Bad to the Bone

by Tony J. Forder

  He swept back some undergrowth with his hand to allow Emily through to the scene. As she brushed by him, Bliss caught her scent in the frigid air. He felt his flesh tingle.

  Grant spent exactly ten minutes at the grave site. Then, while the various teams continued about their business, she, Bliss and Chandler gathered together by the mobile catering trailer, drinking tea, eating bacon rolls, and stamping their feet to ward off the bitter chill. The night had grown much colder, and the mist closing in around the woods was laden with frost.

  ‘I must say I’m quite looking forward to this,’ Grant told them. Forty in less than a month, she was a tall, elegant woman with large green eyes, prominent cheekbones, and hair that looked as if it took an age to maintain, yet Bliss sensed that was of little or no concern to her. Though she dressed casually, Bliss thought she did so with a certain style and elegance. Her educated voice made her sound a great deal more stuffy than she actually was.

  ‘I’m surprised you’re not asked to do this sort of thing all the time,’ Chandler said. ‘We have our own people, of course, but we have to call them in from all areas of the country, and the whole process takes up valuable time. The local hospital helps out occasionally, but it depends on the staff available and their existing workload.’

  Grant nodded. She used her teeth to remove a leather glove from her left hand, grasping her hot roll more easily afterwards.

  ‘Well, my real expertise is in anthropology, of course. So I’m much more up to speed with bones from a bygone age. That said, I think I’ll be able to point you in the right direction.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Bliss. Despite the nature of the crime scene, he was enjoying having Emily around.

  ‘Well, even though I obviously need to inspect the remains more fully, I can tell you one thing from my initial observation.’

  ‘You can? Let’s hear it.’

  ‘This is not the only time that body has been buried.’

  Bliss looked across at the floodlit scene, quickly glanced at Chandler, then back at Emily Grant. ‘How d’you mean?’ he asked her.

  ‘The body has been reinterred at least once before.’

  ‘It has? How can you tell?’

  ‘That’s easy enough. I’m sure you both noticed without giving weight to what you saw. The thing is, when a body decomposes the flesh simply rots away leaving the skeletal framework very much as it was before. The remains we have here are not in any recognisable form – that is, the structure is not that of a human shape.’

  Grant used her hands when she spoke, as if making an invisible model of what she was describing.

  ‘Animals?’ Chandler suggested. ‘The bones could have been disturbed by scavengers.’

  ‘They probably have been. But not to the extent I saw. Large pieces of the skeleton still form limbs, such as the legs, feet, arms and hands, and the ribcage seems to be reasonably intact. The problem is that the limbs are positioned incorrectly, all jumbled up on top of each other. What I saw suggests to me that they were dumped in a pile. I’ve seen this sort of thing many times, and my instinct tells me that your remains were dug up and then reburied.’

  Bliss was taken aback. A shudder scuttled along his spine. An interesting case had just become intriguing. ‘But who on earth would do such a thing?’ he asked. ‘And why?’

  Grant laughed and shook her head. She bit into her roll and, around a mouthful of bacon, said, ‘That’s certainly not my field of expertise. I rather thought it might be yours.’

  Chapter 2

  When DS Hogg, the senior scene of crime officer, announced that the doctor had been indefinitely delayed at a serious RTA in the city centre, Bliss reluctantly decided to call time on this particular waiting game.

  ‘It’s nights like this that make me wonder why we do this bloody job,’ Bliss groaned to Hogg.

  The tall, slightly stooped DS, cheeks reddened by the cold, gave a knowing nod before he spoke. ‘Times have changed, Inspector. No more blundering all over crime scenes. These days it’s all about protecting the evidence.’

  Hogg sounded about as irritated by the delay as Bliss felt. Police procedure had its own pace, starting at slow and working its way down. With the duty doctor busy, Bliss decided there was no point in everyone hanging around kicking their heels while the night exhaled fresh layers of frost, coating them all with its chilling indifference.

