by Tim Ellis
‘Good.’
They reached the tent covering the first gravesite, put on the forensic suit, gloves, mask and boots, and squirmed through the half-open flap.
‘Hello, Sir?’
‘Are you following me, Toadstone? I thought you were at Masterson’s flat?’
‘All finished there. It was only a small place. My two colleagues are already back at the lab analysing the samples.’
‘That’s good to hear. So, I can expect some leads soon?’
‘I can’t stop you from hoping, Sir. As I recall, Pandora left hope in the box when she released all the other evils into the world.’
‘So, have you thought about going into politics, Toadstone? I’d definitely vote for you.’
‘Maybe later in life, after I’ve helped you solve all your cases, Sir.’
Parish grunted. ‘That’ll be the day. Right, enough children’s fairytales, what’s going on here?’
‘Well, as you can see, we’re about to move the bodies out of the grave one at a time and put each one in a plastic container.’ He pointed to four clear plastic oblong boxes, which were all exactly the same and resembled New Age children’s coffins. They were stacked one on top of the other at the right side of the tent. Each lidded box was four foot long, two foot wide, a foot deep, and the plastic was a quarter-inch thick.
‘You’re taking your time.’
‘Each body is fragile. We’re trying to keep the bones belonging to each skeleton together. Without muscles, tendons, and ligaments the bones aren’t connected to each other and fall away into the grave as soon as we move them. If we don’t do this right, Doc Michelin will end up with a pile of bones from which he’ll have to construct four bodies, and that would be difficult and time-consuming because the children are all of similar ages.
Parish looked at the boxes. ‘What’s that clear liquid in the bottom of the boxes for?’
‘If we merely put the bones in a box they’d slide about in transit and probably get damaged. Also, Doc Michelin would need to reconstruct the skeletons in the mortuary. What we’ve done is put a six-inch layer of clear gel in the bottom of each box to maintain the integrity of the skeleton.’
‘You’re a genius, Toadstone, did I ever tell you that?’
‘My IQ score proves that I’m a genius, but thanks for the compliment anyway, Sir. Although, the idea wasn’t mine it was Megan’s’
‘Megan? Wasn’t that the Rottweiler outside Millhaven’s house that made me put on the paper suit?’
‘That’s the one, Megan Palmer.’
‘So, have you found anything that might point us in the direction of who could have killed these children?’
‘Besides the skeletons, we’ve only found fragments of clothing, which might provide some leads, but I’m not hopeful, Sir.’
‘No hair, skin, fingernails, or fluids?’
‘Strangely enough, no. As yet, I don’t know what that means.’
‘You always make me feel depressed, Toadstone. What about the other graves?’
‘Shall we walk over to them?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He glanced at Richards. ‘You’re quiet? Have you got any questions for Toadstone before he takes us on the guided tour?’
‘I’m being cold-hearted, Sir.’
‘That doesn’t mean you can’t ask questions.’
‘I haven’t got any questions, Paul.’
Toadstone led the way out of the tent, moved to his left, and stepped off the walkway at right angles to the original gravesite and parallel to the track on their right.
‘Have we ran out of corrugated steel?’ Parish said taking his mask off.
‘No, Sir. I decided that it was unnecessary. All the bodies that we’ve found are at least eight years old, and…’
‘…But what if we find some bodies that are more recent?’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference. This wood has always been open to the public. If we find something like a glove or a boot, it might or might not have come from the killer, but there’s no way to tell because he or she could have been here merely walking their dog and dropped the item. Now, if we find a glove or boot in a grave that would be different, we’d be able to suggest that the killer had buried one or more of the children.’
‘And killed them?’ Richards blurted out from the back.
They could hear a lot of noise coming from the track, and Parish guessed that Sergeant Jackson’s bailiffs had arrived to move everyone on.
