by P R Ellis
‘Police?’
‘No.’ Not anymore, she considered adding.
‘You’d better leave. The fire appears to have died down but it could flare up again now we’re letting in fresh air.’
‘I think it was only the victim that was on fire,’ Jasmine said pointing to the body on the bed. ‘Try not to disturb anything. This could be a crime scene.’
‘We understand, but now please leave so we can make sure it’s safe.’ The first firefighter pushed past her and moved around the bed while the other spoke into his radio. Jasmine backed into the hallway and out onto the top of the stairs. She took a deep breath and coughed, acrid smoke-flavoured phlegm filling her mouth. She spat it out over the railings. Another breath allowed fresh air to enter her lungs fully. The air tasted sweet and refreshing after the stench inside the flat. Jasmine felt light-headed and leaned against the metal safety barrier.
‘Are you alright, miss?’
Jasmine looked up to see a young police constable at the top of the stairs. She took in another large gulp of air and stood up straight.
‘Yes, thanks, I’m fine. There’s a body in there, so you had better cordon off this area, get back-up and call out Soco.’
‘My partner’s doing that. Who are you?’ The young police officer tried to look authoritative.
Jasmine dug in her bag for her private investigator’s ID and flashed it at him.
‘Jasmine Frame, Investigator. A girl from the ground floor flat said there might be someone up here, so I broke in and found the body. I’ll have a statement to make to the investigating officer as the fire service may contaminate the incident scene.’
It took a few moments for the officer to take in all that Jasmine had said. Then his manner changed. He relaxed a little and looked at Jasmine with something like respect.
‘I see. Was the fire an accident?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s odd. Only the body has burned.’
His face turned pale. ‘You mean, like spontaneous combustion?’
‘It looks like that, but there’s no such thing.’ Jasmine was trying to make herself think rationally, while all the time her mind was filled with the stench and image of the burned body and the noise of the alarm. The smell she now realised was the result of the girl’s body cooking in its own juices and the thought made her shudder. She retched and clamped her hand to her mouth, thankful that she hadn’t eaten anything other than a couple of biscuits during her day of surveillance.
‘Perhaps you should come downstairs, miss,’ the young PC said, reaching out for her elbow. Jasmine nodded, afraid to move her hand from her mouth.
They descended slowly, the police officer holding Jasmine’s arm to steady her. She was surprised how sick and faint she felt. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a body, not even a burned one. They paused at the first floor as three more firefighters bustled up the stairs, one a woman, Jasmine noted. At the bottom of the stairs was the girl who had raised the alarm. She looked anxiously at Jasmine.
‘Is she OK? Xristal?’
‘I don’t think you should be here, miss,” the police officer said. The girl gave him a fierce look then turned back to Jasmine.
‘Is she?”
‘Was Xristal a friend of yours?’ Jasmine said, swallowing and making a determined effort to act as if she was in charge.
‘Sort of. Hadn’t known her long.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Tilly.’
‘Well, Tilly, she’s not OK. If it was Xristal who was in the flat, then I’m afraid to say she’s dead.’
Tilly covered her face with both hands and began to cry. A firefighter came down the stairs.
‘Move away please. This is the Incident Zone. Please move back, away from the building.’
The police officer guided Jasmine and Tilly towards the lane that ran behind the row of houses. They edged past the two fire appliances that almost filled the width of the lane. Another police officer was cordoning off the area. A Ford Mondeo drew up and a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair got out. He walked towards them.
‘Tom!’ Jasmine called out. DS Tom Shepherd stopped with a confused look on his face.
‘Jasmine?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I didn’t recognise you. The hair...’
Jasmine had forgotten her wig. She tugged it off and shook her blonde hair free.
‘Sorry, I forgot I was wearing that thing.’
‘Why…?’
‘To stop people recognising me. Thanks to Sloane I’m still a bit of a celebrity. I couldn’t work if people recognised me all the time.’ She shoved the wig into her bag.
‘No, I meant, why are you here?’
