Worst placed of all that morning were the Navy divers. I hadn't envied them their task at all. Wouldn't have in fine weather but in the depths of a winter storm it was a grim and extremely dangerous job. I recall watching them and anticipating the worst. Sometimes my instinct is infallible. It always knows when I'm in too deep!
In a community like Torbay's there is always some complete nutter who will walk down here - even in conditions which had brought the cold and bitter storm front to dampen the Christmas festivities. This time the difference was a teenage girl. A very dead teenage girl.
A local bus driver out enjoying the storm had spotted her body trapped in the mesh of a Bass fishing gill net by the wind driven waves which were crashing themselves to oblivion in masses of spray against the cold hard limestone of the 'Nose' and called 999 at seven o’clock. A bundle of clothing washing in the early morning foam of a freezing cold Boxing Day had brought an abrupt end to Christmas for everyone concerned with Rescue or Police work.
His statement was just one of hundreds I had reread during the previous night. They were the result of a month of hard slogging investigation and it wasn't worth a Mackerel’s bum!
I hadn't wanted the investigation; I trust my instincts and the cold hours on Hope's Nose had left a chill inside me. The case was overshadowed by darkness from the very beginning as though the storm clouds had hidden it from the truth of full daylight.
January had sped by as the million Pounds per house properties on Marine Drive had opened to the unusual summons of heavily waterproofed Police officers making their door to door calls and gathering not a single shred of evidence for their efforts. No one had seen anything; no one had heard anything and no one had anything to report. A total blank. The mood of officers returning to the Station after days of this crap was as bad as anything I have ever seen at Torquay Police Station.
The Christmas festivities in Torquay's night clubs and bars had produced the usual flurry of drunken arguments and hangovers but little or nothing of real trouble. Locally no one was reported as missing. Nationally there was no search on for missing teenage girls. So who was she? One of the missing ones from months or years gone by? Or someone who had not been missed despite the family time of year?
The Pathologist, Juliet Prescott, disturbed from a family Christmas in her Moretonhampstead home upon Dartmoor had been able to tell me more than I wanted to know in some senses and much less than I needed to know in others. In the end I decided to wait for her full report before deciding anything about the girl's body myself. Just looking at the corpse once the divers had struggled to get it to a basket so that the helicopter could lift it ashore had been as much as I could take for one bad day. She looked pathetic; a broken doll of a young person lay upon the cold hard rock like flotsam from the storm. As far from Christmas as it is possible to be.
As I knew I'd have to wait for the report I set about concentrating on the Nose itself. In one of those scenes from television newsreels an army of officers and Coastguard helpers began a search of the brambles and copses delving into every nook and cranny and finding absolutely bloody nothing! It was cold wet and hard and the general mood was miserable and depressed, no one wanted a Christmas that included such a hopeless task but everybody knew how Important it was so I got away with insisting that the search carried on the following day until I was certain we had missed nothing.
I like Juliet; she is the epitome of professionalism spliced with a fresh Devonian air of fun and a great sense of the ridiculous. A true local pixie. We met in a small tea shop in the shadow of Exeter's lovely Cathedral and shared some toasted tea cakes and a pot of English breakfast tea. Outside the early January sunshine brought the cheer of some Crocuses and Snowdrops alive along the verges of the Cathedral Close.
We had managed to find a table by the Georgian window and she looked rather tired and unhappy which distressed me. Her auburn hair was well cut and the clear brown eyes were serious and troubled.
“Don’t you think we should to do this in your office Mike” She asked as I poured the tea. Her Dartmoor accent clear and welcome. I shook my head. “I need to get the hell out of Torquay sometimes and this is definitely a 'sometime'” I recall saying, conscious of her studied expression as she tried to gauge my psychological involvement in the case. The silence was comfortable for a moment. We have been friends for most of a lifetime since meeting at Belever Youth Hostel on the Moor back in the late sixties. Her deceased husband Tim had been a good friend too.
“You’re not going to like what I've got, Michael.” Face lifted, gaze straight, strength of character in every nuance of her. The Laura Ashley blouse was perfect.
I gazed out of the window. On the lawn opposite, some children were playing with a skipping rope, the first one I'd seen since my childhood days around Ellacombe Green. “Just tell me in your own words Juliet. I've got a whole Station full of data and statements and they add up to bugger all, it hasn't helped me at all. I'll leave the technical stuff to the Barristers. What I need is a lead, anything, just the smallest pointer to get us started.”
I watched her gathering her thoughts and for a moment I saw the dark shadow of what was to come. Looking back I wish I had been more in tune with my own instincts at that moment. Some rare people have the ability to deflect evil, it cannot enter them - it bounces off and leaves them pure. It was trying to affect her then and what I was observing was its failure to do so.
