‘Really?’ said Charley, chomping the crisp bacon, while all the time thinking of her next move in the enquiry.
‘Yes. The nervous system sends out messages to the adrenal glands to tell the kidneys to pump the hormone epinephrine.’ Annie paused for a moment to nibble on a piece of bread. ‘That’s adrenaline to you and me. Then epinephrine helps trigger the body’s flight-or-fight response, which temporarily puts eating on hold. I guess my adrenaline has gone!’
Annie took another bite of the greasy, reinvigorating butty, looking very pleased with herself.
Still chewing, Charley screwed up her paper bag, and stuffed it in the pocket of her door. Without further ado she switched on the engine.
‘The postman needs eliminating,’ she said, looking in her side and rearview mirror, before steering the car away from the kerbside.
Annie glanced at her boss, a puzzled look on her face. She popped the last morsel of the food in her mouth and swallowed hard. ‘Why? Do you think he might be involved?’
Without taking her eyes off the road ahead, and with a cocked eyebrow Charley replied. ‘We never assume, do we?’
Unblinking, the younger detective’s eyes were intent on her supervisor’s face. ‘You can’t help but develop your own theories about what happened, and who is likely to have done it though, can you?’
Charley agreed. ‘Developing theories is better than drawing conclusions as you’re much more likely to overlook, or ignore, evidence that doesn’t fit the conclusion.’
‘Mmm… so, what’s your advice then?’
‘We doubt, and question, even what appears to be definitive and damning evidence, until the investigation is over. New evidence, at any point, could radically change the enquiry.’
‘What will we do next?’ Annie said, eagerly.
‘We will see what the postman said to the officers who took his initial statement. Then, we’ll speak to him.’
‘The person who discovers the body doesn’t want to speak to us. He’s obviously suss right?’
‘If he doesn’t want to speak to us, then we look at him more closely.’
* * *
Ricky-Lee was sitting at his desk waiting for Charley when the women returned.
‘Where did you two get to?’ he asked.
‘Why?’ said Charley, shrugging off her coat as she scurried past him.
‘I need to discuss the priority for submission of the exhibits to Forensic,’ he called after her.
‘Can it wait ten minutes?’ she shouted from her office where she was booting up her computer. ‘I want to read the postman’s statement again.’
Annie raised her eyebrows at Ricky-Lee. ‘How about making us all a nice cuppa coffee while you wait, eh?’ she said, smugly. ‘Don’t you know the person who reports the discovery of a body sometimes turns out to be the killer?’ The young detective held her colleague’s gaze a little longer than necessary. She had a glint in her eye. Ricky-Lee could not suppress a smile. Sitting down at her desk, Annie saw Wilkie who sat across from her was engrossed, copying something from his computer screen to paper.
‘Stop winding him up,’ he snarled, without looking up.
The friendly banter continued and Annie stood up to follow Ricky-Lee into the kitchen. ‘The boss let you drive her yet, after you nearly knocked down that kid running away from the university last month?’ he called over his shoulder.
At the kitchen door he turned to see Annie, a false smile upon her face.
‘I tell you that twat was up to no good. He was running away from something, or someone you mark my words. All will come out in the wash, as Winnie says.’
Charley could hear her colleague chatting out in the office and got up to close her door. She understood that Ricky-lee and Annie likely needed to let off some steam after the post-mortem, but she needed to concentrate. Postman Dennis Mugglestone reported that he had seen ‘all sorts’ over the years. From folk the worse for wear, going home from what they called ‘a good night out’, just as he was heading out to work, to the hungry and less fortunate stealing food from the bins. He’d alerted the police on many occasions, he said, for many different reasons, such as people pushing wheelbarrows full of what looked like stolen goods along the streets, and others dealing drugs. ‘I’ve never come across a body ’afore,’ Dennis was reported as saying. It was noted by the detective speaking to him that in his opinion the postman was still in shock.
However genuine Mr Mugglestone appeared to be, Charley knew that murderers often thought that by reporting a crime, they could bluff their way out of being named as a suspect. How wrong they were though. Especially on Charley’s watch. Only evidence to prove them innocent would see anyone eliminated from an enquiry of hers.
Evidence had previously shown the SIO that the CCTV around the town centre was of good quality. Daily, it identified to the police the whereabouts of wanted criminals, and secured evidence against others. Viewing the CCTV in the immediate area around the Medway Bakery was identified by Charley as top priority. She was aware that her patience would be tested as a result, keen as she was to find a suspect quickly. A cup-half-full woman, she was hopeful that on this enquiry the CCTV would produce footage of the victim, her murderer, or possible witnesses to the crime.
The intelligence cell in the Incident Room was instructed to concentrate on the background of the victim, and also any incidents that may have occurred within the area involving homeless people, recently, or around Cordelia’s chosen patch. ‘Had she been affecting sales at the bakery?’ Charley wondered. ‘If so, could that be a motive for her murder? Even if that was correct, would someone really go to the extent of such brutality?’ She thought not, but as always she would keep an open mind. Each case taught Charley something about man’s inhumanity, and humanity, to fellow man.
