Cath winced at the description. "Never a good way to go," he murmured. Not that there was a good way to die. All of the ones he knew of were ugly, visceral and painful. Or at least ugly and painful.
He nodded, balking a bit at the idea of somebody searching around in the guts. That wasn't healthy. But then, if the reporter had something valuable he'd swallowed to hide it. Well, he couldn't say that he hadn't heard of worse. "He or she was looking for something," he concluded grimly. "And likely found it, since the body was dumped. If they hadn't, they wouldn't have left him."
Oh, this was turning into a lovely conversation. "Looks like we've got an Italian Murder Mystery on our hands, mate," he said tightly. "And no butler with a candlestick to pin it on."
Fuck, he wanted something stronger than coffee. "That's likely why the blood I found wasn't completely dry. The humidity. How long do you think Graham was dead when you found him?"