by Bill Kitson
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me from that, ma’am.’
‘Why? Because you don’t agree with our actions?’
‘Not entirely, ma’am, more because I already have a date. As of eight thirty tomorrow morning, I’ll be playing jigsaws with Professor Ramirez.’
‘Jigsaws? Did you say jigsaws?’ There was a pause before O’Donnell realized what Nash was referring to. ‘I see. You’re attending the post-mortems. Then deputize someone else to do that.’
‘I could, but I’m not going to. As the senior officer in this case, it’s not fair to expose either of my subordinates to a further harrowing experience such as the sight of those dismembered corpses. That would not be good leadership, passing the most unpleasant tasks to someone else.’
‘Well in that case, we’ll just have to manage without you.’
Nash was surprised at her attitude, but asked, ‘I’d be obliged if you can inform me when the Met have visited Barton’s flat. I’ve no doubt that won’t happen until tomorrow, but for today, I’m about to pack Andrews and Pearce off home. Once they’ve gone, I’m going to write up my report, and then I’ve arranged to visit Thornscarr. The CSI team are there, going through the rest of the house.’
* * *
Despite Lisa and Viv’s protests, Nash insisted that they take the rest of the day off. ‘You’ve already lost the best part of the weekend; better to make sure it isn’t completely wasted. Tomorrow morning, I want you both to concentrate on finding blood relatives of those missing women. We will need to contact them in order to provide DNA samples for comparison purposes, so getting their location will be a good start. We need to know if they can provide a recent photograph.’
He saw the look of disbelief on their faces. ‘For the file. It wouldn’t help identify them, but they don’t need to know that. Oh, and check if the women had any distinguishing marks, tattoos and the like. One more thing, if Jack Binns is still downstairs when you leave, tell him to sling his hook as well. I’m quite capable of locking up.’
When Nash reached home it was early evening. He took a frozen pizza out and stuck it in the oven, far too weary to attempt anything more challenging. Given the loss of a full night’s sleep, he felt certain once he got to bed he’d be dead to the world, but it didn’t happen that way. All night, he was tormented by dreams, governed by the gruesome discoveries he’d had to witness.
Next morning he was up and about early, despite feeling jaded and stale. He took a much-needed shower and shave, shuddered at the thought of breakfast, and set off for Netherdale General Hospital. He parked at the rear of the building outside the mortuary that now contained the remains of all the butchered victims. With a few minutes to spare before Ramirez was due to conduct the post-mortems, Nash took the opportunity to phone his superintendent, Jackie Fleming.
‘The CSI boys went over the rest of the house and lifted a load of fingerprints, some of which I feel sure will belong to Barton,’ he told her.
‘We should be able to confirm that soon, Mike. The Met are making an urgent application for a search warrant for Barton’s flat. Given the gravity of the case, they’re making it a high priority. Once they’ve lifted prints from the flat, they’re going to email them straight to our Forensic department.’
Nash told her about his instructions to Andrews and Pearce to find families of the missing women. ‘Mexican Pete said we should use DNA to identify the victims. There’s no other way an ID could be made. We certainly can’t allow them to view those remains. Some don’t even look human.’
Jackie Fleming shuddered. ‘Having just read the report you emailed me, I quite agree. It read like an excerpt from a Gothic horror novel. Will you be OK attending the post-mortems?’
‘I have to be. I explained as much to the chief, but I’m not sure she agreed with me.’
‘I don’t think she did, but I do.’
‘I’ll have to go, Jackie. Mexican Pete’s just arrived.’
* * *
Out of habit, Nash switched his phone off during the post-mortem examinations. When he emerged late in the afternoon, following completion of the second procedure, he immediately switched the mobile back on and called Helmsdale CID. ‘How are things going, Viv?’ he asked Pearce.
‘So far, we’ve succeeded in locating blood relatives of three out of the five missing women. Lisa’s still working on the others. How are you doing with the post-mortem marathon?’
‘Mexican Pete’s managed two so far. He’s called it a draw for today. His excuse is that he’s getting backache, but I think it’s more emotional overload for both him and his assistants. I’ve never seen him this distressed before, even though he’s had some bad stuff to deal with. He said there’s no rush as they’re not recent deaths. The fact that that each of the bodies was in a separate bag made it easier to assemble the parts. And the matching decomposition of the heads enabled him to marry them up along with the angle of the cut on the neck. As for ID, he’s extracted DNA, and we’ve now got height and hair colour for each victim.’
‘How about you, Mike? How are you bearing up?’
‘I’m OK. Fortunately, my interpretation of the regulations came to my assistance.’
‘How do you mean? I don’t understand that.’
‘The regulations stipulate that a police officer has to be present at any autopsy. It doesn’t say that they have to watch — or listen.’
‘That’s a point worth knowing, Mike. Actually, I was about to message you with a video clip I downloaded onto my phone, but if you’re coming back here, I can show you it when you arrive.’
‘I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Have you heard anything from Jackie?’
Surprisingly, Pearce laughed.
‘What’s funny?’ Nash asked.
