Perfect Remains

by Helen Fields

  ‘How many girls attend the school?’ Callanach asked to distract him as Ava worked.

  ‘Four hundred and twenty, including the sixth form,’ he snapped. ‘What offence are you investigating?’

  Ava looked at him sharply. ‘Felicity hasn’t attended this school for the past five months, is that correct?’ He nodded. ‘And at the conclusion of her notes all I can see written is GM. What does that mean?’

  There was a pause, a cough and another pause. Callanach watched Ava watching Currie and wondered how long she’d give him. Not very long, as it turned out.

  ‘Mr Currie, is there a reason you’re not saying anything?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Am I legally required to answer these questions?’ Currie tried, but the defeat was plain to read on his face.

  ‘Why would you fail to assist a criminal investigation by answering what should be a straightforward question?’ Ava tucked the file under her arm.

  ‘It’s an abbreviation for another school. GM is St Gerard Majella’s.’ Currie wasn’t happy.

  ‘Is that in Edinburgh?’ Callanach asked Ava.

  ‘If it is, I’ve never heard of it.’ She turned her attention back to Currie.

  ‘It is,’ he confirmed. ‘Will that be all?’

  Ava didn’t bother with any more small talk. She had what she wanted. The school day had a couple more hours to go. They were back in the car in less than a minute. Callanach radioed in the information and the address came back fast.

  ‘Odd to discover a school I’ve never heard of in the city,’ Ava said. ‘I know the street and I’ve never noticed a school building there.’

  This time the blue lights went on when they hit traffic. Callanach left Ava alone with her thoughts as she drove, two marked police cars keeping pace behind them. A social worker had been called to meet them at the address with the doctor who had examined Lucy Costello previously. The school could call Mr and Mrs Costello. Ava had given them a chance to do things the easy way the first time.

  St Gerard Majella’s School was an ageing outer-city manor house in a road which must once have housed the area’s moneyed families. It had the distinction of lacking any signage to alert visitors to the institution’s name or purpose. A grand old building, slightly tatty around the edges, it initially appeared to be in need of some updating but the windows and doors were new and a state of the art security system kept them at bay outside a metal-barred gate.

  They left the car on the road and were finally buzzed in on foot. Ava stationed two uniformed constables at the front gate and asked a detective to make his way to the rear of the property to ensure that no one left the premises unseen. An enormous wooden door eventually opened and a nun stood at the threshold.

  ‘Yes?’ she said. There was going to be no false friendliness. Callanach preferred it to Currie’s brief, sickly attempt at charm. Once again, Ava showed her badge but this time it was taken from her and carefully inspected.

  ‘We need to speak with Felicity Costello,’ Ava said. ‘You’ll want to telephone her parents, but we have child-support staff with us. We’d also like her seen by a doctor.’

  ‘Come with me,’ was the reply. Callanach studied the nun’s face but it gave nothing away. There was no shock, not even a hint of curiosity and she asked no questions.

  ‘Currie phoned and warned them,’ Ava whispered to him as the nun freed a heavy ring of keys from her belt. She rattled through several before extending one in the direction of an inner door. Inside, the corridor extended both left and right. Straight ahead of them was another locked door, with a glass panel through which he could see a stairway.

  ‘Turn left,’ she said and showed them to an office which contained only four straight-backed wooden chairs for visitors, a simple desk and a stool on which she sat. The only testament to the twenty-first century was the communications system on her desk. She pressed a flashing red light on its deck and spoke to someone in another office. ‘Put him on the line,’ she said.

  Ava began to protest and was met by a hand raised palm-first in her direction.

  ‘Mr Costello,’ the nun said. ‘I am in the presence of two police officers who are party to this conversation so that there are no secrets between us. I would like you to confirm that you withdrew Felicity from this school recently and that she is currently in your care.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ John Costello said without a hint of his previous aggression.

  ‘Is Felicity with you?’ Ava asked, standing up to raise herself above the level of the hand.