The SIO poised her pen over paper, ready to add more details to her ever-growing list for the briefing.
Locate/contact next of kin/family
Collate CCTV from the area
Chase the test results from the post-mortem
Talk to other rough sleepers/charities for the homeless, see if they knew the victim
Doorstep interviews of resident/shop owners/workers local to the murder, see if they heard anything
All staff at the bakery to be interviewed
Search by the POLSA team to include drains and litter bins in their hunt for evidence
DI Charley Mann would make no apologies to the town’s commuters for any inconvenience caused by the road closures and restricted access because of the outer and inner cordons, stating that all enquiries were necessary. There were no guarantees that, at this moment in time, those responsible for killing Cordelia would not strike again. A killer was on the loose, in Huddersfield town.
Satisfied that her team were working to full capacity, it was time to reassure the public. Murder always struck fear into a community, especially when the killer hadn’t been caught. She looked out of her window, there was always a positive to be found, she acknowledged, as she closed her eyes and tilted her face to welcome the sun on her skin.
Annie had noticed something at the scene that was also puzzling Charley. She knew that a lot of homeless people often carried all their worldly goods around with them, so where were her possessions? Had they been stolen, or were they yet to be found, having been dumped by her murderer? Or maybe kept as a trophy? For now, Cordelia Le Beau was not ticking Charley’s investigative boxes as being homeless. Her hair was well kept, her fingernails manicured, her shoes worth a small fortune. It just didn’t fit.
She had thought of Cordelia last night, in the dark and the rain, terrified, as death came closer and closer.
What was Cordelia’s story for being on the street? Charley didn’t yet have the answer to that. That was something else to add to the list.
When she opened her eyes Charley saw ferocious black clouds marching across the sky. She had seldom seen such ominous-looking clouds develop so fast. Her eyes dropped to the ground to s
ee people running towards the station for cover, as large droplets of rain fell on them.
* * *
The journalists collated for the press conference were sitting, or standing because the room was full, waiting for Detective Inspector Charley Mann’s arrival. She in turn, was ready and eager to share with them some of the known facts of the case. There was also information she would hold back from the media, for now, which would be drip-fed to the journalists, to keep the enquiry the lead story, with fresh information. It was also sometimes useful to have a piece of information up your sleeve that only the killer could know.
Charley sat behind the desk prepared for her and took a deep breath. She needed to speak calmly and clearly.
‘Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for your attendance, and patience. Earlier today, the body of a woman was discovered beneath the arches on Viaduct Street, in the town centre of Huddersfield, by a postman on his way to work. As a result, a murder investigation has been commenced under my command. We do know the identity of the deceased, but I’m sure you will understand that we are unable to name her, until we are satisfied that any known relatives have been traced and notified. Once that is done I assure you, we will pass on the necessary details of the deceased immediately. Hopefully that will be later today.’
Charley took a moment to scan the room and the faces therein before she continued. It was at times like these that she half-expected to see her wayward ex’s face, head above the rest owing to his size and stature. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew, however, that it would be a long time before Danny Ray was released from his incarceration for murder.
‘The victim had been subjected to a severe beating. Her body was left partially clothed. Rape hasn’t yet been ruled out,’ she announced. ‘The attack upon her was extremely brutal, and I am confident, at this stage, that more than one person was involved. Her green parka-type coat, and other clothing believed to be worn by her at the time of the attack, was found close by her body. It appears that she may have been dragged a short distance from where she was rendered unconscious, to the location where she was found dead. The horrible finale to this attack which inevitably killed her was that a large coping stone, believed to be from a nearby dry-stone wall, was dropped upon her head, making it almost impossible to identify her in the normal way.’
The eyes of the journalists jumped upwards briefly from their notebooks to look at her, after the revelation. She saw heads bow and shake. She noted the narrowed eyes of disgust, and muscles in jaws tighten with anger, as she ground her teeth harder.
‘It has been suggested that the victim was someone who sat, on a regular basis, outside the Medway on the High Street, and was easily recognisable by her pink-coloured hair. It is possible that she is known well, by people who frequent the area. My appeal this afternoon is for anyone who may know this lady, or have seen her, even spoken to her recently outside the bakery, or elsewhere, or have any information about this abhorrent crime, not to hesitate, but to get in touch with us here, at the Incident Room, and it goes without saying that I want to reassure them that their information will be treated in the strictest of confidence.’ Charley took another deep breath. ‘Any questions? As you can imagine, we have a lot of enquiries to pursue, and I am needed elsewhere, so if you could make it quick I’d appreciate it.’
‘Maud Daunt, Daily Diary. How old was she and was it a sex attack Detective Inspector?’
‘The deceased was in her early thirties and owing to the circumstances that she was found in, we are by no means ruling out that a sex attack is a possibility at this time. However, as always we will be keeping an open mind, and await forensic results to confirm.’
‘Sarah Tame, Chronicle. Was this woman living on the streets?’