‘I think she’s been a bit too busy to talk to us. That’s part of the video clip. I was going to caption it Media Circus if I’d sent it. The majority of it is footage of the media conference the chief held at eleven o’clock this morning. I’d best describe it as a shambles.’
‘That bad is it?’
‘Bad, and a bit worse, if you get me. I think you’ll particularly enjoy the part when God was asked why you weren’t there. Her reply was that you had other matters to attend to. She didn’t sound or look very happy as she said it, made it sound as if you were investigating a petty theft instead of concentrating on the murders.’
‘She’s so convinced Barton’s the killer that she wouldn’t listen to the flaws in her theory. I was pondering calling in at HQ, but after what you’ve told me, I’ll head straight back.’
Chapter Nineteen
Nash was almost at the outskirts of Helmsdale when his mobile rang. This should be interesting,’ he muttered when his caller display showed the identity of the person.
He pressed answer on the dashboard. ‘Hello, Becks,’ he greeted her, using his pet name for Becky Pollard, his former lover, and now a long-term friend who was editor of the Netherdale Gazette. ‘What can I do for you today? Do you want an update on the region’s crime statistics, or is it a social call?’
‘Give over, Mike, you know as well as I do why I’m calling. Aunt Gloria implied you’ve lost the plot, and I wanted to get your slant on things before I publish.’
‘That’s good of you, but if you write an article giving my take on things, your godmother might not approve. It’s happened once before, if you remember. And you know I won’t discuss details with you.’
The fact that the chief constable was Becky’s godmother had often proved difficult from both sides of the fence, and had once caused a major upset. ‘I’ll take that risk, Mike. Is it true that you were off investigating other crimes when the press conference was on?’
‘No, I was busy watching Mexican Pete.’
‘Oh, you were the attending officer at the autopsies, were you?’
‘Correct, but obviously that didn’t rate a mention.’
‘You must have upset her. What did you say that she took exceptio
n to? You’re usually her blue-eyed boy.’
‘I told her I didn’t agree with her. That I’m far from convinced that Barton is the murderer. She doesn’t take kindly to people defying her, and so she more or less told me I was talking nonsense. I advised against going public with so much emphasis on one man, but she’d have none of it.’
‘Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll write the article myself and email it to you in an hour or so for your approval. Could I go far enough to insinuate that there might be a dissenting voice among the officers involved in the investigation?’
‘Why not? If what I hear about the media conference is correct, that’s already been implied.’
Becky laughed and rang off. Minutes later, Nash joined his colleagues in CID, where he watched the recorded media conference with dismay. Although he might have been most upset by the oblique inference that he was other than convinced of Barton’s guilt, he was more concerned that both O’Donnell and Fleming seemed to have pinned their faith to the mast of this one suspect. ‘I think Gloria’s just struck me off her Christmas card list,’ he muttered.
The rest of the clip Pearce had recorded was the lunchtime news, which, as well as containing footage of the media briefing, also showed a photo of Barton, whom the anchor said the police wanted to question as a matter of urgency. The reporter also stressed members of the public were warned not to approach him.
At that moment, the phone in Nash’s office rang. He signalled Lisa to answer it, commenting, ‘I haven’t returned from Netherdale yet.’
She returned a couple of minutes later with a message from Jackie Fleming. ‘The Met obtained a warrant for Barton’s flat this morning and searched the place. They lifted several sets of identical prints, which they assume to be Barton’s, but nothing else pertinent to the enquiry. The prints have been emailed to our forensic team for comparison.’
‘OK, here’s what I want you to do. Phone Jackie back in ten minutes or so and tell her that just after she rang, I called in. Say that I was deeply upset by the autopsies and that I was going home and wasn’t to be disturbed — by anyone or anything. You can say that the pathology showed the two victims examined so far showed signs of prolonged drug abuse and high levels of sexual activity, which tends to confirm our belief as to their identity. You can add that I have to go back tomorrow for the other two examinations, following which, if I feel up to it, I will be contactable — but not before.’
Nash waited a moment while Lisa absorbed what he’d told her, then turned to Pearce. ‘Viv, you know one of our CSI blokes quite well, don’t you? I mean apart from work, isn’t he a neighbour or something?’
‘That’s right. In fact, I was talking to Alf only a few days ago.’ Pearce grinned. ‘He was complaining that he couldn’t sneak home for lunch in the CSI van while I was on leave, in case I caught him skiving.’
‘OK, give him a bell and ask what they can reveal about the prints at Barton’s flat, and how they compare with the bloodstained partial taken from what one of our uniformed men referred to as Hell’s Kitchen.’
Nash listened to Andrews repeating the message he’d given her for Fleming. After ending the call, Lisa told Nash, ‘Jackie says she quite understands, now that she’s seen photos of the crime scene.’
Ten minutes later, just after Nash had finished reading Becky Pollard’s email to him, and sent his approval to the draft of the article that would appear in next morning’s paper, Pearce reported back on his conversation with the scientific officer.
Nash looked at Pearce, who appeared to be containing his laughter as he said, ‘Do you think the chief might be interested in a recipe if I can find one for her?’
