Professor Martin tapped his clipboard with his pen to get their attention.
‘We’re going round in circles and the fact is I have to consider both possibilities: was she murdered at the scene, or dumped there? Now can we get on with the postmortem, please?’
Professor Martin peered down at his clipboard as he walked round the table to Julie Ann’s left side. ‘I have had a close look using a magnifying glass and cannot find any hypodermic needle marks that appear to be recent.’
He lifted up her left arm and pointed to the black and blue track marks around her inner elbow joint, which Lawrence photographed.
‘As you can see there is bruising around all these injection sites, which indicates they are old. It’s difficult to determine the exact age of the bruising as veins in junkies start to collapse after repeated heroin injections. However, I would estimate the most recent to be anywhere between one to two weeks old.’
‘So that suggests she was off heroin just before she was murdered?’ Bradfield remarked.
‘Possibly, but I believe your victim was attending a treatment centre for help, so she may well have been prescribed methadone as an opiate substitute.’
Bradfield made a note in his pocket book to ask the treatment centre about the methadone. Martin lifted Julie Ann’s right arm and they could see that the whole of the inside of the lower arm was badly bruised.
‘You can see there is blue and yellow coloured bruising to the inside length of the lower arm caused by severe blunt-force injury, which has ruptured blood vessels in her skin.’ Martin asked the morticians to turn the body over.
The extensive bruising and welt marks to Julie Ann’s back and buttocks were quite horrifying, even Bradfield and DS Lawrence were visibly shocked. Jane shuddered at the thought of the pain the poor girl must have suffered during the beating. Professor Martin explained that initially the injuries would have appeared dull red to blue, but over time the red blood cells would have been broken down, releasing the yellow-brown hue seen on the edges of the blue-bruised areas on her back.
‘So the bruising’s old?’ DS Lawrence asked.
‘Yes, the yellow colour does not appear until a few days after the initial injury and you can see the clear differences from the red marks round her neck caused by the strangulation. In this poor girl’s case I’d estimate the beating injuries are at least six to ten days old. The type of surface and force that impacts on the body will have an effect on the intensity, size, shape and pattern of the bruising as well.’
‘Any idea what caused them?’ Bradfield asked, brushing cigarette ash off his jacket.
Martin said that due to the time lapse since the injuries were inflicted, it was hard to tell. However, it was clear that whoever had inflicted them must have been in a rage, and some of the welt marks still had a faint curved pattern that could have been caused by something like a walking stick.
Martin looked at Jane. ‘WPC Tennison, would you mind crouching down in a side-on foetal position and raising your right arm, palm outwards, as if you were cowering and trying to protect your head?’
Hesitantly Jane did as requested so Martin could act out his theory.
‘The assailant stood in front of the victim’s right side and raised the weapon. This in turn caused the victim to hold up her right arm to protect herself from the beating,’ Martin said as he swung his arm in a backwards and forwards motion. ‘She was hit three or four times on the lower arm before falling over and being repeatedly struck across the back and buttocks.’
Jane followed Martin’s cue and fell to the cold wet floor. There was silence in the room as she peered up and saw the three men staring down at her with a look of bewilderment.
Bradfield shook his head in disbelief. ‘The Prof didn’t mean for you to actually do that bit, Tennison, so get up.’
She felt embarrassed, yet relieved, as the floor smelt of disinfectant and the tiles were not that clean.
Bradfield looked at her impatiently as she stood up and raised her hand as if in a classroom.
‘Excuse me, Professor Martin, is it possible to tell if the attack occurred when she was fully clothed or naked?’
‘Very good question. We have a bright little probationer amongst us, and one not keeling over for a change. But then again we’ve not got to the fainting part yet.’ Martin chortled and then cocked his head to one side, looking at Jane.
‘I may have been able to give you a clearer answer had the beating taken place up to seventy-eight hours before death, as marks from the clothing are sometimes visible on the surface of the skin.’
