Dead to Me: A serial killer thriller (Detective Kate Matthews Crime Thriller Series Book 1)

by Stephen Edger

  ‘She’s on her way over now, sir. She’s as keen to know whether Fenton’s dead as I am.’

  ‘Good. That’s good work, Kate. I’m comfortable with you treating this as a Category-A until we know more. I’ll see how many detectives DI Underhill can spare you. For now, brief the full team, and then afterwards, you, Underhill and I will sort out who does what. I’ll join the briefing in a few moments, but you’d better make a start.’

  Kate paused at the door to compose herself for a moment. Striding in, she called for everyone’s attention as she cleaned the large whiteboard that covered most of the wall behind her desk. Only Laura looked up. Eddie Vaughn’s face loomed at her from the photograph above his memorial plaque, grinning at her inadequacy. He was lucky: he’d died a hero to the men and women in this building. She hated how his eyes seemed to follow her around the room: one more person judging her.

  She banged the whiteboard cleaner against the wall, until the hubbub ceased. Picking up a marker pen, she wrote the date. ‘An anonymous 999 call was made in the early hours of this morning – at four a.m. – reporting a fire at a dockside warehouse. The warehouse belongs to none other than our favourite local hood, Danny Fenton.’

  A few rumblings echoed from the gathered team.

  ‘I know Fenton’s reputation precedes him, but I’ve asked DI Hendrix from Organised Crime to stop by and enlighten those who don’t know who he is.’

  She threw the pen to Patel and asked him to start recording notes on the whiteboard while she updated the team on what they’d learned at the docks.

  Patel wrote ‘arson’ under ‘crime’ as she continued: ‘As already confirmed, there is no sign of the victim’s head or feet. The FSIC will continue his analysis of the scene and will notify us if he discovers anything else of use. The media are aware of the fire, but for now we will keep the discovery of the body under wraps. The last thing we want is a spotlight on us. What I want from you is background: what vehicles were seen in the vicinity before and after the fire started; find any CCTV that could show us what happened; speak to the call handler who received the tip-off, and get a copy of that call so we can identify who made it; contact the owners of neighbouring units at the docks and find out if there are any witnesses who saw what went on. Without a head, there is a chance the pathologist will struggle to make a formal identification, which means we need to use good old-fashioned police work to determine who he is. If Fenton is the victim, I want someone to work with Hendrix’s team to identify who had motive to want him dead.’

  The door at the opposite end of the room opened and the supe led Hendrix in, talking in hushed whispers. Kate caught her eye and beckoned her over.

  Hendrix approached the front and stuck an A4 coloured headshot of Danny Fenton on the whiteboard. ‘Daniel Thomas Fenton is a captain in the Quinn crime syndicate. If he is the victim found this morning, you need to look into members of the Thompson clan, and in particular,’ she paused and stuck a second photograph on the board, ‘this man: Harold Watson. Six months ago, my team raided a warehouse owned by one of Watson’s associates. Inside we discovered close to half a ton of cocaine, with a street value of ninety million. The cocaine came from Venezuela, and was transported to Norway, where it was packaged with frozen cod and haddock, before sailing to the UK. Neither Watson nor Fenton were anywhere near the seizure, but we arrested several small-time members of both crime syndicates. They are fierce rivals, and this was the first time we’ve found them in partnership. The small fry we caught couldn’t have organised anything as big as that haul, but we couldn’t get any of them to turn in the ringleaders.

  ‘Anyway, fast forward to last month, and we caught sight of Fenton and Watson meeting several times in the space of a few days. We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were saying, but we have reason to believe they are trying to find the person who tipped us off about the operation. Fingers are being pointed and we’ve been waiting for some kind of retaliation from one or both of the groups. If Fenton is dead then Watson is our main suspect, and we will need to act fast to stop this escalating into a full-scale war.’ She stared at Kate. ‘Which is why I want to offer the support of my team to help with your enquiry. They know these people inside and out, and they’ll help you cut through a lot of the bullshit responses you’ll get from the streets.’

