Driving Dead

by Stephen G Collier

  ‘Don’t be so stupid… ’ She grinned. ‘And no, you don’t.’

  ‘You asking me out on a date then?’ he teased.

  Kirsty looked down towards the floor, before replying.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jake said, ‘that was, inappropriate.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ she responded coyly, ‘I suppose I am.’ She stopped and looked directly at him, searching his face. Jake felt awkward and embarrassed.

  They finished their drinks and then walked out of the hospital entrance and across the car park to Jake’s patrol car. They stopped, she turned and looked him. Those twinkling green eyes caused a stirring of emotion in Jake. He rubbed a hand across his face.

  ‘Yes, Jake, I’m asking you to come with me to see my friend, as my friend and not as my FLO.’ The smile she gave him lit up her face. He smiled back. ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Kirsty, I will. And do you know what else? It’s nice to see you smiling again without feeling guilty about it.’

  ‘I can’t be in mourning forever, Jake.’ She said, glancing past him across the hospital estate.

  Briefly, Jake wondered whether she might be having second thoughts. ‘I know you can’t and I’d love to.’ At least it would do away with some of the awkwardness usual in the first flush of any romance, Jake thought.

  ‘Great. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve arranged it. See you soon.’ She turned to go, but Jake lightly took her arm and turned her towards him. It was now his turn to peck her on the cheek, as she had to him a few days before.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said in a whisper and set off across the car park. Before she crossed the road, she turned back towards him and gave a little wave. Jake got back into his patrol car and drove away. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy.

  It’s not normally in the role of a Family Liaison Officer to fall for his charge, but he’d been seeing and helping Kirsty since Jim’s death. He’d seen her at her lowest moments and had grown fonder of her with every encounter. To hell with regulations, if he wanted to start a relationship with her that was his business and sod all to do with the job – or so he thought.

  On the way back to the station, he received a radio message from Dave Harte, asking him to visit Major Crimes as soon as he could. A development in the Tyler case.

  20

  Arriving a few minutes before his two colleagues, Jake got out of his patrol car and walked over to Fulborough Wood. No longer ancient woodland, the trees having been removed by the Fulborough estate. Can’t really call it a wood anymore, Jordan thought. As part of the ancient Rockingham Forest the only thing that suggested there was ever a wooded area here were tree stumps and the tilled earth. The damp fresh smell of turned over earth and the cool breeze impacted on his senses and encouraged him to put his collar up. He glanced up at the grey sky, then back along the dry-stone wall that made up the perimeter of the wood. Some of it he saw was broken down, where people, he assumed, had entered the wood. There was no actual entrance from what he could see and what he knew from the files, the locals walked their dogs in the wood and surrounding area. But all that had now gone.

  He heard the sound of an approaching car and turned to see that Randall had collected Inspector Dave Harte in his dirty blue Mondeo car. They got out and all three stood in silence at the edge of the wood and surveyed the site before them. The sky was full of great plumes of grey clouds, being whipped along by winds high in the sky and threatening a downpour at any moment.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it, would you?’ said Jake, breaking the silence.

  ‘What wouldn’t you believe, Jake?’ responded Harte.

  ‘Twelve months ago, when I came here and stepped into this wood, some of the trees here that were probably hundreds of years old, have now been destroyed. And for what?’

  ‘Apparently, Fulborough wants to build some garages for his cars,’ replied Harte.

  ‘Certainly looks different. Completely changed the landscape. Couldn’t he have put his bloody cars somewhere else?’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk, driving that thing.’ Harte pointed to Jake’s X5.

  ‘I’m a country boy at heart,’ he replied, giving a wry smile.

  ‘Right, shall we get on with it then?’ Randall said, who had been silent during the conversation, deep in thought about the view in front of him. The other two nodded.

  ‘Whereabouts was the body found?’ Randall asked.

