‘Yeah, fair enough, but suicide? Who would have thought that’s how she would have chosen to go? I wonder what drove her to it. Have you any idea?’
Maya gave a hollow laugh. ‘After the bollocking I’ve just had, I’m not speculating about anything else today.’
‘Oh?’ He frowned quizzically.
‘Never mind.’ She shook her head, still feeling foolish about her flippant theory.
‘C’mon,’ he goaded lightly. ‘You can’t say something like that and not tell me. What’s happened?’
The fact she was still burning with shame over the recent incident and seeing how understanding and kind Dave Wainwright seemed to be, was all the encouragement Maya needed to unburden herself.
‘I made a flippant comment in the office about how this year was becoming the year of criminals dying, in the same way as 2016 became known for losing a lot of celebrities.’
‘Okay…’ Wainwright said hesitantly as he tried to grasp Maya’s understanding.
‘Well, it started with Karl Gorman the other week, then Jim Baron and now Celeste. It was just meant as a joke really. But the last few sudden deaths we’ve dealt with have involved well-known criminals. Anyway, I got a complete roasting off Kym about my “fantasist notions”, which is why I said I won’t be speculating anymore.’
‘These sudden deaths though, have any of them been found to be suspicious?’ Wainwright said as he scribbled something down.
‘Well, no.’ Maya was distracted by a white car that had just driven slowly past them. She could see through the rear-view mirror that it was reversing and heading back towards them and she was curious to see who it was. ‘I mean, I only attended Gorman’s death, a colleague of mine went to Baron’s. There was nothing suspicious about Gorman’s in the end and I believe the same was concluded about Baron. I think in both cases, their unhealthy lifestyle had caught up on them, so natural causes really.’ She shrugged with little conviction.
‘Like you said though, it is bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? The death of three known criminals in the space of a few weeks is enough to make you wonder if there is something suspicious behind it.’
‘Well, they do say there’s no such thing as coincidence in the cops. You should know that better than anyone. But that said, we haven’t found anything that has given us, or the pathologist, cause for concern.’
Wainwright raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t speak too soon; you’ve not examined this crime scene yet.’
The white car that had caught Maya’s attention was now parked up alongside Maya’s van. Wainwright turned to watch as a man in a suit climbed out of the car. He was clutching a leather holdall and paused briefly to peer through the window of Maya’s van.
‘Looks like we’ve got company.’ Wainwright nodded towards the man as he spotted them in the car and began striding over.
‘It’s not the bloody press, is it?’ Maya tutted. ‘That’s the last thing we need.’
Suddenly the passenger door was wrenched open and the man was looming through the doorway.
‘Maya Barton?’
‘Yes? Who are you and what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ She reached across to pull the passenger door shut again but he swiftly blocked her with his leg.
‘What the hell are you doing more like? Get out of the car!’ he hissed as he glared at Wainwright. Suddenly a crackle of static from the police radio filled the air, clearly coming from the man’s holdall.
Maya was temporarily stunned and confused in equal measures. Despite his padded frame, Dave Wainwright was doing a good job of sinking back into the driver’s seat, wearing a sheepish, yet amused look on his face.
‘You’re not a detective?’ Maya stated stupidly.
‘He’s one of the biggest parasites I’ve ever met,’ the man replied as he pulled the door open even wider and gestured for Maya to get out of the car. ‘He’s a reporter for the Evening News.’
17
Maya leapt out of the driving seat like a scalded cat. ‘You bastard. You absolute bastard!’ she screamed at the journalist. ‘You let me think you were a police officer.’
Wainwright looked completely unabashed. ‘Your mistake, darlin’ not mine. You were the one who willingly got into my car. I haven’t done anything wrong.’
He was laughing now, and it was all Maya could do to hold back the angry tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her get upset. She’d fucked up again, and royally this time. That was humiliation enough.
‘You’ve got your pound of flesh, Wainwright, now fuck off,’ the man hissed as he pulled Maya away towards her van.