  Kate was wary of any voluntary offers of support from Hendrix, who had made no secret of her own ambitions before, but thanked her gracefully for the offer.

  Hendrix stepped away from the board as Kate moved forward. ‘You’ve got your assignments. It’s midday. I want updates by six, and then we’ll plan next steps from there. You heard what Hendrix said: we need to work quickly. The clock is ticking.’

  4

  They’d been sitting in the supe’s office for over ten minutes, waiting for him to arrive. DI Underhill was stretched out in his seat, hands behind his head, belching every now and again without apologising. Kate ignored him, along with the incessant buzzing from the phone in her pocket.

  Underhill was a jock; the sort of guy who used phrases like ‘banter’ to undercut an insult he’d just hurled out. He wasn’t someone Kate usually had to spend too much time with, and for that she was grateful. She couldn’t fault his record, or the way he managed to motivate his team when called upon, but it was his puerile behaviour in between times that really riled her.

  Having two murder enquiries running side-by-side was going to make minimal interaction more challenging. The team of detectives was already stretched thin with several seconded to one task force or another, so ensuring she had adequate resources to catch the warehouse arsonist was going to take careful negotiation. The supe had made it clear which of them was his favourite.

  DSI Williams entered the office, dropping a leather briefcase next to his desk and removing a small bottle of mineral water from the fridge in the corner of the room.

  ‘Ah good, you’re both here. Right, let’s divvy up what you need. Underhill, you go first.’

  He smirked at Kate before sitting up and straightening his tie. ‘We still don’t have a name to go with our victim, sir, and there isn’t much by way of security-camera footage in the area where her body was found. The pathologist confirmed she is of Chinese descent, but there’s no way of knowing if she was born over there or here in the UK. We’ve run her prints and DNA through the database but have had no hits, so no prior record. What we do know is that she was drowned, probably held beneath the water, judging by the markings around her neck. What’s interesting is there are no obvious defensive wounds. We’re still waiting on confirmation of any drugs in her system, but we should have that detail today.’

  The superintendent cleared his throat. ‘I need a team to canvass the area, going door-to-door looking for anyone who can confirm if they saw or heard anything strange on Saturday night or Sunday morning. I need someone to review the missing persons reports to see if her face matches any local absentees. If that proves fruitless, we’ll need to reach out to the neighbouring counties. What little security footage there is needs to be carefully reviewed. She wasn’t drowned at the skate park, so the killer had to have brought her there somehow. I think I need at least two dedicated to reviewing that footage, identifying and ruling out vehicles in the area.’ He flicked his eyes at Kate, relishing her reaction. ‘I’m looking for at least ten detectives with a couple of uniforms to support the house-to-house enquiries. At the moment, sir, we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, so the more eyes and hands I’ve got, the better.’

  ‘That’s practically the whole unit!’ Kate objected, ‘Sir, you can’t—’

  DSI Williams raised his hand to cut her off. ‘Matthews, you go next.’

  Kate glared at Underhill, before softening her expression as she turned to face the supe. ‘Sir, I’d say my investigation is already further along than Underhill’s. We don’t yet have an ID, but the docks are covered in security cameras so it shouldn’t be too difficult to identify who he is, if the pathologist
doesn’t get there first. I need two or three to watch the footage and half a dozen on the street to prevent things escalating between the two syndicates. Then there’s a team in the water checking to see if the murder weapon was dumped there; I want—’

  The superintendent raised his hand again. ‘Divers? You know we don’t have the budget for divers. I’m sorry, that’s out of the question.’

  ‘But, sir, if—’

  ‘No, Matthews. I’ve already told you, our budget is maxed out.’

  Kate’s phone vibrated again at her side. ‘Sir, please—’

  ‘I said, no!’

  She knew better than to persist.