  ‘About seventy yards in from the wall.’ Harte pointed in the general direction and waved his hand vaguely, where Chris Prentice had crawled on the floor to find the skeletal remains of what turned out to be female.

  ‘And she was fully decomposed?’

  Harte replied, ‘Yes, skeletal.’

  ‘And you’ve not made any progress as to who she is?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. You have to remember that I got promoted out of the department about a month later and haven’t really kept up with the investigation.’

  ‘Did you want out?’ quizzed Randall.

  ‘Wasn’t given the choice.’

  Randall nodded. ‘What about access to the wood twelve months ago?’

  ‘Anyone could get in. In fact, most of the locals up the road used it to walk dogs, and kids used to play in it. Nobody seemed to bother, not even the landowner. There was a wall around half of the perimeter, that had been broken down here.’ Jake moved to give an idea to Randall where the wall used to be. ‘It was an evening that Prentice won’t forget in a hurry.’

  ‘And why’s that?’ asked Randall.

  ‘It was the first time he’d uncovered a murder victim.’

  Randall lifted his coat collar to keep away the light drizzle that had begun. ‘Always got to be a first time and you never forget it,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Amen to that,’ Harte said.

  Thinking out loud, Randall said, ‘So, we’ve got new information that there is another body buried here and, from what I have seen of the file already, it would seem that the view at the time was that it was the remains of a WPC Parker who went missing. What about other family, siblings, parents etcetera?’

  Jake wondered about saying something in the light of Parker’s impending return, but thought better of it, so kept quiet.

  ‘I didn’t think Tyler had any siblings, other than the stepbrother and stepsister. There were rumours that he had a real sister, but it didn’t come out in the ensuing enquiry who or even where she was.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Can you remember their names, Jake?’

  ‘Yes, I can. Adam Gaffney, the haulage guy.’ Jake was going to make a personal comment, but again decided to keep his mouth shut. Harte looked at Jake, but made no comment. They simply exchanged a look.

  ‘Did we do any further background on Tyler after his death?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. It all got put to bed, job done.’

  ‘Quite spectacularly, I understand.’

  ‘You could say that! Took us four months to piece together the bits, literally,’ Jake said.

  They moved forward onto the land and aimlessly wandered around kicking clods of earth and rocks, with no real idea of what they expected to find.

  ‘I suppose we ought to do some background on Tyler,’ Randall called to Harte.

  ‘Might be able to shed some light on who these remains belong to. And we are only assuming that Tyler killed them both.’

  ‘When are we going to dig?’ asked Harte.

  ‘I’ve arranged for an early start tomorrow. Bagshaw is being brought along to show us where.’

  ‘Does he know he’ll go down for this?’ Jake asked.

  ‘We’ve done a deal, as he’s turned Queen’s evidence, but he still might get a short custodial or even a suspended.’

  Jake nodded.

  Harte continued. ‘Clearly when we interviewed him, he was extremely remorseful fo
r what he had been party to.’

  ‘Church-going man.’ Jake kicked another clod of earth. ‘His conscience wouldn’t allow him to do anything other than return the bribe.’

  ‘Yes, and I think that came across to the CPS, as well. He obviously didn’t want to be involved, but got roped in. It’s a good job he gave the money back, otherwise the CPS may have taken a different view.’

  ‘As would I,’ replied Harte.

  After a few more minutes surveying the site, Jake went to walk back to his patrol car. A large pick-up truck rounded the corner as if the driver was in a hurry. It came to a sliding halt, kicking up loose stones and firing them at the stationary police cars. An angry Frank Philpott jumped out. Jake, removing some police tape from the back of the car, looked up and thought that there was something that had put a bee in this man’s particular bonnet.

  Storming over to the two officers and clearly spoiling for a fight, the man shouted, ‘What the fuck are you two doing?’ as he charged towards them. ‘This is private property and you can leave – now!’

  ‘Ah, Mr Philpott,’ said Harte as he walked towards him, ‘unfortunately, this is now a crime scene.’