  Callanach thought he could hear muffled weeping in the background and wondered if Currie had phoned the school or Felicity’s parents first. Either way, the change in John Costello’s attitude was stark. ‘She’s here,’ he said.

  ‘We’re on our way. Do not attempt to leave the house. We’ll be with you shortly.’ Ava was already at the door.

  ‘Remember your duty,’ the nun added. The crying at the other end was getting louder. Mrs Costello was obviously past the point of control.

  John Costello added a subdued, ‘Yes, Sister Ernestine,’ before putting down the receiver.

  ‘Felicity was at her home address all the time. I do hope next time you’ll do your research more thoroughly before causing such a drama,’ the nun said to Ava. Callanach noticed a cane on her desk and picked it up, rotating it in his hands.

  ‘A reminder of the bad old days, Sister?’ he asked.

  ‘An educational antique, Constable.’ The slight was deliberate. The nun might not have been rattled by their presence but she was annoyed by it. Ava and Callanach followed Sister Ernestine back along the corridor where she paused to unlock one door then the other.

  ‘It’s an impressive security system for a school – the cameras, the gates,’ Callanach noted.

  ‘We are a privately funded school, with the safety of many young girls in our hands. Can you imagine what would happen if the wrong sort of person entered with only myself and my fellow sisters to protect our wards? I should have thought a police officer would have been more understanding of our situation.’ She closed the front door before he could answer. Ava was striding towards her car. Callanach stared up at the windows of the upper floors. Security conscious was an understatement. The windows were sealed, no hinges in sight. Cameras from at least four different locations were trained on him, waiting for him to vacate the area. It was a fortress. What sort of parents would want their daughter educated here? That was the question he asked Ava as he climbed back into the car.

  ‘Lucy Costello had already received a caution for dealing ecstasy. Maybe the twins are rebelling and Mr and Mrs Costello figured it was better to split them up,’ Ava offered.

  Callanach’s mobile rang. Tripp was chasing him on the Chief’s behalf. Fair enough, Callanach thought. What he’d expected to be a half hour away from the station had turned into something much more complicated. He asked for a squad car to meet him at the Costellos’ house and take him back to the station. Ava was going to be some time.

  They reached the Costellos’ ahead of the squad car, so Callanach watched as Ava knocked on the door. The child protection social worker introduced herself first, then Ava gently explained to a pale-faced Felicity what was happening. The only words Felicity spoke were to confirm her identity and agree that she was well enough to be interviewed. There was no hint of defiance, no teenage tantrum or overacted cockiness, just a quiet, embarrassed girl whose eyes didn’t once leave the ground. Felicity Costello may have abandoned her baby in a park, but she was just a child and more victim than offender. Ava put a gentle arm around her shoulders and led her to a police car.

  The Chief was already ensconced with Professor Harris and DS Lively by the time Callanach got there. It was a shame. Callanach had wanted to state his case privately, in advance. No doubt, he thought, Sergeant Lively had anticipated that.

  ‘Detective Inspector, I was beginning to think we’d lost you completely,’ Harris said.

  Callanach didn’t grace the r
emark with a response, but glared at the files on Harris’s lap. ‘I did ask that the release of confidential information waited until after this meeting. I’m not convinced this is the appropriate way forward,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t want to waste the morning, so the Chief agreed that I could review the missing persons files your constable was compiling. I’ve also spoken with your team and I’m up to speed. What are your current lines of investigation, Inspector?’

  ‘Mainly forensics. We know he’s using chloroform, that he spends a long time watching his victims, planning his routes. We have a vague description from a dog walker near Jayne Magee’s address but not enough for a sketch.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re reduced to waiting for him to strike again and hoping you’ll get luckier next time! It’s just as well I was brought in,’ Harris said. Lively murmured his agreement.

  Callanach took Ava’s advice and conceded by ceasing to fight. At least Harris couldn’t do too much damage if his only task was to review missing persons files, and it meant Tripp would be freed up.