  ‘Underhill, you can have ten to do what you need, but I won’t agree to any overtime without a good explanation. Matthews, I’ll give you Patel and Trotter, and for anything else you need you can liaise with DI Hendrix’s team. She seemed very keen to lend a hand this morning, and you need all the help you can get.’

  She stared down at her hands, desperately trying to ignore the growing grin on Underhill’s face. They were dismissed with a warning not to waste funding on dead ends, and as Underhill held the door open for her, he whispered: ‘Hundred quid says I close my case quicker than you. You up for it?’

  ‘Don’t be such a child,’ she replied. ‘You scared you’re not up to the challenge?’

  She stopped and turned to him. ‘No, I just don’t think it’s professional. You might be able to pull the wool over the old man’s eyes, but I see right through you, Underhill.’

  ‘Remind me, why did they insist you leave The Met? Something about cracking under the pressure, I heard.’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘No? Why don’t you prove it then? A hundred quid says you’re nothing but a burnt-out has-been.’

  There was nothing she wanted more than to wipe that smug grin off his face. Instead, she thrust out her hand. ‘Fine!’

  Underhill’s palm was warm and clammy as he gripped her hand and shook it. ‘I’d say, may the best man win, but we both know I will.’

  He practically skipped the rest of the way back to the Incident Room as Kate hung back, steadying her breathing and counting to ten. Her phone vibrated again, and in anger she pulled it out and put it to her ear.

  5

  ‘What do you want, Rob?’

  ‘You could be civil, at least.’

  ‘And you could have kept your trousers on when I needed you most,’ she said, tiredly.

  He sighed. ‘Have you signed the divorce papers yet?’

  Kate still felt the hurt of his betrayal as strongly as she did the day she first uncovered the affair. She knew it was petty, but delaying signing the divorce papers was all the control she had left. Things with Serena were going well and, of course, he wanted to formalise their relationship; Kate had no desire to remain married to him, but she was also in no hurry to sign, not while she could still make him squirm a little.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.’

  She could hear him trying to bottle his anger. ‘Is there a chance they’ll be signed this week?’

  She sighed. ‘Look, it’s crazy here. I’ve just been assigned a new case; I’ll try and look at them tonight.’

  ‘Will you phone me back once they’re signed?’

  He asked this every week, and she always gave the same reply. ‘I promise I will call the moment they’re signed. Look, I’ve got to go, I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.’

  ‘Aren’t you even going to ask how Chloe is?’

  Kate wanted to know more than anything, but she almost couldn’t bear to hear the answer. ‘How is she?’

  He hung up.

  Kate stepped back into the Incident Room, her argument with Underhill already forgotten, and called Laura and Patel over. ‘It looks like we’re on our own for now. How are we doing with tracing CCTV?’

  ‘Working on it now,’ Laura said. ‘On the way back to the office, I made a note of the cameras I spotted, and we’re just trying to contact the owners, to see what copies we can get hold of. I’ve already had a word with the ROMANSE centre where they funnel the council’s cameras from across the city, but their coverage stops at the A33, so we’re going to have to rely on the privately owned cameras at the docks.’

  ‘Good. We need that footage ASAP. Patel, what are you doing?’

  He looked up. ‘I’ve been trying to get a copy of the 999 call that reported the fire.’

  ‘Okay. I’d like you to liaise with Hendrix and her team to see just how much information and support she’s prepared to give. The supe has taken her offer as an open invitation, but I think it was more for show than genuine. Is there any word from the Pathologist Office yet?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. They phoned a few minutes ago and said we could either wait until tonight for a full report, or we could let their new boy complete the post-mortem and have results sooner.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, I knew how keen you were to get things moving, so I said let the new boy loose.’

  ‘When you say new, just how new are we talking?’

  ‘They didn’t say.’

  ‘Well, let’s just hope he’s good.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Right, I need to eat and then Laura and I will head to the mortuary. Oh, and Patel, don’t let Hendrix mess you about. If you get the impression she’s not flying straight, call me and I’ll have a word.’