‘Was she raped?’ Bradfield asked, becoming even more impatient.
‘There’s some old bruising on the inner thighs, but nothing recent or unusual for someone who worked in the sex trade.’
Professor Martin said he would now start the internal examination. Jane knew she had to keep calm, and decided that the best thing to do was to try to think of it as a biology lesson in human anatomy. Bradfield then took her by surprise as he gently patted Julie Ann’s right foot: it was a gesture a father might give to his sleeping child.
As Martin stood over the body a mortician handed him a scalpel from the instrument tray. He proceeded to make a deep incision in the shape of a Y from the front of each shoulder to the bottom end of the breastbone, and then down from the sternum to the pubic bone. The skin and muscle from the cut was peeled back, with the top flap pulled over the face of the body. A mortician then sawed the ribs off exposing the internal organs. Jane noticed the smell, but it was not as pungent as the smell of the elderly man’s body. DCI Bradfield got out his packet of Woodbine non-tipped cigarettes and lit one up from the butt of his previous one, handing another to DS Lawrence. He hesitated and proffered the pack to Jane. She declined, but she did find that the smell of the cigarette smoke helped mask the stench from the body.
Martin now cut into the bladder and took a urine sample. Together with a blood sample from an artery he handed it to DS Lawrence for toxicology tests at the lab.
The assistant mortician placed a large plastic bowl between the legs of the victim. Professor Martin cut away the internal organs, sliding them in one block into the bowl. Then he carried it over to the other table to do a closer examination and take some samples for microscopic study.
Jane took a few deep breaths, exhaling the air from her mouth as she started to feel queasy.
The mortician used a saw to cut a circle around the top of the skull, and then removed it with a T-shaped bone chisel and hammer. Next came the brain, which he took over to Professor Martin who was still examining the internal organs and weighing them.
Oh my God, Jane said to herself, and unable to watch shut her eyes. She took a few more deep breaths and sniffed. Contrary to what she had been told the VapoRub did in fact help keep her standing upright, but the overpowering smells and sights were making her feel sick.
‘There may be another reason your victim wanted to get herself off heroin. I have discovered a dead foetus in the uterus. She’s about 2.9 inches long, weighs .81 of an ounce and some teeth have started forming – so I would estimate Julie Ann was twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant. The child could have died at the same time as the mother, or possibly as a result of the earlier beating.’
Hearing this new information made Jane open her eyes, and she was so taken aback by the fact that the victim was pregnant her dizziness went. Martin placed the foetus in an airtight container filled with formaldehyde, and although Bradfield and Lawrence both looked, Jane could not bring herself to do so.
‘My God, it doesn’t even look human, more like a baby monkey,’ Bradfield whispered in shock.
‘It is human, believe you me, and sadly perfectly formed for the time of the gestation,’ Martin said quietly.
The post-mortem examination of Julie Ann Collins lasted nearly three hours and DS Lawrence took extensive photographs of all her injuries. As he packed his camera in its bag he leant over to Jane.
‘You did well
, luv. Most probationers keel over as soon as they see the body on the slab – and good spot about the bra being strapless.’
Jane smiled. Bradfield told her to get a move on and she dutifully followed him out of the mortuary. She thanked him for letting her attend the post-mortem.
He stopped and cocked his head to one side, looking down at her.
‘Congratulations, Tennison. You impressed me – very attentive and you asked intelligent questions. But I’ve never had anyone thank me for allowing them to attend a post-mortem before.’ He hesitated before he asked what she felt about the fact that their victim had been pregnant.
‘So sad – perhaps she didn’t even know?’
‘Maybe, but it makes me want to catch the bastard even more. She was only seventeen years old, and now it’s a waste of two lives, not just one.’
‘Do you think Eddie Phillips killed her?’
He didn’t reply and remained deep in thought as they crossed the station yard. Jane asked him if she could be excused now the post-mortem was over as she was on late shift.
‘What time is it?’