“She was somewhere between fifteen and nineteen, probably younger rather than older, I'd go with sixteen personally. She was definitely murdered though of course that was never in doubt as you know from seeing her as she came out of the sea and prior to the autopsy. She was killed by a deep laceration to her throat. The single worst deliberate injury I have ever witnessed as a pathologist Mike. A heavy cut, a very sharp Implement. Much more and her head would have been completely severed from her torso...” I was going to say something, concerned at the edge of horror which had touched her face but she looked at her tea plate and I could see she was choosing her next words with care - taking a few seconds to recover from the effort of describing something that had obviously appalled her. I waited, let her get it over with and then I would try to comfort her as best I could.
“The marks on her wrists and ankles are indicative of her having been tied to something. Underneath the silk ties there were holes right through her limbs. Probably made by large nails, oval shaped nails I believe. From my internal examination I can tell you that she was also upside down when she died.” She looked over at me, watching for my reaction to her words. “Go on”, was all I said. But I could feel my face draining.
“The marks around her stomach were also from something tied around her, not a rope, something non-abrasive but it had been tied with force, enough to restrict the movements of her internal organs after she died.” Now again she looked into my eyes, her own were not the way I wanted to see them - ever. It hurt me to sit there in such old, worn and comfortable surroundings and watch her, a woman of real strength trying to cope with the horror of it.
There was a silence then for a few minutes, myself uncomfortable because I objected to life upsetting her so visibly and Juliet applying her fine mind to my own future requirements.
“I've been in my job a long time Mike and seen things I never expected to encounter quite frequently and as you know I am a very well read person. I'll take a guess, strictly off the record as it's your case and I'd like to help you if I can.”
I just nodded, she was probably going to do a better job than me anyway. I was up to my neck in evidence that led precisely nowhere. She knew I would appreciate her thoughts.
“Based on the type of ceremonial clothing she was attired in when she was found and the symbols that were painted pretty much over her entire body I'd say she was crucified upside down and then her throat was slit in a savage sacrificial rite. Poor little mite must have been terrified!”
Her voice had broken on the last sentence and her eyes were full of te
ars. I saw her shiver and felt great anger at the man who could do this to her - invade the sanctity of her soul almost and fill her with dread. I guessed it was the young age of the girl rather than the injuries. She's a pathologist after all and must have seen worse injuries. She reached with a shaking hand for her tea but it had gone cold. My fault, I'd put too much milk into the cups from the little Toby jug they'd served it in.
I beckoned the waitress and ordered fresh tea. Juliet needed a moment to compose herself again. She looked at me and she knew I was concerned about her, my instinct also told me that she knew I wanted to go around the table and put my arm around her. I hadn't seen her so upset since Tim's funeral, that awful moment at the graveside in the heavy rain when I had held her very close to me. I didn't move though, Juliet wouldn't have wanted me to in a public place. She is a very independent woman.
“The clothes, robes or whatever they were supposed to be, were made of a silk cloth which had been embroidered specially for the occasion if I understand it correctly, probably embroidered here in Britain.” I said. Hoping to move her mind on from the dark picture she had painted for me. “The silk was of Chinese origin.”
“She wasn't Asian though, Mike, she was a white Caucasian, young, very pretty and she was a virgin. And no one had the right to bloody kill her!” Her eyes flashed fire for an instant and I remembered that she could be a fiery character under the right circumstances. I said nothing. I’ve seen this so many times in my job - anger born of distress. Circumstances beyond the normal expectation of ordinary people who don't make a living trawling through the debris of modern society. I waited and let her go on when she was ready.
“Somebody tied her to an inverted cross, drove nails through her wrists, ankles and stomach and then cut her throat with extreme brutality. I want you to find him Michael. Get even for her! Now her tears were there and it hurt and I felt the anger but pushed it away for later.
I was really surprised at the strength of her emotional reaction. Murder has been part of her professional life for a great many years and it's never bloody pleasant. Was she like me? Too close to a pension to be able to handle the pressure any more.
Juliet turned and looked out of the window as the fresh tea arrived allowing me the time to gather my thoughts and let my own emotions settle. The sun was in her hair and for a moment I recalled her stood dripping wet in the crystal clear water of the River Dart beneath the Clapper Bridge at Belever. She had been lovely that day and she was still lovely now. She was turning sixty I guessed, beyond retirement if she'd wanted too. Like me a dinosaur hanging on beyond our sell by date because we'd nothing better to do.
She turned to me, “you haven't got anything have you? I can see it in your face.”
It was my turn to stare out of the window. “Nothing. Not a bloody dicky bird” I said.
“Bloody hell Mike you have to find this monster or he will do it again! It's classical serial killer territory surely. Body markings, rituals, sacrifices. It's all there in trumps”
I felt pressured; everybody in the known universe had been telling me that for days. It was only a matter of time before the printed mugs and t-shirts started arriving. The Chief Constable was running out of expletives and the local press sharpening knives and praying for record sales figures to keep the Official Receiver from their creaking printing presses.