  ‘Give me a call on my mobile if you come up with anything significant,’ he told Hogg. ‘Leave a message if it’s switched off. Oh, and I’d get a few more holes dug in this area if I were you, Charlie.’

  ‘More holes. Why?’

  Bliss glanced around at the busy scene, his gaze finally coming to rest on the tent erected over the shallow grave. He raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Who knows if the corpse those boys found is the only one out here?’

  The DS winced. ‘Shit! You think there could be more?’

  ‘To be honest, I doubt it very much, but for all we know right now this could be some psycho’s favourite burial plot.’

  ‘Fuck! Thanks a bunch. You just made a bad night even worse. Have we dropped a bollock here already, Jimmy? Allowing everyone to run their size tens all over the bloody woods, I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think so. We sealed off the primary scene, and that’s all we needed to do. But let’s cover our arses now, eh?’

  Hogg stomped away, muttering to himself and barking an order at some unfortunate soul who crossed his path at precisely the wrong moment. Bliss started to grin, but his face hardened as it occurred to him that he might actually be right about there being more bodies. It was a sobering thought.

  When he rejoined Chandler and Grant, Bliss offered an apologetic shrug. ‘Thanks for coming out here, Emily. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ Grant said quickly, shaking her head. She had pulled a scarf up around her chin, but her cheeks were flushed, nose tipped with red. ‘And far from being a waste of time, it’s actually been a fascinating experience.’

  ‘What, standing out in a dark wood freezing your… well, freezing?’

  ‘No, no, no. This hive of activity going on around us might be common practice for you and Penny, something to yawn over when you’re sitting down to breakfast tomorrow morning, but it’s all new to me. And what’s more, it’s extremely interesting for a civilian to observe.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you see it that way.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s been fascinating watching your people go about their business in such a methodical, painstaking manner. It reminds me so much of the way my team and I carry out our own work.’

  Bliss nodded, acknowledging the observation. He estimated that the activity around the SOC would continue throughout the night and for the best part of the following day. Perhaps even another twenty-four hours would be requested by SOCO after that. Running a crime scene was a laborious task, yet one that often yielded vital evidence. He and Hogg had bemoaned the delay in a moment of frustration, yet both knew the reasoning behind it was sound.

  ‘It’s a shame you weren’t able to examine the remains more closely tonight before this lot steamed in mob-handed,’ Bliss said. ‘Still, what you told us could be very helpful.’

  Grant spread her gloved hands, black leather now slick with bacon grease. ‘I’d still like to help. If you want me to, that is. Just because I can’t study the remains immediately doesn’t mean they won’t be available to me tomorrow.’

  She had a point. And it would be good to get a jump start on this, Bliss reflected, even if it was to rule it out as an active inquiry. He looked at her and nodded.

  ‘If you’re sure. I suppose I could give the doctor your telephone number and have him contact you when he’s finished here and the remains have been shipped on to the mortuary.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Emily grinned and breathed out a plume of frigid air. ‘I love my work, but it can get a little samey. This will make for a nice change of pace.’

  DC Chandler had bee
n listening to the exchange, and now gave a short, humourless laugh as they started walking towards their vehicles.

  ‘A change of pace? I can think of better ways to spend the day than probing the remains of a human being.’

  ‘Oh, so can I, believe me. But bones are my meat and drink.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ said Bliss, wondering if he’d imagined the slight pause and glance in his direction before Grant had spoken. ‘I’m going to grab myself a swift pint before heading home. You two want to join me?’

  ‘I’m game,’ Chandler said immediately.

  ‘That’s an understatement.’ He angled his head towards Grant. ‘How about you, Emily? Let me repay you for keeping you standing around twiddling your thumbs on a bitter night like this.’

  ‘Go on, then. You’ve twisted my arm.’ She looked between them and gave a warm smile. Bliss decided he liked it.

