by Joy Ellis
Niall slowly moved towards the nearest wooden box, but Yvonne grasped his shoulder. ‘This is not for us, Niall. We need forensics down here.’
‘I think,’ said Nikki haltingly, ‘I think that we do need to see for ourselves what we are dealing with.’ She took a deep breath and pulled on her gloves. ‘These newer ones are not even nailed down. I’ll hold the torch, Bob, you put your gloves on and carefully open it, but don’t touch a thing.’
Together they lifted the first lid, and then the second, and the third. Each coffin contained a body.
Nikki felt as if her brain had stopped functioning. Then she looked up and saw Niall. He was staring slack-mouthed, directly into an open casket. ‘This one looks like it’s sleeping.’ He lowered the lid and asked blankly, ‘Why? Why is that?’
‘Because they’ve all been embalmed, that’s why.’ A shiver shot like an icy arrow between Nikki’s shoulders. ‘Can’t you smell the chemicals?’
She moved on to the next coffin and pushed up the lid. A face looked up at her. A young dead face surrounded by a halo of corn-blonde curls. The naked body was covered with a thin white sheet and seemed unblemished, other than the neat stitching running from ear to ear.
Suddenly, she’d seen enough. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. Yvonne was right. This is a major crime scene and we’re wrecking it! We shouldn’t be here.’
‘And I suppose that goes for her, too?’ Bob Tinker pointed in the direction of the thin, saucer-eyed woman who stood, like a wraith herself, immediately behind them.
‘Anson?’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The innocuous-looking pillbox, the kind that no one looked twice at, was lit up like Southend Pier. Every available officer had been brought in to contain the site, and Professor Rory Wilkinson had conjured up forensic science officers from across five counties.
Yvonne sat on a grass-covered mound with Steph Taylor, and watched the white suits move in and out of the pillbox like worker bees at a hive. Steph had refused to leave the area, and nothing anyone could say would budge her. And Yvonne, whose two lovely brothers were safe in the bosom of their families, understood completely. If Robin or Harry had been lying dead in that awful place, she would have done the same.
From the moment she had seen the strange space with its rows of coffins, Yvonne had known that Anson Taylor would be found there. So did his sister. And so they sat together in silence, watching and waiting for the inevitable.
* * *
‘Well, this certainly beats the Paris catacombs.’ Rory looked with something like admiration at the niches cut out of the walls in order to store the great collection of coffins. ‘It’s a burial chamber like no other I’ve ever seen.’
‘Thank God for that!’ Nikki growled. ‘I’d hate to think this sort of thing was commonplace. What the hell has been going on here, Rory?’
The pathologist pushed his glasses higher up his nose and said, ‘Apart from the obvious? That is, the lair of the mother of all serial killers, and the resting place of nineteen of his victims.’
Nikki bit hard on her thumbnail. ‘It’s that thing that gives me the bloody creeps! What the hell is it? And how did it get down here?’ Her gaze was directed at the steel table, raised up on its podium, and lit from all angles by their halogen lights.
‘Ah, now I can tell you exactly what that is, dear Detective Inspector. Let me show you.’ He stepped up onto the raised area, Nikki following reluctantly. ‘This is a relocatable mortuary facility. Look.’ He pointed down to a recessed area just behind the table and a few steps lower. ‘See, it’s not just the table, it’s the whole shebang.’
‘Good God!’ Nikki looked down into a small, purpose-built modular panelled room. She put her hands on her hips, jutted her chin forward and asked, ‘Okay, what am I looking at?’
‘Everything you require for your post-mortem and body storage, including instrument and organ sink, dissecting area, scales, low-level tray sluice, an excellent stacking trolley, a stainless steel three bay by five tier refrigerated body storage cabinet, oh, and an air extraction unit which I happen to know is capable of more than twenty air changes p/h on a negative pressure . . .’
‘Hold it right there! So this is high-tech stuff? How does it operate in a bloody crypt?’
