Where the Dead Fall

by Where the Dead Fall (retail) (epub)

  At approximately 14:00 on April 12, at the request of Greater Manchester Police, I attended the scene of a suspicious death at Wingate Lake.

  I was logged into the inner cordon of the scene at 14:05.

  On arrival I was met by Detective Sergeant Harper and SOCO Albert Simpson.

  At this point, I was given brief background information that the deceased appeared to be a Ronald Wilson who had been reported missing eleven days previously.

  At approximately 13:05 the body had been discovered in the water by children playing in the park. Paramedics attended but due to the body being in the water were unable to declare that life was extinct.

  Fact of death

  After I met with the senior investigating officer and the lead SOCO, the body was removed from the water and placed on the ground beside the lake. I then proceeded to examine the body itself for the purposes of verifying the fact of death.

  This was confirmed at 15:27.

  The body was of a young Caucasian male appearing to be of the stated age. The body was nearly naked, dressed only in a pair of blue boxer shorts. No clothes were found at the scene However, a witness reported a man entering the water previous to the discovery of the body. There were signs of prolonged immersion: wrinkling the skin of the soles and palms, with some loosening of the skin, hair and nails. Maceration of the skin seemed to be well established but (vide Polson and Gee 1973) detachment of the skin had not yet occurred, suggesting a time in the water of at least a week but less than two.

  There was a visible brown birthmark on the right side of the neck.

  A small injury was noted on the back of the head.

  All the relevant tapings and swabs were taken.

  An examination was made of the surrounding area but nothing further was discovered which related to our body. The police have issued a request to the general public that the clothes and wallet of the deceased should be returned but nobody has come forward so far.

  Signs of visible injury

  There were bite marks to the ear, shoulders, legs and toes that appear to have come from fish. One larger bite mark to the stomach may have been from a pike or similar carnivorous piscean. The SIO informed me the lake does contain several pike.

  There was an injury to the rear of the skull.

  The skin around the wrists showed evidence of trauma.

  There were no other visible signs of injury to the body.

  I was logged out of the scene at 17:12 and the body transported to the mortuary for a post-mortem, ordered by the coroner, Margaret Challinor.

  Protective clothing

  During the course of the entire time I spent at the scene I wore protective overshoes, a hooded white scene suit, a pair of gloves and a mask. My personal dictaphone was enclosed in a protective evidence bag during the course of the examinations.

  I was logged out of the cordon at 17:30.

  The injuries were interesting, but everything else seemed standard for a body found in the water. Ridpath was surprised at the detail in the pathologist’s report for a death the police thought was an accident or a possible suicide. Dr Schofield was conscientious, perhaps a consequence of being new? He turned over to the next page.

  POST-MORTEM EXAMINATION

  On the morning of April 16, I attended the mortuary of Stepping Hill Hospital to undertake a specialist post-mortem on the body of Ronald Wilson.

  The post-mortem commenced at 09:30 hours.

  The people present were

  A Simpson…SOC Manager

  Kate Brady…Mortuary Technician

  Photographs were taken under my direction and I performed the post-mortem examination. Received in a white, signature-sealed bodybag and wrapped in a black plastic sheet was the body I recognised from the scene. Head and hand bags were in place.

  External examination

  He was of medium build, weighed 74.2 kg and was 178 cm tall. His hair was sandy coloured and cut short to the head. The body was soiled from being immersed in water but not excessively so. As mentioned previously, maceration of the skin had occurred but not to any great degree.

  An outer examination of the body revealed signs of a sharp force injury to the rear of the head at the left parietal scalp approximately 4 cm above and 2 cm behind the right ear. On removal of the scalp to the level of the nape of the neck posteriorly, this thin wound was seen to penetrate the skull and enter the brain to the depth of 2 inches. The wound was no more than 7mm round, suggesting it was the result of a sharp point (such as an awl or a thin ice pick) being driven into the skull with great force.

  There is no likelihood this could have happened by accident as the body hit the water, i.e. by a reed or sharp piece of wood. There was no organic residue in any part of the wound. Reddening around the area of the wound indicated it happened ante-mortem.

  The hands had a series of three minor incisions running in parallel on the inner aspect of the junction of the right wrist crease with the left hypothenar eminence (bulge of tissue at the base of the little finger). These were approximately 1.8 cm in length and are indicative of defensive injuries.

  Both wrists showed abrasion marks and bruising suggesting the victim’s wrists had at one point been tied but there was no evidence of rope discovered at the scene and the hands were free in the water when the body was found.

  Internal examination

  Evidence of drowning

  The lungs and body were examined for evidence of freshwater drowning i.e. ‘the process of experiencing respiratory impairment from submersion in a liquid’.

  There was no evidence of active respiration of fresh water causing alveolar collapse/atelectasis, due to the alteration of the surface tension properties of pulmonary surfactant.

  There was no evidence of electrolyte dilution and hypervolaemia due to fresh water being absorbed into the bloodstream.

  There was no evidence of myocardial depression, reflex pulmonary vasoconstriction or altered pulmonary capillary permeability contributing to pulmonary oedema from systemic hypoxaemia.