‘Oh. By accident really. I was on a job out in the road.’
‘A job?’
‘Yes, you know. Watching someone.’
Tom looked her up and down.
‘You don’t dress up for work then?’
Jasmine looked down at herself, seeing her skimpy top and short skirt through Tom’s police protocol eyes.
‘I wore what I thought would be comfortable for sitting in a car all day.’
‘Hmm. OK. Who’s this?’ He nodded at Tilly.
‘This is Tilly. She raised the alarm. I went up to the top flat, broke in and found...and found...’ The smell and taste returned sickeningly to her mouth.
‘A body?’ Tom offered.
‘Yes.’ Jasmine was about to add, a burned body, but recalled that Tilly was by her side.
‘Do we know who it is?’
‘It’s probably a girl called Xristal ... uh,’ she looked at Tilly for help.
‘Xristal Newman,’ Tilly said, stifling a sob. Tom had his pocket book out.
‘How do you spell that?’
‘She spelt it with an X; X-r-i-s-t-a-l,’ Tilly said between sobs. Hearing the name spelt out made Jasmine doubt that it was the name she was born with. It sounded like an affectation.
DS Shepherd turned to the police officer. ‘Call HQ and get the pathologist here a.s.a.p. Right, let’s see what’s happening.’ He strode off towards the fire engines. Jasmine ran after him.
‘You can’t go back in there!’ one of the police officers called out. Jasmine ignored him. She caught up with Tom and followed him into the car park and towards the stairs. The monotonous wail of the smoke alarm stopped suddenly. The relative silence felt like an absence.
‘What are you doing, Jas?’ Tom said, turning towards her.
‘I’m going to examine the scene of the incident.’
‘But you’re not a police officer, Jas!’
‘That’s not something I can forget, Tom, but I was the first on the scene. I saw it before the fire service started trampling all over it. I can tell you if anything has been changed.’ Jasmine watched various expressions pass across Tom’s face. At last he came to a decision.
‘OK, but don’t touch anything.’
‘Of course not.’
Tom led the way up the stairs, his heavy police shoes making the metal treads vibrate. They met a firefighter coming down.
‘Is the fire out?’ Tom asked, flashing his ID.
‘Yes. Looks like it. We’re keeping an eye on it but it looks safe now. It’ll interest you guys.’ He carried on downwards.
‘Sounds exciting,’ Tom said, continuing the climb. That wasn’t quite how Jasmine viewed it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to face that sight and smell again, but the thrill of being on an investigation outweighed the nausea she felt. A couple more firefighters emerged from the top floor flat and squeezed passed them. As Tom and Jasmine entered, the last two firefighters were standing in the hall, their breathing masks dangling from their helmets.
‘Hi, I’m DS Shepherd. I’m in charge of the investigation, until further notice.’ He waved his ID with practised authority.
‘Well, it’s certainly one for you,’ one of the firefighters said.
‘There’s a body?’
‘Just the one
.’
‘And the fire’s out?’
‘Yes, you can go in. We’ll hang around to make sure and complete our investigation. There was only one site of the fire.’ The firefighter led Tom and Jasmine into the main room. The smoke had cleared, but the smell was still almost as strong. Jasmine felt herself beginning to retch again. She clenched her jaw, determined not to be sick. Tom hesitated just inside the door.
‘Not nice,’ he muttered. Jasmine squeezed past him so she could look at the charred remains and the peculiar arrangement of limbs.
‘Do you know the cause of the fire?’ she asked.
‘There’s the stump of a candle beside the body,’ the firefighter said, ‘and there must have been an accelerant, probably alcohol. There’s an empty bottle there.’ He pointed to the table. One empty bottle stood apart from the fuller ones. Jasmine bent to see what it was – vodka.
‘Why is the body so badly burned while the rest of the flat is practically untouched?’ Tom asked, shaking his head at the sight before him.
