by T J Harris
They’d driven through Keswick and headed to a boathouse. Helen had picked out a brochure in the bar the previous evening and thought it sounded like fun. They had hired a canoe and lazily paddled up the lake. Tony had spotted the island and suggested it might make a good spot for their packed lunch. They paddled to the shore, dragged the canoe out of the water and had a little explore, feeling like castaways on the deserted island.
“That sounds idyllic.” encouraged Carver.
“It was. The weather was fantastic, hot and sunny. There was no one about, we had the place to ourselves. We laid out a blanket, drank champagne, reminisced.” he paused. “I gave her her anniversary present and then…” he looked up, “you’re not going to arrest me for lewd behaviour if I tell you we made love are you?”
“Not our department.” smiled Carver. “What did you give her?” Moss stifled a smirk.
“It was a silver necklace in the shape of a reef-knot. I commissioned it, chap in Hereford made it for me from my sketches.”
“Is it here, I’d like to see it.” said Carver showing genuine interest.
“She was wearing it this morning.” Brooks looked alarmed. “Did she not have it with her?”
“I’m sure she did, we’ll check for you. What else did you do?” Carver was keen to keep the man talking. He was getting a good feel for the victim and her life.
“Well, we paddled back to the boat station. It was quite a long way, seemed to take a lot longer going back. We were exhausted when we got in but luckily there was a hotel near the boathouse so we popped in for some tea.” He paused thinking back. “Then we went for a short walk in the forest above the hotel, there was a waterfall with a path to the top. We didn’t get all the way up though, Helen’s knee was too sore.”
“Her knee?” enquired Carver.
‘Yes, she dislocated it badly, oh must be over six months ago now. It still slows her down even though she’s been having physio on it ever since.”
Carver quizzed him about the injury, which had apparently happened when she had slipped on ice in the sports centre car park after playing tennis. When he had learned enough he changed the subject.
“I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but is there anyone you can think of that might have had a grudge against Helen? Had she received any threats that you know about?”
The question seemed to stun Brooks. It was as if he had just concentrated on her being dead rather than question how she had died or why. “No, of course not.” He looked ashen. “She got on with everyone, she was happy…” he tailed off shaking his head.
“Had there been any unusual visitors to the house or strange telephone calls?” Moss added to the questions.
“No I don’t think so. Do you think someone could have been following her or something?” He looked out of the window, concerned.
“It’s possible.” said Carver. “We’d better do a forensic check, just to be sure. Is that OK with you Dr Brooks? It’s a formality really.”
“Sure.” Brooks said then after a pause added: “If you think it will help.”
Carver nodded to Moss who stood up retrieving her mobile from her bag. “I’ll give them a call, see if they can come over this evening. That way you can still stay here tonight.” She smiled at Brooks who looked taken aback.
“Do you mind if we take a quick look around while we wait?” Carver asked.
He stood and Brooks followed suit. He led the way back into the hall. “Where would you like to start?” They toured each room downstairs. The kitchen was large with an expensive looking double Rangemaster oven. It was the type Carver’s wife had wanted before discovering the price. In addition to the dining room there was a small study. “This is my den.” announced Brooks as they crammed into the small room together.
“So you are a scientist as well then.” Carver confirmed looking at the periodic table on the wall. The poster showing all the chemical elements arranged into their neat groups looked familiar from Carver’s schooldays but he could not remember its significance.
“Yes, after I got my PhD in chemistry I worked for a while on modelling organics. But actually I’ve spent most of my life developing specialist microscopes, which is actually mostly computer programming these days. SEMSoft stands for Scanning Electron Microscope Software.” he explained.
In contrast to the rest of the house, the study was actually quite cluttered. There was a large computer screen forced to the back of an ancient desk by the stacks of papers, science journals and general clutter. The only clear space surrounded the computer’s mouse, which obviously defended its realm aggressively. The cabinets and bookshelves were equally untidy. As if used to apologising for the state of the room, he added: “Helen hates this room, calls it my Man Cave and refuses to come in.”
Moss joined them in the hall confirming that the CSI team were on their way. The three of them worked their way up the dark oak staircase to the landing. There were four bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the bedrooms had been converted into another office. This one, by contrast, was immaculate. “This is Helen’s. Bit tidier as you can see.” There was another computer standing on a glass desk with wooden supports that matched the cupboards.
“We’ll need to have these computers analysed, they may contain something useful. Is it OK if the CSI team take them with them when they leave?” Moss asked.
“Both of them?” Brooks looked surprised.
“Yes please, it’s a formality really.” Carver reassured the man. “Did she own any other computers? Apart from the one in her briefcase?”
“The MacBook is a company machine I think. But no, we have an iPad downstairs, but that’s it. Get enough of them at work.” Brooks tried to smile.
“Did she do much work from home?”
