blackbird by Gina Frisken

Detective ‘Big’ Frank O’Farrell was one of the first to arrive on the scene. O'Farrell’s imposing bulky frame, lacerated ears, crooked nose and oversized hands intimidated most. The iron gate creaked as he opened it. He yelled at the journalists as they fluttered past. He enquired of his two other detectives, “I hope you kept these flamin’ blokes out?”

 

No one was talking and the 16-year-old girl, who found the bodies, vanished.

 

O'Farrell walked up the terrace staircase. The door was intact and slightly ajar. He recognised that metallic smell. From the flat’s doorway a double bed was visible, a cot stood opposite it, and a wardrobe and a sink were near the stove. On the table was a vase of flowers and the tiny flat was extremely tidy.

 

Klaus sat fallen and still holding his rifle. Behind him was Heike, his wife, slumped across the red-stained sheets and onto the floor. Blood pooled beneath Karl and Kristian’s cot, and the left side of the bed.

 

Beneath the Rabe flat, the landlord’s family heard nothing. As detectives Barton and Connor questioned them, O'Farrell examined the victims.

 

The number of bullet holes and the angle suggested murder-suicide. O’Farrell’s trained eyes roamed the room and he saw the blood spatter. He looked away and looked back again. His heart pounded as he examined the back spatter on the cot.

 

O’Farrell’s clenched his teeth as he pulled out his notebook.