by Joy Ellis
‘Why?’
‘Now, there is a question! And I can’t answer it, Inspector, but I can tell you one thing. This killer, and I am only assuming that he does his killing himself, spends an inordinate amount of time cleaning and preparing his victims’ bodies.’
‘In preparation for something sexual? I mean, is he a fastidious necrophiliac?’
‘Absolutely not. Not one of them, man or woman, has been assaulted or abused in any way by their friendly mortician. Frankly, guessing that a lot of these persons were tramps or runaways, they are probably more hygienic now than they’ve ever been. Which is a refreshing thought . . . But I digress. You remember the dark-haired, blue-eyed male that I showed you?’
‘His eyes were closed, but I assume you mean the gorgeous one?’
‘Exactly. He was the last to die. Well, he has been expertly embalmed, using up-to-date chemicals — glutaraldehyde, I suspect, as the skin tone is very natural. But not only that, his hair has been washed and trimmed, and the skin has been treated with some kind of sweet-smelling moisturising cream.’ He indicated a large plastic toolbox. ‘That there is full of cosmetics, make-up, oils, shampoos, soaps — you name it. Anyway, as we’ve progressed through opening the boxes, we can see how his methods have improved over the years. It seems that he keeps them “on view” until they start to lose their looks, then he seals them up. As I said, he took care of these people. Your psychologist should have a field day with this lot.’
‘I’ll pass it on. Now I have to get back and report all this to the super, but before I go, any clue about the coffins themselves? I mean, they are all identical, aren’t they?
‘Yes, mass produced and they are certainly old. I’m making no guesses about them, but I think my friend Doc Bass will be able to help you with that little conundrum. Hopefully he will be here by tomorrow morning.’
Nikki climbed up the stone steps, glancing back at the scene below her, where ghostly hooded and white-suited figures moved purposefully backwards and forwards. Although she had been in the force for many years and had dealt with more than her fair share of murders, even she was finding the sheer scale of this crime hard to get her head around.
Above ground, it was an enormous relief to see the massive uniformed presence. The airfield was virtually sealed off, although at the main gates and all around the perimeter fencing, the media gathered, baying for news about the gruesome discovery. Today they would make a statement, but it would be short on detail. For once the actual truth was more chilling than the rumours.
She smiled bitterly as she drove through the sea of faces and cameras. This was just the beginning. She had thought they had problems with one dead property owner, a missing drug dealer, a disappearing old lady and a handful of animals. No way could their proposed statement mention the finding of some nineteen bodies. It would make Greenborough the Mecca for every poor soul who had ever made an enquiry to the police or the missing persons bureau. They would be inundated with calls, and the town would be flooded with grieving partners and relatives, all desperate for closure.
As she pulled out into the main road she cursed under her breath. The assignment was tough enough, but before long the curious would start drifting into town, and not only would that hamper their enquiries, they would have the added concern of trying to protect them. Like it or not, Greenborough had a serial killer on the loose, a man who had been prevented from returning to his refuge, which would make him dangerous beyond all imagining. How could the hell could they be expected to protect a town full of visitors from a psychotic murderer?
She moved the gear lever up into fifth, and decided that it was a problem for those higher up in the ranks to ponder over. Nikki had the killer to catch.
* * *
‘Professor Wilkinson! Can we close this one, please? We’ve taken our samples and the photographer has finished with her.’
Rory nodded to the technician. As soon as their preliminary tests had been done, the bodies were being numbered and the lids temporarily sealed, to await full post-mortem. The first victims had been easier to process, in spite of each coffin being scrutinised minutely for evidence of the person who had put them there in the first place, but the older ones were taking considerably more time.
The pathologist grimly wished that Stuart Bass would get here. He could do with some expert help right now. And Stuart was an expert all right. It was just unfortunate that he had a prior commitment that he needed a few days to extricate himself from — the small matter of his honeymoon. Rory yawned again and decided that he was not entirely sure how long he was going to be able to keep up the pace.
