by S G Read
‘Let’s see if there is any more news from our door to door inquiry in the flats.’
‘What about the man in the hole?’ Rebecca asked.
‘He can wait.’ Clayton replied sincerely. ‘I have just decided to give this case priority!’
‘The CI won’t like that, sir.’
‘I know that, Rebecca, it is time for smoke and mirrors.’ Clayton declared.
‘Again, sir?’
‘Yes again, Rebecca. I want all the information on the man in the hole on my desk, so that it looks like I am giving it my full attention. The Leslie Felltham inquiry will be underneath for me to look at whenever I deem it necessary.’
‘Yes, sir.’
They drove back to the office and started to assimilate all the information they had, so far, on each case. The man in the hole took pride of place and the man by the flats was demoted to being in the in tray, under the man in the hole but ready for action. Clayton picked up the file on Leslie Felltham first, he took it from underneath the pile and started reading. He was a slow reader, taking in all the facts in the first read and storing the information for later use. As he finished one sheet of paper he laid it face down on the desk. He took the man in the hole file down and laid it on the desk open to make believe what he was reading came from it.
He made piles on top of the ‘man in the hole’ files which he arranged on the desk to be able to slip one set of files under the other. He made a pile for reports which were of use, another one for reports which did not help at all. The third file was for any report, which, while not having any real input, at least pointed to a suspect or suspects.
‘We have a pile of reports which are of no value, a pile of reports which advise us to talk to the local gang of delinquents that hang about on the estate, mainly round the flats where Leslie Felltham was found, and one report where a woman thought she heard a squeak, squeak at about three AM.’ Clayton declared, when he had read all of them.
The reports were put together again but in those groups and filed in his ‘in tray’ again in Leslie Felltham’s file.
‘So nothing to help so far.’ Clayton sighed.
With that one sorted he started on the ‘man in the hole’ case. He read the reports that they had so far.
‘It is time to go and see what Chastity finds on our body.’ He declared when he closed the last file and checked the time on his cheap watch.
‘Which one?’
Rebecca asked.
‘Whichever one she is doing when we get there, I assume it will be the man in the sports field but not because Chastity is afraid of the CI, just that that case will be more interesting.’ Clayton answered.
They took the lift down to the basement where the mortuary was hidden away and put on the gowns from the disposable gown dispenser, before going into the post mortem.
‘Welcome to the dead centre.’ Chastity greeted, when she looked up to see who it was.
‘How is it going Chastity?’ Clayton asked, peering at the corpse, trying to see which one it was.
‘I am doing the man from behind the flats for you, despite the CI wanting the man in the hole done first.’ She answered. ‘If he comes down and finds me doing this one, I will be on the carpet.’
‘Best foot forward then.’ Clayton advised. ‘But don’t miss anything.’
‘As you can see, I have already opened him up. So far I have found nothing, he looks quite fit for his age. There is blunt force trauma to the back of his head but I won’t get a better picture until I remove his hair. I can tell you that he was not killed where he was found. The lividity was set and I can tell you that he was lying on his back when he died, not on his side like he was found. He was moved some hours after he was killed.’
They stood and watched while she carried on with the post mortem. Cutting where it was required, taking samples for Bill, weighing organs and making notes on her voice recorder. Finally she carefully removed the hair from the wound on his head.
‘So he lay dead on his back somewhere for a few hours and was then dumped behind the flats before, or during the rain?’ Clayton asked.
‘That is about the size of it.’ Chastity answered.
‘No one heard a car, so two people must have carried him there in the middle of the night to dump him.’ Rebecca suggested.
‘It would take at least two people to carry him.’ Clayton agreed.
‘And any DNA evidence would be washed away by the rain.’ Rebecca added.
Chastity took several photos of the wound, all from different angles and put them up on her plasma screen, so that they could all look at them. After that they all scrutinised the photographs, turning their heads to different angles as they looked, even though there was no need.
‘He was hit by something round and flat.’ She announced, as they scrutinised the photos.
She pointed to the wound on the victim’s head.
‘So it wasn’t a baseball bat?’ Clayton asked.
‘No, a baseball bat has a round surface, as well as a flat surface.’ Chastity answered. ‘I was thinking it might be something like the end of a fire extinguisher, if the end was flat.’
‘That’s a shame, the baseball bat is a gang’s usual blunt instrument. Round and flat, it sounds like we need to go through the flats, looking at all the fire extinguishers.’ Clayton answered.
‘You do that and I will see if I can match the wound to something,’ Chastity offered, ‘after I have made the CI happy and carried out the post mortem on our other victim.’
‘That sounds fair.’ Rebecca declared. ‘While you finish off, we’ll have mortuary coffee. Give us a buzz when you are ready to start on the other one.’
‘It’s alright for some!’ Chastity complained.
‘I did say mortuary coffee!’ Rebecca argued.
Clayton and Rebecca walked into the little kitchen area, to save taking off the gowns. They sat and drank a mug of coffee each. When the buzzer in the little kitchen area rang, they walked back in to watch the other post mortem.
‘So that’s what he looks like.’ Clayton declared, when he saw the man who was lying on the slab. ‘I did wonder if there was any more of him under the ground, apart from his head.’
