Definitely Dead

by Kate Bendelow

  It had been late by the time she got back to her apartment. She had been struck with how the familiarity of her home suddenly felt alien. Although everything was the same as it had been when she had left for work, in the aftermath of the day’s events she almost felt like she didn’t fit in her surroundings. It was a similar feeling to when she had returned from holiday. Although it felt good to be home, it always took her a day to settle back into her own environment.

  The anticlimax had made her restless despite her tiredness. She had stood under the shower for an age. The zesty aroma of her shower gel championed the lingering smell of the mortuary and Karl Gorman’s festering house. Lying in bed, Maya marvelled at the day’s experience.

  The relief she felt at having coped with her first body was palpable. After all, it was one thing longing to do a job, but quite another to be able to cope with it. She had come back from training and only been working in her new office for four weeks when the Karl Gorman job had come in. With her first death and post-mortem out of the way, Maya was eager for more experience.

  Since being at Beech Field, she had not yet settled in with her new team. She hoped that having this first job under her belt would help her start to build a good working relationship with her new colleagues. While she had been in the shower, Chris had texted her to tell her she’d done well, and to get in touch with him if she ever had a job that she was struggling to cope with. He had extended the hand of friendship which she greatly appreciated, and it left her with a warm glow. Despite his initial grumpiness when she had arrived at the crime scene, Chris had proven to be good company. He swore just as much as Maya and had an inappropriate sense of humour, which she loved.

  As Maya began to get ready for work, she found herself reliving the scene and recalled the feeling that they had missed something. She now regretted not saying anything to Chris at the time, but it was too late now. She tried to convince herself that nothing was wrong, and it was all in her mind. Perhaps it was the secret she was keeping which led to her unease. But still the feeling lingered. Was Karl Gorman’s untimely death really non-suspicious?

  Time.

  When I think of time, I think of the hourglass sand timer in The Wizard of Oz. You know the one the Wicked Witch of the West uses, so that Dorothy knows how long she has left until the witch kills her. I also think of the impatient staccato of the chess clock, and the soporific ticking of my parents’ gold carriage clock that used to keep pride of place on the mantelpiece. Isn’t it curious that the gold clock is given as a symbol of retirement?

  I always think it’s like giving the retiree a sand timer, so they can measure how much longer they have before they die; now they’re no longer employed as a functioning member of society. Mind you, old age doesn’t bother me anymore, people should be grateful to make it to sixty-five. Not everyone does.

  Nobody ever realises how precious time is until it is too late. Until the moment it is about to run out – until there is no more time. Take youth, for example. The saying goes that it is wasted on the young and how very true that is. Young people don’t appreciate the value of education, the beauty of their young bodies or what it is to have a life free of responsibility, until it is too late.

  It’s only when you’re middle-aged and overweight, carrying a crippling mortgage and fighting to stay at the top of your game that you can look back and appreciate that you once had it all. It’s only then you realise how easily you frittered it away due to the ignorance and arrogance of youth.

  Not long after Louisa and I first started dating, she bought me a mug which had a picture of a cartoon dog on it, lazing in a hammock. It wore a large, floppy sun hat and had a beer in one paw and a cigar in the other. The caption read ‘a moment enjoyed is never wasted’. It’s only now, so many years later, that I realise how very true that saying is. It makes me think about all those wasted moments that could have been spent elsewhere. Those precious moments that should have been spent with someone else, anywhere else, doing anything else.

  This leads to regret and the thing with regret is that it grows like a cancer. It festers and expands until it becomes all encompassing. It weighs heavy like a dirty secret; it is a gnawing, ceaseless, gripe. I think that regret is the cancer of the soul – it’s enough to drive you quite mad!

  I don’t think Karl Gorman realised his time was up. He slipped away quite peacefully. Too peacefully. A huge part of me wished I could have watched him writhing and screaming in agony. I would have loved to have witnessed the terror in his eyes as he realised that it was all over for him. But he didn’t die like that. It was quick and painless.