The sound of a hammer sealing up a coffin brought him back to reality. ‘Matthew? Are we fully staffed for cataloguing these poor souls?’
‘We will be by this afternoon, sir. Your request for assistance has been granted.’
‘Good, good. Right, better press on then. It helps having the tower in situ, doesn’t it?’ He looked at their latest acquisition, a painter and decorator’s scaffolding tower that allowed easier and safer access to the stone shelves and their deceased residents.
‘You’re not kidding, Prof. Oh, by the way, the police sergeant wants to know if they can start the search for the other entrance. They’ve had no luck from outside.’
Rory nodded. He took off his glasses and wiped the lens absent-mindedly on the sleeve of his white suit. ‘It’s an amazing structure, Matthew.’
‘What was it, Prof? I mean, was it an underground church?’
‘Undoubtedly it was religious in nature. One of the historians told the DI that this was once the site of a monastery, and some other religious edifice before that. I expect you have visited many grand churches that have magnificent crypts beneath their chancels, full of shrines and tombs and saints’ relics.’ He sat back on a stone ledge. ‘I could be wrong, but I think that the smaller chamber was an undercroft. They were often found beneath a monastery, mainly used for storage and administration purposes.’
‘And this big chamber with the coffins?’
‘That’s where my theories get fuzzy, Matthew. This place is full of contradictions. It is clearly a burial vault. I mean, it’s holding exactly what it was meant to hold, dead bodies in coffins. But why so many?’
Matthew shrugged. ‘Pass.’
Rory patted his younger helper on the shoulder. ‘Go tell the sergeant that he can send in the cavalry. The only place I don’t want them is the burial vault, because of the bodies.’
As Matthew went off to give the uniformed officer the go-ahead for the search for the other entrance, Rory returned to his work. He gazed across the sea of wooden boxes with their silent occupants. It was going to be a very long day.
‘Excuse me, sir? May I take a short break?’ It was one of the on-loan SOCOs.
‘Had enough already?’
‘No, sir, not at all, just need a . . . a . . .’
‘Toilet break might be the expression that you’re looking for?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Well, hurry back. We have an awful lot of guests here that we need to take care of, and I’m sure they will miss you if you are gone too long, eh, Mr . . . ?’ Rory tried to read the official identity pass around the man’s neck.
‘Sean Fowler, sir. I’m on loan from Nottingham.’ He gave the pathologist an odd look. ‘You talk like the victims are still alive.’
‘Until we can provide them with legal death certificates, they are not technically dead, Sean Fowler from Nottingham. Well, the older ones may have been declared as such, but until I can give them a name and recognise their passing properly, I prefer to think of them in a sort of cryogenic state, just waiting, if you know what I mean?’
Again the odd look and Rory realised that yet another underling had decided his temporary boss was as mad as a box of frogs.
‘You’ll be telling me you like this place next.’
Rory considered his reply carefully. ‘I have attended sites of intense pain and suffering, with bo
dies devastated and torn asunder. I have seen too many victims of someone else’s rage and evil desires, and compared to those scenes, Mr Fowler, this is indeed a peaceful place.’
‘It contains nineteen murder victims and heaven knows how many dead monks!’
‘Nineteen beautifully prepared and looked-after bodies, placed among flowers and candles. The dead here are better cared for than most people care for their deceased relatives, let me tell you. They tend their graves regularly for a while, then it’s once a week, then once a month, then every year at Christmas the guilt sets in and they try to clean it up a bit, until they gravel it over . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Ring any bells? Have you noticed the state of most cemeteries? Then look at this vault. It is clean, it is tidy, the flowers were changed recently, even the water in the vases doesn’t smell. And when do we think all this began? How many years ago?’
The SOCO shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I haven’t seen the earlier victims, but a long while back, I’d guess. I do take your point, but whoever did this, you can’t condone it, surely?’