  ‘It can be a fucking film scene, for all I care! You’re not doing anything on Fulborough’s land. Now, piss off.’

  ‘That’s really not the attitude, Mr Philpott. We’re here acting on information received and you have no say in the matter,’ Randall commented drily.

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ Philpott lunged at Harte, being closest to him, but Harte took a pace backwards, so Philpott didn’t get his hands on him. In the meantime, Jake had made his way over to the group and was standing outside Philpott’s view. Harte took a further pace backwards, placing himself in a defensive position.

  ‘I wouldn’t come any closer to me, Mr Philpott, and I warn you to stay back. Stay away from me.’

  ‘Really? And what are you going to do if I don’t?’

  ‘Then you’ll be coming with us to the police station.’

  Philpott laughed. ‘I’d like to see you try!’

  Philpott, was a big man and clearly thought he could get away with throwing his weight around with any one he liked, and used to getting his own way. And Jake was about to give him a wake-up call. Jake recognised the signs of aggression building in Philpott – the flushed face, the clenching and releasing of his big hands, the target acquisition, as his eyes flicked between Harte and Randall, who’d said nothing and kept a distance. But Jake was closing in on Philpott and removed his pepper-spray from his belt. The movement drew Philpott’s attention and he swung around to try to grab Jake. But Jake was quicker than Philpott and sidestepped him, as the big man came towards him.

  ‘Stay back!’ Jake shouted.

  Philpott didn’t heed Jake and, without further warning, Jake flicked the top of the pepper-spray and gave Philpott a good dose, hitting him squarely between the eyes.

  Philpott fell to his knees, rubbing his face with his hands and screaming all sorts of revenge upon the two policemen. Jake and Harte were on him swiftly and quickly handcuffed him and dragged him into the back of the patrol car.

  With Philpott screaming in agony in the back of the car, Harte turned to Randall. ‘Thanks a lot for your help.’

  Randall just shrugged. ‘You seemed to have it all under control.’

  ‘You could have helped a little more than you did, even just saying something to try to calm him down. We’re going back to the nick. You can do whatever you want to do.’

  ‘I shall, Dave, I shall,’ Randall said with a smirk.

  Harte and Jake got into their vehicle, with Philpott by now quiet and with his eyes tightly shut. They drove away from Fulborough Wood.

  ‘Why the hell didn’t he give us a hand?’ fumed Harte.

  ‘Probably didn’t want to get his new suit dirty,’ chuckled Jake.

  21

  Randall didn’t like mortuaries. He didn’t like peering at the dead, like some sort of voyeur. In fact he liked nothing about post mortems. The iodoform disinfectant smell of the mortuary made him feel like he wanted to puke. He’d managed to grab a coffee, as he entered the morgue for the first time, to try to suffocate that smell. It didn’t seem to work.

  He introduced himself to the mortuary attendant, Anton.

  ‘You’ve not been here before then?’ Anton asked in the Polish-English accent he had developed since his arrival in the UK.

  ‘No, first time,’ Randall replied looking around the office.

  ‘Needs a lick of paint,’ Anton admitted.

  ‘Mmm, I can see that. Where to now?’

  ‘Dr Kingsfield is looking at the remains in the PM room on the first floor. Come, I take you up there.’

  Randall put his coffee cup in the bin next to the sink, leaving the office, and making their way to the large lift, which took them to the first floor.

  ‘Have you met Dr Kingsfield before?’ Anton asked in the lift.

  ‘Yes, but only briefly.’

  Anton hesitated for a moment. ‘Such tragedy for her recently. It was very sad.’

  ‘Yes, I understand, very difficult to lose a loved one.’

  ‘They were very much in love. I could see that,’ Anton remarked, as he adjusted his trademark, bright yellow tie.

  ‘I’m surprised she came back to work so soon.’

  ‘She didn’t have much choice in the matter. Between you an’ me I think the way hospital management treated her was,’ he tried to think of the word, ‘diaboliczny – diabolical.’ Randall looked at Anton, not quite understanding what he meant.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he quizzed.

