Robbing the Dead (Inspector Jim Carruthers Book 1)

by Tana Collins

  ‘Please, follow me. I’ll show you. I am her flatmate, Tomoko Kawase.’

  Carruthers entered the kitchen to see a girl sitting at the kitchen table, her bobbed dark hair framing her face. She was dressed in snug-fitting black jeans and a white T-shirt.

  ‘Siobhan Mathews?’ he asked gently.

  She looked up at him, and the dark circles under her eyes spoke of a poor night’s sleep, yet he still found her strikingly, inappropriately attractive. For a moment she reminded him of his former wife, with the same dark hair and hauntingly beautiful green eyes, and he took a sharp intake of breath. How unfair it was that after nearly a year of separation, unguarded thoughts of his wife could accost him when he least expected them.

  ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I’ve had a bad feeling all night about Rhys not turning up. It’s not like him. He would have phoned me. Just tell me one thing. Is he dead?’

  Carruthers hated these moments. ‘A body of a young man has been discovered,’ he said. ‘There was no ID on the man. We’re still trying to establish his identity. It may not be Rhys.’

  The girl buried her face in her hands and wept. Fletcher went over to her and gave her a tissue from her pocket.

  ‘Have you got a recent photograph of Rhys, Siobhan? He’s in the RAF isn’t he?’ said Fletcher. There was no response from the sobbing girl.

  ‘I’m sorry but we’re going to have to ask some difficult questions,’ said Carruthers. ‘We need to find out who the victim is. Remember, it may not be your boyfriend.’

  Siobhan dabbed her eyes with the tissue and blew her nose. ‘Yes, he is. In the RAF, I mean. An aircraftman based at RAF Edenside.’

  Fletcher got her notebook out and started scribbling.

  ‘We’ve only been seeing each other about six months. That’s how long he’s been at the base. I’ve got a photo of us in my bedroom. Just give me a second. I’ll go get it.’

  ‘RAF personnel move around a lot. Where’s he from originally, Siobhan?’ asked Carruthers as Siobhan was leaving the room, his tone a little sharper than intended. Carruthers found he was holding his breath as they waited for Siobhan to answer the question.

  Siobhan turned round and looked puzzled. ‘Cardiff. Why?’

  ‘What are you studying?’ asked Carruthers, quick to change the subject until they’d seen the photograph.

  ‘An MPhil in Philosophy,’ she called from the bedroom.

  Carruthers felt a fleeting moment of pain and swallowed. His ex-wife had been a philosophy lecturer. How uncanny.

  ‘Can we see that photograph now, Siobhan?’ Carruthers asked. Siobhan handed him a black and white photograph. Carruthers looked at it. The photograph showed two people with their arms round each other. Both were laughing. The girl’s hair had been whipped up by the wind and partially obscured her face. They looked happy. He passed it to Fletcher.

  ‘Did Rhys have any identifying marks? A tattoo maybe?’ asked Fletcher.

  Carruthers could see that the sudden question threw Siobhan for a moment, but the penny dropped quickly enough for her and she visibly paled. Her flatmate came over to her and put her arm round her. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he’s a big Cardiff City fan. Has a tattoo on his right forearm of a bluebird. I hate it.’

  Carruthers and Fletcher exchanged glances. There was a telling silence. ‘The man you found in Bell Street has a tattoo doesn’t he? That’s why you asked me.’

  ‘What is Rhys? Five foot eight? Five foot nine? asked Carruthers.

  ‘Five foot nine,’ said Siobhan.

  ‘How did he die?’ asked Siobhan, starting to weep again. ‘Was it quick?’

  ‘I’m afraid we’re unable to release details at this stage,’ said Carruthers. ‘We need to formally confirm the identification before we can say anything more.’

  ‘Rhys would never hurt anyone. Why would someone do this?’ The question remained unanswered. She looked from Carruthers to Fletcher. ‘Do you want me to see the body?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Carruthers. ‘You’re not expected to do that. I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep the photo for the time being. You’ll get it back, though.’

  Siobhan nodded.

  ‘If it is Rhys, someone from the RAF base or his next of kin needs to identify him. I’m afraid a girlfriend doesn’t qualify. I do want to stress, however, that it still may not be Rhys.’