  In the days when horse-drawn wagons and coaches were the only forms of transport for goods and people alike, a road staggered from London all the way up to Lincoln. London Road, by far the longer stretch, slid like a needle into Peterborough’s dark underbelly and emerged on the other side as the imaginatively named Lincoln Road. At the point where its narrow, built-up throughway bloomed to become dual carriageway flanked by industrial estates, it also gave home to the Paul Pry pub and restaurant.

  Set back off the southbound side of Lincoln Road, the Paul Pry was a typical example of corporate-style design and decor, the food following a set menu found all across the country, the beer not allowing for local-brewed real ale or lager imports beyond the range determined by the chain. Normally, Bliss would have run a mile from such a characterless place, but it was close to the scene and pleasantly warm on such a bitter night. Despite its size the pub was surprisingly cosy, with little noise other than a low hubbub of voices and the meaningless chatter of a single fruit machine. Bliss bought the drinks and carried them across to a corner booth close by the exit. The three of them shed their coats and began to relax and thaw out. Not necessarily in that order.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, tilting the glass once in their direction before taking several long swallows. He cuffed his lips, then regarded Grant closely. ‘I would never have taken you for a beer girl.’

  ‘First of all, I’m no longer a girl,’ she replied, before taking a second sip from her own glass. ‘And secondly, what’s wrong with me putting away a pint of bitter?’

  Shaking his head, Bliss raised his hands defensively, palms out. ‘Not a thing in my book. But there are some men out there who regard it as… less than feminine?’ The last word formed more of a question than a statement, unconvinced as he was by his own argument.

  ‘Well, firstly, if they consider me less than feminine, they are very much mistaken. And secondly, I would not wish to know such moronic men.’ Her tone suggested the matter was closed.

  ‘I wish I could take to it,’ Chandler admitted. Her elbow rested on the table, chin cupped in one palm, fingers trailing up her cheek like plump pink ivy climbing a wall. ‘Whenever I see someone sink their first gulp, they always look so completely satisfied. It’s as though just that one drink has slaked an incredible thirst. I’ve tried it a couple of times but can’t stand the stuff. I’ll stick to my vodka, thanks very much.’

  Emily set her glass down on a table sticky with the residue of drinks spilled by previous customers. With one hand she unconsciously swept back her fringe, tucking a few strands of hair behind her left ear. She wore a black sweater, and Bliss noticed that the gold pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck matched her earrings. The attention to detail didn’t surprise him. That he had noticed came as a bit of a shock, though.

  ‘You have to acquire a taste for beer,’ the Bone Woman told Penny. ‘It takes a while. I don’t think anyone actually likes it the first time or two. Not even men.’ Her eyes drew Bliss into the statement.

  ‘You’re probably right. I’m a Guinness man these days. It’s almost always my first choice.’

  ‘Do you drink it because you like it? Or because it’s the cool thing to be seen drinking?’

  ‘You think I’m that shallow?’

  ‘As a worm’s grave. But all men are, and you can’t help your gender.’

  ‘A pint drinker and a man-hater.’ Bliss smiled and glanced across at Chandler. ‘Who would have guessed?’

  The DC laughed. ‘Well, she’s certainly got you pegged, boss.’

  ‘He probably adds those two things together and comes up with lesbian,’ said Grant, her smile widening.

  Bliss looked between them. ‘Hey, I am here you know. I do have feelings. I can be hurt.’

  Chandler and Grant laughed. Bliss smiled and began to unwind. It had been a slow day until the Bretton Woods shout came in, but as soon as he had laid eyes on the skeleton he had begun mentally preparing himself for any eventuality. Now he loosened the knot of his tie and pulled open the top button of his shirt. The stiff collar had been chaffing his neck all day.

  ‘That’s enough fun at my expense,’ he said. ‘Now, can we move the subject on? I’m beginning to regret ever asking you two here for a drink.’

  Emily Grant put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t mind me. I tend to use direct humour as a mask to cover my chronic shyness.’

  He didn’t know whether to believe her, but when Bliss raised his eyebrows he continued to grin. ‘If that’s an apology, I accept. However,’ he looked pointedly now at his DC, ‘I would have expected more loyalty from my subordinate.’