  And the classic findings ascribed to drowning i.e. external foam visible at the mouth or nostrils, frothy fluid in the airways and lung ‘hyper-expansion’ were not present (although none of these is diagnostic).

  Toxicology

  The length of time spent in the water prevents a conclusive study of the toxicology of the victim. However:

  Trace elements of Ambien were found.

  No alcohol present (usually a contributing factor to any drowning)

  No other drugs were found in the system.

  Attached is the Toxicology Report. Appendix 1

  Heart

  Normal for a twenty-one-year-old man. Slicing the myocardium showed no pallor in the Fossa Ovalis. Ventricular dimensions were in normal parameters as were the pericardium, atna, major blood vessels and the valves.

  Attached is a list of the organ weights. Appendix 2

  Ridpath was a little lost given all the technical language. He turned the page and breathed a sigh of relief.

  CONCLUSIONS

  1. There are three major reasons for finding a body in the water: accident, suicide or the disposal of a body that has been murdered elsewhere.

  2. Accidental death would reveal the presence of water in the lungs and other determinants of death by drowning. None were found.

  3. And again, suicide by drowning would show the same determinants.

  4. Examination of the skull reveals a deep wound to the back of the head caused by a sharp instrument.

  5. Defensive wounds on the hands suggest this victim tried to protect himself during an attack.

  6. The wrists were bound at one point before the man died.

  I would conclude this is not a suicide or an accidental drowning, but the disposal of a body that had been killed prior to entering the water.

  Therefore I give as cause of death:

  Category 3. Murder by person or persons unknown.

  Signed James Schofield, Pathologist. 19 April 2018r />
  Ridpath read through the full report again, making sure he understood everything.

  It looked like the pathologist was saying the death of Ronald Wilson wasn’t an accident or suicide but murder.

  Inside the file was a separate envelope containing photographs of the crime scene and those taken at the post-mortem.

  He hesitated for a moment before opening the envelope. Looking at dead bodies and close-ups of human livers was not something he enjoyed. It reminded him far too much of his own brush with mortality. There but for the grace of God and the care of the miracle workers at Christies, it could have been him on that cold, steel mortuary table.

  Gingerly, he took out the sheaf of photographs, staring at the one on top of the pile.

  His mouth dropped open. ‘That can’t be,’ he said out loud, ‘it’s impossible.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ‘All this new policing malarkey, it does me head in. What the fuck does “hot desking” mean anyway, Charlie? And yesterday I got a memo entitled “Operational Paradigms in Contemporary Fiduciary Exigencies” from some tosser on the sixth floor. Jesus. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about and I hadn’t even started reading it.’

  Dave Hardy stubbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray on the car’s dashboard. ‘It’s all these bloody courses they go on, isn’t it? Fills their heads up with so much rubbish, they have to put it down on paper.’

  They were sitting in an unmarked car outside the taxi office on Halcombe Road. All pretence at covert surveillance had been abandoned now in favour of letting Connelly and his men know they were watching their every move.

  On the back seat of the car an assortment of McDonald’s fries boxes, filet-o-fish wrappers, a couple of empty buckets of KFC and four used Starbucks cups were tossed waiting to be collected and thrown when the next shift arrived. The usual nutrition for a stakeout; a diet of fags and fast food.

  There had been a few people going in and out of the taxi hut but it had been reasonably quiet since their arrival that morning at six a.m. The bodyguards were still there though, rubbing their arms and stamping their feet against the cold of spring.

  It was Charlie who broke the silence. ‘I remember going on a course in London once, run by the National Crime Agency. Three days it was and the title said “The Future of Policing. The 21st century and beyond.” Well, you know me, I was just there for the Fullers and to see some old mates. United were playing Arsenal so I thought I could squeeze in a game too. After the pizza throwing incident at Old Trafford, I always liked us to take Wenger’s mob to the cleaners. Didn’t show no respect to Sir Alex.’ Charlie stroked his moustache. ‘I remember this tosser stood up in a room full of coppers and said two things. Number one was the forty-three regional police forces should be scrapped in favour of one national force…’

  ‘I bet that went down like a cup of cold sick.’

  ‘You’re not kidding. You should have seen their faces. The room was full of superintendents and assistant commissioners, all of them just seeing their chances of any promotion vanish in one sentence. Then the mug, I think he was a super himself but one of the fast trackers, been to some university or other, anyway, he then dug his grave even deeper when he said the police force wasn’t up to the job any more. The future is in criminal profiling, computer segmentation, airborne drones, proactive detention and big data, whatever that is.’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Years of cuts have seen to that.’

  ‘What do you mean, Dave?’

  ‘Well, look at this. How long do you thing we can keep this up?’

  ‘The surveillance?’ Charlie asked.

  Dave nodded.

  ‘About four more days, a week tops.’

  ‘And after that?’

  ‘We’ll pull everybody off. Can’t afford the costs.’

  ‘And how many men are we using for this operation?’

  ‘You know better, Dave, it’s officers not men. Anyway the answer is more than seventy.’