‘I should think that the large generator in the adjoining cellar has quite a lot to do with it.’ Rory smiled benignly. ‘But all this equipment most definitely did not come in the way we did, and since we aren’t in Narnia, it certainly didn’t arrive through the back of a wardrobe. I think you need to start looking for another entrance. Now, I have to go back to the victims. It’s going to take for ever to get them all DNA tested and into a proper storage facility for post-mortem examination.’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘And right now our county facility at Fenchester Hospital, the one that’s kitted out to cope with epidemics and major disasters, is undergoing a refit. So, unless we use refrigerated lorries, I’m seriously considering keeping them here.’
‘Really? Or is that one of your famous, ever so slightly dubious jokes?’
‘I’m deadly serious. The conditions down here are exceptional. Some of those bodies are beautifully preserved, a credit to the mortician — well, except that he probably murdered them in the first place.’
‘I suppose he’s hardly likely to come back when he sees this circus. What are you proposing?’
‘That I do the initial work in situ. Not the full post-mortems, but I can catalogue them, take samples and bag up any evidence right here. That can go straight to the lab, then we can seal the coffins. It will help to avoid cross-contamination.’
It was possible. In the circumstances, Nikki could afford a full team to mount security and protection for the technicians, and they would certainly get men drafted in from other divisions.
She looked around her and shivered. The obvious horrors of the strange, cavernous scene of crime had overshadowed other more subtle aspects. Apart from the beautifully preserved victims, there were dozens of carefully-trimmed candles, big oil burners for sweet-scented oils, and a huge glass bowl full of fresh flowers and grasses. Nikki drew in a long breath. There was going to be one very unhappy bunny out there somewhere, and a very nasty one at that. How the killer would react now was beyond her imagination.
‘Let’s talk about this later, Rory. I agree you are going to be here for an eternity anyway, the workload is phenomenal. The final decision will be for higher ranks than I, but for what it’s worth, I think you have a point.’
She walked with him back to the chamber where the bodies were stored. ‘Any idea how long this has been going on?’
‘Not yet. We need to open up all the coffins. I noticed the ones on the near wall are open, and most of the others are sealed, so they may be older. The preservation effects of embalming are only temporary, so we may get some choice surprises as we open our boxes. Ah, and I have to tell you that just before we began our conversation, Matthew discovered two recent ones. One has only been dead for a day or two.
‘That could be that poor girl’s brother, Anson Taylor.’
‘Do you want to see them? They are both male, and one is quite gorgeous!’
Nikki grimaced. ‘Rory! But, yes, I’d better, I suppose.’
Rory led her over to the centre of the facing wall. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to stand on this.’ He placed a kick-step in front of the coffin, and Nikki stepped onto it.
‘Oh my! You would never know he was dead! His colour! And the condition of his hair! You’re right, he looks beautiful!’ Nikki had been expecting a pallid corpse but as she looked at the raven-haired young man, she felt the urge to touch his smooth skin to check for warmth.
‘I told you he was gorgeous. Our man is an expert, Inspector. I don’t think it will be hard for you to track him down. Not many people possess such skill.’
‘A professional?’
‘Well, I know for a fact that Greenborough adult education doesn’t offer evening classes in Embalming f
or Beginners, and it’s not something that is wildly popular as a hobby.’ He gave her an angelic smile. ‘So, is it your missing Mr Taylor?’
‘No. No, it’s not him. But you said there was another one?’
‘One bunk higher, I’m afraid. I’ll get a stepladder.’
Nikki waited and wondered if she would recognise Anson Taylor.
‘Here we are. Up you go.’ Rory held the ladder and she began to climb past the immaculate body of the handsome mystery man.
‘From Steph’s description and my vague recollection, I’d say that’s him.’ Nikki looked at the dead man’s arm. ‘And yes, he has a home-inked tattoo. It’s Anson, I’ve no doubt. Although as his sister is outside, I suppose she could verify it.’