‘I’m not breaking any laws by being here and you can’t make me move on,’ Wainwright shouted after them. ‘I told you, I’ve done nothing wrong!’
Maya climbed numbly into the driving seat and started up the van as the detective settled himself into the passenger seat and shouted up on the police radio, ‘DS Dwyer to comms. Please can you show myself and SOCO at the scene at Field View? Can you ask PC Owen to open the gates for us and also update the log that the press are sniffing around on Mile Lane?’
The radio crackled an assent and Maya drove forward in anticipation of the large electric gates beginning to swing open. She was so mortified and humiliated; she could barely bring herself to speak.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. She nodded numbly and concentrated on driving through the gates as he exhaled.
‘He’s a bastard that Wainwright, I’ve met him before. When I was in uniform. I was guarding the scene of a murder and he pulled up and started chatting to the neighbours. Because of his car and how he approached them, they assumed, like you, that he was a detective and started to tell him all about the family.’
‘That’s awful.’
He nodded. ‘There was no way they would have talked to the press otherwise. He printed every word including the neighbours’ names. It was as frustrating as hell because he’d not actually claimed he was a police officer, so I couldn’t nick him for that. He just likes playing on people making that assumption and he’s very good at it.’
‘Well, he had me fooled,’ Maya said miserably.
‘I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t beat yourself up about it. You weren’t to know. If I’d got here before you it wouldn’t have happened. I got delayed on the way out by an urgent phone call, otherwise I would have been here first and you wouldn’t have spoken to him.’
‘I’ve only got myself to blame for making stupid assumptions. It’s certainly not your fault, but I appreciate the sentiment.’ Maya smiled at him.
He smiled back and extended his hand. ‘Rude of me to not even properly introduce myself, I’m Jack Dwyer.’
They shook hands as Maya took in his appearance. He was early thirties, tall and lean, with a shaved head and a hint of stubble on his face. He had dark eyes and an easy smile. He was wearing charcoal-coloured suit trousers, a short-sleeved, crisp white shirt and bright-blue tie. He seemed pleasant enough and she appreciated his efforts to reassure her.
They had driven up the driveway and pulled up outside the front door of Field View. Jack let out a low whistle. ‘Blimey, it’s not often we get to come to nice properties like this. Most of our crime scenes are usually shitholes.’ Maya nodded in agreement and was about to switch the engine off when Jack held his hand up to stop her.
‘Before we go in, you better just let me know what you said to Wainwright. It might be worth me letting the boss know before we leave as a bit of damage limitation.’
Maya groaned. ‘He’s going to print what I’ve just told him, isn’t he?’ She dropped her head on her hands over the steering wheel and let out a little scream.
‘Maybe. What did you say?’
Jack listened in silence as Maya relayed the conversation and admitted she’d shared not only the news of Celeste Warren’s apparent suicide, but also their conversation about the coincidental sudden deaths of three known criminals.<
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‘Listen’ he said reassuringly, ‘this news about Warren is going to be huge. She’s been infamous for decades. As for the other deaths, that was just your supposition. I can’t see him printing anything so vague that has no basis for fact.’
He squeezed her arm reassuringly. ‘What’s done is done. Let’s check this scene out and I’ll have a word with the boss when I ring to debrief him, okay?’
Maya smiled gratefully at him. They made their way round to the back of the van where they busied themselves with selecting the right size scene suits and gathering up masks and gloves. When they were ready, they signed into PC Owen’s scene log and Maya took a couple of photographs to record the front of the palatial dwelling.
Jack Dwyer was right, Maya thought. She couldn’t take back the conversation she’d had with Wainwright any more than she could take back her sudden death theory in front of Kym. She found herself wondering how Wainwright had heard of Celeste’s death so soon. She recalled the conversation she’d had with Amanda about someone in Beech Field leaking information. The word corruption hung on her like a dead weight and she wondered whether she should say something to Jack.