  I wonder, if Karl Gorman had known that he was about to die, would he have begged and pleaded to save his pathetic waste of a life? I like to think that he would have done. I love to imagine him doing it.

  I would still have killed him anyway.

  4

  Beech Field police station was a modern building of three storeys. The sandstone-coloured brick and blue window frames and doors were typical of a Carillion police building. The SOCO office was situated at the back on the first floor, adjacent to the CID offices and above the cells. The bubble of conversation and ringing phones accompanied Maya down the corporate blue corridor.

  Her footsteps mirrored the rhythmic pounding against metal from an unhappy prisoner in the cells. Her curiosity was piqued as she wondered who had been arrested and what for. One of the things she loved about the job was not knowing what each day had in store for her. Gales of laughter and the sound of a familiar voice stopped Maya in her tracks at the office door.

  ‘Honestly. I shit you not. She’d been talking to him through the kitchen door. The top panel of glass was all speckled, so it obscured the view. When she realised it wasn’t Doctor Granger, she was so flustered she just kept saying how he was dead – definitely, definitely dead. I’d have pissed myself laughing there and then if I hadn’t felt so sorry for her.’ Chris laughed raucously.

  There was more laughter as Maya braced herself and walked into the office with a sheepish grin on her face and hands held up in supplication. The laughter turned to mocking cheers as Chris stepped forward and gave her an avuncular pat on the back.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen! May I present, SOCO Maya Barton, who not only sees dead people, but talks to them too.’ Chris bowed and waved his hand towards Maya with a flourish which was met with more cheers and laughter.

  ‘Okay, okay – guilty as charged,’ Maya grinned sheepishly, ‘it’s nice to know that what happens at a crime scene doesn’t stay there. I’ll get you back, Makin, don’t you worry.’

  ‘You’ve got to be able to laugh at yourself in this job.’ Amanda, the office administrator gave her a thumbs up.

  ‘Yeah, good job you’re black so we can’t tell you’re blushing.’ Andy Carr’s caustic remark stung like a slap. A sudden hush fell on the office and the earlier merriment was replaced with a heavy, uncomfortable silence.

  ‘You’re a dick at times, Andy, do you know that?’ Chris shook his head with disgust.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong with saying that? She is black, or half-caste or mixed race or whatever the phrase is today. Does this mean we have to start with all that political correctness bollocks now?’ Andy pouted like a petulant child.

  He was a good-looking man in his forties, tall and rugged with salt-and-pepper wavy hair.

  The click of heels announced another presence in the office. ‘Congratulations, Mr Carr, you have just won yourself a place on the next diversity awareness course.’ The tone of voice was pure steel. ‘If anybody else feels they would benefit from going on it, then let Amanda know so she can email human resources and book you on. If you don’t and I hear similar comments in the future, you can look forward to being issued with a formal warning.’

  Although she was only short in stature with a trim figure, Kym Lawson, the senior SOCO, had a reputation for being formidable when needed. Her sudden presence in the office caused everyone to sit up and take notice.


  She was an attractive woman with large, wide brown eyes. Her dark-brown hair was styled in an elegant pixie cut. She was the kind of woman whose face lit up whenever she smiled, but when she frowned her dark eyes almost looked as if a thundercloud was gathering. That was exactly how she looked now as she glared at Andy, making no effort to disguise the look of sheer contempt on her face.

  ‘Now then, either our local criminals have gone on holiday overnight and not been burgling, or you lot are too busy kicking the arse out of brew time and need to get yourself out to your jobs. So, let’s go!’ Kym clapped her hands together, a common trait of hers and an exceedingly unpopular one.

  ‘Maya, pop in my office when you’ve got yourself settled in. I’d like a word, please.’ Kym turned on her heel and headed into the side room, leaving a trail of perfume and chastened faces in her wake.

