DEAD SILENT a gripping detective thriller full of suspense

by Helen H. Durrant

  Imogen would ring WPC Kate Robinson and get her to pass the news to the Rigbys. That was going to be a tricky conversation. Imogen knew she couldn’t promise them anything. Robert Rigby had paid for a child. He’d lied to his wife and Social Services had been kept completely out of the loop. There would be repercussions, she felt sure.

  * * *

  “Sir, we’ve found Cassie Rigby. She’s in Scarborough with her maternal grandmother and quite safe. So no harm done.”

  Calladine had dozed off on his sofa and woke with a start when his mobile rang. The news was good, very good, the best in fact. The last thing he wanted was the Cassie Rigby thing to drag on, or become something worse. Now they could put all their efforts into finding whoever had murdered that girl.

  He rubbed his head and winced — it ached. He was beginning to wonder how long he could keep this up — the late nights, no proper sleep and the stress. He looked around; there was no sign of Zoe either. Another night away from home. What was going on? Had she met someone?

  He was about to phone her when his mobile rang again. This time it was Doc Hoyle.

  “Sorry to ring you at home, Tom. But it is important. We’ve got another nasty one. The body of a young woman was left in the back of a hearse at the undertakers this evening.”

  Just what he needed. The sound of those words echoed through his aching head, making his stomach churn.

  “Okay, I’ll come down. Are there any similarities with the murder of the other girl?”

  “Early days, but yes, I’d say so. There was the same sort of stuff with the teeth. But you should know — this one’s been dead a lot longer. She’s quite badly decomposed.”

  Was their man running scared? Why dump the body now? And where the hell had she been kept? He rubbed his aching head again. “The undertakers in Leesdon, you said?”

  “Yes. There was no coffin in the hearse at the time, so she was simply slid in, wrapped in a blanket.”

  “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be with you.”

  * * *

  Calladine decided this was one he could do on his own — Ruth needed the downtime. There wasn’t really much to see anyway. The back of the hearse was open and Doc Hoyle was leaning inside.

  “She’s been wrapped in a blanket and for some time, I’d say. The smell is bad. It’s my guess she was buried and then dug up a few days ago. She’s been kept somewhere reasonably warm — there are maggots.”

  “There’s a camera up there.” Calladine nodded, pointing the thing out for Julian, who’d joined them.

  “I’ll get on it, Inspector.” Julian wrinkled his nose at the smell of decomposition. “I’ll have the vehicle checked — fingerprints, soil and shoe tracks left on the path — the lot.”

  “For now we’ll take the photos of the body as we found it and I’ll start the PM at eight in the morning,” the doctor decided. “It won’t be pretty, Tom — just warning you.”

  * * *

  On his return home, Calladine rang Ruth and arranged to meet her at the mortuary early the next morning. He could hear music in the background and a male voice talking — Jake Ireson he presumed. He’d been right not to have her come with him. Hopefully she was making progress. He’d had every intention of speaking to Monika earlier but had fallen asleep instead, and now this. He no longer had the energy. Damping down the fire, he put his empty whiskey glass in the kitchen sink, and went to bed.

  * * *

  But Ruth and Jake hadn’t been talking — they’d been arguing. It had started innocently enough with a simple question – did she want to go visit his parents at the weekend? Ruth’s stomach had flipped — she was going to have to disappoint him yet again. Jake’s parents lived in Whitby.

  “We’ve a lot on — two murders and a missing child case to clear up.” She shook her head.

  “So when do I get a look in? If you’re not working, then you’re messing about with that birdwatching group of yours. He rang earlier, Reg thingy.”

  “Reg Hope, and wind your neck in. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were jealous. Reg is sixty-two and retired. He’s a friend; he takes photographs of birds and sticks them on his blog. He’s great fun and I like him. So get off my back!”

  “And me? Do you think I’m great fun?”

  She turned to look at him. What did she think? Fun? Definitely not, of late. But she did like him, and that was the problem.

