Summer Reads Sneaky peeks: Stench by A B Morgan

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A Sneaky-Peek Snippet  - from Stench by A B Morgan

The moment when a woman’s body is found by two pest-control officers, under the floor of Rory Norton’s cottage…

Extract

On the ring finger of the bruised swollen hand was a thick gold wedding band, scratched and etched with fine grains of soil. Fingernails were broken and dirty. Howard’s eyes adjusted quickly to the scene and he could make out, what appeared to be, the top of a head. Human hair, dark and matted.

Twisting his head back over his right shoulder, Martin retched several times before charging at the doorway where Rory stood immobile until forced to dodge aside as the workman galloped past him. Loud spewing noises could be heard from outside as Martin’s stomach contents splatted onto the wet gravel a few strides beyond the open porch.

 ‘Oh my life. There’s a dead woman down here.’ Howard choked, lurching back onto his heels, turning his head towards where his customer stood transfixed and not seeming to comprehend what had been said.

            ‘I don’t understand? How can she be under the floor?’ Rory swayed his head slowly from side to side, blinking rapidly.

Aghast, Howard stared back at him. ‘How the hell could you not know?’

Rory rushed towards the workman and pushed him aside, grabbing one of the crowbars to frantically lever more boards up, striking and smashing at the splintering planks as he did so. ‘Get her out of there! Help her. Don’t just stand there. We have to help her!’

He ignored Howard’s entreaties.

 ‘Christ mate – stop! What do you think you’re doing? You’re wasting your time. She’s dead, mate. Can’t you understand? She’s dead.’

Alarmed by the extreme reaction, Howard retreated, scampering backwards five or six paces before turning to race for the front door, losing his overshoes. He grabbed Martin by his overalls’ collar and dragged him across the rain-soaked driveway.  Together they splashed through a large puddle.

Locking them both in the parked van, Howard shakily reached for his mobile phone, dialling 999 while sucking in fresher air. Martin, meanwhile, forced himself to sit back against the headrest of the passenger seat as he struggled to calm his unreliable stomach that still heaved spasmodically.

‘Police? My name is Howard Jordan, I work for the borough council as a pest control officer. I’m at number four, Quarry Farm Lane, Lower Marton. We’ve just found a dead woman hidden under the floor. The man in the house is going berserk, so we’ve legged it and we’ve locked ourselves in our van. No, we don’t feel safe. Please hurry, he’s going mental in there.’

Howard selected reverse, and without slowing for the bends, made a hasty escape towards the village end of the lane to wait for the police.