Rory looked patiently at the technician. ‘Many people agree, myself included, that I am a little eccentric, but apart from extreme cases of euthanasia in the terminally ill, I would never condone the taking of a precious life. I would, however, like to try to understand the psychology of this killer. At least he has shown respect for the human body. He hasn’t left his victims like some I have seen, violated and mutilated.’
‘It takes all sorts, I suppose, even in the world of murderers, but if you’ll excuse me, Professor, I really have to go, er, literally.’
The SOCO hurried off towards the stairs, brushing past Matt as he went.
‘The sarge says they’ll start the search immediately. And he says thanks, Prof. He owes you one.’
* * *
As Nikki walked through the front doors, she was met by Joseph.
‘I’ve hired Tamsin a car, now I can’t be with her 24/7. She just drove in and we grabbed a quick lunch together.’
‘Good idea, but don’t leave her on her own for too long.’ Images of what lay beneath the ground in rows of wooden coffins returned to her. ‘In fact, why not bring her in here? She could help out in a civilian capacity,’ Nikki lowered her voice, ‘until we get our killer in a secure cell.’
‘I thought of that too, but she’s so bloody stubborn,’ Joseph grumbled. ‘Just like her mother.’
‘Then pull rank. She’s young and pretty and we have a madman right here in Greenborough. I’ll clear it with the super. I know she can’t be involved in anything sensitive, but she could help the office manager out. Tell her I’ve specifically asked for her. I’m willing to bet she agrees.’
They had reached the CID room, and Nikki could barely see the floor for policemen’s feet. For once she had more officers at her disposal than she could ever have dreamed of, but she was still up to her neck in unanswered questions. She looked at Joseph. ‘Seems like the perfect moment for an update.’
She walked to the front of the room and rapped on a desk with a stapler. ‘Okay, everyone! Just a brief overview, if you could listen up.’
A hush came over the crowded room.
‘The main thing we need to remember is that although the burial chamber has been “operational” for many years, the last victim was only killed three days ago, which is very worrying indeed. Now,’ she looked across the sea of faces, ‘has anyone got any news on that relocatable mortuary system?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I’ve traced several manufacturers, and most just hire them out.’ A young DC flipped over the page of a notepad.
‘Why? Hardly a bouncy castle, is it?’
‘They are meant as a means of keeping businesses going during refurbishments of the workplace, ma’am. So far I haven’t found anyone in this area who has rented or bought one, and although they’ve emailed all the specs, complete with photographs, I haven’t found the exact same model yet.’
‘Right, then as soon as you get pictures of ours, email them to all the makers. Maybe someone can identify who made them. Now, how about the chemicals? The formaldehyde or whatever it is?’
‘Nothing yet, guv. I’ve contacted the people who supply the local funeral directors and embalmers, but you can order the stuff off the internet.’ The detective sighed. ‘Like every other bloody thing these days.’
‘Right, but stick with that if you would. How about the candles?’
‘Could have got them anywhere, guv. The discount stores, supermarkets and garden centres are all selling church candles. He’s not using any particular brand either, so . . .’
The DI nodded. ‘Okay, ditch that, and we’ll all concentrate on suspects. Joseph, how did you get on this morning?’
‘We’ve seen the owners of the businesses that operate out of the hangars, ma’am, and although most of them are wetting themselves because of our presence there, no one has stood out as a possible suspect.’ He smiled. ‘Although we’ve stashed away a fair bit of knowledge about their dodgy activities, and we’ll be more than happy to follow that up at a later date.’
‘Okay. Cat, have you got the lists and those pictures I asked for of our main suspects, our trusty history society?’
The detective stood and passed her an envelope. ‘Yes, ma’am. Full membership list, plus photos of the six members of the group who are interested in airfields.’
She attached the six photos to the whiteboard.