  ‘But if it’s Rhys, I want to see him. And he has no other family. His parents are both dead so I’m as good as next of kin.’

  ‘Let’s find out whether it’s him first,’ said Carruthers. ‘We’ll be in touch. It’s very important we find the victim’s identity out as quickly as we can. We may well be looking at a murder investigation, in which case every minute is vital.’

  Suddenly Carruthers’ mobile rang interrupting them. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to the room in general as he answered. ‘Jim Carruthers,’ he said. ‘When? Right, OK, thanks.’ With that he rang off.

  Carruthers could see Fletcher looking at him questioningly. His attention was on Siobhan Mathews.

  ‘Just tell me, inspector,’ Siobhan said quietly.

  ‘Rhys Evans’ ID has been found and handed in to the police station by a member of the public. It was found in a gutter at the end of Bell Street.’

  ‘Then it really is him,’ sobbed Siobhan.

  ‘It puts him or his ID in or near Bell Street, Siobhan, that’s all,’ said Fletcher. ‘I agree it’s not looking good, but like DCI Carruthers said, let’s not assume anything at this stage. Castletown is a tourist destination. It’s possible Rhys dropped his wallet during a drinking session and hasn’t recovered enough to get in touch with you yet. We may find it’s someone just passing through.’

  Siobhan Mathews sighed, and Carruthers’ heart went out to the girl. The sigh was weightier than words and spoke volumes. There wasn’t much doubt in his mind that the body was that of the missing aircraft technician Rhys Evans although at this stage he wasn’t going to share his thoughts with Siobhan. She was on an imminent and inescapable collision course with the pain and loss that a sudden and violent death always brings.

  ‘What I don’t understand is why the information Rhys was missing wasn’t acted on earlier,’ said Siobhan angrily, snapping Carruthers from his private thoughts.

  Carruthers frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What I mean is that I got Rhys’s colleague, Dave Roberts, to phone the station late last night to report him missing. I don’t understand this ridiculous need to wait twenty-four hours before the police will act on a missing person report. I assume that’s what you told Dave.’

  ‘All we wait for is reasonable evidence that the person is missing,’ said Carruthers. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said, his brain going into overdrive, ‘you’re telling me Rhys was first reported missing last night?’

  ‘That’s right. When I couldn’t get hold of Rhys, I rang one of his colleagues.’

  Carruthers glanced across at Fletcher but she was already scribbling the information down.

  ‘Dave Roberts. He’s in the same squadron as Rhys,’ continued Siobhan. ‘They’ve known each other for years, well before they both joined the RAF. I don’t like him but I couldn’t think who else to call, apart from the police. Dave also saw Rhys leave the base. Anyway, it was Dave who ended up phoning the police for me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you phone the police yourself?’ said Fletcher, looking up from her notebook.

  ‘Dave told me to wait a few more hours. Said the police wouldn’t thank me for wasting their time.’

  ‘Then what happened?’ prompted Fletcher.

  Siobhan Mathews shrugged. ‘Just over a couple of hours had gone by. Rhys still hadn’t turned up. I was at the end of my tether. I rang Dave to say I was finally going to ring the police.’

  ‘What time was this?’ asked Carruthers, digging into his black trouser pocket and bringing out his own black notebook.

  ‘I think the second time I rang Dave was just before midnight. He pers
uaded me the police might take a mate ringing from the RAF more seriously than a girlfriend. Offered to make the call. I was too tired to argue, and frankly relieved he was going to phone them. Anyway, he would’ve already had a name.’

  ‘How’s that?’ asked Fletcher.

  ‘He was interviewed by the police a couple of weeks ago. About a fight.’

  Carruthers shot Fletcher a look. He was remembering what Mackie had said about the old bruising on the body. ‘Get on your mobile, Andie. Phone the station. Check it out.’

  ‘Was Rhys involved in this fight?’ asked Carruthers, as Fletcher busied herself fishing out her mobile and punching in the number of the station.

  ‘He was there, yes. Stepped in to try to break it up. Got punched a couple of times for his trouble. He would never hurt anyone. Like I said, he was a peacemaker.’

  Fletcher ducked out of the living room and went into the hall. A couple of minutes later she reappeared snapping shut her mobile phone and shaking her head.

  ‘I spoke to DS Harris,’ she said. ‘The only logged call about Rhys Evans’ being missing was from Siobhan Mathews.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Siobhan. ‘Why would Dave lie?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Carruthers. ‘But I think we need to speak to him.’ He said his goodbyes to Siobhan and Tomoko. Fletcher followed suit. As they left the flats he turned to Fletcher. ‘Sounds like Roberts might have been the last person to see Rhys before he left the base. Ring Dougie back. Get him to speak to all the staff on duty last night. I don’t care if he’s got to get them out of bed. I want to make doubly sure nobody took a call from Roberts.’

  ***

  WEDNESDAY LUNCHTIME 30TH MAY

  Jim Carruthers had seen a good number of corpses in his time, and however dispassionate he tried to be, the experience never failed to move him. When he looked at a dead body he always felt something. Of course, he felt more for the innocent than the hardened criminal, but he knew that even the hardened criminal had been innocent once. As for children, he didn’t know of any police officer that wasn’t affected by the death of a child. For him, having lost an older brother to a hit and run, dealing with the death of a child was the most difficult thing imaginable.

  But most of all, he felt for the bereaved, for those whose loved ones had been taken from them, often in the cruellest of circumstances. He sighed and thought of Siobhan Mathews. He had just come out of the mortuary. Rhys Evans’ commanding officer had positively identified the body.

  Carruthers sat in his car listening to his voicemail. Nothing urgent. He called Fletcher and organised for her to pick up Siobhan Mathews to bring her to the mortuary the other side of Castletown. She was still insisting on viewing her boyfriend’s body. This wasn’t exactly procedure, but with no family confirmed by the RAF, Siobhan was the closest they had, and she might have information useful to the investigation. He had to chance it. Seeing Fletcher’s distinctive green Beetle pull up, Jim opened the car door and got out. As he and Fletcher led the crying girlfriend across the car park he thought about the grieving process that had only just begun for her.

  Shaking these thoughts off, he looked over at Siobhan. ‘Are you ready, Siobhan?’

  She looked up at him through almond-shaped green eyes. ‘Will you come in with me? I don’t want to be on my own.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’

  She smiled at him, although the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her into the building. They were met by a young woman he hadn’t seen previously that morning. Perhaps she’d been on her break.

  ‘DCI Jim Carruthers and DS Andrea Fletcher,’ he said. ‘This is Siobhan Mathews. Siobhan’s boyfriend was Rhys Evans. She’s asked to view the body. Is Mackie here?’

  ‘Just popped outside for a cigarette.’

  The woman who stood in front of him only looked to be in her late twenties. She had a surprisingly deep and seductive voice, at odds with her appearance. Her black hair was tied in a severe ponytail, and her glasses were too big for her face, giving her the look of the academic. Carruthers privately thought she would look much more attractive if she wore contact lenses and sported a fringe. She had nice eyebrows, he noticed. Very sexy. He then chastised himself for having inappropriate thoughts at a particularly inappropriate time.

  ‘I didn’t think he still smoked,’ said Carruthers.

  ‘He’s been trying to give up. Did well. Lasted six months this time.’

  Carruthers looked down at Siobhan Mathews’ face. She’d managed to stop crying but it had left her face blotchy and red.

  At that moment, the door opened and in walked Dr Mackie, flicking his cigarette butt on to the ground behind him. Carruthers frowned.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, laddie. Shouldn’t be smoking. Every fag I have I keep saying it’ll be my last. Hard habit to break in my job. I see you’ve met my new assistant, Jodie Pettigrew.’

  Carruthers hadn’t been thinking about Dr Mackie’s health at all, but rather about the way the pathologist had thoughtlessly disposed of his cigarette butt. He wasn’t going to admit that, though. He looked again at Mackie’s assistant. If smoking was Mackie’s vice he couldn’t help but wonder, with her prim academic look and sexy eyebrows, what Jodie Pettigrew’s was.

  Mackie motioned for Carruthers and Siobhan to follow him through some glass doors.

  ‘Jodie, why don’t you take your lunch now?’ Jodie nodded and turned away. ‘Nice girl, very intelligent. Got a first from Oxford,’ Mackie said as Jodie disappeared, giving Carruthers an appraising backwards glance as she left. Carruthers didn’t doubt her intelligence for a minute. He could easily imagine her captaining a team on University Challenge. Naturally she would be on the winning side.