  ‘They took her away from being boss here.’

  ‘What? Because she was grieving for her murdered husband?’

  Anton nodded.

  ‘More like despicable and very cruel,’ Randall commented.

  ‘She had a lot of time off. Got very ill. Hit her very hard.’

  ‘I’m sure it did,’ Randall said, as he thought of the trauma he went through after the death of his own wife.

  ‘She is very good pathologist, I say that. At least they didn’t let her go completely.’

  ‘So, what does she do now?’

  ‘She’s on the pathology team with everyone else, but usually specialises in suspicious death, she still does forensics. Strange that she was my boss, which is really how I still see her, great respect.’

  The lift door opened onto a corridor with a set of double doors directly ahead. They entered the atrium of the post-mortem suite and prepared themselves for entering the PM room through another set of double doors directly ahead.

  Having gowned up, they entered. Randall noticed that it seemed cooler than the rest of the hospital. There were six post mortem tables in front of him. The one directly in front of him had a cadaver on, which another pathologist was working on. He seemed to mumble something to himself, as he cut away something which Randall couldn’t see in the chest cavity. On another stainless steel slab lay an old woman in a foetal position with her arm raised, as if saying hello. Anton saw Randall looking at her.

  ‘Can’t get her in the fridge until rigor’s gone.’ He smiled.

  Randall walked past the cadaver, trying not to look or think about how she got in that position. The male pathologist also gave Randall a wry smile as he walked on.

  Kirsty was working on the skeletal remain found in Fulborough Wood. She thanked Anton. ‘Inspector Randall, how are you today?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks, and it’s Fletch.’

  ‘I’ll stick to Inspector. For the time being,’ she said with a smile.

  Randall made no direct reply, but then asked, ‘What can you tell me then, Doctor Kingsfield?’ he said, emphasising her name.

  ‘These remains have been in the ground a little while.’

  ‘Estima
te?’ Randall folded his arms in front of him.

  ‘Ten to fifteen years, I’d say.’

  ‘Before Tyler’s time then?’

  Kirsty looked away from Randall at the sound of Tyler’s name, before responding.

  ‘Yes, I’d say so.’

  ‘Male or female?’

  ‘Female.’ Kirsty explained that the size of the pelvic bone and its shape made it obvious she was female.

  ‘Cause of death?’

  ‘Blunt force trauma to the head, I would say, but there may have been other factors in her death.’

  ‘Hmm, size and type,’ Randall replied.

  ‘Difficult to be precise without some other form of reference, other than it was probably square.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Randall asked.

  ‘Not that I can see. There’s been some damage caused post-mortem, probably when they excavated her for the first time, then put her back again. I can’t understand why they did such a thing.’

  ‘We’ve got a story from the estate manager as to why. Seems that he didn’t want to upset his boss, but I’ve a feeling he’s not telling all he knows. We’ve just got to figure out who she is and who put her there.’

  ‘Do you think he knows who she might be?’ asked Kirsty.

  Randall thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I have a hunch that he does.’

  ‘We’ve sent off for DNA and we’ll do a bone analysis, so we can give you an idea as to when she was interred. I can also tell you that she’d had a child from the striations on the inside of the pelvic bone.’ Kirsty waved a hand vaguely around the pelvic area.

  ‘OK, that could narrow it down a little bit. Not a lot I know, but a bit. How accurate will the bone analysis be then?’ Randall asked, peering at where Kirsty had indicated.

  ‘Modern radio-carbon methods can give a result to within eighteen months.’

  Randall nodded. ‘What about the DNA results?’

  ‘We had a bit of trouble getting a DNA result on the other victim in the wood, so don’t hold out your hopes on this one, as it’s been in the ground twice as long. We can only find mitochondrial DNA in bone, which is inherited from the maternal side. There are no genetic markers from the father.’