Both Nash and Lisa looked puzzled, until Pearce continued, ‘I think she’ll need one for humble pie when she gets the preliminary forensic report. I managed to contact Alf, and, assuming the prints lifted by the Met from Barton’s flat are his, they match those taken from the sitting room and bedroom at Track End Cottage. However, according to what Alf said, there is absolutely no similarity between Barton’s prints and the bloodstained partial found in the kitchen. He went on to talk about whorls and loops and stuff that I only vaguely understood, but there was sufficient to provide a match had they been at all like Barton’s. By the look of it, I’d say you were right, Mike, and that Barton isn’t the killer.’
* * *
It was with real reluctance that Nash drove to Netherdale early the following morning. His attendance at the mortuary owed less to his position as a police officer than a sense of duty towards the victims of the butchery. In Nash’s eyes, it was his responsibility to give them what closure could be achieved by bringing their killer to justice. He’d scarcely parked the Range Rover in anticipation of Ramirez’ arrival when he was surprised to see a car he recognized as that driven by Superintendent Fleming pull into the small parking area, closely followed by the pathologist’s vehicle.
‘I know you’re “not contactable”,’ she said as they headed through the door, ‘but I decided it might ease the pressure if I attended the autopsies with you. It might seem like nothing more than a bit of moral support, and that is how I described it to the chief constable, but in reality, there are matters I think we should discuss, and I thought this would be the ideal opportunity, away from prying eyes and ears. There will be plenty of time while the procedures are being carried out.’
Ramirez interrupted at that point, emerging from the small changing room clad in the olive green protective clothing he once described to Nash as his business suit. ‘I got my assistants to come in early and remove the victims from the drawers. The remains have been laid out on separate tables, so that should give us a good head start.’
Nash groaned. ‘Not more dreadful puns, please.’
‘I enjoy seeing you wince,’ Ramirez retorted. ‘Nothing else seems to upset you.’
Nash was curious as to what Fleming wanted to talk to him about, and even more by the need for secrecy. He refrained from asking questions until they were in the inspection area, shielded from the worst of the macabre activity taking place on the other side of the glass screen, then he asked Jackie what was on her mind.
‘I have several concerns I wanted to discuss with you,’ she began, for once seeming to be slightly at a loss as to how to put her thoughts into words.
‘About this case, you mean?’
‘Not only that, although I admit these murders have highlighted the issue in rather dramatic fashion. I appreciate that with you being at Helmsdale you have less direct contact with the chief constable than I do. I talk to her on a daily basis, whereas you might only see her twice or three times every month, barring crises. However, in a sense, that places you at an advantage. Let me ask you directly, Mike, have you noticed any changes in her attitude or behaviour?’
‘I’d certainly say this past few days’ performance could be classed as a fairly dramatic shift in attitude,’ Nash replied. ‘And on one or two other occasions, I’ve sensed that she’s rather more impatient and less tolerant than usual. Apart from that, as you said, I don’t come in regular enough contact to be able to form an accurate opinion. I assume from your question that you have observed changes that have given you cause to worry.’
‘I have, and the ones I’ve seen represent exactly those traits you outlined. But it was only with the events of the past couple of days that my anxiety about her increased dramatically, culminating in a conversation we had after the report came through regarding the fingerprints at Thornscarr.’
‘I know the results seem to indicate that Barton didn’t commit the murders,’ Nash told her. ‘Pearce has a friend in CSI who was involved in the analysis, so we got the results yesterday, probably before you did.’
‘I agree that the findings seem to exonerate Barton, but that isn’t the way Gloria sees it. She insists that they do not put Barton out of the running, but show instead that he was still deeply involved and that he acted with an accomplice. When I attempted to argue with her, she flew into a rage and
accused you of poisoning my mind against her, despite me telling her that I hadn’t spoken to you directly since I returned from that conference. When she told me she’d set up the media conference, she said you’d point blank refused to attend because you weren’t prepared to admit that your theory was wrong and wouldn’t acknowledge that Barton was the culprit.’
‘That’s definitely not the way it happened. She sprang this media conference idea on me on Sunday, at which point I outlined my concerns about Barton’s guilt. She then ordered me to attend the briefing anyway, but by then I’d already committed to coming here.’
‘Yes, that’s what she told me when I got back, yet only twenty-four hours later, she’s spinning the whole story in a totally different direction. Now you can understand why I’m worried.’
‘I concede that there is a remote possibility that Barton could be involved along with an accomplice, but given the nature of these murders, I think it’s highly unlikely. There have been instances of two totally depraved characters getting together to commit heinous crimes such as these,’ — Nash gestured to the work being carried out beyond the glass — ‘but far more often, they’re the work of one psychopath acting alone.’
‘I agree. But when I tried to ask the chief to specify what your concerns were about Barton, she went off on one and told me if I wanted to side with you, I’d better ask you.’ Fleming paused before adding, ‘So that’s the real reason I’m here, not to side with you specifically, but to ask what you believe to be the flaws in the Barton culprit theory.’
Nash outlined his thoughts much as he had presented them to the chief constable, but this time to a much more sympathetic audience.