  “When things get slacker — which they will,” she reassured him, “we’ll go and see your parents. It won’t be long. Just let us get this case wrapped up.”

  He was sat in his shirt sleeves by the fire, marking exercise books. He shook his head and tutted.

  “Are you growing a beard?” She tried to change the subject.

  “It’s for the play. The sixth form are putting on Macbeth, and they want me in it.”

  “You love it, don’t you?” Ruth said, punching his arm playfully. “I bet all those teenage girls have a right crush on the dishy Mr Ireson.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. We need to spend more time together, or this relationship is doomed. You said so yourself; even your boss has history.”

  “This has nothing to do with Tom, it’s all me. You have to understand, Jake, I am my job. It’s my life. It’s what I do.” She was on the verge of tears. He had to understand. She was not about to give it up, not even for him. She still had ambition: Ruth wanted to make inspector before she reached forty.

  “So you rule out everything else, even me?” He stood up. “Well I’m sick of it, Ruth. I don’t think this relationship is going anywhere, and I’m in no mood to piss about. I thought we had something. You thought that too, at one time. So what happened?”

  “Nothing, Jake, nothing happened. It’s just my job.”

  At that moment the phone rang, and casting an apologetic glance his way, Ruth answered it.

  From the tone of her voice, and what she was saying, Jake knew it was Calladine. He grabbed his books and stormed off upstairs to the study.

  Chapter 9

  Day Four

  As he met Ruth at the mortuary door, Calladine apologised. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything last night. I heard Jake’s voice in the background. Did it go well?”

  “Sort of, but I still can’t decide what to do about my love life.”

  “You and me both.” He tried to joke, but the truth was, the Monika problem wasn’t funny — not in the least. What with her and the case, his mind was constantly active. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, and the repercussions were making themselves felt.

  “You need to get it fixed, Tom. It’s all very well giving me advice, but you need to take a good long look at your own life. You’re weary. It shows on your face. It’s all taking its toll. If you’re not careful the job will get the better of you, and then where will we all be?”

  Tom Calladine was well aware he’d looked better. His features were drawn and there was a slight ashen tone to his face that was made worse by his progressively greying hair. He was looking his age and feeling the strain.

  “Not sleeping is a pain in the arse. But I expect it’ll pass. In the meantime, we must get on. We can’t let up on this. Make a decision, Ruth — only then will things settle down in here.” He tapped his head. “You give it a go and I’ll join you. Let’s see what we can achieve by the end of the week.”

  “I’d love to, but I’ve got the most awful feeling I’ve dithered about for too long — that I’ve put him off once too often. You know how it is — you spend so much time pleasing yourself, it’s hard to make changes. And having someone permanent in your life certainly changes things.”

  “Permanent — that’s a big word. Personally I think it’s about time you found yourself a good man. It’s worth giving it a go, surely? It’s good to have someone to go home to at the end of the day. Zoe’s made a huge difference.”

  “That’s different, guv. Zoe’s your daughter. Where Jake’s concerned I’ll have to see — and
you’re a fine one to talk anyway. If it’s about time for me to settle down, then what about you? You skip from one woman to the next like a randy teenager! And I bet you haven’t spoken to Monika yet — have you?” She watched him frown. “Coward. You’re afraid she’ll lay into you for what you did.”

  “It’s not that. To be honest it’d be a relief if she did. If she gave me a right bollocking, then I might feel better. It’s the injured looks and accusing stares I can’t stand.”

  “Still . . . I’d think about it if I were you. But for the time being we’ve got our hands full with this little lot.” Ruth pushed on the mortuary door.

  “Randy teenager. So that’s what you think of me. I wish I was; they don’t know what they’ve got — none of them do.”

  “This is going to be bad, isn’t it? I mean it must be if she’s been in the ground for a while.” Ruth paused for a moment with her hand still on the door handle.

  Calladine nodded. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we? So try and stay detached.”

  “What I’m trying to get my head around with all this, is why no one’s been reported missing. I had a quick look at the mispers list and no one comes close. I have to ask myself why that is. Do we have to cast our net much, much wider? Could we even be looking at illegals here?”

