SCENE 4
Frosted air trailed behind the detectives as they made their way up the short garden path to the front door of number 31. They found the door slightly ajar. The bellowing wails from inside the house had subsided into little more than sobs. Detective Inspector Loxley called out to Mrs Smythe. He paused for an answer, but with none forthcoming he cautiously nudged the door open and briefly took stock of the hallway. Exercising standard procedure, he checked for hazards before entering what was potentially a crime scene; there was a table on its side and post strewn across the hallway floor. Immediately ahead was a staircase, and beyond it a kitchen with the adjoining door wide open. He slowly entered the small, modern two-up semi, and as he moved towards the source of the sobs he silently waved his partner past, towards the darkened staircase ahead. He called out again, this time in a more inquisitorial tone before cautiously entering the Smythes' living room.
Immediately, as he saw the body, he lunged forward like a sprinter taking flight from the starting blocks and, mid-leap, hailed the ambulance crew forward. Mrs Smythe was kneeling on the carpet next to a bloodied Mr Smythe. With his head in her lap, she was rocking to and fro in time with her sobs. Her arms and blouse were covered in blood, and there was a bloodied knife at the side of Mr Smythe’s body that had, clearly, previously been embedded in his chest. The telephone had been pulled to its full extension from the wall socket; the receiver was bloodied and off the hook following her call to the emergency services.
Loxley extended his right arm, the palm of his hand towards Mrs Smythe. He moved forward as though pushing through an invisible force field. Sternly and authoritatively, he ordered “Mrs Smythe, move away from the body!” His command set her off wailing once more as she shuffled backwards on her knees, her hands remaining on her husband’s body as long as she dared. The ambulance crew, ignoring Mrs Smythe completely, moved in to attend to the mortally wounded and bloodied man.
Mrs Smythe looked up at Loxley, her face swollen from crying, and shrieked hysterically, “Did you get him, did you get that sodding freak?!”
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