‘He is all there and so far, I have not found anything to tell me how he died.’ Chastity declared. ‘In fact he is quite a healthy specimen, or at least, was.’
They watched as she performed the post mortem. As she worked, Chastity spoke into her voice recorder and, as always, Rebecca took notes. Clayton would have a typed report later but he liked to have the information to hand, and in Rebecca’s note book, it was to hand.
‘A very healthy specimen indeed but there is slight petechial hemorrhaging in the pupils, which leads me to believe he was suffocated. With no signs of trauma to the neck or mouth and nothing lodged in the throat I think he died because he had been buried up to his neck. The pressure of the soil must have followed his chest in when he breathed out but did not allow him to breathe in again! Every time he breathed out it took him nearer death. It is a theory at the moment but there are more tests to run which should give me a definitive answer. So far the only bad habit I have found was that he chewed his finger nails!’ Chastity reported when she had finished her initial post mortem. ‘His hands were behind his back and were held with a cable tie. I have sent it to Bill to see if there is a chance of lifting any fingerprints from it.’
With no definite cause of death, Chastity would dig deeper and look further, to either prove or disprove each of her hypothesis. With both post mortems over, Clayton and Rebecca left her to her to continue her work and took off the gowns they were wearing. They were put in the waste bin for incineration, not to be washed as it had been in the old days.
‘So someone buried him up to his neck while he was still alive, that means the tox screen is going to make interesting reading!’ Rebecca declared on the way back up stairs.
‘How do you mean?’ Clayton asked.
‘Well, can you see
a fit healthy man, who is conscious, letting someone bury him alive?’
‘The assailant could have had a gun and the victim’s hands were tied.’ Clayton argued.
‘Yes, I did consider that. But even if he did have a gun and made the victim dig the hole himself, before he tied victim’s hands and that is not likely, as there were no callouses or blisters on the victim’s hands. Ignoring that, the man with the gun would have to refill the hole and make sure the man did not get out, so he would have to have the gun in one hand and the shovel in the other!’ Rebecca declared.
‘Not with the man in the hole and his hands tied, close by would have been enough of a threat.’ Clayton argued again.
This is how they worked. One would bounce an idea off the other to see what they thought and the other would try to disprove it, if they could. Afterwards Rebecca would write down their thoughts on the scenario so that they could read them later.
‘But surely, when they threw in soil, the man would have trod soil, when the other man turned to fill the shovel again, you know, like treading water.’
‘I get what you mean. He would have slowly risen out of the ground as the hole was filled and not been that far down.’ Clayton agreed. ‘Coming up, like a cork out of a champagne bottle.’
‘But without the pop and flying through the air.’ Rebecca added.
‘So he was either unconscious or there were more than one perpetrator.’ Clayton concluded.
‘That was what I was thinking, sir.’
‘Sound thinking sergeant but don’t forget to put it into the notes, so that we remember to see what the tox screen shows us.’ Clayton replied.
They returned to their respective desks, Rebecca to type up her notes on the computer and Clayton to read through the files again.
‘My doctor talks to his computer and it types it for him.’ Rebecca complained while she worked.
‘I am sure we will catch up with technology one day, sergeant, but don’t hold your breath.’ Clayton answered.
Rebecca finished her typing and with no further information available, she made coffee. Clayton was deep in thought when she brought the coffee in.
‘Was there any breakthrough in either case while I was gone, sir?’ She asked.
‘No, and I don’t have any thoughts on either case at the moment!’ Clayton answered completely baffled for once. ‘But something will come up, sergeant. It always does.’
Chapter 2
It was late in the day when the results from the pathology lab came up. Bill was doing exactly what the chief inspector wanted and the first to arrive was on the, as yet, unknown Asian male, found buried up to his neck in the sports field. Rebecca accepted it and read it, before passing it over to Clayton. It was something she always did. Clayton was looking through the door to door results again.
‘Well?’ Clayton asked, without opening the file.
‘The tox screen was as clear as a bell, sir.’
‘So there were two or more perpetrators involved then,’ he speculated, ‘as predicted by a really astute sergeant.’
‘That’s what I think, sir, all of what you said.’ Rebecca answered.
He opened the forensic results file and read it and the conclusions drawn by Bill or the man who actually wrote the report. Bill would have read the file before approving it, even if he did not write it himself.
‘Nothing at all, well nothing that’s worth worrying about.’ He declared. ‘So why did someone bury him alive? Did they mean to kill him, or was it some kind of warning?’
‘You can ask them when we catch them, sir.’ Rebecca answered.
‘I like your confidence, Rebecca.’
‘You are yet to be beaten by a murder case, sir, unlike some other officers who work in this station.’ Rebecca replied.
Clayton summed up.
‘So we have a body which was killed somewhere and dumped behind the flats. Then we have another body which was buried up to its head in the sports field.’ Clayton mused. ‘Sounds like something the group of tearaways might get up to, bury someone to teach them some sort of lesson and kill him by accident. We will go round the flats tonight, where they gather and talk to them.’
‘Do we bring them in, sir?’