  That wasn’t a bad idea. But if they were, then they’d never get anywhere, because no one would talk.

  “Tracing that plate will help — that is if we get anywhere with it. There are thousands and thousands of those damn things fitted every year. Anyway, the good news is that Cassie Rigby is safe,” Calladine said. “Imogen and Rocco got that little mystery solved last night. It was good work, and it looks like Rocco is well and truly back on board now. The Rigbys will have to be sorted, though. Buying a child can’t be tolerated. I can’t say what the outcome will be, but it’s doubtful they’ll have any further contact with Cassie.”

  * * *

  Both detectives made their way to a gallery above the table where the young woman’s body was laid out. Doc Hoyle, his assistant and Julian were getting things ready below. Doc Hoyle looked up and smiled, fixed his mask over his face and pulled on his gloves. His assistant pulled back the sheet to reveal the girl.

  Neither Calladine nor Ruth was prepared for the sight. The girl’s body looked almost black with decay. Most of her abdomen and her chest cavity had rotted away, leaving a rather gruesome arrangement of ribs that supported remnants of skin. Her head was practically a skull, the facial features indistinguishable. Doc Hoyle hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said she’d been dead a lot longer than the first girl. Even from this distance the smell was bad and they willingly picked up the masks left out for them.

  The pathologist began, “Female, and she’s been dead and buried in what looks like soil for a while. She was buried naked, wrapped in the blanket we found her in. It’s badly stained and sticking to the body.” He began gently peeling it away, removing some of the dirt from what was left of her limbs with a fine brush. “I’ll have a sample of the soil tested. It might tell us something.” He put some into a container and handed it to Julian.

  The pathologist looked up at the two detectives and shook his head. “I’d say she was killed during the last few months. Time of death is nigh impossible to determine. It’s been cold and that hinders decomposition. The body will yield some information, but the tests will take time. Julian will crack on but you’ll have to give us a day or two at least. One thing I’m fairly confident about — she’s from the same stable as the last one.” He tweezered up a small metallic object from the blanket beside her skull, dropping it into a kidney dish. “Another livestock tag. Looking at it quickly I’d say this one says Vida 3.”

  What was it with that damn word? Name? Place? He needed to know. It was looking highly likely now that it was a name. Calladine couldn’t think of any other rational explanation — not that anything about this seemed at all rational.

  Doc Hoyle carefully examined what little was left of her face. “Her teeth have been mutilated and, although the state of the body makes it difficult, I’d say she was garrotted like the other one. Her trachea is split in two.” He indicated for the assistant to take a photo. “She was slight and there are still clumps of long, fair hair left on the remaining scalp tissue. Her abdomen is interesting . . .” The doctor concentrated for a moment. “It is probable that this girl was pregnant too.” The loud tick of the mortuary clock filled the silence. All eyes were on the pathologist. Ruth jumped slightly as something was dropped into a stainless steel kidney dish.

  “Further checks will confirm, but I’m almost sure the piece of bone is from a foetus. Given the size of it she would have to have been twenty weeks or more. I’ll do a DNA test to make sure and compare it to the foetus from the other girl — ascertain whether it’s the same father.”

  * * *

  Ruth felt sick. The room was swimming and had suddenly become very claustrophobic. There could be no mistake. They had another one. Was that why he got rid of them? Because they got pregnant? She didn’t dare think about what had happened to the poor girl, and what she must have gone through. But whatever it was, it must have been every bit as bad as with Vida 5.

  She had to pull herself together. There was a job to do. It was warm in here and, despite the mask, the smell was getting to her and making her feel faint. She thought for a moment that she’d been staring at the table for too long because she could swear something around the body was moving. The room seemed to sway again and she grabbed Calladine’s arm to steady herself. She blinked a couple of times and shook her head. Finally she gasped, still clinging to Calladine’s arm, “Did you see that?”