Then she thought about how she had already messed up once again and decided to leave it. Now was not the time and certainly not the place to worry about it. Celeste Warren was lying dead on the asphalt at the back of this house and it was Maya’s job to record and examine the scene.
‘Do we need stepping plates?’ Jack hovered uncertainly at the front door.
‘There’s nothing to suggest anything suspicious, so no, not at this stage,’ Maya said. ‘Obviously if she’d been found riddled with bullets or with a knife sticking out of her chest, then we’d bring in the stepping plates. Our scene suits and overshoes are a good enough precaution in the meantime.’
Maya entered the front door and photographed her way down the decorative hallway and into the lounge. She was impressed with the size of the house, but not so much with the décor, which was needlessly avaricious. Once she had photographically recorded each side of the room, she began to have a closer look around, starting with the glass coffee table which presented an empty champagne bottle, a champagne glass, two pink Swarovski coasters and a piece of paper.
‘Suicide note,’ she called to Jack as she took a close-up photograph of it in situ on the coffee table. He quietly appeared at her side and peered over her shoulder as she read aloud.
‘To Whom It May Concern, I would like to say sorry to all the people who have suffered because of me. I am sorry for all the bad things I have done. I am ripent repentunt repentant.’
The note had been written in a large, looping print. The failed spellings had been scored through heavily as if written by a child. The writing was signed off with Celeste Warren’s inimitable signature, the flourish of which was punctuated with a kiss in the form of an ‘X’.
Maya placed the note carefully back on the table next to the empty champagne bottle and glass. ‘I’ll exhibit that and take it back with me,’ Maya informed Jack. ‘It can always go for chemical treatment to enhance fingerprints if need be.’
‘Surely there’s no need for that if it’s not suspicious though?’
‘I’ll collect it and if the boss is satisfied there’s nothing further to examine, then it can just be booked into property rather than go to the lab. It’s quite a succinct suicide note, isn’t it?’
‘They usually are,’ Jack said. ‘Usually a line of apology, occasionally a reason why and a final “I love you”. Goodbye cruel world, that kind of thing. A lot of people don’t even leave them. You have to consider the extreme frame of mind somebody’s going to be in before they take their own life. Sad really.’ He glanced around the rest of the room, no longer interested in the note, choosing instead to peruse a photograph album of Celeste back when she had been in her prime.
They made their way through to the kitchen where Jack discovered more signs that Celeste had been drinking. Maya photographed another empty champagne bottle and a crystal tumbler that smelt strongly of gin.
She then concentrated on scouring through the contents of a kitchen drawer which contained various bits of paperwork, including an address book and copies of a mobile phone contract and a warranty.
Maya compared Celeste’s handwriting and the signature with the kiss, to that from the suicide note. She was happy they were one and the same. She carefully took photographs so the comparison could be shown to the coroner.
‘Do you want to come and photograph this too, Maya?’ Jack called.
He had disappeared into the downstairs toilet, which was accessed from the utility room, just off the kitchen. He nodded towards the sink where the faint traces of lines of cocaine remained evident on the tiled surface. An empty, clear snap bag and rolled-up fifty-pound note lay next to the telltale lines.
‘Champagne, gin and charlie. She must’ve been smacked off her tits,’ Jack mused as Maya snapped away. ‘Shall we go and have a quick look upstairs and then we can go and see what state Madam’s in?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
As before, she led the way photographing their route through the house until they arrived in Celeste’s bedroom. The patio door was wide open, and Maya took a moment to savour the sweet-scented breeze that drifted across the room. The paper scene suit had become unbearably hot in the warm weather, and Maya could already feel herself begin to dehydrate.
‘Jesus, this is the archetypal tart’s boudoir if ever I’ve seen one.’ Jack surveyed the room taking in the animal print furnishings and the imposing circular bed.
‘Seen many, have you?’ Maya said with a smirk.
‘That’s for me to know and you to wonder,’ he replied with a raise of his eyebrows.