‘Three o’clock, sir.’
‘Is Sergeant Harris on duty?
Jane nodded. Bradfield handed her a £1 note and told her he needed to talk to him. In the meantime he wanted her to go to the canteen and get him a coffee and a ham sandwich then bring them to his office.
Jane went to the washroom first as she could smell disinfectant on her hands and clothes. It was so strong she realized she’d have to get her jacket and skirt dry-cleaned and her shirt washed. She scrubbed her hands over and over, but the smell persisted and she wished she’d kept some decent soap in her locker.
Looking in the washbasin mirror Jane smiled at herself and swore she’d never be silly enough to lie down on a mortuary floor again. She removed the Vicks VapoRub from her handbag and, deciding to forget about the two embarrassing incidents altogether, dropped it in the bin. But she could not forget the sight of Julie Ann on the mortuary table, nor the terrible beating she had suffered.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the station yard a Leyland Sherpa ‘paddy wagon’ parked up. Kath climbed out of the back with a detective, escorting a young man who was clearly under arrest and, with his frizzed hairstyle and clothing, obviously a fan of Marc Bolan. He was dressed in high-heeled platform boots, skin-tight flared jeans and a Moroccan-style fur-and-embroidered sleeveless jacket. The uniform driver of the van assisted the detective with the prisoner while Kath, who had a chuffed-to-bits look on her face, went to get some paperwork from the CID office.
Jane took Bradfield his coffee and sandwich, but after the post-mortem the sight of food made her feel queasy. He barely looked up as he was reading a report. Twice she started to ask him if she could go, but he held his hand up and told her to be quiet, so she just stood and waited for him to finish reading.
Two detectives had spent the morning with Mr and Mrs Collins taking a background statement. It transpired that Julie Ann was three months from her eighteenth birthday and had not been living at home for a year and a half. During that time they had not seen or heard from her. They explained that their daughter had started to abscond from school at the age of fourteen, and that no matter how hard they tried to reason with her she still played truant. She had started to mix with an unsavoury group of boys she’d met in the West End one weekend. They discovered her smoking cannabis and constant arguments followed as she became more and more difficult to handle. She had run away numerous times since she turned fifteen and had either been brought back home by the police, or turned up dishevelled and belligerent.
Her mother described how she had discovered injection marks on Julie Ann’s arm whilst she was sleeping, and how the heroin usage had made her a totally different girl. The Collinses’ grief and shock were compounded when they were told by the detectives that Julie Ann had been arrested and convicted for prostitution six months ago. Mrs Collins could not understand why her daughter would do such a thing, but it was explained that it was to feed her heroin addiction. When asked if they knew Eddie Phillips and were shown a Polaroid picture of him, they responded that they had never seen or heard of him before, nor did they know anyone who owned a red Jaguar.
Bradfield looked at Jane. ‘You still here? Do me a favour and get me a fresh pack of Woodbines, will you, as I’m out of cigarettes.’ He placed a 50p coin on the desk.
Jane wished she’d just left the sandwich and coffee on his desk. She begrudgingly picked up the coin and set off for the newsagent’s opposite. On her way downstairs she bumped into Kath, who was in a buoyant mood.
‘How did it go at the post-mortem? I can smell you from here – I bet it wasn’t very pleasant,’ she said.
Jane told Kath how interesting it had been, but decided not to mention the dead foetus in case it was something Bradfield didn’t want people outside his team to know about yet. However, she did explain how DS Spencer Gibbs’s Vicks-up-the-nose was a practical joke intended for Kath.
‘The little shite! Typical – but I’ll get him back somehow.’
‘You got your burglar then?’ Jane asked, having seen Kath in the yard.