  The doctor looked up. “Wildlife, Ruth. All sorts of creepy crawlies have taken up residence in the body. Not to mention a good few maggots . . . I’m going to have to clean her up a bit. The maggots might tell us something.” Julian handed him a small container and he plopped some into it. “This will take time. I can’t risk spoiling anything that might be helpful.”

  Maggots! He wasn’t joking either. The more she looked, the more she saw.

  “There are bite marks on her arms — predation, I’d say, and her right foot is missing. If I had to make an educated guess, from the marks, I’d say the work of a fox.”

  “I’ll have to leave, sir. I can’t stand to listen to any more.”

  The idea of that poor girl ending up as nothing more than a meal for the foxes was making her heave.

  Ruth Bayliss ran from the room and stood outside Doc Hoyle’s office, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply. That was one of the most horrific sights she’d ever seen, and she’d seen a fair few by now.

  They had a bloody nutter on the loose. This was a maniac who took young women and killed them in the most horrendous ways. He had to be stopped. Everything else would have to be put on hold until they did — and that included Jake Ireson.

  He wouldn’t like it. There was no way she would be able to visit his parents in Whitby this weekend. It was going to be like this always. She could see argument after argument looming in front of her, as Jake got tired of her excuses. She closed her eyes. Why had Jake’s parents decided to retire to Whitby? Why couldn’t they have moved into a bungalow in Leesdon instead?

  “Sorry, Ruth.” The doctor and Calladine were coming towards her. “She’s been somewhere above ground for a day or two — hence the maggots, the smell and the accelerated decomposition. Somewhere relatively warm I’d say, so the flies and the animals have got to her. The beetles and the worms were picked up underground, but not the maggots. The damage is fairly new too, and not from when she was first killed,” Hoyle said.

  Ruth wondered how he could be so matter of fact about it all. A good thing, too. Someone had to gather the evidence.

  * * *

  He was meeting her for lunch — her idea. She’d taken the bait with hardly any effort on his part at all. She’d enjoyed herself so much on Tuesday night she wanted more. She said it was a c
hange to have someone who could afford the good things in life. He wasn’t taken in. She liked his money, and that was the real reason she was so keen to see him again. It was pointless going out with another student, she’d told him. They were always broke.

  For now he was happy to indulge her. It smoothed the way for the next part of his plan. So he would have to spend a few pounds — so what? All that would end soon enough. Then she’d learn the hard facts. She’d learn what it was really like to be Vida. Now there was a woman; a proper lady. She hadn’t been interested in his money — she’d had plenty of her own.

  But meeting Patsy Lumis again meant shelving work for the day, and that was a real pain. He’d have to explain himself — make some excuse and grovel. He hated that; it was demeaning, and he hated his job — he hated being taken for granted.

  He’d spend the morning preparing. There was a lot to do. His special place had to be perfect for its next inhabitant. Still, women like her were hard to find, so, in the end, it would be worth it. He’d clean up a bit, make it smell sweet, and clean his instruments. The thought of wielding all that stainless steel once again, with purpose, made him excited. He could feel that special thrill. He flexed his fingers.

  Dentistry was difficult to learn, but he had to master it. How else was he going to impress Vida? It was a skill she greatly admired. She’d spoken a lot about her own dentist, about the work she’d had done. He wanted to be good at it too, so he could keep things as she wanted them. A smile like Vida’s took a great deal of maintenance, and he’d hoped to be a lot better at it by now but there were always unforeseen difficulties. With the first one he’d not thought it through; he’d not thought about the blood or the saliva and so he’d botched it completely.

  They fought too and screamed. But he got around that by strapping them down. He cut out all the crying and pleading by stitching their swollen, ugly mouths tight shut. He didn’t do it nicely, either — no painkillers. He’d quickly realised that he enjoyed watching them suffer. He derived a whole heap of pleasure from putting them through it. To that end he always used thick string or garden twine — the kind with wire running through it — to seal those soft, fleshy lips that always bled so much and swelled so hideously. The thought made him chuckle.