‘As she has already been in here, I don’t think another visit is appropriate. My assistants and I will bring the coffin down, put him on a trolley and take him out to her. Once we’ve checked this spot for evidence, and since we have a chance to positively identify him, he can go directly back to the mortuary for a post-mortem. Then she can visit him in the chapel of rest.’
‘Thanks, Rory. That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘No trouble, Inspector. Now forgive me, but I must get on.’
Nikki went back out onto the shadowy fen and pulled out her mobile. It was time to explain as much as she could to Joseph. And this time she would not say no when he offered to cancel his leave.
* * *
Later that evening, Stephanie Taylor identified her brother, and finally agreed to be taken home. She declined to break the news to their father, and let the police do it. Her father had been the cause of all the heartbreak in her and Anson’s life. He was a drinker, an abuser and a bully. If she hadn’t found the courage to blow the whistle on him, she had no doubt at all that she and her brother would have died years ago. She hoped the bastard would not come to the funeral, but if he did, at least it would be the last time she’d ever have to see him.
* * *
That night, as Fabian and his new go-between disposed of Monk’s carefully wrapped and weighted body, Carver set about shredding and burning every paper, document and file that Karl Shine had given him on his blasted airfield project.
By midnight, one man’s dream, the fantastic property development and renovation scheme that was RAF Flaxton Mere, had ceased to exist. But sadly, with the disappearance and probable demise of Freddie’s top man, Michael Finn, so had the biggest job that Carver had ever planned. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime scam, carefully crafted onto a tight timeline around a major London event, and Michael had been the key player. He had no understudy, no one of equal expertise was waiting in the wings, ready to run on at a moment’s notice. And there was no time to find one. Freddie’s life-changing, money-spinning scheme was dead in the water, a bit like Monk, the DIY killer who had erroneously believed that he could double-cross him by taking his own generous cut and the fat wad of money that should have been Fabian’s.
As the last document reduced to ashes, Freddie decided that he had never hated anyone as much as he hated Karl Shine. Even knowing that he was now lying on a mortuary slab gave him little satisfaction. He had tried to do the boy a favour for old times’ sake, and in return, Shine had managed to sabotage Carver’s whole world.
He sighed and closed the heavy doors of the wood-burning stove. On careful examination of his present position, Freddie had decided that he had little option but to close up business and take a very long holiday, preferably somewhere hot.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Overnight, Greenborough police station had transformed from a moderately quiet market town cop-shop, into the hub of the universe.
Officers from surrounding divisions poured in, and although the place heaved with men and women, there was an odd feeling of quiet disbelief and shock hanging over the rooms and corridors.
Superintendent Greg Woodhall called an early morning meeting. ‘First, I’d like to thank the teams from Nottingham and Humberside for joining us, and we also have the assistance of the force psychologist, Richard Foley.’ He nodded towards a smart, fair-haired man who leant casually against the back wall. ‘He will remain on-site for the duration of this major enquiry.’
Greg stood with his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth. ‘I cannot emphasise strongly enough how important it is that we find the person who has killed so many victims. Whatever you are working on, if it can be put on hold, do so. I want every available officer working this case. Now, I’ll pass you over to DI Galena and she’ll bring you up to speed on what was found at Flaxton Mere.’
Nikki spoke for around ten minutes. She felt that her words were ill-chosen and inadequate. How could she briefly describe what she had seen — the results of a lifetime devoted to murder? The things in that crypt had been the stuff of Edgar Allen Poe, and were quite beyond a simple detective with the Fenland Constabulary.
‘So, we will need to question everyone who has any connection to, or knowledge of, Flaxton Mere. That will include the owners and the employees of the industrial units in the hangars, the history society members, and anyone who had dealings with Karl Shine. We’ve been told there were surveyors on the airfield a few days ago, but we have no idea where they came from, or what company they worked for.’