  ‘Review the evidence if you wish and let me have your report,’ Callanach said. ‘We can review the day after tomorrow at nine a.m.’

  Harris shook his head and tutted. ‘Tomorrow morning at eight will do nicely. I’m a speed reader, Inspector, even with this many documents I won’t need two days to get myself in order. After that, I’d like to spend the rest of the day re-interviewing your witnesses.’

  Callanach let Professor Harris make his remaining demands uninterrupted. If nothing else, it had the effect of speeding up the meeting. When the others had gone, the Chief called him back.

  ‘I know you don’t like it,’ Begbie said, ‘but work with him. It can’t hurt.’

  ‘If you want a profiler, then I’ll find someone. I managed a few investigations using a very talented Swiss psychologist. I could give her a call.’

  ‘We can’t fund it,’ DCI Begbie said. ‘Truth is, the man gets on my nerves too, but the effort of excluding him would be a lot greater than letting him do his bit.’

  ‘I thought you were on their side,’ Callanach said.

  ‘Give me some credit,’ Begbie said. ‘And just remember that if we don’t catch this murderer soon, it’ll be my head on the block before yours. No pressure.’

  ‘Right,’ Callanach said. ‘No pressure.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Detective Constable Tripp had done well. From the photos, Callanach could see that the drum-handling trolley had been tipped off Granton Harbour Breakwater. Had it not been for the tide lodging it in the muddy sand bank at the base of the sea wall, they’d never have found it. By itself, it would have constituted no more than a vague possibility of evidence but tied to its handle was a thick plastic sack containing Jayne Magee’s clothes. They’d been sent directly to the lab but it was a formality. The blood on the clothing was inevitably hers. The trolley was going to yield fewer helpful results. Dr Ailsa Lambert phoned him as he was emailing her.

  ‘Jayne Magee’s teeth,’ she said. ‘The test we ran with sodium hydroxide of the same concentration that dissolved the bones showed a different rate of degeneration for teeth, but even so there should have been far less of the teeth remaining than we found. As for the missing upper jaw teeth, we’ve no idea what happened there.’

  ‘Can you draw any conclusions?’ Callanach asked.

  ‘The teeth from the lower jaw must have been put in separately to the jaw bone itself. Hours apart, we think.’

  Callanach walked to his window and looked out over the grey road below. Why would the murderer have immersed the body parts in batches? Possibly he’d been interrupted cleaning up his carnage or maybe there was a more ritualistic element to it.

  ‘Elaine Buxton’s body was found with a baseball bat nearby which had been used on the skull and some of the teeth were smashed. Is there any sign of that with Magee?’ he asked.

  ‘I think not. The outer layer of enamel is degraded but the teeth are whole. As for the jaw itself, it’s possible a baseball bat was used on it, we’ve only fragments left, many pieces of bone can’t be anatomically positioned.’

  ‘Thank you for the update, Dr Lambert.’

  Ava walked into his office as he was putting down the phone.

  ‘The gynaecologist confirmed that Felicity Costello gave birth recently,’ she said. ‘Felicity told the child support worker she’s all right, volunteered that there’d been a doctor present at the birth, then shut down completely. I don’t want to push her too hard, she’s been through enough, but I’m going to have to get some answers.’

  ‘Have you questioned her parents yet?’ Callanach asked, pinning his recent notes on the wall next to Jayne Magee’s photo.

  ‘I’ve got nothing to charge them with and they’ve lawyered up already. We can interview them as witnesses but they’re unlikely to help.’

  ‘How about finding the doctor who delivered the baby?’ Callanach suggested.

  ‘Not as easy as you might think, assuming the health care was privately paid for,’ Ava replied, plonking herself on a chair.

  ‘Follow the money. The parents must have paid, directly or indirectly. If they’re not talking then you’ve got cause to access Mr Costello’s accounts. You can have the answers by tomorrow morning, which is a lot more than I’m going to achieve,’ he said. ‘Come on, I’ll walk down with you. I’m going back out to Granton Harbour.’