‘Right. Here we have Professor Joshua Flower and his brother Simon Flower, Bill Brewer, Marcus Selby, Frank Kohler and Andrew Friar. They are all local to Caster Village, and are the ones we are interested in.’ Nikki looked at the team earnestly. ‘I don’t need to tell you how fast we have to work. We have a ruthless killer out there who will be seriously pissed off with us. So, watch your backs. No matter how beautifully he treats his victims, I don’t want any of you to finish up as number twenty. Now, I need three pairs to go out and have a nice long chat with our historians. I don’t want them brought in, I want it done in their own homes, and check out everything you can while you’re there. Keep your eyes peeled. I want everything you can dig up on these guys, and more. So, Joseph and I will talk to Joshua Flower and his brother Simon. Cat, I suggest that you take Niall with you and visit Marcus Selby and Andrew Friar. Dave, you take Yvonne and speak to Bill Brewer and Frank Kohler. I want full reports ready for the morning briefing. The rest of you get on with your enquiries and report any findings directly.’ She paused. ‘Yes, Constable?’
A WPC had entered the room. ‘Ma’am? Professor Wilkinson wants to speak to you urgently. Can you go back to the scene?’
‘Can’t I speak to him on the phone?’
‘He reckons the phones and the radios are both playing up down there, ma’am, and it’s most important that he doesn’t leave the crypt.’
‘Did he say why, Constable?’ She had interviews to carry out and really wasn’t in the mood for Rory’s jokes.
‘Well, to use his words, ma’am, he thinks he might have just had a jolly chat with the killer.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘We were about to let uniform in to look for the hidden door to the lost world.’ Nikki noted that Rory was far from being his usual self. ‘Matt went off to see the sergeant, and I was left talking to a SOCO — or so I thought.’ He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. ‘He’d asked to go for a break, and when he didn’t return I got to thinking that something wasn’t quite right about him. It was his ID. It was an official ID, but different from ours, so I got one of your men to check the names of the Nottingham team, and there was no Sean Fowler.’
‘How the hell did he get in?’ Nikki almost shook with anger. ‘We have men at every damned point, and no one gets down here without a valid pass.’
‘Respectfully, Inspector, I don’t think he came in by the front door. I believe he used the entrance that you are so desperately seeking. There are fresh white suits in a convenient pile over there. Simple. Put one on, pull the hood
over your head, and voila! We all look the same.’
‘I gathered that from your remarkable description,’ she said testily.
‘Yes, rather good, wasn’t it? A man of medium/slightly taller than average height, wearing a white all-in-one disposable suit, hair colour unknown, eye colour distorted by artificial lights, no distinguishing marks or features and no discernible accent.’ He grinned hopelessly. ‘Not much to go on, but I swear I’d know him again.’
Nikki threw up her hands in despair. ‘And how the hell would you do that? You said it yourself, we all look the same in these bloody suits.’
‘There was something about him. It was as if he were searching, probing your mind for something, and sadly I think he may have found something in mine.’ Rory pushed his glasses up and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘I have a strong and rather disconcerting feeling that we will meet again.’
* * *
Nikki drove back to the station, worried because Rory had dug his heels in about not leaving the crypt. She had increased security, but still feared for his safety. She just hoped that his colleague would get a move on and give him a break, before he either cracked or met up with his friendly scene of crime officer again.
Joseph had waited for her to return before interviewing the Flower brothers, and she told him about Rory’s encounter as they drove to Castor Fen Village.
‘Shit! So he returned to his killing ground,’ breathed Joseph.
‘With considerable ease. He strolled in through his “other” entrance, the one he knows about and we bloody well don’t.’
‘I wonder why?’ Joseph stared out across acres of freshly ploughed fields.
‘Because they do. It’s well documented that killers feel the need to return to the scene. And maybe he just needed to see for himself what was going on.’ Nikki eased her car around a winding bend, and then accelerated onto the straight road. She glanced hopefully across to Joseph. ‘Any further forward with finding Eve?’