She ended by saying that the forensic evidence would be vital and that, while every effort was being made to speed things up, the investigation was on such a massive scale that it would take time. Before she drew the meeting to a close, Nikki added, ‘This monster has been living among us. He, or she, will most likely be someone we have come across, maybe even had a drink with or met through work. And if we hadn’t made this terrible discovery, the killer would have gone on killing, right under our noses. We cannot let him get away. Let’s get to work! Let’s find him before he murders anyone else.’
* * *
Yvonne replaced the phone and walked quickly to the boss’s office. ‘Pike’s awake and wants to talk to someone. As I saw him before, would you mind if I went, ma’am?’
Nikki looked about as grey and drawn as Yvonne had ever seen her. ‘He’s not high on my list of priorities but as his gran is still missing, I suppose we must. Yes, off you go.’
When she arrived at the room into which Pike had been moved, Yvonne found the ferret-like creature trying to eat a bowl of something resembling wallpaper paste. His skinny form barely made a shape under the covers.
Pike was fully conscious, and now he was hidden in the quiet room just off the main ward, he seemed considerably less flaky.
‘Ready to talk about your adventure, Mr Pike?’ She kept her voice friendly.
After trying to look at her balefully, he suddenly gave up, leant back into his pillows and began to explain how he came to fall down the shaft.
‘I ain’t no smackhead, so you can forget telling me I was high, but I swear to God that I heard a plane coming down. Heard the engines cutting out, and I heard it hit the ground. No shit, officer, I heard it crash, then I saw flames and heard this ’orrible screaming. I wanted to help, but then it all got too much for me and I ran, and went straight down that bloody hole.’
Yvonne looked at him carefully. She’d had enough experience with liars over the years, and she could tell that whatever he was describing had actually happened in some way. ‘But there has certainly been no report of an air crash, civil or military. Have you ever heard anything like it before? You’d been out there plenty of times, hadn’t you?’
‘Never. It was really ’orrible.’ He spooned in another mouthful of milk pudding and glared at the bowl suspiciously. ‘Do you think this is porridge?’
‘I’d say it looks more like Artex, but back to the Mere. It’s a spooky spot, isn’t it?’
‘That’s why I chose it to hide me stuff.’ He tried to ease his shattered leg and winced with pain. ‘I’d been skimming drugs from Anson Taylor for months and stashing them in one of the old buildings on the airfield.’
‘And Anson found out?’
‘What, ITU?’
‘Yeah, that’s it. But she died. And I killed her.’
‘No, William, you didn’t. You couldn’t have lifted a finger to hurt her. You had more wires coming out of you than a national grid pylon. And the nurse told me her name was . . .’ Yvonne struggled to remember. ‘Something else, but nothing like Pike.’
‘I don’t care what you say, Constable Smartass, I saw her wheeled past me. The doctors thought I was out of it, but I could hear them, and I saw me gran.’
‘You thought you saw her, but okay, say it was her, how did you manage to kill her? You were a mess of drips, drains, monitors and,’ she pointed to his injured leg, ‘oh yes, and don’t forget the half ton of scaffolding wrapped around your leg.’
Pike was silent.
‘Come on. You’re going to be here for a very long time. Why not just talk to me?’ Yvonne smiled as the youth eyed her up surreptitiously.
He sighed and hung his head. ‘I gamble. I owed money to some seriously bad men. A dealer was going to buy the stash of drugs that I stole from Anson, then I was going to settle the debt, and bugger off, but I missed the meeting.’
‘And they had threatened you with what?’
‘They said they’d kill gran.’
‘Well, I know she’s missing, but that old lady on the next trolley died of a heart condition, plain and simple. And after what you’ve just told me, we really need to find your gran, so how about you stop telling me she was here and help us find her.’
Pike stuck out his chin and closed his eyes. ‘I know what I know.’
Yvonne changed tack. ‘So tell me about Flaxton Mere.’
Pike muttered. ‘Well, there are often odd lights, out on the marsh.’
‘What sort of lights?’ A deep voice came from the doorway. ‘Come on, Pike! Spit it out. What sort of bloody lights?’