  They passed Professor Harris on the stairs, deep in conversation with DS Lively.

  ‘You didn’t get rid of him, then?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Biding my time. Did they discover anything regarding your death threat?’

  ‘No, not that I’ve had time to worry about it. Even the Chief’s given up having me escorted. It was strange that it got slipped under my office door though. Somehow that’s more unsettling than my home, knowing they can get into this building unseen.’

  ‘Have you considered that it might be a police officer?’ Callanach asked.

  ‘I can’t bring myself to think it,’ she said. ‘Means I’m not safe anywhere and that way lies madness. Best to move on and assume whoever wrote the note has, too. There’s Felicity with the social worker. Wait for me, would you?’

  ‘Sure,’ Callanach said, standing back while Ava spoke to the child protection team.

  ‘Have you decided if you’re going to detain her in secure accommodation tonight, only I’ll need to phone the children’s unit and make a room available,’ the social worker asked Ava quietly. Callanach watched Felicity. The girl was listening, head down but alert.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Ava replied. ‘She’s vulnerable, and even though her parents aren’t assisting, I’d rather she went back to her own bed. I’ll go and tell the Costellos.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Felicity whispered. Callanach saw it more clearly than he heard it, and he realised Ava hadn’t caught it at all. Ava started to walk towards the double doors, beyond which John and Mary Costello were waiting for information about their daughter. Felicity’s eyes filled with tears. She looked first at the social worker who was busy on her mobile, then to Ava who was almost out of reach and finally at Callanach. ‘I don’t want to go home,’ she mouthed to him.

  ‘DI Turner,’ Callanach shouted. Ava looked back at him through the glass of the double doors as they swung shut. He motioned for her to return, found a chair for Felicity, then took Ava into a quiet corner to explain. Together they sat with the shaking teenager and talked her through what would happen.

  ‘Are you sure about this? I can’t guarantee where you’ll go tonight and you’ll be in police custody until we’ve decided what to do,’ Ava explained.

  ‘Are you in danger, Felicity?’ Callanach asked. The girl shook her head, retreating back into silence. The social worker finished her call then joined them.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Ava said. ‘I think it’s preferable that Felicity remains in a controlled placement tonight. What’s the best we can do?’

  ‘
There’s a unit a couple of miles away but it tends to be used to place violent children.’

  ‘That won’t do,’ Ava said. ‘Is there nothing else?’ Callanach watched Ava lean in closer to the social worker, almost whispering in the woman’s ear. ‘If it’s a matter of money, I’ll cover the costs personally.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just finding a space somewhere with appropriately trained adults.’ The social worker checked her watch. ‘There’s a foster carer, very experienced. If it’s just for a couple of nights she might help me out. It’s not normal procedure but …’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Ava said. ‘You won’t disappear, Felicity, will you?’

  The girl looked her directly in the eyes for the first time. ‘I won’t, I promise. Thank you,’ she said.

  Callanach drove to Granton Harbour alone. At the warehouse, the exclusion zone formerly marked by waspish crime tape had morphed into an impossible garden, alien within the industrial landscape. Flowers, wreaths, teddy bears, cards, letters, candles extinguished prematurely by the harsh breeze, much like Jayne’s too short life, surrounded the building as far as his eye-line reached. He took a moment to survey the carpet of condolences and prayers, wondering at how one person could have touched so many others. Crouching, he picked up a card bearing the simple message, ‘Gone but never forgotten’, and another, ‘Taken from us too soon.’ More of the same, variations on the themes of gratitude and loss, some personal, others obviously from admiring strangers, then in the midst of the outpouring of love, a black-edged card handwritten in ink. ‘As in all the congregations of the saints, women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says. If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church. 1 Corinthians 14:33-35.’ He shoved the distasteful, unwelcome note roughly into his pocket and stood up, narrowly avoiding a woman placing a posy. She was crying and cooing gently to the baby bound to her chest in a sling.