  ‘So Connelly, Big Terry and the rest know this. They are just waiting for us to go back into our shells and return to the comfort of our nicks before they decide to kick the war off. It will be like ninety-nine all over again, but this time they will be better armed. But…’ he paused for a moment, ‘what if there were drones just flying over Big Terry’s pub and his house. Or observing the taxi shed. One man could monitor them all sat on his arse at the nick, watching a few screens. A couple of squad cars on call and Bob’s your uncle.’

  ‘Ah, but it doesn’t have the human element, Dave. What happens if they all leave at once? A drone can’t decide which one to follow.’

  ‘Most of our plods can’t either. But that’s where technology comes in. What if everybody were fitted with a little chip in the gap between his finger and thumb. I saw it on telly last week. You can open doors with the chip, even pay for your coffee with it. Just put your skin next to the reader.’

  ‘That’d be handy. Get it…’ Charlie punched Dave Hardy on the arm.

  The DS carried on anyway. ‘You know you can track those chips like we track a mobile phone. All we do is sit down in front of our computers and look at the screen. We’d know where all the villains were and what they were doing.’

  ‘So you mean instead of sitting here in a cold car eating shitty food, we could be sitting at home with a glass of Boddies in our hands looking at a screen and saying, “Burglar Bill is outside the house in Lymm again, should we nab him now or have another beer?”.’

  ‘That’s it. But they probably won’t let us drink on duty.’

  Charlie pulled his moustache. ‘There’s one big problem with this Brave New World of yours, Dave.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Who nabs Burglar Bill? In the end, some poor plod has to walk away from his screen and eventually arrest someone.’

  ‘Robots.’

  ‘Robots? Terminator 2 and all that crap? I can just see it now. Yes sir, here we have the latest model. We’ve called it Dave Hardy. It’s fat, drinks too much, farts like a trooper and can’t run very fast, but it’s a robot.’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Charlie. It’s the future…’

  ‘The future my arse. The future is going to be like the past for people like us. We investigate a crime, find evidence, build a case, arrest the perp and leave the rest to the mess that is the CPS and the criminal justice system. The life of a copper. Never has changed, won’t ever change. End of story.’

  Dave Hardy grabbed his arm. ‘Looks like summat’s up.’

  One of Michael Connelly’s thugs was walking towards their car. He tapped on the driver side window. Charlie pressed the button to lower it.

  The bullet head with a broken nose spoke to them. ‘Mr Connelly’s sending me to Costa’s. He wants to know if he can get you anything.’

  Dave Hardy leant forward. ‘Two lattes. Mine’s with two sugars.’

  ‘Any sugars for you, Mr Whitworth.’

  Charlie shook his head

  ‘Anything else while I’m there?’

  ‘I could murder a bacon and egg roll,’ said Dave Hardy.

  ‘Is that it?’

  Dave Hardy nodded.

  ‘Ok, won’t be long. And Mr Connelly says it’s on the house. He doesn’t reckon you’ll be here much longer anyway.’

  Charlie rolled the window up and looked at Dave Hardy.

  ‘What? I was hungry.’

  ‘I was just thinking you don’t have to feed robots bacon and egg rolls.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Ridpath flicked through the other photographs of Ronald Wilson lying dead on the slab in the mortuary.

  He was staring into the dead eyes of the man with the gun on the M60.

  But that can’t be. The accident only happened on Wednesday and Ronald Wilson’s body had been discovered six days before, on April 12. A dead man can’t get up from a mortuary table and walk, can he?

  He closed his eyes bringing up the memory of the man
with the gun, and the moment when his hood blew off, revealing the face.

  It was him.

  It was definitely him.

  Ridpath grabbed the report and rushed next door to see Margaret Challinor. She was in a meeting with the area coroner, Carol Oates. Both of them working on a Sunday, they must have been busy in his absence.

  ‘Can it wait?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Can you give us a moment, Carol?’

  The young woman rolled her eyes, taking her files off the desk and left the room without looking at Ridpath.

  ‘This better be important.’

  He placed the report on her desk and watched her read it, her eyes scanning the page quickly and reaching the conclusions by Dr Schofield.

  ‘It seems we have a murder on our hands, Ridpath. Have you told the police yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I thought there were two things you should know first.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The toxicology, the ropes around the wrists and the lack of clothes, just underwear, well, they are exactly the same as Gerard Connelly.’

  ‘Our victim on the M60?’

  Ridpath nodded,

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘That’s what I said, Mrs Challinor.’

  ‘So you think the two cases are linked?’

  Ridpath nodded. ‘But it’s worse. Have you looked at the post-mortem pictures?’

  ‘I tend to save that dubious pleasure for last.’ She looked through the sheaf of photographs. ‘The usual horror show, perhaps the lighting is a bit better than normal on these.’

  ‘It’s the first one that’s important.’

  She picked up the face and chest picture of Ronald Wilson lying on the mortuary table and stared at it. ‘This is our victim?’

  Ridpath nodded again. ‘And he is also the man I saw with the gun on the M60 chasing after Gerard Connelly.’

  The coroner snorted. ‘Impossible.’ She quickly flicked back through the report checking the dates. ‘This man died at least two weeks before the accident…’

  Ridpath sat down in Carol Oates’ chair. ‘I know it’s impossible, but I swear it’s the same man.’