  The others gathered their coats, radios, and van keys before scuttling out of the office to their respective crime scenes. Maya gathered her belongings together before logging onto the computer so she could book herself on duty and see what jobs had either come in or been left for her to pick up as part of her mid-morning shift.

  ‘Are you okay, love?’ asked Amanda when there were just the two of them left in the office. A retired police officer who had completed her thirty years’ service and then, not ready to retire completely, had returned to the force as a civilian in the role of administrator. Amanda was the fount of all knowledge and always ready with an encouraging word and a friendly ear when the job got a bit too much. Tall with greying hair which she still habitually kept tied in a regimented police bun, she had an open and kind face.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,’ Maya replied, ‘I don’t mind a bit of office banter, I know it’s all meant in good humour.’

  ‘Do you mean Chris or Andy?’ Amanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, definitely Chris. I’ve no time for people like Andy. I’ve learnt over the years to just ignore ignorant racist bastards like him.’ Maya gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Being mixed-race means I’m either too white or too dark, depending on who you listen to. Never quite fitting in, you know?’

  Amanda smiled. ‘I have a feeling you’ll fit in here just fine. Go and see what Kym wants and then come and tell me all about the body yesterday.’

  Maya made tea then popped her head around Kym’s door.

  ‘Okay to come in?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. Let me just finish reading this email but sit yourself down. Just put those drinks down and pull the door shut.’

  Maya suddenly felt nervous as she pulled the office door to, worried that she may be in trouble as Kym usually operated an open-door policy. She sat herself opposite Kym and watched anxiously as her supervisor pored over the computer screen in front of her, a slight frown puckering at her brow. She suddenly felt a squeeze of dread in the pit of her stomach. Why was she here? Had she been found out? She began to gnaw at her cuticles; a typical sign that she was beginning to panic.

  ‘Thanks for the brew.’ Kym turned to look at Maya. ‘So, first things first, tell me about yesterday.’

  Maya paused, wondering if she could relax. Surely if Kym had discovered the truth and was going to have it out with her, she wouldn’t be asking so casually about yesterday. She dropped her hand back into her lap.

  ‘It went well, despite the really obvious misunderstanding.’

  Kym gave a sudden light-hearted laugh which surprised Maya. ‘Don’t worry. I can see how you came about your assumption. The pressure was on from both Doctor Granger and DI Redford to get the body processed as soon as possible. Obviously as a result it meant us having to send you off to a scene half-cock without knowing all the facts. Bit of a learning curve for us all there. Other than that, how was it – any problems?’

  ‘No, none at all. It’s a relief to have my first death over and done with. I think I coped okay and feel fine about it.’ Maya smiled confidently.

  ‘That’s good to hear. You’d be surprised the number of people who do this job thinking they can cope with the dead body side of things, then when it comes to the crunch, they just can’t hack it. If you can’t, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you attend a job that causes you issues, you need to speak out. Either to me, one of the others or force welfare.

  ‘You are responsible for your own well-being which includes your mental health. We all have that one job that messes us up a bit. If it happens to you, it’s essential you let someone know as there is help and support out there. You’ve come this far into your career; don’t risk it for the sake of asking for support if you ever need it.’

  Maya was touched by Kym’s kindness. Even before moving to Beech Field, she had heard about Kym’s notoriety for being a tough boss who didn’t suffer fools. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that the senior SOCO had a compassionate side. Perhaps it was this that reminded Maya of that final moment in Gorman’s kitchen, when she had a fleeting trepidation that she had missed something.

  ‘There’s just one really small thing. Just after we’d bagged the body. I suddenly had a funny sensation. More of a worry really – a concern that we’d missed or overlooked something. Is that normal?’

  Kym sat back and looked at Maya, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered her carefully from over the top of her glasses. Maya thought she looked like a stern, middle-aged librarian rather than a senior SOCO.

  ‘Anything happen to cause this notion?’

  ‘No. Like I said, it was just a… feeling.’ Maya was suddenly beginning to regret confiding to Kym’s softer side. The atmosphere had suddenly cooled, and Kym’s eyes were beginning to brew with that infamous, thunderous look.

