Daisy and Bernard (The Blind Sleuth Mysteries 3)

Chapter 13

DCI Bramble had a disturbing feeling of déjà-vu. Another poky garage. Another crushed stiff. But the sergeant from the local police station told him that it was impossible to identify the victim. "I know this garage, but I have no idea who this one-armed man could be."

"Well, assuming he was already one-armed before he was crushed to death, it shouldn't be too hard to find out... Who raised the hydraulic lift?"

"I did, on the off-chance that we could reanimate him."

"All right; sound procedure; no worries."

Another difference with the case from a year back, in that other garage, was that this time there had been a break-in. The sergeant led the detective over to the door and showed him the traces of forced entry. "Seeing the smudges of paint, I would say a fire red crowbar, Sir."

Then there was the fact that this corpse was completely naked, making the display of mangled meat all the more gaudy and distasteful to witness. The man's filthy and tattered clothes were lying in a sorry little heap not far from his remains.

"So, who found the body?" the detective wanted to know.

"I did Sir," the sergeant replied. "Some neighbours of the garage called the station to report bloodcurdling screams in the middle of the night. The man on duty notified me immediately and I came at once to investigate."

"Called straight out of your bed, huh?"

"That's right Sir. I was here at half past three..."

"Excellent. Commendable job, Sergeant."

"Thank you Sir."

Presently another police car screeched to a standstill just outside the workshop door, and a strange pair of colleagues emerged from it: an old, disfigured man in a wheelchair, and a young bobby whom Bramble immediately recognised as none other than Constable Collins. Introductions were made, rather unnecessarily.

"I know who you are, Mr Thistlehurst. Everyone at the Met knows you: the Yard's own secret weapon against crime!"

Bernard chuckled. "Pleased to meet you, Bramble. All I can say is that the case I have recently taken over from you had been well handled; very well handled indeed. I like to see paperwork well done..."

"Thank you Sir. And congratulations for solving the case within forty-eight hours! Very humbling. But I understand you're retired, so I don't suppose I need to address you by your rank?"

"No, of course not. I'm a civilian now. The current Commissioner believes in the unorthodox approach, but the fact that I'm the beneficiary of this policy doesn't mean that I approve of it. I myself like to stick to the rules, you know..."

Constable Collins was already crouching by the corpse, and during this exchange of pleasantries between his superiors, he had been scrutinizing the scene.

"What do you say, Collins? Jonathan's handiwork?"

"Absolutely Sir. There's no doubt about it: we now have a serial murderer on our hands."

"Couldn't it be a copycat killer?" the detective asked. "There are differences with the previous case, you know."

"Yes, but I don't think so Sir. If you'll recall, I was instrumental in keeping onlookers away from the scene of the first garage murder, a year ago, and then this state security thing kicked in, the case was kept under wraps, so I'd say that the public at large is not aware of any example to copy."

"Right; true!"

"Of course, this time the victim is naked, still tied up with electric jump leads, and he's not been bitten and bled to death, by the look of it. He seems to be homeless, judging by the pile of clothes and by his hands and feet: incredibly dirty. Even though he is one-eyed and one-armed, it will not be easy to find out his identity; it never is with homeless people..."