by John Mead
‘The phone was in an arm case and, after he checked for prints, the SOCO used the girl’s finger to activate the phone. Constable Porter has her name, address, next of kin and life story.’ Mehta and Lukula exchanged smiles, both thankful at how technology was a boon to policing; everyone wanting privacy until they were the victim of a crime.
Julie arranged for the sergeant, who was now resigned to working even later and the plans she had for the evening were defunct, to pick up DI Merry from Aldgate East tube and then take him to the dead girl’s home. ‘You’ll recognise him easily enough,’ she informed her colleague, ‘he’s big and looks like he works in an undertakers.’ Then she got on the phone to ensure the CCTV from around the area was collected and then back onto Swift, he could tackle the locals to get more manpower for the house to house.
‘Blunt force trauma to the rear of her head,’ the surgeon, a calm, cheerful looking, middle-aged woman informed Lukula, as she pulled off her protective clothing. ‘You’ll have to wait for the PM report for an official time but death was very recent, I’d go as far as to say only minutes before she was found. From the wound to her head I would think it unlikely she survived very long after the blow was struck. There would not have been much blood, just some splatter from the blow, but whoever moved her is likely to have picked up some on their clothing.’
The surgeon held on to the sergeant’s arm as she pulled the slip-on covers from her expensive looking shoes, ‘Oh, and one other thing, though I’m not certain how relevant this is, she has some old scars on her arms, looks like self-harm to me but it will be in her medical notes.’ Lukula nodded, then added her thanks, making a note to contact the coroner about the post mortem.
‘I’ll put everything I have observed in my report for the pathologist. I’ll see it’s done today, especially as it is for the rather sexy Swift. Though it all looks straightforward to me,’ the surgeon stated, winking. She knew that the younger officers were always somewhat taken aback by the flirtatious nature of what they initially assumed would be a rather staid and matronly middle-aged woman, it was her way of countering ageism.
‘Thank you, I’ll pass on your good wishes to the govenor,’ Lukula told her, keeping her face deadpan in order to call the surgeon’s bluff, only causing the older woman to smile.
‘Too bloody young,’ the surgeon stated, nodding back at the body as she hefted her bag ready to leave. ‘What is it about teenagers that so many of them get killed?’ She shook her head, not expecting an answer and not receiving one.
2
‘The mother is in a bit of a state, understandably,’ Merry informed Lukula, as he pulled on the protective overshoes and gloves she’d handed him. ‘They don’t live far, one of the houses over by the canal a few streets away, less than a twenty minute walk. I’ve arranged for a family liaison officer but for now I’ve left uniformed with her and said we’d go back later.’
‘Lucky you got them to stay,’ Julie muttered without sarcasm. ‘The surgeon and SOCOs are happy for the body to be moved but I thought you’d want to look first.’ Merry nodded but didn’t feel that viewing the body helped much. A young, slim, fit looking woman with short blonde hair and a pretty face, the tightness of her running apparel would have attracted glances but now simply emphasised her vulnerability, making her look more like a child than an adult.
‘The surgeon believes it was a blow to the back of the head that killed her,’ the lead SOCO, pulling down the mask covering his mouth, summarised what had been initially discovered. ‘Obviously cause of death is still to be confirmed but the rear of her head is smashed in by a single blow. There is blood on the path and it looks like she was attacked there, the force of the blow is likely to have killed her outright. The drag marks and some more blood suggest she was then pulled into the cover of the trees,’ he stated pointing to the marks on the grass as he spoke. ‘No obvious signs of sexual assault, although it can’t be ruled out at present. We’ve also found a supermarket bag with blood on it, at a guess I’d say the murder weapon was wrapped in it then discarded after the attack. But no sign of a weapon, as yet.’
The forensic officer paused briefly, waiting for any questions or observations but getting neither went on in his clinical manner. ‘If it’s OK with you we can get her moved for the post mortem as the coroner’s men are here. Although you’ll want to know that initial indications are she died only a few minutes before it was called in and the force of the blow suggests she would not have survived more than a couple of minutes if that.’ The man’s tone and expression was neutral, just another day at the office, his focus was on collecting evidence, the waste of yet another young life was something that only troubled him when he slept.
‘We’ll need the eastern end of the park throughly searched, and the surrounding streets, looking for the murder weapon. Chances are it’s been dumped,’ Merry stated, looking round to take in the size of the operation, ‘I’ll get more officers to assist.’ He smiled and nodded his thanks to the SOCO then turned back to Lukula, her hard face studying him, ‘What more do you have?’ he asked. Rather like DCI Swift the sergeant somewhat unnerved him, she was fit and agile looking, seemingly always ready to take on whatever was thrown at her. She was the opposite of Merry whose first reaction was always to hesitate, to consider options, he was not one to be decisive.
‘Not very much I’m afraid, though the surgeon also mentioned some old scarring, self-harm she thought,’ Julie, checked her notes as she spoke, ensuring she kept to the facts. ‘An old woman and a young man, both live locally in the flats over there, found her. I doubt if the woman could lift a weapon let alone strike someone. She’s been arrested a couple of times, some years ago, for drunkenness and public affray, basically fighting with her husband in the street. Nothing on record about the young man, the paramedic who attended first and the uniforms who followed said he was a bit rattled but helpful. The pair are giving statements as we speak. The male witness did mention a muslim woman by the entrance, up the steps over there, but apart from that neither saw anything or anyone else. Oh, and the scene wasn’t secure for the first forty five minutes.’
‘What do you think, mugging gone wrong?’ Merry was watching the small crowd in the distance huddled behind the police tape at the edge of the park and rubber-necking the scene despite the police trying to move them on. ‘It won’t be long before the press is here.’
‘A group of youngsters have been snapping away on their phones since arriving so I wouldn’t be surprised if the story isn’t already the latest headline,’ Lukula pointed out, she would have preferred to have completely shut the small park and portions of the approach roads from the start but they hadn’t had sufficient manpower to make it happen until now. ‘There is a petrol station with a supermarket just the other side of those trees, to the right, though there is a fence stopping direct access. The main entrance to the garden is just up those steps, where the muslim woman was seen, and on the other side of the trees, where the victim was dumped, is a small play area. As you can see the place is overlooked by two high-rise blocks and the park, especially the path from Wellclose Square leading across to Betts Street, is well used by local residents. The entrances all have CCTV coverage, as does the play area. Not a great place to mug someone and it seems odd they should hang around to move the body but didn’t even take the phone off her arm.’
‘Don’t underestimate the stupidity of the average criminal,’ Merry told her, though he agreed with her summation. ‘You are getting CCTV and having uniforms canvas the area, I take it?’
Julie nodded, accepting he needed to ask even if they both knew she had already seen to both things. ‘Yes, sir, the govenor has pulled in support and is having an incident room set up at Leman Street nick, the station is half closed down so there’s plenty of space. I also assumed you’d be wanting an appeal put out for further witnesses, so I asked for authorisation.’
‘Good thinking, Julie,’ praise where i
t is due, Merry thought, hoping he didn’t sound patronising. The smile that quickly appeared and immediately faded from Lukula’s face telling him he didn’t. He was standing next to the markers showing the blood stain on the path, where the SOCOs thought the girl was first attacked, trying his best to envisage how the attack took place. ‘It’s not the sort of place you lie in wait to jump out on someone, the trees don’t give enough cover. Makes you wonder why they bothered moving her at all.’
‘Perhaps they hoped she’d be mistaken for a rough sleeper, people tend to give them a wide birth,’ Julie suggested, wondering what was exercising Merry’s mind.
‘Something like that I expect. People won’t step over a body but they might walk past one with a clear conscience, so it would give the attacker a few more minutes to get clear,’ he agreed with a cynical appraisal of the human race. ‘What’s more the trees here screen the path from being seen by those high-rise blocks and, though it’s only a few yards away, you can’t easily see the entrance from here. At this time of day, when mothers are waiting outside the local schools, the playground is likely to be empty and is out of sight from here in any case. It’s quiet and has four possible exit routes, more if you are able to climb out over a fence.’
‘So a good spot for a mugging then?’ Lukula was already starting to suspect the inspector was writing the case off to ‘person or persons unknown’.
‘Suppose so,’ Merry couldn’t quite square things in his mind. ‘A good place to attack someone but not to hang around waiting to attack them but, if that’s the case, it suggests it wasn’t a random attack and our victim was targeted. Doesn’t seem likely though, does it?’ Matthew was almost talking to himself, his voice quiet and low so Julie had to strain to hear him over the rustling of the trees in the breeze and against the rumble of early rush hour cars from the road beyond the park, ‘Come on, we need to speak with the mother, hopefully she will be up to it by now.’
The day had been a pleasant one, despite the chill breeze, so much better than the past few weeks of cold, grey, rainy skies. Leanne had been looking forward to cutting through the small park, green spaces were calming, and was disappointed that the park was closed off. Something had happened and the police were there. She hesitated for a moment, curious, but there was a small crowd and she didn’t want to know if someone was hurt or ill, she needed her world to be calm and orderly. She clutched at her bag not trusting the youngsters that roamed around in the shifting crowd. People were captivated, like moths to a flame, by the unusual event in their otherwise uneventful neighbourhood.
Leanne resumed her finger exercises, her right thumb repetitively touching each finger tip. Her therapist had said it would help her keep focus, keep her calm and ‘in touch’ with herself thereby keeping the others at bay. She had kept her part-time job at the Berner Centre supermarket for a few months, which she thought a good sign, so perhaps the doctor coming back into her life was not a bad thing despite her initial concerns and worries. She smiled, happy in her isolation within the crowded city, where everyone diligently ignored each other, unaware she was being watched by a woman in a beige hijab and sunglasses.
Joanne Hensley had that dazed and bewildered look that Merry had seen too often in his work. Joanne’s sister, an older, plumper version of her, sat next to her on the sofa holding her hands and making consoling, if ineffectual, noises mixed with the occasional hug.
‘Mrs Hensley, I am sorry to intrude again,’ Merry began, Lukula was outside being updated by Sergeant Mehta, who was going off duty. ‘You remember me, Detective Inspector Merry? I am truly sorry for your loss but I am investigating your daughter’s death and need to ask you some questions. I can come back another time if you don’t feel up to it at present, it would be understandable, although it would be a great help if you could speak with me now.’ Merry was trying to sound sympathetic but felt hypocritical in doing so, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the shattered looking woman in front of him felt, and his only real concern was to move the investigation on; time he knew was of the essence before the case went cold.
‘Yes, of course, though I don’t know what I can say,’ Joanne couldn’t look directly at the inspector, he was too much a reminder that the events she was living through were real, and stared at a spot in front of his feet instead, ‘she was out jogging, like always.’
‘Did she jog every day? By the same route?’ Matthew asked, seating himself in an armchair, the only other seat in the room.
‘Yes, pretty much, though I’m not certain where she ran exactly, she normally went through the parks,’ Joanne’s face creased as she tried to focus, desperate to make certain she gave every detail she knew as clearly as she could. ‘She always said she wanted fresh air not fumes, not easy for her around here of course, with so much traffic.’
‘Was she at college or did she work at all?’
‘She is just finishing sixth form, doing her A Level exams and is expecting to go to university…’ Joanne caught her breath, struggling to hold in her grief as she realised her daughter no longer had a future, could not be referred to in the present tense but now just existed in the past, only a memory to be grieved.
Julie had taken rather a shine to Sergeant Mehta and her no-nonsense approach to the task in hand, mingling with the occasional snide remarks about budget cuts, under-staffing and the ‘computer says’ attitude of despatch. Julie beamed her best smile at the sergeant, looking for a hint, no matter how slight, of a positive reaction but saw nothing to encourage her. To make up for the disappointment Julie was rather profuse in her thanks for all the support the uniforms had given, and was working up to suggesting she owed Mehta a drink after work when she was cut short by the sergeant’s radio sparking into life. Mehta turned around, moving away telling whoever had contacted her that her shift had ended over two hours ago and, having already racked up six hours overtime that week, she was heading back to the station regardless of the urgency of the call.
Joanne tried to be gracious to the detective sergeant as she introduced herself and offered her condolences, however, she struggled to control the sudden rage that unaccountably welled up inside her. It wasn’t just Lukula’s involuntary smile that had briefly lit up her pretty face, her dark skin and frizzy hair set her apart from Joanne’s daughter, but the slim figure and self-assured air reminded her of how Lynsey had been recently. It was how Joanne expected her daughter to have been in ten years time, undaunted and unafraid of the world.
‘Joanne, are you alright?’ her sister’s soft, cajoling tones insinuated themselves into her thoughts, mingling with the inspector’s, ‘Mrs Hensley?’.
‘Yes, sorry,’ Joanne looked away from the sergeant, whose face was shocked by the obvious, unlooked for affront she had somehow given the grieving mother. ‘What was I saying… yes, her part-time job, just a few hours working in a shop up at the Berner Centre.’
‘Any particular friends, a boyfriend perhaps?’ Merry asked in his quiet, calm voice, glancing over at Julie who was trying to fade into the background, obviously concerned at the impact she had had.
‘She wasn’t much into boys, though there was one, Joey, but I think she was backing off,’ Joanne paused, again desperate to order her thoughts which seemed all over the place, wondering why the sergeant’s brief smile had so upset her.
‘She was such an attractive girl,’ the sister muttered, a hesitant smile on her lips at the memory, inwardly still giving thanks that it wasn’t her own daughter.
‘She was moving on,’ Joanne went on, ‘putting everything behind her. Going to university was going to be a new start for her, a bright future…’
‘A “new start”?’ Merry gently asked as the mother’s voice trailed off. ‘From what?’
‘From here,’ Joanne suddenly roused. ‘She had been very young when her father left, only a baby. He didn’t keep in contact, which eventually became a blessing and Lynsey seemed to grow up not missing h
im. She did well at school, had lots of friends, teachers all spoke highly of her, then the bullying started just after she turned thirteen. Nasty, unpleasant texts, comments on her Facebook, that sort of thing at first. I went to the school but they said to just ignore it, that it would pass. Then one day she came home beaten black and blue, blood on her uniform. I called the ambulance and police but she wouldn’t say anything, just said she had fallen down and refused to name anyone. Your lot were concerned, said the bruising wasn’t consistent with a fall, tried to get her to speak but in the end what could anyone do?’
Lukula slipped out of the room and was on her phone trying to dig up what was on record about the event.
‘She retreated into herself,’ the mother continued, a fleeting smile at her elder sister who now hugged her, the aunt’s indignation and anger at what had happened to her niece all too evident on her face. ‘She wouldn’t go to school, wouldn’t see her friends. I tried to get her into a different school but that didn’t help. The attendance officers were very good, supportive but nothing worked. Then I realised she was hurting herself, cuts on her arms and legs,’ the mother’s tone had become monotone, relating a story she did not have the emotional strength to deal with. ‘Our doctor referred her to the mental health people, truth was we were both on anti-depressants by then. Even that didn’t seem to work at first, then they put her into some group under a specialist and suddenly Lynsey started to change. She had been having home tuition and they got her to visit the school as part of an art project, there was a new headteacher and the bullies were gone. She began to attend again at fifteen, part-time at first then they gave her extra tuition after school and suddenly it was like she had moved in. Her strength came back, she came back, she did well in her GCSEs. They expect her to get As and Bs for her A levels, a shoo-in for her university choices they said.’ Then the tears returned.