  6

  Laura met Kate at the guard’s station and they walked together in silence along the narrow corridors. A fluorescent light overhead whirred and flickered adding some drama to their descent beneath the hospital.

  They paused at the entrance to the mortuary, and Kate handed Laura, who was looking a little nervous, a packet of chewing gum. ‘In my experience, it helps to have a distraction. He will be talking as he cuts, so focus on two things: his words and your own chewing. The mint flavour will help disguise any unexpected smells, and the chewing should help maintain the rhythm of your pulse.’

  Laura offered a sincere smile as she accepted the packet. ‘I didn’t bother with lunch, just in case. Have you witnessed many of these, ma’am?’

  ‘Enough. They never get easier, but try not to imagine them as a living person. Think of them as butcher’s meat, or something.’ She lowered her voice. ‘If it gets too much, leave. You don’t have to apologise or justify your actions; mainline for this door and get outside. Understood?’

  Laura nodded, dropping two pieces of gum into her mouth before returning the packet.

  They pushed through the set of double doors and entered a lab, a large room divided by wide pillars, which presumably aided the foundations of the hospital. Inside it was filled with shiny metal slabs with white tiles lining the walls, floor, and ceiling. It felt sterile, as it should, but also as if just being there would somehow disinfect their souls. There were six slabs in total, evenly spread out across the room, each with a silver basin and taps at one end.

  The body lay covered in a white sheet on the slab at the far side of the room. There was no sign of the pathologist. Kate didn’t want to make a bad first impression, but the temptation to lift the sheet and have a closer look at the charred remains was strong. Where was he? She checked her watch.

  She jumped at a cough directly behind her and, turning, found a tall man in green scrubs and a polythene apron. He was grinning at her. His eyes widened as he laughed, showing a full set of bright teeth.

  ‘You must be Kate!’

  She took an unsteady step backwards. There was a twinkle in his eyes that made her uneasy. ‘I prefer DI Matthews. You must be Dr Temple.’

  ‘Please, call me, Ben. If you could strip down, bend over and cough, we can begin.’

  She frowned. ‘What?’

  He grinned again. ‘Sorry, mortuary humour. You’ll get used to it. The two of you will need to put on scrubs if you wish to stay in my lab. I’d hate for you to contaminate any evidence.’ He pointed at the slab closest to the door, wh
ere two sets of green scrubs lay neatly folded.

  Kate left her jacket on the slab as the two of them pulled on scrubs and tied the thin polythene aprons over them. They joined Ben by the table on the other side of the room, the white sheet now pulled back.

  ‘Do you prefer light meat from the breast, or dark meat from the legs?’

  Kate ignored the chicken joke. ‘What can you tell us about our victim?’

  ‘I think he’s overdone.’ Ben stopped smiling when he saw Kate’s face. ‘Uh, male, early to mid-fifties; his liver looks like it’s received plenty of abuse down the years; there are signs of deformity in the lungs, suggesting he was a smoker.’

  ‘You’ve already performed the post-mortem?’

  ‘Yes, about an hour ago. I heard you wanted it rushing through…’

  ‘What did you find?’

  ‘There was no identification on the body, and without a head, it’s not going to be easy. The good news is, I was able to recover a partial thumbprint, which I’ve forwarded to your colleagues. So, if he’s in the system we should know who he is soon enough.’

  ‘Presumably, beheading is the cause of death?’

  ‘It’s difficult to tell; cutting him open was like cutting into burnt toast. The feet were likely removed after death, as there is no sign of struggle. The cut is clean, so I would suggest a tool with a super-sharp blade was used, as there wasn’t any apparent hacking of the tissue. Maybe a machete or large axe? I would conservatively suggest the same tool was used to remove the head just below the chin line. The ligature marks around the neck—’

  ‘What? Ligature marks: so, he was strangled before the head was removed?’