He suddenly remembered going to the Great Worcester Maze at Broadfields when he was a kid. His father had been working and his mother was heavily pregnant with Jasper.
She hadn’t been up to doing the maze with him but she’d given him instructions on what to do if he couldn’t find his way back.
He smiled and hoped someone else had been lucky enough to have such a pragmatic mother and he followed her instructions now just as he had back then.
He put two fingers into his mouth, curled his tongue and blew.
Three seconds later came a response and a direction of travel.
He travelled to the eastern edge, close to the canal bridge that led over to the Waterfront Office and Leisure Complex.
Finally, he heard voices and turned out of a car alley into an open space that held the crane and the vehicle crusher.
He appraised the scene quickly and ignored the ‘new boy’ glances that passed amongst a couple of the constables.
The crane operator was smoking a cigarette and shaking his head; a woman he assumed to be the hysterical caller was sitting away from everyone still sobbing. An overweight man with a tee shirt that stopped shy of his waistband attempted to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder.
‘You the owner?’ Penn asked the big guy, wondering if there’d been some kind of accident. There were no ambulances present.
‘Warren Dobbie, third generation,’ he said.
‘And this is?…’
‘My wife, Debbie,’ he said.
Penn tried in earnest not to put the two names together in his mind.
‘And you called the police?’ he asked the trembling woman.
She nodded and sobbed again.
He turned back to third generation Dobbie. ‘Is someone hurt?’ he asked, still unsure of the reason for his presence.
‘Well, no, not so much hurt…’ he said. ‘Just… well… here, tek a look for yerself.’
Penn followed him through the milling police officers to the object of their attention.
A cube.
Penn knew that the compactors used at junkyards flattened the metal using hydraulically powered plates and a baling press that compressed from several directions until it resembled a large cube. And on first inspection there was nothing spectacular about the perfect cube of metal around which they all stood. He looked around at the police officers and then looked again with fresh eyes.
And that’s when he saw the human hand.
Eighteen
Kim arrived at Dobbie’s at the same time as Mitch and his team.
The revelation from Mrs Tallon had been on her mind the whole time she’d been driving.
She had wondered if the woman was telling them the whole truth when she’d said she didn’t know the reason for the violent outburst from Mark Johnson. But Harry Jenks had chosen not to report the assault to the police and she couldn’t help but question why not. But they now knew that Mark Johnson had a temper. Who else had he upset? Although she was struggling to convict him in her mind for smacking Jenks in the face. Unfair or not there was something about him that made her want to smack him too.
And then the call had come from Penn to get to Dobbie’s straight away.
‘Hey, Mitch, I hear you’ve got your work cut out with this one,’ Kim said, as she and Bryant joined him at the cordoned entrance.
‘Did I hear right that there’s a body part in the metal?’ he asked, as they passed Keats’s van.
‘Apparently,’ Kim said, as they followed the line of officers to the location Penn had explained to her.
She knew it well. She’d spent many Saturday mornings trawling the place looking for bike parts that were thrown haphazardly into piles at the end of car rows like the special offer displays at the aisle end in a supermarket.
She spied Penn up ahead who came walking towards her.
‘Pathologist is here, boss,’ he said. ‘But seems at a bit of a loss.’
She nodded and followed him to the crusher.
‘So, what happened?’ she asked as she walked.
‘Guy operating the crane removed the cube from the press and saw the hand as he lowered it to the ground. Got out and touched it and hasn’t stopped shaking since.’
Yes, it was a discovery that would stay with him for some time.
‘Hey, Keats,’ she said to the pathologist who stood on the other side of the cube.
‘Well, this is a puzzle, isn’t it?’ he asked, stroking his bearded chin.
‘Not sure your rectal probe’s gonna help on this one,’ she said, bending down to take a better look.
The hand itself looked in reasonable condition but icy cold to her touch despite the heat of the day. The skin was smooth and she suspected the hand was male.
‘Has it been moved?’ Kim asked.
Penn shook his head as Kim began to walk around it.
‘Is it just a hand?’ Bryant asked as Mitch took out a large plastic sheet and began to unfold it.
Keats shook his head. ‘There appears to be a foot on that side and an elbow on that side and some hair on the top.’
Kim moved aside as two techies began taking photographs from all angles.
‘So, you reckon we’ve got the whole body in there?’ Kim asked.
‘Definitely possible given the body parts we can see, but separating them from the mangled metal is not going to be an easy task.’
Kim had a sudden thought. ‘So, who gets him, you or Mitch?’
Were they looking at a body or clues? How could Keats perform any kind of post-mortem and how could Mitch take the metal apart while trying to preserve the body parts, because one thing was for certain: suicide it was not.