‘The burning alcohol burnt through the skin and melted the subcutaneous fat,’ the firefighter explained, ‘but there’s barely anything flammable on the bed – the victim was naked, there are no bedclothes and it’s a sprung mattress and steel frame so there was little else to fuel the flames. The body has probably been smouldering for some time, and with the door closed the smoke only just built up enough to set off the smoke alarm a short time ago.’
‘Was the door closed, Jas?’
‘Yes. When I broke in through the front door there was just a little smoke coming through the cracks.’
‘So, the girl must have been asleep, unconscious or dead when the fire started.’
The firefighter shook his head. ‘Not asleep. The initial shock of the burning alcohol would have woken her up.’
‘Unless she was drugged?’ Jasmine suggested.
‘That’s a possibility,’ Tom agreed.
‘She looks almost as if she’s been laid out.’ Jasmine indicated the star pattern of legs, arms and head.
‘Do you mean, like in some kind of ritual?’
Jasmine stroked her cheek, unsure what she meant.
‘I don’t know, but it looks like a deliberate killing and not an accident or suicide.’
‘Yeah, I can’t see how she could have done this to herself,’ the firefighter said, backing away. ‘I’ll leave you while I make my report.’
‘Let’s take a look around, Jas. I suppose we need a formal identification that the body is this Xristal girl. But take care. Soco will be here soon in all their gear.’
Tom remained staring at the body while Jasmine moved slowly and carefully around the bed to look on top of the chest of drawers. There was the usual clutter of bits and pieces – cosmetics, a few coins, tissues, a photograph.
The early evening light through the window illuminated the small photo that lay flat on the chest. Jasmine examined it. It showed two young women in bikinis, arm in arm on a sandy beach in summer sunshine. Both girls wore bikini tops that barely covered their firm breasts, although their bikini bottoms were more substantial. One was slim and dark-haired – Xristal? The other was a good eight inches taller and stockier with blonde hair piled high and spilling over her shoulder. She had huge breasts. To Jasmine she appeared top heavy, with her narrow waist and hips.
Jasmine rummaged in her bag for her smartphone, swiped it on and held it above the photo. She pressed a finger against the screen. There was the anachronistic click. She looked at the picture, then repeated the process.
‘What are you doing?’ Tom asked.
‘There’s a photo here, two girls, one of them Xristal, I think, but I don’t want to pick it up. I’ve taken a few shots, – here, have a look.’ She held up the phone to him. His glance flicked from the screen to the pale, waxy, smoke-smudged head with the singed dark hair on the bed.
‘Yeah. Looks like her. Not good enough for a formal ID but something to be going on with.’
‘I’ll see if Tilly recognises her.’ Jasmine started to move towards the door.
‘Before you go, was there a phone or wallet or handbag over there?’
‘No.’
‘I can’t see any of her personal stuff anywhere.’
‘I suppose she could have kept everything in drawers or in the wardrobe?’
‘Yeah, we’ll have to wait for Soco to come and open everything up.’
‘I’ll ask Tilly what she knows about Xristal.’
‘You do that.’
Jasmine stepped out onto the landing. It was drizzling. At least it was washing the smell of smoke from the air. She hurried down the stairs. The young police officer was standing at the bottom.
‘Hi, where’s the girl, Tilly?’ Jasmine asked.
‘In her flat,’ he replied. ‘The fire crew said it was safe to go back inside.’
‘Thanks.’ Jasmine ducked under the stairs and approached the back door of the ground floor flat. She tapped on the door and entered. Tilly was standing in the small kitchen watching a kettle start to boil.
She looked at Jasmine. ‘Oh, it’s you. You look different. What’s happening?’ Jasmine recalled she hadn’t put the brown wig back on. Too late now.
‘The police are starting their investigations. We need to check that the body is Xristal’s. Do you recognise her in this photo?’ Jasmine handed over her phone.
Tilly stared at the picture and began to sob again.
‘Yes, that’s her.’
‘The dark-haired girl?’
‘Yes. Is she... is she the one upstairs?’
‘Looks like it. Who’s the other girl in the picture, the big blonde?’
‘Oh, that’s Honey.’
‘Honey who?’