‘As you are aware, our ongoing enquiries are in their infancy, but the attendant circumstance suggest that she was. However, not everything is always as it seems…’
‘Ruby Lew, Daily Mirror. Should people be worried that this is not an isolated incident?’
‘I want to assure people that we are treating this as an isolated incident. There have not been any other reported incidents.’
‘Was it a gang attack?’
‘We have evidence which suggests that there was more than one person involved. However, we have no information whatsoever to suggest that this incident was gang related.’
The questions continued, and Charley moved to one-to-one television and radio interviews. Her intention was for this murder investigation to be on everyone’s lips, the topic of people’s conversations across the community, and elsewhere.
She wanted people to be as repulsed by the attack as she was, which hopefully would prompt them to call the Incident Room with information, no matter how trivial they thought that might be. Every piece of the jigsaw puzzle was necessary to build the bigger picture. With the media briefing over, Charley hot-footed it back to the Incident Room to brief her enquiry team. Slowly and clearly, she updated them on the post-mortem and identification of the victim.
‘The post mortem results show us that we are looking for two suspects, according to the pathologists who examined the footmarks found upon her abdomen. Whilst I am relaying to you the facts, there are some inconsistencies with our victim being homeless. Such as, the expensive shoes she was wearing, her clean fingernails and styled hair. We don’t know how long she has been homeless so this may be relevant, or not. Her state of undress implies that she may have been sexually assaulted. At this moment in time there’s no evidence to suggest she was raped and therefore we must wait for the forensic results of the internal swabs taken at the post-mortem. I’d also like to know why she felt the need to change her name?’
She went on to tell the team what she expected from them, along with their tours of duty that they would be expected to work, until further notice.
Charley also told them that her door, and that of her deputy, Detective Sergeant Mike Blake, were always open to them, for any concerns or issues that they had in relation to the murder, or on personal issues.
When the briefing was over Mike sought her out in her office. She had her head bent over paperwork that Tattie had delivered from the internal mail run. ‘We’ve just been given a recent address where Cordelia is known to have been living,’ he said, eagerly.
Her tired eyes instantly found his. ‘Let’s do the necessary, and quickly,’ she said.
Chapter 8
Cordelia Le Beau’s previous convictions showed her last known address to be 4, Mill Lane.
Annie was in high spirits on the fourteen-minute drive to the given location. ‘I read that Slaithwaite was named one of the coolest places to live,’ she said. ‘Which is of course, why I chose to live there.’
Indicating to turn left onto the Manchester Road DS Mike Blake briefly turned to look at Annie who was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of the CID car.
‘You mean that’s the only reason?’
The young detective thought about his question. She stared steadily at the dull landscape passing, seeing in the distance the outline of farm buildings, and the dark satanic mills that lined the canal. ‘Well no, I also watched Where the Heart Is, and I thought how lovely it would be to be part of such a tight-knit village community.’
On seeing Mike shake his head in an unbelieving fashion, Annie briefly hunched her shoulders and gave him one of her carefree smiles. ‘I’m very much looking forward to the Moonraking Festival in February. All that lantern-making, and storytelling,’ she said enthusiastically.
‘Do you know the official name for the natives of Slaithwaite is Moonrakers?’
Annie’s eyes were wide. ‘No, but now I’m intrigued as to how that came about.’
‘Local smugglers, caught by the excise men, tried to explain the nocturnal activities as “raking the moon from the canal”.’
Annie looked bemused. ‘What were they really up to?’
‘Fishing out smuggled brandy.’
‘You’re joking
,’ Annie laughed.
The change from the clean countryside, to dirty streets and black-walled houses where the mill workers once lived, in the shadow of the woollen mill, was dramatic. Mike slowed the car down at the road sign at the bottom of the cobbled hill that was Mill Lane, to enable him to locate number four in the line of terrace mill cottages. Job done, he turned the wheels directly towards the kerb, parked expertly on the steep hill between two small vehicles, and turned off the car engine. ‘I kid you not,’ he said.
For a moment the detectives sat in silence, heads turned in the same direction towards the quaint creeper-laden cottage. The former home of a mill worker, tucked away in the little hamlet was not what either had expected. But still they had one thing on their minds. What would, if anything, come to light within its walls?
‘There’s nothing to suggest that Cordelia still lived here,’ said Mike.
‘There’s nothing to suggest she didn’t,’ said Annie.
Simultaneously they opened their doors. When Mike joined Annie on the uneven flagstoned pavement, the detective constable raised an eyebrow at her supervisor. ‘Hopefully the occupiers, or the neighbours, will be able to assist us with our enquiries,’ she said in a hushed tone.
Finding No. 4 secure at the front, and with no response to their knocking, Mike peered through the downstairs windowpane, looking for signs of life, or an obvious disturbance.
‘What can you see?’ whispered Annie, straining to see over his shoulder.
‘It’s furnished,’ he said.
The pair walked around to the rear of the property by way of the ginnel at the side. A little meandering stream brought them to a path which lead them to the back door. Through the window, they saw unwashed pots on the kitchen drainer. Annie pointed to the rubbish bin, full to bursting.
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