Читать книгу Bloody Awful - Georgia Evans - Страница 2

It seemed so obvious. There was no bloody ripped-out throat as in Farmer Morgan’s death last month, and Reg Brown was a habitual drunk; but given what had been going on in Brytewood the past few weeks, one couldn’t help wondering. Alice bent over the body and looked at his staring eyes, his pale skin, and his shrunken, narrow wrists. There hadn’t been a frost last night, but it had rained, and his clothes were still damp. He’d no doubt have caught pneumonia if he’d lived. He was thin. Wasted from alcohol. Pity they didn’t ration that!

She was about to stand and tell Sergeant Jones to go ahead and call for an ambulance to collect the body when she noticed a bruise on Reg’s neck: A faint mark, like a large insect bite.