‘I’m pretty sure this is going to be a joint project,’ Keats said as the photographers stepped back from the cube.
‘Okay, guys, lets tip it,’ Mitch said.
Mitch’s team gathered around the cube, and Keats stepped forward to observe. Mitch gave the instructions and the cube was eased over onto the plastic sheet exposing the side that had been on the ground.
‘Oh shit,’ Kim said, when she saw that the whole underneath was stained with blood.
Nineteen
Kim ended the call as Keats headed out of the yard closely followed by Mitch, who were both following the low-loader that had been ordered to transfer the cube to the lab. Neither vehicle had been equipped for transportation, so Mitch had simply wrapped it in plastic to preserve evidence.
A second team of Forensics had arrived and under instruction from Mitch would focus on the area the vehicle had been stored prior to crushing, while the initial team would focus on the crusher.
Penn had been dispatched back to the office to start searching the missing persons reports and identifying possibilities.
‘So, how you doing, Dob?’ Kim asked, entering the office building at the centre of the site. The afternoon sun was beating down on the felt roof and the south-facing windows making the space stuffy and unbearable. A three-speed fan did nothing to cool the air and only threw up dust particles into the rays of sunlight.
‘I’m all right but the missus is still shitting bricks,’ he said, although Kim could see the slight tremble to his hand as he moved a paperweight to the pile of papers closest to the fan.
‘Understandable,’ she acknowledged.
He used the back of his hand to wipe a line of sweat that had formed between his nose and upper lip.
‘Look, I dow mean to be insensitive…’
‘Then don’t be,’ Kim said simply. ‘You can have your equipment back when we’re finished but until then, you’re closed, matey.’
His mouth opened and his eyes rolled all at the same time as though he was using every body part he could think of to communicate his displeasure.
‘I gotta pay guys to just sit around until…’
‘You could always get ’em in here for a spring clean,’ she said, lifting up a folder to reveal another pile of papers hiding underneath. ‘Talking of which, I need the
make, model and registration number of the vehicle, the name and address of the person who brought it in and on what date.’
‘Toyota Corolla,’ he answered.
She waited.
Nothing.
‘Okay, that was two answers of the six I want and to be fair they’re the least helpful two answers you could have given me,’ she said, glowering at him.
He shrugged and motioned to the desk that looked as though two printing presses had made babies. ‘It’s on a bit of paper. It’s ’ere somewhere.’
‘Bookkeeper took a holiday?’ Bryant queried, taking a look over the desk.
‘Yeah since the last bloody recession when folks stopped buying new cars,’ he said.
Kim tipped her head. ‘You’re not suffering too bad, Dob,’ she said, nodding outside to the rows and stack of cars. It wasn’t like he had a lot of room.
‘Tell that to the bank manager or even better tell it to the wife,’ he moaned.
‘You gotta have a system of some kind,’ she said. Dobbie had been in business too long for this level of stupidity.
‘Yeah, I write shit down on a piece of paper until I get time to do the books,’ he said, rubbing a dirty wrist across his forehead.
‘So, you don’t put cars in any area based on the day they came in or?—’
‘Is that really a serious question?’ he asked, looking to Bryant for a clue.
Her colleague nodded.
‘Yeah, I operate under the “wherever there’s fucking space” system and it’s worked all right for me for—’
‘Well, not really because the undisputed facts are that there was a person in that car when you put it in the crusher. So, how the hell did he get there?’
‘Hey, we ay done—’
‘Was the car on ground level?’ Kim asked.
Dobbie nodded.
‘So, we could be looking at some homeless guy who wandered in, fancied a comfy seat in one of the cars, fell asleep, went unnoticed and got more than—’
‘You think he was alive?’
Kim shrugged. ‘Dunno, Dobbie, that’s what we’re going to have to find out but hang on,’ she said, frowning. She remembered a TV programme she’d recently seen. ‘Don’t you strip these cars of everything but the paint before they go in the crusher?’
‘Hell, yeah, that’s where we make our money. Seats, pedals, wiring, the lot comes out.’
‘So, when was that done?’
‘Fuck me, Inspector, I can’t remember…’
‘So, the boot might not have been checked?’
‘Should have been if these lazy bastards were doing their job. There’s carpet and sometimes spare tyres been left in there.’
‘Well, our victim had to have been in the car somewhere,’ she said. ‘And I’m assuming your guys didn’t move him aside to take the seats out, and put him back again.’
He donned an expression that said it wouldn’t surprise him.