It was difficult to photograph the room without Maya capturing her own reflection in one of the many mirrors. When she had finally finished, she made her way out onto the roof terrace and took a few more pictures. Satisfied that she had recorded everything adequately, she looked over the edge of the wall and surveyed Celeste Warren’s broken body.
She was joined by Jack, who let out a low whistle at the distance between the roof and the body on the floor.
‘She will be known from hereon in as Humpty Dumpty,’ Maya quipped as she photographed the body from her advantage viewpoint.
‘She’ll not be causing any more trouble, that’s for sure,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll just have a quick scan round the bedroom while you finish up out here.’
Maya carefully scanned the wall and floor for scuff marks or anything similar. She noticed what appeared to be partial footwear marks on thick uPVC trunking that ran around the wall. The marks were consistent with Celeste having used this as a step-up to the top of the wall before she had jumped. The patio furniture did not appear disturbed, and like the rest of the house so far, there appeared to be nothing untoward. Certainly nothing that would indicate a struggle or foul play had taken place.
‘Hey, Maya, come and cop a load of this,’ Jack called. Taking one last look at Celeste’s body, Maya returned to the bedroom where Jack was stood staring into a walk-in wardrobe. The innocuous-looking space was filled with a huge array of sex toys and other paraphernalia. They had been displayed in a manner that resembled an exhibition.
‘Blimey.’ Maya let out a snort. ‘Humpty Dumpty liked a bit of rumpy-pumpy, didn’t she?’
‘She certainly did. Rumour has it she’s been rogered more times than the police radio.’
‘Well, God forbid a woman should be able to enjoy sex too. They’ll be giving us the vote next,’ Maya said dryly as Jack stepped back so she could include the wardrobe and its contents in her scene photographs.
‘All done,’ she said. ‘Shall we go outside and have a look at her?’
He nodded and the two of them made their way out. As the entrance via the stable door in the kitchen was locked, they walked from the front door to the rear of the property.
Celeste had landed as if she was doing a jumping jack. Her legs and arms were
extended; a large pool of blood had settled like treacle underneath her body and around her head area. Celeste’s neck lay at an awkward angle and Maya suspected it was broken. Most of her face had been mashed into the concrete. Her left eye had been obliterated causing the eyeball to hang from the socket. It was partially covered with a sweep of hair, which Maya carefully smoothed away before taking a series of photographs.
Maya carefully examined Celeste’s exposed hand, wrists and forearms for any obvious injuries that could relate to defence wounds. Once again, she was surprised at how cold the body felt despite the hot weather. Satisfied that there was nothing apparent, she gave Jack the nod and between them, they carefully rolled her over onto her back.
As the body shifted position, a fresh stream of blood pooled from the shattered face. The sudden stream caused Jack to instinctively jump backwards, causing Maya to laugh.
‘All right, you,’ he said. ‘At least I’ve not struck up a conversation with her.’
Maya rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve heard too, have you?’
‘I hate to tell you this, but everyone’s heard.’
‘Well, everyone might have to hear about you jumping at the sight of a little bit of blood,’ she retorted as she continued to photograph the body. Next, she returned her attention back toward the house so she could record the location of the body in conjunction with the roof terrace.
‘So, what do we think?’ Jack sank to his haunches and stared at the smashed face. ‘Did Humpty jump, fly, or was she pushed?’
‘Fly?’
‘From the drugs and booze. She might have thought she was flying. It does happen.’
Maya nodded. ‘But surely she wouldn’t have written that note if she was tripping.’ She pondered the position of the body. ‘Was the property secure when the housekeeper arrived?’
‘Apparently the electric gates were open, but that’s not unusual as Celeste didn’t drive. She left the gates open for the local taxi firm which she used frequently. Anyway, the housekeeper let herself in the front door with her key. According to her initial account, she knew her employer must still be at home because the entrance panel on the burglar alarm didn’t sound when she let herself in.’
Definitely Dead Page 10