In Death 31 - Indulgence in Death

blond with blue and red streaks, brown eyes, tats on inner left ankle—small bird—and back of right shoulder—flaming sun. Pierced eyebrow and nose, multiple ear piercings. She’s city. She’s still wearing the rings and studs, rings on three fingers.”
    “Well, I can’t say I noticed all of that, but see it right enough now. How did she die?”
    “Best guess, from the bruising, strangulation with some smacking around prior. She’s fully dressed, but there could have been sexual assault.”
    “Poor child. A hard end to a short life.”
    Eve said nothing, but thought murder was always a hard end however short or long the life. She turned as she heard Roarke and the boy come back.
    “It’s no more than a two-minute walk to the road, and the path’s clear enough. Street lighting would come on at dusk, as it’s near the school.” He waited a moment. “I could put together a makeshift field kit without too much trouble.”
    She itched for it. “It’s not my place, not my case.”
    “We found her,” Sean argued, with considerable stubborn in his tone.
    “That makes us witnesses.”
    Once again she heard rustling, footsteps. A uniformed cop came into view on the path. Young, she thought, and nearly sighed. As young as the dead with the open, pink-cheeked face of innocence.
    “I’d be Officer Leary,” he began. “You reported a bit of trouble? What . . .” He trailed off, turned the same pale green as the light, when he saw the body.
    Eve grabbed his arm, turned him away. “Soldier up, Leary. You’ve got a DB, and don’t want to compromise the scene by booting on the vic.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “You would be if you puked. Where’s your superior?”
    “I—my—ah—Sergeant Duffy’s in Ballybunion with his family on holiday. He only left this morning. Who are you? Are you the Yank cop from New York City? Roarke’s cop?”
    “I’m Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. Put your damn recorder on, Leary,” she muttered.
    “Yes. Sorry. I’ve never . . . we don’t. I’m not quite sure what I’m about.”
    “You’re about to take a witness report, secure this scene, then call in whoever it is around here who investigates homicides.”
    “There really isn’t anyone—that is, not right around here. I’ll have to contact the sergeant. We just don’t have this happen here. Not here.” He looked at her. “Would you help me? I don’t want to make a mistake.”
    “Names. You have mine. That’s Roarke. This is Brian Kelly, a friend from Dublin. This is Sean Lannigan.”
    “Yeah, I know Sean here. How’s it all going then?”
    “I found her.”
    “Are you doing all right there, lad?”
    “Sean, tell the officer what you know, what you did.”
    “Well, see, we were all over at the park there, having another picnic, and the dogs ran off in here. They wouldn’t come back and were barking like the mad. So I asked my lieutenant cousin to come find them with me. We all came in the wood, and I went on ahead to where the dogs were barking. And I saw her there, the dead girl, and I ran back and brought our cop to see.”
    “That’s a good lad.” Leary looked appealingly at Eve.
    “We’ve remained here since the discovery. Roarke and Sean walked to the road and back. The dogs have been all over the scene, as you can see from their prints in the softer ground. You can also observe shoe prints, which would most likely belong to whoever put her here, as none of us have gone closer than we are now.”
    “Shoe prints. Aye, I see. All right. I can’t say I recognize her.”
    “She’s not from around here.” Eve dug for patience. “She’s city. Multiple tats and piercings, neon polish, fingers and toes. Look at the shoe. She didn’t walk in here wearing those. This is a dump site.”
    “You’re meaning she wasn’t killed here, but put here, as you said before.”
    “There’s no sign of struggle here. No bruising on her wrists or ankles, so she wasn’t restrained. Somebody punches you in the face a few times, chokes you to death, you generally put up a fight. You need to record her, call in your ME, forensics. You need to ID her and determine time of death. The animals haven’t been at her, so she can’t have been here very long.”
    He nodded, kept nodding, then pulled an ID pad out of his pocket. “I’ve got this, but I’ve never used it.”
    Eve walked him through it.
    “She’s Holly Curlow. Lives in—lived in—Limerick.”
    Eve tipped her head to read the data. Twenty-two,