  Carruthers noticed Fletcher had her hand on Siobhan’s shoulder. He turned to Siobhan. ‘Right, are you ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  Mackie led them to the viewing area and then disappeared through a door.

  Carruthers glanced at Siobhan. He wondered if actually viewing her boyfriend’s body would trigger anything that might be helpful to their investigation. Through the Perspex, there in the centre of the room was the trolley. The shape of a body covered by a white sheet was lying on it. There had been a strong smell of disinfectant earlier masking the stench of death and Carruthers was grateful that for once he was on this side of the glass. Again, he looked over anxiously at Siobhan. Her chest was rising and falling with great rapidity; her hands clenched into fists. He could see from the determined look on her face she was trying to steel herself. She looked a bundle of nerves. Carruthers couldn’t blame her.

  Siobhan stepped closer to the glass wiping her hands on her jeans. Carruthers could see her bravado was fast evaporating.

  Carefully Mackie lifted back the sheet just enough so that the head and shoulders of the young man were exposed. There was a sharp intake of breath as Siobhan peered at the corpse’s face. Carruthers was grateful the rest of the body was covered.

  Siobhan, hand over mouth, could only nod. She then turned away from Carruthers. Wordlessly, she almost stumbled out of the viewing area.

  ‘I’ll go after her,’ said Fletcher. Carruthers nodded. As Fletcher left the room, Dr Mackie started to cover the face of the dead airman.

  Carruthers rapped on the glass. ‘Wait,’ he called out. He studied the swollen and discoloured features of the deceased. What had got him killed. Had it been a botched robbery or were the motives more sinister? Only when he nodded did Mackie cover Rhys’ face and step to meet him outside the room. ‘Are you able to give me anything yet?’ Carruthers said.

  ‘No laddie. Too soon. You know that. I’ll contact you as soon as I have anything concrete. It would just be conjecture at this stage, and you know how we pathologists hate to do that.’

  ‘Not even a time or cause of death?’

  ‘Persistent bugger, aren’t you? I’m not being drawn on an exact time. You know how difficult these things are, al
though I would say, if he was found at 9pm, he hadn’t been dead more than a couple of hours. This is unofficial, though, but that’s all you’re getting for now.’

  ‘Can I nip in and just have another look at him?’ said Carruthers. Mackie nodded. They entered the room after Carruthers had donned the obligatory white coat. Carruthers lifted off the sheet. His gaze travelled down the right arm and misshapen and bloodied hand of the deceased. Several bones broken in the right hand, thought Carruthers. ‘Someone stamped on his hand?’

  ‘Looks that way,’ Mackie reluctantly confirmed. ‘Some of the bruising suggests impact with a ridged object. Possible indentation of a thick tread.’

  Carruthers frowned. ‘A booted foot?’

  ‘Again, I’m not ready to confirm anything just yet, but it’s possible.’

  Carruthers’ gaze travelled up the torso to the face. He remembered Mackie telling him that the young man was also missing a front tooth. He’d clearly taken several hard punches to the face and body.

  ‘I can’t give you any more at this stage,’ said Mackie, breaking into Carruthers’ thoughts.

  Carruthers shook his head, thinking not for the first time about the wanton waste of life.

  ‘Now off you go, laddie,’ said Mackie chuckling. ‘Go and rescue your damsel in distress. Leave me to get on with the post-mortem. I’ll be in touch.’ He patted his lab coat pocket, no doubt looking for his cigarettes. Carruthers couldn’t blame him for wanting another. He suddenly felt like smoking too. He’d given it up during his marriage, but there was no one to complain he tasted like an ashtray now.

  He thought of Siobhan Mathews, and how she would have to come to terms with her boyfriend’s death. Wondered if the relationship had been serious. He hoped she would be able to find a way to put all of it behind her and continue with her studies.

  He knew, though, only too well, how the sudden death of someone, especially this young, would cast ripples, and would have far-reaching consequences for those left behind. He thought of his own family. The death of his fourteen-year-old brother when he was ten had meant that he had to grow up with an overprotective mother and a father who lost himself in drink. Sighing, he thanked Mackie and gratefully went outside to find Fletcher and Siobhan.