“A little, yes. Nothing that involved taking secure data out of the office, but she has been working on her conference presentation quite a bit. Since all this Brexit fuss, it’s become a lot more relevant. She was concerned that if the French pull out of building the new nuclear station in Somerset, the UK would not have enough generating capacity to keep the lights on. She was running simulations based on what she knew and planned to include it in her talk. She was very concerned about it.”
The master bedroom was large with an en-suite shower room that would not have disappointed guests in a 5 star hotel. There was also a walk in wardrobe. Moss examined the cloths and shoes arranged neatly by style and colour. There was not a single label she recognised.
Back downstairs they sat in the lounge while they took down Brooks’s formal statement of the events that morning. Moss had just secured his signature on the bottom of the statement form when the doorbell announced the arrival of the CSI team. Moss went to let them in, then returned a few seconds later.
“Dr Brooks, your sister has arrived. I know this is awful, but would it be OK if she waited outside until after the CSI team have been. We don’t want more people in the house if we can help it. How about if you sit with her on the patio and I’ll bring some drinks out for you?”
Resigned to the loss of control, even in his own home, Brooks agreed and allowed Moss to escort him out of his front door to greet his sister. She gently shut the door while the two embraced.
She returned to the lounge to join Carver as the two made their way round to the patio table and sat down. Before Moss could say anything, the doorbell chimed once more and she turned on her heels to let the CSI team in.
Angela had brought three colleagues with her this time. She was keen to get the job done in a reasonable time, for her benefit as much as the Brooks’s. She set the team to work quickly and they dispersed to different areas of the house.
“Let’s go and see how the house to house is going.” said Carver once he was happy with the arrangements. They joined the two CID constables on the lane as they walked out of a long drive about fifty yards from the Brooks’s house. The two announced that nobody had seen either Dr or Mrs Brooks leave that morning. All they had managed to confirm w
as that they were apparently a lovely couple, that it was terrible what had happened, “Oh and,” Reid smiled, “the old woman at The Stables makes amazing homemade walnut cake.”
“Like you need that Reid.” Carver laughed, pointing at the man’s beer belly.
“OK then, let’s call it a day.” He looked at his watch. It was just gone 8pm. “Go home and get some rest, tomorrow will be another long day. Briefing at 8am.” The two police cars drove in convoy back to Gloucester and the four officers went home for what was left of the evening.
Carver got a call from Angela on his way home. The sweep was completed with nothing of any interest turning up. They had secured the two computers and Hunter would take a look at them the following morning. They had taken swabs from various locations, they would be sent for analysis but were not expected to show up anything new.
Carver thanked her and they agreed that she would have the report ready for the morning briefing.
Chapter 5
Carver was pleased to see everyone ready when he entered the incident room at exactly eight in the morning. He was closely followed by the DCI, who’s sudden appearance prompted everyone to stand. Waving them to all sit, he took a seat at the back. He allowed Carver to introduce the visiting officers that had travelled up that morning and started the briefing with a complete overview of the case, mainly for their benefit.
Reid and Hughes recounted their house-to-house report from the previous evening and Moss summarised the conversation they had had with Brooks. Carver could see Steve Hunter fidgeting on the edge of his chair, looking like an excited child. He handed the floor to him before the man burst and sat himself down.
Hunter took the group through the email dead-drop stage by stage, keeping the best to last. “…and then last night, he came back.” He paused for effect as Carver sat up in his chair. Hunter then explained how he had added a new draft message to the site. The message was blank except for a single white pixel graphic file. It was effectively invisible so the message looked empty, but behind its single pixel lurked some malware code, which Hunter had created to search for and then send him data about the visitor’s computer. All the user had to do was open the email and the little graphic file would do the rest. It hadn’t given him everything he had hoped for, but he had been able to capture the machine’s MAC address, a unique identifier like a car’s VIN number, but that was not all. “It’s a Windows 10 machine, so quite new. I got his Windows registration file, which has a user name of S Williams. Take that and the signoff in the early drafts and I think you are looking for a Sean Williams. I don’t have an address though, he didn’t enter that in the account information, but that should get you started. I have the IP address for his internet connection too. If you get a warrant we can ask for a search which should get us the address he connected from.” He leaned back looking very pleased with himself.
“That’s great work Steve, thanks.” Carver was genuinely impressed. “OK. DS Pramanik?” He looked round the room as the visiting officer raised his hand. “Can you work with DC Hughes here. Try and get us a run-down of all the S and Sean Williams in, let’s start with Gloucestershire and Herefordshire?” Hughes looked pleased with the assignment. She had hardly taken her eyes off the young and very attractive sergeant since he had arrived. Moss shuffled in her seat and Carver smiled to himself. As soon as he had seen the six foot two Pramanik with his rugged, exotic features he had guessed why she had suggested him for the team. He was just her type too. Assigning him to work with the twenty six year old, outgoing and blonde, DC Hughes was pure devilment on his part.
“Moss, can you and Reid start digging into the Brooks’s finances this morning. Let’s get the FAGS covered.”
“Sorry?” Pramanik stopped him. “FAGS?”
Hughes jumped in enthusiastically. “It’s the Boss’ motive device. All murders are the result of one of four basic emotions, Fear, Anger, Greed or Sex. FAGS!” Pramanik smiled and thanked her.
Carver had moved to one of the white board walls and drawn a large square, which he divided into four. In the top left hand corner of each he added the four words in capitals then underlined them. They spent the rest of the briefing brainstorming and adding potential motives and arguments to the board. Under Fear they had added the potential for a shady corporate to have wanted to keep some industrial secret quiet as well as the more likely potential for the affair with this Sean Williams to have had wider consequences, perhaps he was married too. His name was also in the Anger box for being dumped and the Sex box for similar reasons. The husband was also prominent in the Anger box, if he had found out about the affair that gave him a substantial motive. Moss and Reid would look into the couple’s finances to check for any potential Greed motives. Once all the assignments were handed out and the DCI had said some encouraging words, they broke up and got to work. Carver checked his watch, just time for a quick coffee before setting of to the hospital.
Carver arrived at the Pathology Lab at ten. He had got to the hospital campus with plenty of time but had been forced to queue for a parking space. He had then joined the train of worried looking relatives and weary outpatients through the main hospital building before finding the pathology lab at the rear of the complex. The hospital was quite modern and red brick buildings surrounded the lab. By contrast though, the pathology building was a depressing concrete two storey, with what could have been tearstains streaked down its grey walls. The bright blue painted handrails and small flowerbeds at the front doing little to detract from the building’s grim purpose.
Once inside he was directed to the main examination room. He waved to Angela and the pathologist through the glass partition before quickly donning an apron. He grabbed a set of glasses and a face mark as he entered the room. Despite the air conditioning, which was humming intently, the scent of decay and disinfectant hit him as if he had walked into a wall. He steadied himself and moved over to the two specialists.
Carver had worked with this pathologist before. George Carrington was a consultant at the hospital as well as being certified by the Home Office. “Good to see you George.” Carver said as he stood next to the examination table. Helen Brooks lay naked in front of them on the cold stainless steel table.
“We’ve done the exterior examination and taken most of the external swabs and samples we need. We should get everything back by tomorrow morning.” explained Carrington looking over the top of the thin metal-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. “Death was induced by strangulation, we will know the exact cause when we open her throat. There appears to be some additional bruising on the right side of the face. I’d say it was pre-death, which may have stunned her long enough for the attacker to render her unconscious. There is very little in the way of defensive injuries.” He lifted both hands individually allowing Carver to examine the fingernails, just as Angela had done the day before. “We have taken scrapings just in case. We might get some foreign DNA but I doubt it. Often the victim will scratch at her own neck trying to remove the ligature, but there are no nail marks on the throat.”
All three turned their attention to the victim’s neck as the pathologist continued. “There is a single ligature mark covering the whole circumference of the neck, crossing at the back here.” He gently rotated the woman’s slender neck and pointed out an area where the two angry marks passed close to each other before fading out, like skid marks on a road after a near miss. “The marks slope slightly upwards at the back, suggesting the attacker was behind her, pulling the ligature tight in a backwards and open stance. We also found some bruising on her back that could have been caused by the attacker’s knee being used to apply pressure, bracing against his pull on the ligature.” He mimed the action, lifting his knee in the air and pulling his arms against an imaginary victim. “The depth of the ligature mark and the pinching of the skin at the back of neck indicate that a great deal of pressure was applied. Way more than necessary.”
Carver looked up with a puzzled expression, wh
ich the Pathologist noticed. “Strangulation is about time rather than pressure, it takes the brain a certain amount of time to run out of oxygen, for the victim to pass out and eventually die. Once the arterial and venous flows are stopped, squeezing it tighter won’t speed up the process. However, your average killer links pressure with death, he thinks that the harder he pulls, the quicker she’ll die.”
“You think the killer is male then?” Carver enquired, picking up on the reference.
“I’ve no definitive proof at this stage, but I would say a good level of strength was involved. Statistically speaking, strangulation is rare when women kill. They don’t tend to get this physical. It’s a stereotype I know. If the toxicology comes back positive, I may revise that of course. Female killers like poisons and the strangulation may have been carried out to throw us off the trail.”
Carver nodded thinking it was just like a medic to cover himself.
Angela joined the discussion. “There is also some patterning on the contusions which should help match it to the rope we found in the car. That and any of her blood or DNA in the rope fibres should clinch it.” Carver nodded as Angela added. “The rope is unusual, very soft and flexible, not like climbing rope. You might get lucky with a limited source. Again, the lab should have something for you tomorrow, but I’ve got someone trying to identify it right now.”
“There was just one other thing that was a bit unusual.” Carrington twisted the woman’s neck over once more and pointed out a thin cut at the back of the neck that Carver had not noticed the first time. “This cut was made after she died, there is no bleeding but its quite deep.”