  ‘You attended that scene with one of the most experienced SOCOs we have. Not only that but despite being known for being a bit of a bastard, Doctor Granger has been cutting up bodies since you were in nappies. Now you’re telling me that something that you can’t put your finger on gave you cause for concern. Did you mention this “feeling” to Chris or Doctor Granger at the time?’

  ‘Erm, no. I guess I just dismissed it as being first-body nerves. Probably just looking for something that wasn’t there.’ Maya back-pedalled frantically, trying to downplay the situation.

  ‘Quite. Just like assuming our dead body was a living, breathing pathologist. In this job, Maya, we stick with the facts. We work methodically and analytically and do not allow feelings or assumptions to cloud our judgement. Crime-scene investigation adopts scientific principles which we use to the letter and we don’t allow for unconscious bias.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Kym, it’s just that…’

  Kym raised her hand to silence Maya. ‘If you’re interested in superstition, conspiracy theories or “feelings”, then read the online comments left by the readers of our local rag. Listen to the armchair investigators who constantly criticise us and the cops for not doing our jobs properly because their auntie’s dog allegedly knows more about the facts than we do. Then decide whether you want to make a success of your career or go along with the mentality of the local gossips and naysayers. Understood?’

  To say that Maya was left to feel suitably chastened was an understatement. ‘Understood. Sorry, Kym.’

  ‘Right, let’s forget about it and move on.’ It was like flicking a switch as Kym’s terse demeanour suddenly seemed to soften again. ‘There’s a reason I’ve asked you in here but I’m afraid it’s quite a sensitive issue.’ She leaned conspiratorially towards Maya.

  ‘Erm, okay.’ Maya’s stomach lurched and she struggled to maintain her composure as a surge of panic rose up towards her throat. This was it – Kym must have found out about her.

  ‘I appreciate you’re on a rest day tomorrow but I’m a bit short-staffed and wondered if you would be willing to come in on overtime. It means an early start. I’d need you to be on duty and ready to go by 4am. The scene I need you to help examine is part of Operation Chrysalis.’

  Maya nearly laughed out loud with relief. She hadn’t been found
out after all and not only that, she was being offered the chance to work on a major scene. This was one of Beech Field’s highest priority operations, which as far as Maya knew, was focusing on a local, serious, organised crime gang ran by nominals, Aiden Donnelly and Piotr Nowak.

  The targets of Chrysalis were suspected to be encroaching on smaller drug dealers and using their arsenal of firearms to monopolise the market. More recently a feud had started between Donnelly and Nowak and their rivals: the McCluskey brothers. David and Damian McCluskey were well known for drug dealing and robbery offences. Anything to do with Chrysalis tended to be highly confidential, hence the need for the closed-door meeting.

  ‘Count me in. Please. Yes. Absolutely. I’d really, really love too,’ Maya chattered excitedly, stupid with relief.

  Kym eyed her curiously, not used to such an overkeen response. ‘Thank you. Right, the team are planning on executing a warrant at an address tomorrow morning. Once the arrest team have been in and the property and occupants are secured, they’ll confirm it’s safe for you to go in.

  ‘You’ll need to photograph and help package any items of interest which might include cash, clothing, drugs and any firearms. You don’t need me to remind you that if they do find a weapon then wait for the firearms unit to arrive and make it safe before you forensically recover it. We’re also going to be looking at proceeds of crime too, so take general photographs to record any items of affluence, such as jewellery, designer clothing, electric items, etc,’ she continued.

  ‘It’s a high value operation and there is some suggestion that this gang have been given tip-offs in the past, but we don’t know who from, so everything is being kept under wraps until the very last minute. You won’t even be given an address. One of the officers from the Tactical Aid Unit will accompany you in the SOCO van and you’ll be at the end of the convoy. Just stay in the van until you’re given the all-clear and obviously, ring me on my mobile if you need to ask anything. Does that sound okay?’