APRIL'S TEARS – BOOK THREE OF 'THE LOVER'S CHILDREN'
A figure emerges from the tented crime scene. White-clothed. A pale man. Tall. Long-legged. Silver-haired.
And red...
Blood bright on his hands
Borje.
For an instant, he clearly doesn't recognise me. Then, his eyes widen. "Larry? What the hell..."
I react by instinct, locking a hand to his throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Jolted back against a supporting post of the marquee, arms flailing, he gurgles against the vee of my thumb and fingers. Red-faced, scrabbling at my hand... "Choking me..."
I relax my hold a bit.
"What was that?"
"Doctor. I'm a fucking doctor!"
?
I release my grip and he drops, gasping, to all fours. "Doctor?"
"Yes, a doctor." On hands and knees, he coughs and splutters, clearing his airway. "I'm a police pathologist, you fucking... maniac."
For a moment, my thoughts freeze...
Then my brain kicks in again, collecting the detail my first freaked-out impression missed: