The Judas Murders

by Bill Williams

  Jock looked and whispered, “Yes, between you and I she has popped off, I suspect the wife will update you.”

  Ron looked then added, “If you are here it looks like a Coroners case, that is strange, old Iris was riddled with cancer she could have popped off anytime. A bit of a waste of time and money if you ask me doing a post-mortem.”

  “That is what your wife, the nurse said, she even blasted the doctor so I believe, still he has the last word. It always keeps me in a job anyway Ron.”

  “I suppose it does,” said Ron.

  “I see you nicked one of the old Great Coats when you left, once a copper always a copper eh.” Ron smiled but did not reply

  “By the way Ron,” called Jock, about to throw in a low ball, “I hear you have been doing very nicely since you retired. I am surprised to see you still working, hard graft in the garden as well.”

  Ron shrugged his shoulders, he put the comment down to jealousy and mounting his cycle he rode away.

  The body of poor Iris Carter was placed in the plain plastic coffin, carried out, then lifted into the rear of the hearse and driven off.

  It was Heather Morris a humble cleaner and carer who was given the unthankful task of looking into the address book of Iris and then telephoning her son informing him of the sad news.

  He was fortunately not over struck with grief for due to his mother’s condition such an event had been on the cards for some time.

  It was just after nine o’clock the next morning when Peters arrived at the mortuary of Chester General Hospital. With the assistance of the duty Porter the body of Iris was brought from the refrigerator and placed on the cold white metal post-mortem table.

  At nine thirty Professor Janet Hallam, once the Regional Home Office Pathologist but now acting in private practice since privatisation, called today as a locum. She arrived with her assistant to carry out the post-mortem.

  She entered smiling, “Hello Jock, what have we this time? The Coroner did say it was a straight forward case of sudden death possibly heart or stroke, the lady had a long illness history including cancer. It appears her regular doctor is away and the locum was unable to issue a death certificate, probably a young inexperienced fellow and too windy,” she added.

  Peters smiled but failed to reply, his long police experience told him not to comment on situations involving the most high such as doctors. If things went wrong there was a tendency for medics to stick closely together backing each other up. All those looking for someone to blame then only had the copper, in this case the ex copper, to look at.

  Professor Hallam handed Peters her note pad. He knew the form from now on. He had done countless of these in his thirty years of police service and since.

  In those days he had been dressed only in his police uniform trousers, blue shirt and nothing else. No protective overalls, gloves or mask. When he had asked about this as a young officer he had been told by the then pathologist that nothing could be caught from a dead body except hepatitis and such cases were few and far between.

  The doctor had then opened the body and removed each organ in turn. It was then dissected on a small wooded platform placed between the open legs of the deceased.

  The Pathologist then read out various items for the report, the officer simply wrote what was said without any knowledge of what or why. At the end, he had been given five shillings or twenty five pence, as a tip so to speak.

  When he had asked about this, his senior officers assured him he was not being corrupt by accepting this. It was the only occasion that a police officer was permitted to accept a gratuity. The reason apparently was that as the pathologist had a fee for Coroner’s work as it was outside his hospital duties. The hospital typist and the police officer were thus given this small final recompense. The practice was not like that now.

  Peters found himself all dressed in fully protective clothing, the notes of the pathologist were dictated into a machine.

  Peter first of all complied with Protocol. He informed Hallam that this was the body of Iris Carter, identified to him by both Nurse Gittins and Mrs Heather Morris.

  Hallam now inserted her scalpel and opened the stomach. The ribs now revealed they were cut one by one with large shears similar to garden pruning shears. The top of the skull was removed after cutting with a round electric saw.

  One by one the organs were removed and closely examined, notes being recorded individually.

  Hallam then stopped, “Mr Peters, I think you will have to contact Police Headquarters. I have discovered something unusual. If you would inform the Detective Superintendent that I feel his or her immediate presence is required here. I will suspend the examination until the officer arrives.

  Peters now standing aghast took off his gloves and then picking up his phone he rang the telephone number of Police Headquarters.

  Seeking to speak with the Detective Superintendent Susan Kinsella he was told she could not be disturbed as she was at an interview with the Chief Constable.

  Looking at the face of the standing pathologist, he said, “This is Jock Peters, Coroner’s Officer, please put me through to the Chief’s office I will carry the can.”

  Joanne Watkiss had been the Chief Constable for some time. She had been the first woman appointed to the rank in the United Kingdom but had soon forged a reputation of being a lady of driving force, achieving an awesome record.

  She picked up the phone; the call handler too windy to speak, it was Peters who asked to speak with the head of CID.

  It took only a minute or so for her to reply she would be there immediately. Putting down the phone she updated the Chief, not with all the details but simply that Professor Hallam was undertaking a seemingly straight forward sudden death but had stopped, finding something unusual.

  The Chief frowned, and then nodded. In a moment she was alone pondering what major case was coming the way of the force now. Recent criticism of the police had put everyone on edge from the Commissioner down to every Bobby on the beat. A cock up now or any bad police publicity was the last thing that was needed.

  Jock Peters ended the call and updated Hallam. She had not enlarged on the situation; he therefore waited in as much anticipation as he knew Chief Watkiss would be in.

  “Who is the current Detective Superintendent,?” asked Hallam.

  “Susan Kinsella.” replied, Peters with a smirk on his face.

  “I take it you don’t approve Jock.”

  “Well Professor, as you know I was a cop of the old school. In my day one started at the bottom, a copper on the beat, foot slogging around the towns and villages getting to know the grounding. Local knowledge of who was who, what was what, keeping ears and eyes always open, mouth shut. The local gossip book held at all cop shops, tittle-tattle if you like, what make of car a villain was using, the number, where they worked, even if they didn’t work. A full picture of the good, the bad and the ugly so to speak, but nowadays?” he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I know what you mean,” she said, “since privatisation of the forensic services the new company always wants a quick job. I will do the usual with this operation but the checks at the lab are now always brief.” Jock was on a roll as old coppers do, he couldn’t resist letting off steam, better keep quiet and let him loose,” she thought.

  He was referring to the new Detective superintendent “She, I mean Superintendent Kinsella, joined the police direct from University. She has a law degree, the ideal candidate these days. She knows the law but bugger all about people. She was a Sergeant after only one year then each year rose quickly through the ranks. The word is, every promotion board she attended, she was a cert to get promoted. Being a woman helped, as you are aware all the talk these days is how many women or how many different ethnic background senior officers does a force have? As a result the police service is not a service any longer and has landed up, how it is today. The public are very disgruntled at the service they get. Police Stations being closed, those that remain open, the door is not answere
d. Callers are encouraged to report things by telephone,” he laughed.

  She looked at him in apprehension, as he continued, thus far all he had said she had heard time and time again as she attended post mortems and inquests around the country,

  “I hear this week,” continued Peters, “the powers to be are to encourage victims to report things on line. Dear God what a bloody shamaz. In the melee of all this, the contact with the public has all been lost. I recall in my day how it was an important feature on the progress report of every officer. He has good local knowledge, or visa versa, at a going away party it was often said, that the local knowledge of the retiring officer would be sadly missed.”

  Smiling and shaking his head he continued, “I recall hearing of one officer, who, during his annual report his boss had said that he was a clock watcher. Another was admonished for submitting a report on his week-end off, one weekend in seven. He asked for permission to leave his station area to visit his parents some forty miles away. I hope he isn’t going to make a habit of it, his Superintendent had written, approving the application.

  “Has Miss Kinsella much experience in serious crime?” asked the Professor.

  “No, not much, she has only about seven years service most of which was either spent at Headquarters in one of the stats and policy offices or on courses. They say that she is due any day to leave to attend a Senior Command Course at the National Police College. It will then be promotion to Assistant Chief Constable for sure. The trouble is on the ground, police leaders without any practical experience dealing with the skill and experience of the shit on the streets when the government sends out these stupid targets fronted by the Home Office. The so called police leaders follow like little dogs on a lead. I suppose the consolation is that the coppers on the beat have already disappeared, if any members of the public actually see a copper there is every chance he or she or them will simply drive past in a car, never stopping to speak to their paymasters, the poor old public.”

  Hallam shaking her head, Jock clearly had a Bee in his bonnet, but during her travels meeting other old coppers she was yet to find one who was not similarly critical.

  “Who will the bag carrier be for Miss Kinsella?” Hallam came back.

  “I have every confidence it will be Doris Scott-Ling,” he said,, “You will know of her from previous cases.

  “Yes I remember her Jock. I seem to recall her father is Mr Scott-Ling the well known Chinese International businessman, owner of Ling Airways amongst other businesses.”

  “That is the very man Professor. It is strange his daughter wished to become a copper. As you know her mother is Welsh, Doris is probably the only officer in the British Police who can speak Welsh, Chinese with a little English thrown in,” he smiled and so did Hallam.

  “I recall Doris Scott-Ling, Jock. If she is on this case there is a good chance it will be investigated properly. She was as you know, allotted to Jack the Hat Richards, of New Scotland Yard fame. His reputation goes before him. A legend really at New Scotland Yard, not only that, the high court judges highly respect him. Yes, Jack the Hat Richards, now if he was only coming to assist, now then things would really take off.”

  The door opened and then there was the sound of voices, looking up Hallam saw the two young ladies standing there.

  They had briefcases in hand, spectacles on the end of their noses, both wearing dark suits.

  If Doris had not been gifted with oriental features they would have looked like clones attending a conference. Here they were now, in a cold place of death with white walls, containing the cold pale remains of an elderly lady prostrated on the equally cold slab.

  “Good morning Jock,” said Doris Scott-Ling, “and, to you Professor it is some time since our last case. May I please introduce to you, Detective Superintendent Susan Kinsella, Head of Chester CID. Madam, this is Professor Hallam the Home Office Pathologist, you know Jock Peters, of course.

  The Professor smiled, though it could not be seen under her face mask.

  Looking at the expression upon the face of the new arrivals. Kinsella was aged in her late twenties, very tall in stature, of slim build, dark staring eyes to match her jet black hair. Her complexion was dark, almost Mediterranean in shade; she could be of mixed Caucasian and Asian race. There was no smile, clearly a Miss Prim, a woman on a mission, possibly with tunnel vision, thought Hallam.

  “I am so pleased to meet you Professor Hallam,” said Kinsella, “Inspector Scott-Ling was telling me coming over here the two of you have met previously on cases.”

  “She has updated me as to this police pensioner, Jack something or other. Well, in truth the police service has moved on since his day. We now have vast resources of technology. On the many courses I have attended the new techniques have been proved to outstrip the old fashioned antiquated methods.”

  “There are of course the ancient scandals involving these old officers. You will have no doubt heard of the old cases, the public enquiries and the like. The innocent convicted on perjured evidence, officers on the take. All those days have gone, so have people like this, what did you say his name was Inspector.? Yes, I recall, just. Richards with some silly nickname.”

  “His old fashioned ideas are best left to reminiscing after a day on the golf course.”

  “Now Professor to business, now how can the modern police be of assistance?”

  Hallam had stood looking and listening, taking a glance at Peters during the spiel, no outburst from him to this new Sherlock Homes. No response was made to her by Hallam. It was an occasion to keep one’s thoughts to one’s self, time would tell, time always tells in the end.

  Peters, now wearing his protective equipment, was joined by Doris as was the professor, Kinsella was not wearing the attire which was the standard, blue full length overall, long rubber gloves, facemask over the mouth and nose, visor to protect the eyes.

  About to commence, Hallam was interrupted once again by Kinsella, “Excuse me Professor Hallam but I must be excused, my protective equipment, I need it.”

  She turned and left as Peters called, “It is here on the side bench.”

  This was ignored and it was ten minutes later Kinsella arrived back.

  The procedure had recommenced Hallam was eager to pass on what she had discovered to the chief investigating officer when eventually she arrived.

  It had long been the practice for pathologists to involve police officers in the post-mortem examination procedure. Many officers over the years had learned such a wealth of information from such eminent doctors.

  The outer door was heard to open and then the inner door. All three now looked, pending the entry of the gladiator, thought Peters.

  It was then that Hallam now dropped her scalpel.

  Doris was standing mouth wide open, Peters simply staring. Kinsella stood by the door, she was wearing a full protective suit as worn by those attending the leakage of radio active material or these days the recent outbreak of the dreaded Ebola Virus.

  In addition there was an oxygen bottle fastened to her back. In normal circumstances in some theatre or Hollywood movie all would have burst into laughter at the exaggerate getup.

  “When I recently attended a conference at the University the new guides lines stated when handling or in the presence of dangerous material all this equipment is vital for ones protection.”

  “Did you bring a set for us?” asked Peters.

  “Indeed not, they are far too expensive for junior ranks. The University Vice Chancellor presented me with this for my personal protection for participation in events such as this.

  All stood saying nothing, Kinsella stepped forward. She now approached the dissection table and took her first sight of the partly dissected body.

  “Right Superintendent I will now show you what I have found, if you might lean over.” Called Hallam.

  There was only a thud in response. All the three looked to find that Kinsella was now flat out on the floor. She had passed out having taken only a gl
ance at the sight of the opened body.

  Peters, the ever old guy commented. “Christ if she is that tickle stomached, what the hell impression will she give to those around her if she attends the scene of some mass murder, explosion or the like?”

  He hesitated and then said, “We had better get her inside the hospital.”

  “I will get help from the hospital staff,” said Doris.

  “No need for that,” came back Peters, “here, give me a lift with her.”

  Doris and he then bent down, they lifted up the unconscious Kinsella and placed her on the trolley used to move corpses.

  Having taken off his mask, he said, “I will wheel her into Casualty on this thing, most appropriate I think, Bitch.”

  He was gone leaving Hallam and Doris not saying anything but a discreet smile was there nevertheless.