound of sugar mostly into the mug straight from the the bag; (this was the sort of behaviour that he would normally try to avoid as it frustrated his wife no end) but Steve had no time to lose- it was already happening. He greediley gulped the sweet,
gritty liqueur. His mouth couldn't keep up and two trickles streamed either side of his face. Dark stains spread on the chest of his favourite T shirt as the room began to slowly turn.
Steve thought the extra energy from the sweet water would buy him some extra time but he was wrong. He'd hardly stumbled out of the kitchen when the dining room floor appeared in his peripheral vision.
He was gone.
II THE MORGUE
It was the usual dross at the coroners .
A cold 19th century bedlam that had been converted in the 60s to a state of the art morgue; 50 years later the building's decor still clung on to its institutional ancestory. The stark unplastered brickwork reflected the passage of countless lost souls through the prism of antibacterial wipe clean matt magnolia. Detective
Bill Black chewed hard on his nicotine gum as the technician gave her autopsy report.
He shivered and his fist clenched as he tried to block out the medical paraphernalia adorning the long ward. Bill had never been good with hospitals; the smell, the harshness of it all.
'Christ on a bike - what do they do with that?' his inner voice freaked out as his eyes fixed on what could have been a power tool from a carpentry shop. The grip looked like his Makita cordless drill but the business end was something else. Twin stainless prongs protruded with serrations that looked like they could cut through the hull of a battleship. Bill shivered again and deliberately turned to block the power butchery equipment from his vision. He often protected himself from such sights, he could never watch medical programmes on TV. This was why he hated this part of his job so much.
He focused on the white coat of the woman in front of him and listened intently.
"My guess is he slipped and banged his head on the sink. The bruise fits the scenario.
Bill was suspicious by nature and never trusted anything especially when he was told it was routine.
" And that's about it Mr Black" said the coroner without even looking up from her notes. " Now if you don't mind I have a busy schedule today."
She handed Bill the report.
" you'll have to sign for that if you want to take it out of the building- see the clerk in the office."
Bill tried not to look annoyed , he remembered his anger management training, took a deep breath and counted to 5 in his head.
" it's Detective Black" he said firmly
Bill quickly thumbed the report, he'd seen this type of thing hundreds of times
He scanned the usual
Asphyxia due to aspiration of fluid into air-passages, caused by submersion in water or other fluid. Contusions suggest complete submersion did not occur submersion of the nose and mouth alone for a sufficient period was the probable cause of death.