‘Unfortunately not, Mary. Remember that there has to be incontrovertible evidence linking a person to someone else’s death such as DNA, or they were caught holding the bloody knife or the smoking gun, but even then…’
‘All right, Toadstone,’ Parish interrupted him. ‘I think we have a working knowledge of the concept of evidence.’
‘Well, clearly…’
‘…And if Richards gets confused, I’ll un-confuse her.’
‘I don’t think that’s a…’
‘That’s right, Toadstone, sometimes you don’t think.’
Richards elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Stop being mean, Sir.’
After stumbling three hundred metres through the trees and damp undergrowth of Galleyhill Wood they reached the second tent. Toadstone went in, but Parish stopped outside.
‘Any observations, Richards?’
‘It’s a long way from the other grave, Sir,’ she said breathing heavily.
‘Yes it is, and you should get out and do some exercise.’
‘I know, but it’s hard with a cold broken heart. I don’t seem to have any enthusiasm these days.’
‘Not that old potato again. You’ll find someone, just be patient.’
‘I feel as though life is passing me by. And now that you and my mum are having a baby…’
Toadstone had come back out of the tent to see where they were. ‘Congratulations, Sir.’
‘You’re a big mouth, Richards. I wanted to keep it to myself for the time being.’
‘Sorry, Sir. Why?’
‘I’m savouring it.’
‘Oh.’
‘I won’t reveal your secret,’ Toadstone said.
‘You’d better not, Toadstone.’
‘Are you coming inside?’
‘Not yet, I’m ruminating. Why is this grave so far away from the other one? What do you think, Richards?’
‘Oh! You could give me some warning when you’re going to do that, Sir.’
‘What like, in ten minutes I’ll be asking you what you think about the distance between the two gravesites, so be ready?’
‘Yes, that would be good.’
‘In the meantime, answer the question?’
‘How far away is it from the other grave, Paul?’
‘Well, we haven’t measured it exactly, but about three hundred metres.’
Parish grunted. ‘That seems pretty exact to me, Toadstone.’
‘Maybe the killer didn’t want the other graves discovered if one was found?’ Richards suggested.
‘Possible, but not likely. Anybody with a brain would know that we’d search the woods in every direction once we found one grave.’
‘Maybe he forgot where he’d buried the other children, and just chose another place at random?’
Parish rubbed his chin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. ‘Do we know whether all five children were buried at the same time, or…?’
Toadstone shook his head. ‘Not yet, Sir. Rick Murcer, the entomologist, has taken samples from the first gravesite and he’s in this tent now doing the same here. I think he should have an answer to that question in the morning after his analysis of the blow flies.’
‘Where’s the third grave, Paul?’
They were stood on the line between the two gravesites with the first one three hundred metres to their left, and the second directly to their right. Toadstone pointed off into the woods behind the two sites. ‘About five hundred metres in that direction.’
‘A triang
le?’
‘Three gravesites would obviously form a triangle, Richards. It tells us nothing useful.’
‘Oh, of course. Have you found any more graves, Paul?’
‘No, but we’re still searching. It will take us most of the week to cover the remaining area.’
‘Up until now, Galleyhill Wood has been someone’s private burial site,’ Parish said. ‘What we need are the gravesites plotted onto a map. I suspect an Ordnance Survey map won’t be much help. What about a satellite map, Toadstone? Do you think one of those would be of any help?’
‘I’ll see what I can do, Sir, but it won’t be until tomorrow morning.’
Chapter Seven
The Hoddesdon Mercury was located on the top floor of the Tower Centre in Yewlands, which was situated between Broxbourne and Hoddesdon off the A1170. By the time Parish pulled up on Yewlands Road the whole top floor of the Tower Centre was completely engulfed in flames and the Fire Brigade were struggling to keep it under control. And, due to the three fire engines and the large crowd of people stood with their necks craned backwards, Parish had to park along the road.
‘This case isn’t going to be easy is it, Sir?’
They’d climbed out of Parish’s Ford Focus and were stood on the pavement looking up at the blaze. Parish checked the time. It was ten twenty.