‘Honey Potts. Silly name, isn’t it?’
Jasmine nodded. Another assumed name, she thought.
‘Xristal and Honey were close friends,’ Tilly added.
‘Where does Honey live?’
‘I don’t know. She used to have the middle flat here, but she moved out a couple of weeks ago, pretty suddenly.’
‘So you were all friends here, were you?’
‘Oh, no. I only moved in a month or so ago. I hardly knew Honey. Didn’t really get to know Xristal much, certainly not at first. She and Honey were close. But in the last couple of weeks, I suppose Xristal and I had a bit more of a chat – but only when we bumped into each other.’
‘What do you know about Xristal?’
‘Why?’
‘So we can build up a picture. Perhaps get an idea who might have done it.’
‘Done it? You mean Xristal was murdered? It wasn’t an accident?’
Damn, Jasmine thought, I must be out of practice, I didn’t mean to give that away so easily.
‘Perhaps,’ she said, trying to backtrack, ‘Look, any chance of a coffee?’
‘Oh, yeah. I was making one myself.’ Tilly collected mugs and coffee. ‘Milk? Sugar?’
‘Just plain black please.’
Tilly poured the hot water and passed her a mug. Jasmine thought she might be offered a seat in the main room, but Tilly remained standing holding her mug with a pensive look on her face.
‘So, what was Xristal like?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Her manner – happy, sad, quiet, loud?’
‘Oh, Honey was the loud one. Never stopped talking, telling jokes, leaping around. Xristal was sort of quiet, composed.’
‘In control?’
‘Nah, I’m not sure about that. She always did what Honey asked her to do. Ran round after her.’
‘But Honey left suddenly?’
‘Well, neither of them told me she was going. There one day, gone the next.’
‘Didn’t Xristal say anything afterwards?’
‘Didn’t mention her.’
‘Had they had a bust up?’
‘Dunno. They may have done. I heard them having a row, well, Honey having a row, a day or so before she left, but t
hat wasn’t unusual – she was always shouting.’
Jasmine remembered that she was supposed to be finding out about Xristal’s handbag.
‘Hmm. Did Xristal have a particular handbag?’
Tilly pondered. ‘Yeah, she did carry a leather bag around with her - red, good quality but pretty old.’
‘With a phone and a purse or wallet in it?’
‘Don’t know about that, but she definitely had an iPhone or something.’
Jasmine finished her coffee.
‘Thanks. I’d better be getting back to Tom, uh, DS Shepherd. Thanks for the coffee.’
‘Why are you asking all these questions? You’re not a detective are you?’
Jasmine was about to bridle and insist that she was, until she remembered that she wasn’t - officially.
‘No, just helping DS Shepherd until the other police investigators arrive. Oh, by the way, do you have any contact details for family or friends of Xristal?’
‘No, nothing. I didn’t even have her as a contact on my phone.’
‘Right. Well, hang around because I expect they’ll want to speak to you again.’
‘Oh. It’s a bit inconvenient right now.’
‘I know, but they’ll need all the information they can get on Xristal - and Honey too.’
A worried frown passed across Tilly’s face.
‘I see. I’d better make some calls.’ She ushered Jasmine towards the door, appearing a little flustered, as if she had just realised the effect that the police investigation would have on her life.
Jasmine returned to the dreary and damp backyard. A figure in blue overalls was approaching the stairs.
‘Oh, hello. Jasmine Frame, isn’t it?’
The voice of Dr Winslade, the pathologist, was familiar and Jasmine recognised her face, despite the hood pulled tightly to hold in her hair.
‘Hi.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I discovered the body.’
‘Oh, lucky you. Top floor isn’t it?’
Jasmine nodded and followed her up the stairs. They found Tom standing in the hallway talking on his phone with his notebook open in his other hand. He nodded and beckoned the pathologist through. Jasmine followed her into the flat.
Dr Winslade stood by the bed and looked up and down the body, then bent and peered closer at the torso. She examined the crotch, then her examination moved up the fire-blackened chest.