‘It was bloody brilliant, Jane. We were parked up on the estate watching from the spy hole of the obo van when the little scrote burglar turned up. He saw an old lady come out of a flat, waited till she’d gone and then knocked on her door. When he got no answer he pulled out a jemmy from under his swanky jacket and prised the door open. I was shaking with excitement and we caught him red-handed in the bedroom with notes in his hands, and more stuffed in his pockets. She kept her life savings in a shoe-box and we recovered the lot for her. I’m even listed as nicking him on the arrest sheet and I’m going to be interviewing him with a detective. There’s been quite a few old people’s flats turned over and I reckon he’s done ’em all. You know what really makes me sick? He had a wedge this thick.’ She indicated with her finger and thumb before continuing.
‘He’d got hundreds on him he’d nicked . . . Still, the cocky bugger won’t be swaggering around like he’s some rock star any more. Stealing from an old lady like that is real sicko, Jane.’
‘Well done, Kath! That’s got to be a bonus for you, and a big step towards becoming a detective.’
‘Fingers crossed, Jane, fingers crossed,’ Kath said as she hurried off to the custody room.
Jane got the Woodbines and was returning to Bradfield’s office when Sergeant Harris came out with a face like thunder. He glared as she approached.
‘You might think you can get round Bradfield by fluttering your eyelashes, but you can’t fool me, Tennison. Your cards are marked, so I suggest you watch your step if you want to pass your probation and be confirmed as a WPC.’
As Harris stormed off Jane couldn’t believe that he was so riled simply because she had been to a bereavement notification and a post-mortem, things she was expected to do during her probation anyway.
She knocked on Bradfield’s door, and when he told her to come in she handed him his Woodbines and his change. He thanked her, inviting her to sit down.
‘How do you get on with Harris as your reporting sergeant?’
‘Fine, sir, he’s very helpful,’ she replied unconvincingly, not daring to be honest in case Bradfield and Harris were friends.
‘What are you like at indexing?’
‘I’m not very good, sir,’ Jane said, wanting to get back to the front office before Harris boiled over.
Bradfield flicked open a file on his desk. ‘Funny that. Your application says you went to the Central London Polytechnic and did business studies, and you used to help in your father’s company during the holidays, so you must have some experience of indexing?’
‘Yes, sir, but not in murder investigations.’
‘My indexer Sally is three months pregnant. Under police regulations it means she’s due to go on maternity leave, so I need a replacement.’
Jane thought about Harris’s threat. She realized Bradfield had al
ready told him he wanted her to do some indexing, and that was why he was so annoyed with her. ‘I’m honoured that you have asked me, sir, but I am still a probationer and—’
He interrupted her, patting a vast file on his desk.
‘It’s only temporary. Take this with you and do a few hours here and there until I find a suitable replacement. As you know, Julie Ann may have been murdered nearby and dumped, so I need to concentrate on the area close to the scene, and that means the Kingsmead Estate. There’s no way a magistrate will give me a warrant to search each and every one of the bloody flats down there. I need someone to check off all the names the occupants give in the house-to-house enquiries against the electoral register, and also check with the collator for anyone with a criminal record living down there.’
‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to start now?’
‘What a good idea, and do the same for the residents of Edgar House on the Pembridge where the squat was,’ he said with a smile.
Jane stood up to leave, and although she knew she should feel pleased with herself, she worried about Harris. But if she let Bradfield down it could jeopardize her career even further.
‘One last thing – you’re not the only one who thinks Harris is over the hill and a lazy waste of space, and I don’t think he was too pleased I just told him as much. If he gives you any hassle let me know; for now you work for me.’ He took a bite of his sandwich and pulled a face.
‘Jesus Christ, this is tuna.’
‘Is it? I’m sure I asked for ham.’
‘Never mind. Sally will give you a run-through on indexing and what to do, but first I want you to type up what Professor Martin told us at the post-mortem.’
‘Yes, sir, thank you.’
She started to go, then realized she hadn’t picked up his file. He watched her as she returned to his desk to collect it. She blushed as he smiled at her, and was so flustered she almost tripped and only just managed to hold on to the file.
‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’
‘Good, thank you.’
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