‘I’ve noticed you have a knack for understatement, Richards.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
Parish began walking towards the crowds. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what happened.’
‘I think it’s fairly obvious what happened, Sir. There was a fire.’
‘You know you could have a very successful career, Richards.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes, but not as a detective. Understatement and stating the obvious are key attributes for funny people on the stage.’
‘Stop being mean, Sir.’
‘Do you remember what Masterson’s boss was called?’
Richards took out her notebook and flicked through the pages as they carried on walking. ‘Ruth Chambers.’
‘Let’s see if we can find her.’
They reached the edge of the crowd and barged their way through until they found the police tape keeping the onlookers back. Parish flashed his warrant card like a magician and a uniformed copper let them through. He approached a sweat-stained and blackened fireman leaning against the nearest fire engine coughing up phlegm and trying to breathe.
Parish showed his warrant card again. ‘Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what happened?’
‘Got a shout about an hour and a half ago, arson, top floor has gone.’
‘Was anybody inside?’
‘Sorry, by the time we arrived the fire was already well underway, we couldn’t get in there to find out. As you can see, we’re just trying to keep it under control so that it doesn’t take the whole block.’
‘Thanks. Good job by the way.’
‘Yeah.’
Parish looked at the faces in the crowd and saw Catherine Cox. He walked up to her.
‘Hello, Miss Cox. Are you following me?’
‘I was here first, Inspector.’
‘Do you know Ruth Chambers?’
‘I’m Ruth Chambers, who are you?’
He didn’t know why, but he was surprised to see a thin middle-aged black woman with long brown corkscrew hair, a wide mouth full of beautiful white teeth, and a pointed chin like a witch. He hoped his surprise wasn’t noticeable.
‘Hello, Miss Chambers, I’m Detective Inspector…’
‘…Parish. I expected a fat balding old man, but you’re pretty fit.’
‘You’re not what I expected either,’ he said and smiled.
‘Well, now that we know neither of us are what either of us expected, what can I do for you? As you can see I’m a newspaper editor without a newspaper or an office, so I have time on my hands.’
‘You’ve heard about Masterson?’
‘Of course. I hope you’re going to catch whoever killed him?’
‘That would be my plan. I need to know what he was working on…?’
Her lips stretched into a thin line across her whole face as she shook her head. ‘He was so secretive. He wanted to be one of the great investigative reporters like Bob Woodward or Kate Adie. I planned to speak to him about what he was doing this morning. If only I’d spoken to him yesterday.’
‘Were you in the building when the fire started?’
‘No, I arrived about an hour ago and the fire brigade were already here.’
‘Did Masterson keep records at the office, or on his computer?’
Ruth Chambers smiled and her eyes lit up. ‘Of course.’
Parish and Richards looked at her quizzically.
She leaned towards them conspiratorially. ‘He had his own form of backup. What he did was to send himself emails.’
‘Have you got access to his email account?’
‘He had a number of accounts, but I think the one he used most was gmail.’
‘Password?’
‘No idea, but I’m sure it won’t be too difficult for you to find out.’
‘I’ll get our computer people onto it. What was his email address?’ He nudged Richards. ‘Write it down, and make sure you get it right.’
‘Masterson at gmail dot com – all lower case.’
‘Thank you, Miss Chambers.’
‘If you find something, I’d like to publish it as his last article?’
‘It depends on what it is. If it’s related to the case we’re working on then probably no, but if it’s not then probably yes.’
‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’ She shrugged, took out her mobile phone, and began to move away. ‘Well, I’m not going to get a newspaper out by standing here.’
They made their way back towards the car.
‘Do you think…’ Richards said. ‘No, it was a dumb question. The fire is too convenient for it to be an accident.’
‘Stop mumbling to yourself, Richards.’
‘Sorry, Sir. Where are we going now?’
‘To the station. You’ve got a lot of work to do.’
‘And what are you going to do while I’m doing all the work?’