  ‘Why would I start now?’ Chandler asked.

  A loud cheer went up moments after the fruit machine began a scatter-gun distribution of coins. Someone had won a jackpot by the sound of it. Laughter rattled around the bar.

  ‘Lucky sod,’ said Bliss, without looking up at the winner. ‘I bet he puts it all back before the night is out.’

  Grant glanced across at him, her head tilted to one side. ‘Now that is a surprise. I didn’t have you down as a pessimist, Jimmy.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m a realist. And speaking of realism, I want to return to a question I posed earlier this evening: why would someone dig up a body and then bury it again?’

  Pushing her empty glass aside to create a path, Chandler leaned forward and said, ‘Perhaps whoever initially buried the body realised later on that they’d left behind something incriminating.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘That’s a decent theory. Assuming that’s what they did. Bury the body in Bretton Woods, dig it up and then bury it again, I mean.’

  Grant looked bewildered. ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Well, I’m wondering if the body was moved for some reason.’

  ‘Why would anyone do such a thing?’

  The notion had only just occurred to him, and Bliss hadn’t yet had time to follow it through. ‘I have no idea. Penny may well be right, and we’ll certainly check it out, but we can’t allow ourselves to get bogged down with one train of thought. To my way of thinking, if someone is going to dig up a body and then rebury it, moving it is as good a reason as any.’

  Chandler caught the other woman’s curious eye. ‘The boss likes to think about what’s around a corner before he gets to it. To us mere mortals, it’s the body we look to for answers. DI Bliss, on the other hand, will seek answers in the why, not the what.’

  He had to agree, despite the mocking undertones. ‘That’s because the body is only the result of what our murderer does. The end. The best way to find that person is to discover what drove them to such an act in the first place. The beginning. Motive, DC Chandler. You recall the word during training down at Hendon, yes? This is slightly different, I grant you, but the principle remains the same. I want to know what drove this person to disturb a dead body. A skeletal body.’

  ‘Well, here’s another thought,’ Chandler offered. ‘What if the whole notion is wrong? What if it was the two kids? Maybe they got excited enough to actually pull the bones up out of the grave. Then, when they realised they had to report it, they bricked
it and shoved the remains back where they found them.’

  ‘The boys did say they hadn’t disturbed the remains once they’d uncovered them, but I suppose it’s not out of the question.’

  ‘Young boys telling lies to keep out of trouble – what are the chances? And they didn’t exactly stop digging when they realised what they had, did they? The whole skeleton was exposed when we got there.’

  Bliss leaned back in his seat and thought about what he might have done in their place. Once he’d become aware of what they were, would he have continued touching the bones? Probed the unearthed treasure with his fingers? Probably. But perhaps just the skull, running a tremulous hand around its curves, maybe pushing a stuttering finger into an eye socket or between the open jaws. The frenzied nature of the dig had seemed a little odd to him earlier, but at their tender age the sheer excitement, fuelled by an adrenaline rush, had probably ignited their eagerness. Yet did that necessarily mean they would then have started yanking the bones out of the ground? Bliss had his doubts, but he nodded anyway.

  ‘We have to check it out. It’s a vital issue, and you were right to raise it, Penny. The lads are being spoken to in the morning anyway, so I’ll make sure whoever does the interview knows what to ask.’

  ‘I may be able to point you in the right direction,’ Grant said, taking another pull from her glass, getting down to the dregs now.

  ‘You really think you can get anything from those bones?’ Chandler asked her.

  Grant’s nod was firm. ‘All remains tell a story. You just have to know how to read between the lines and ask the right questions in order to get to the truth.’

  ‘How about facial reconstructions? Do you do those? You know the sort of thing: taking a cast of the skull and forming the face from clay.’

  ‘I’ve done several, actually. But we use laptops and software these days. A hundred times as fast and just as effective. You know, in many ways, I think it must be very much like being a detective.’