She was pouring the tea and waiting for my response in silence. The beautiful manners coming back to the fore. I had to say something. “How long was she in the water?”
“That's the only clear help I can give you Mike. Only a few hours at most. She is hardly touched by her time in the water. There was nothing to suggest she was even in the sea overnight.”
That was food for thought. Not a body drifting in from far away then. Not someone dumped from a ship out to sea and driven in by the storm to wind up in the fishing nets on Boxing Day morning.
“To be honest I had that Impression myself when the divers passed her ashore. I have seen other drowned bodies in the past and she didn't look like she had been there long. So in your opinion when did she die Juliet? How long before she was dumped in the sea was she murdered? Can you help with that?”
She was regaining her composure now, helped by the good tea. “It all happened the night before she was found Mike. Somebody sacrificed her and dumped her body close to where she was found I think.” She looked at me then and the dark shadows were there again. “He murdered her on Christmas Night Mike. I'm sure of that.”
Neither of us had touched the excellent tea cakes and they lay between us as the sun gave up the struggle and the grey clouds reminded us it was January in England. In a strange trick of the light the snowdrops and crocuses disappeared and I wondered if I'd really seen them. Juliet was reaching for the tea pot but I wanted something stronger. “Let’s walk around the corner and find something stronger,” I suggested and she agreed at once.
The main street of Exeter was bustling with shoppers taking advantage of the seasonal sales and it was busy beneath the Christmas lights which were strung between the historical preserved façades of the shops. It's a lovely City and even in the grey of approaching evening there was some cheer to it.
We found a pub and slipped downstairs, below the street, to find a seat beside a roaring log fire and the flames were soon being reflected into two brandy glasses. I noticed they were also being reflected by two deeply attractive brown eyes. The flames there had my full attention for a few seconds and I wasn't ready for her question. “Do you know anything about Black Magic Mike?”
“Nothing whatsoever Juliet, you know me, typical Copper - the archetypal non believer sort.”
She laughed and then she gave me lovely smile that lifted the gloom of the previous conversation like a burst of spring sunshine. “You’re not the least bit jaded Michael! You just want the world to think you are. It's a little disguise you wear to trap the unwary but it doesn't fool me, I've known you too long.”
“You live a protected life out there on the Moors Juliet.” I said, laughing in my turn.
She smiled at me. The old Juliet smile with all the resonances it has always held for me. “Perhaps in that very isolation we have preserved some things you townies have lost or forgotten.”
“Like what? “ I asked. Seeing she was serious again.
“Like a knowledge - an awareness of older religions and religious practices.” She wasn't smiling any more. This was a serious discussion now.
“Umm old religions - that could cover a lot of ground, Juliet.”
“Your scoffing, Mike and that isn't going to help with your enquiry is it?”
Chastised I looked across the brandy glass and reminded myself I was dealing with a very considerable intellect. But did she really believe in mumbo jumbo?
She leant towards me, “She was decorated with symbols, dressed for an occult ceremony, crucified upside down and sacrificed to the Devil Michael. The robes were specially made, you said that yourself. You can't pop into Marks and Sparks and sling them onto your credit card. You can't even buy them in your awful Torquay party shops. She was a religious sacrifice, no doubt about it.”
“Juliet you have to understand that the policeman in me is trained not to take things at face value. This is murder. Maybe someone thought it would muddy the waters if he could make me believe that? Maybe I'm dealing with a sexual pervert with a devious mind when it comes to protecting himself.”
“I would allow you that if she had not been so carefully painted and dressed Mike,” Her distaste was self-evident. “He could have murdered her without that once she was tied - she was helpless anyway. And Mike you’re forgetting my report, she was a virgin. He didn't rape her, he isn't that type of pervert.”
Her words made me pause to think, “I must admit I wasn't expecting that. I thought I would be dealing with an after the nutter's party sort of thing. Too much drink or cocaine at a Christmas do and someone from the local bunch of revellers who became a victim. A date gone wrong was my fi
rst stab at this.”
“And people tell me I chose a strange profession.” Juliet laughed. “I wouldn't want to be a Copper, Mike.”
The brandy hadn't lasted long but I was driving. “Would you like to have something to eat?” I asked and ended up with an excellent Lemon Sole, a side salad and some high quality company.
I had been meaning to leave the case alone during dinner and enjoy the welcome company of an old friend but Juliet seemed determined to convince me that I was dealing with some sort of devil worship.
“Before you educate me in the science of devil worship please tell me what your real point is, Juliet.” I had detected that there was something she considered to be of real Importance for me to understand.
She was enjoying her steak and I was enjoying watching her do so. She'd always had a fine appetite and they know good meat on Dartmoor. It looked excellent but I didn't regret choosing the Lemon Sole, it was beautifully cooked.
She put down her knife and fork and leaned in towards me, her eyes serious again. “You’re looking for a murderer Mike. You should be looking for a group of murderers!”
Lucifer's Abbey Page 5