‘Making sure you do all your work.’
‘Oh.’
***
‘Haven’t you solved the case yet, Parish?’ Kowalski shouted across the squad room. ‘My old Granny would have had the killer rotting in the cells by now.’
Ed Gorman laughed. ‘Good one, Ray.’
‘You’d better get your old Granny in here then. If she can solve this case I’d be happy to hand it over to her.’
‘Follow the clues, Parish.’
‘I don’t know how I’ve been bumbling along until now without your invaluable advice, Kowalski.’
‘The least I can do, seeing as you took Masterson off me. Is it related?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘There you go then, I did you a favour.’
Parish glanced at Richards who sat at her desk watching him and Kowalski spar as if she were in the stands at Wimbledon Centre Court. ‘Come on Richards, you know the drill - coffee for the Inspector, wind the computer up, start phoning people, get updates.’
Richards flounced out to the kitchen with a face like a slapped arse.
‘You’re training her well, Parish,’ Kowalski said. ‘A star in the making.’
‘She’s got some way to go yet, Ray. Right, leave me alone, I have work to do even if you don’t.’
He sat at his desk; switched on the computer, waited for it to get to the login screen, and then waited some more as it granted him access.
Richards came back with his coffee, and put it down on his coaster.
‘Did you have to go to Columbia and pick the beans yourself?’
She ignored him and sat in her chair opposite. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘You should know what you have to do by now. Get your notebook out.
What’s on the list?’
As she took out her notebook she said, ‘You’re right, Sir, I’ve become too reliant on you. In fact, I’m beginning to think I don’t need you anymore. Maybe I could do the job on my own.’
‘That’s not what I had in mind, Richards. What I’m saying is that you know what needs to be done because we’ve already discussed it, and you’ve kept a list. Now, you should use that brain you keep telling me you’ve got and get on with it.’
‘Here’s what’s on my list…’
He took a long swallow of the hot coffee as she read from her notebook.
‘…Contact CEOPS, contact the National Centre for Missing and Exploited Children, find out about trafficking of organs in the UK, then we’ve got a long list of Amy Linton’s relatives, and the names of the people who were in the park to investigate. Doc Michelin will be doing Amy Linton’s post mortem today, and we’re also waiting for the results of her toxicology report. Paul said that the entomologist should have something for us this morning, and he also said he’d get you a satellite map of Galleyhill Wood with the gravesites plotted on it. You also need to get the computer people to hack into Masterson’s email account to see if he sent himself any emails about what he was working on.’
‘Run the relatives and witnesses names names through the CrimInt database and let’s see what we get back. While that’s running…’
‘I understand, you don’t have to tell me in what order to do everything.’
‘There you go then mission accomplished.’
‘Can you stop talking to me I’ve got work to do.’
He smiled as he typed Somerset House into the search engine. Kowalski was right Richards was a star in the making. With his expert guidance she’d make an excellent detective.
As usual, there were thousands of sites to choose from, but the sixth one was the one he was looking for. Immediately, it gave him the option of ordering a birth, marriage, or death certificate online. He thought he’d have to go down to London, fill in forms, and wait around while they transferred the details onto copy certificates using quills dipped in inkpots. Instead, he clicked on Birth Certificate and then had a few choices to make. He presumed his father was born in England, so he selected that option. Next, he decided he wanted the Express service for £60 - the sooner the better. Now that he’d decided to do it he was eager to find out. The date of birth he left blank, and he decided to do the same with the place of birth – he didn’t know – that’s why he wanted a copy of the certificates. All he had when he’d finished was his father’s first and last name: George Parish. He didn’t know his grandfather’s first name or his grandmother’s first or maiden name. In fact, he realised that what he’d given them was very little. If he’d been at the other end he would have thrown the request in the waste bin. He looked again at all the blanks and added Goff’s Oak in the Place of Birth box. He didn’t know whether his father had been born there, but it might give them something to go on. People didn’t move around as much then as they do now.