‘What the two of us? I don’t think so, we’ll talk to them as a bunch, take their names and pull them in one at a time, that way we might, at least, find out something.’ Clayton answered.
‘If they give us their real names,’ Rebecca added, ‘they do have a habit of lying.’
‘Lying to the police gives us a strong reason to take them in for questioning, most of them have a record I expect.’ Clayton replied. ‘Pick me up at eight o’clock and we will walk round in a friendly manner and talk to them.’
‘Now that will be an interesting meeting,’ Rebecca declared, ‘I’ll bring my shovel for all the horse shit.’
The second report arrived the one on Leslie Felltham. Clayton sat and read it without comment until he had finished reading it a second time.
‘Healthy enough for his age, just a few old age type illnesses.’ He declared. ‘Soil under his fingers tends to point to him working in the garden or an allotment before he died. We will call on Mrs. Felltham and find out if he had an allotment somewhere.’
‘If he had an allotment, he might have been on his way home from it.’ Rebecca exclaimed.
Rebecca looked at her watch.
‘We could stop in on Mrs. Felltham on the way home and ask her about the allotment, if I have to go out again at eight, I have things I need to do!’ She declared.
‘Sounds like a plan, sergeant.’ Clayton agreed.
They drove to Golding Gardens to see Mrs. Felltham. Again they parked by the tall well-kept hedge and walked through the gate, up to the front door. Mrs. Felltham opened the door to them, wiping her hands on her apron, just as she did the first time they called.
‘Oh hello Inspector Moore and you, sergeant Stone, do come in and I’ll put the kettle on.’ She greeted with a smile and stood aside to let them in.
They were soon sitting in the Felltham’s lounge drinking tea.
‘We were wondering if your husband had an allotment somewhere in Pimlico, Mrs. Felltham.’ Clayton asked, in between sips of tea.
‘Oh yes, didn’t I tell you last time. I was going to. He spends a lot of time down there he does. If he isn’t pottering around the garden, he’s down there pottering about. Well he was, I suppose I will have to let the allotment go, I am not one for gardening: Too much dirt. I will write the address down for you. I will have to get it out of his book. I have never actually been down there.’
‘How are you getting on Mrs. Felltham?’ Rebecca asked as Mrs. Felltham found the address and wrote it on a piece of paper for them.
‘Call me Agnes dear, everyone else does.’ Mrs. Felltham answered. ‘I was lost the first night after I knew he was dead, but now I just keep the house clean and cook myself a bit of food. I do go to the woman’s institute twice a week, we have a good natter there.’
‘At least it gets you out of the house,’ Rebecca replied, ‘that has to be a good thing.’
‘I do like my little trips out, not that Les cared about it. As long as the house was clean, there was food on the table and he could do his gardening, he was happy.’
‘Thank you for the tea and the information Agnes.’ Clayton said as he stood up.
He carried the tray into the kitchen and stood it on the drainer.
‘Thank you, inspector.’ Agnes exclaimed as if she had not had anyone carry something out for her before.
‘Just trying to help, Agnes,’ Clayton replied, ‘we will see if anything went on at his allotment. Do you want me to wash the tea things for you Agnes?’
‘No thank you inspector, it will give me something to do.’
Rebecca drove Clayton home and hurried off herself, she had things to do at home. Clayton cooked a tasty meal and ate it alone, then sat watching the television until Rebecca returned to take him to the fla
ts. They parked in the street, in front of the flats and then walked round the back of the flats, to see if the tearaways were there.
They were. A group of youths, ranging from early teens to early twenties by Clayton’s estimation, were grouped round the back door to the flats. The door stood open as if held by something. As they walked up, one of the leaders of the little group looked up.
‘Coppers, leg it!’ He yelled and the group split up. It was like sand pouring through the fingers of a man trying to stop it. Gang members went everywhere, some into the flats, some ran off in the opposite direction that Clayton and Rebecca was approaching from. Some even ran past them as they approached.
Both Clayton and Rebecca stood and watched until the space the group had occupied was completely empty and the door into the flats was firmly closed. Whatever had held it open had been removed.
‘Not quite what I expected.’ Clayton exclaimed and turned to walk back the other way.
‘They certainly have their escape routes well planned.’ Rebecca exclaimed.
They walked back to the car.
‘What next, sir?’ Rebecca asked, on the way home. ‘That approach was not very successful.’
‘No, as you say, that approach was not very successful. I will find a few more bodies, for the next time we call and see them. Running away from us gives us a good reason to take them to the station, to talk to them.’
‘All of them?’ Rebecca asked.
‘All of them, Rebecca.’ Clayton answered with satisfaction.
No one did that to him twice!
‘The CI will wonder why you spent funds on such a move, sir.’ Rebecca replied. ‘Can you really see them battering an old man to death, waiting for some hours and then leaving him where he was found? Right next to where they hang out!
‘I know the CI will ask questions, I will tell him I believe they were involved in the ‘man in the sports field’ killing.’
‘You’ll get spots on your tongue, sir.’ Rebecca declared.
‘I might be proved right, there are more than one of them and you did suggest that it would take more than one. There are so many of them Rebecca, that they would have had no trouble burying the Asian.’