Devil and Locke had only been back in the office an hour and a half when Hattie Mason arrived at Devil's office door, wearing a long charcoal dress and matching vest and hat, all buttoned tight around a pale yellow blouse. Hattie was a lissom woman of delicate features, skin complected pale and smooth like cream floating atop fresh milk. Her eyes the colour of violet petals floating in the blue of a sky reflected in water, and her russet hair adorned her face and neck in barely controlled ringlets. Hattie's elegant and clever fingers were tipped with nails the shape of almonds, often buffed but never coloured. And around her the wisp of a playful and sensuality atmosphere floated like a scentless perfume.
Devil rose and walked around the desk to greet Hattie and usher her toward a chair.
"Hattie's here to see you, Devil." Stuckey called from the radio desk a shade too late as usual.
"Good to see you again, Miss Mason." Devil said, as he walked her in, "This is Detective Sergeant Locke of the Provincial Police."
Locke squeezed her offered hand and bowed.
"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Mason. I hear you help the Arawana Police Department on occasion."
"I do." Hattie said and smiled as Devil held a chair out for her. Locke noticed her buffed fingernails were not painted and given her profession, their pristine glisten spoke to her fastidious nature. She was a woman who would never allow evidence of her craft to upset the public.
"What do you have for us, Hattie?" Devil asked, taking his seat across from Hattie and Locke.
"Our subject, Sergiy is a deceased male in his late thirties. He was in good physical health prior to death, but suffering from mild emaciation." Hattie said, "Sergiy was a labourer, evidenced by his calloused hands and developed musculature. There was no indication that he smoked or drank to excess. He had a loving relationship with a woman and had sexual union with her just prior to his death but she wasn't present during the attack. I assume she was his wife."
"How can be sure she wasn't there, Miss Mason?" Locke asked.
"Because though Sergiy fought back against his attacker, If his lady had been with him he would have fought harder to protect her. It was the woman who discovered him after the attacker left, correct?"
"His wife, yes."
"He was barely alive when she found him, bleeding badly and already fading. Her bloody handprints were smeared around his throat and she traced her fingers down his cheeks, I assume trying to soothe him in his final moments. Her tears disturbed the blood sprayed across his chest. The evidence says they had a loving relationship until the end."
"You can tell all that by examining a body?" Locke asked.
"The dead speak a sacred language, Sergeant Locke, and it's only right that we listen; to learn who they were, who they loved, how they made their way through this world, and what brought them to their end. Their flesh tells me the tale of their lives and of their deaths. The language of the body is a subtle and intimate one."