She couldn’t yet rule out that a vagrant hadn’t wandered in unnoticed and got into the car and that they were dealing with some kind of tragic accident. What she needed were the owner or car details.
‘Okay, Dob, when you gonna have that information for me?’ she asked, looking at her watch to underline she was talking hours.
‘Soon as the lazy bastard who was supposed to strip the car gets this place tidied up.’
Kim nodded her begrudging acceptance and stepped out of the office.
‘Well, Rubik’s a bit of a puzzle, isn’t he?’ Bryant asked as they headed towards the car.
She paused with her hand on the car door.
‘Bryant, please tell me you didn’t just call our guy in the cube Rubik?’
He nodded. ‘I considered Ice but I think this name we’ll remember.’
She shook her head as she got into the car.
‘Where to?’ he asked, starting the engine.
‘Russells Hall,’ she said. ‘Wanna see how the boys are getting on with Rubik and see if the present I ordered for them has arrived.’
‘Present?’ he queried.
‘Oh, yes, I’ve ordered something that I think they’re going to need very much.’
Twenty
It was almost four when Kim pushed the button to access the morgue area. She headed for the end of the corridor, just before the fridge, to a room she’d only seen used once before, when Keats hadn’t had enough space for a two-car accident. Seven people had been burnt beyond recognition. The charred bodies of four adults and three children had been lined up against the wall. She shuddered at the memory as she entered for the second time.
‘Hey, guys, how’s it going?’ Kim asked, standing between them as they pondered opposite sides of the cube.
Mitch held a saw and Keats held a scalpel.
‘We have to try and loosen some of the metal,’ Mitch said.
‘You’ll destroy valuable evidence,’ Keats said with exasperation. ‘We need the tissues intact for testing and for clues.’
‘We’re on the same side with that one, Keats, but we can’t get bits of him out until we’ve loosened some of the crumpled metal.’
Kim looked from one to the other as the exchange continued.
‘Inspector, your thoughts?’ Mitch asked, as Keats rolled his eyes. He didn’t much care for her opinion.
She shrugged. ‘Personally, I’d get the chainsaw on it but what do I know?’ she said as they both shot her a horrified glance.
Kim did not envy either one of them. Ultimately, they wanted the same thing: to preserve the body to get information. Keats’s medical training steered him in one direction and Mitch’s efficiency dictated that the sooner they opened up the metal the sooner they could both get answers.
Kim stepped back to the edge of the room, stood next to Bryant and folded her arms.
‘It’s like two kids who’ve been given a present to share at Christmas and can’t decide how to open it.’
‘Yeah, one could almost forget there’s a person in there who has lost their life,’ Bryant said, quietly.
‘Said the man who has named him Rubik,’ she noted.
‘Well, he’s certainly puzzling the life out of these two,’ he noted as they continued to move around the cube observing at every angle.
‘Yeah, amusing, isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Definitely, but not gonna yield us answers any time soon.’
‘Oh, Bryant, chill out.’
‘The irony is astounding,’ he said, and then turned to her. ‘Hang on, you should be stamping your feet by now and issuing them with threats of violence. I find your calmness disconcerting.’
She offered him a smile. ‘Be patient.’
‘Didn’t you say you’d ordered something that could help?’
Kim hesitated as she heard the whoosh of the automatic doors at the end of the suite.
‘Yep, and I think it’s just arrived.’
Keats and Mitch were still in heated debate when a diminutive blonde figure appeared in the doorway.
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. Doctor A at your service. Now how much have you missed me?’
Kim smiled and stepped forward as she heard the collective groan of three grown men.
Twenty-One
‘Doctor A,’ Kim said, moving towards the woman with her hand outstretched. ‘Thank you for coming. I think we could do with a little help.’
Doctor A returned the handshake warmly while looking around her to the metal cube taking centre stage.
‘I don’t think…’ Mitch said.
‘I’m sure we’ll be…’ Keats said.
‘Shush, men,’ she said, moving towards it.
Keats shot daggers her way, and Kim smiled in return.
Doctor A was a Forensic Anthropologist that Kim had worked with on a number of occasions and trusted implicitly. Hailing from Macedonia, she herself simplified her long and complicated name to Doctor A. Many people were put off by the woman’s direct no-nonsense manner but it only made Kim warm to her more.
/> It had occurred to her at the scrapyard that they needed someone who was used to searching for clues with speed and accuracy. Someone who understood the need for preserving the evidence while also digging around for it.
‘Is that a hand?’ she asked, taking an elastic band and tying back her long hair.
‘Yes,’ Kim answered.
Doctor A turned on her. ‘You didn’t tell me you had metal Michael here.’
‘Mickey,’ Mitch corrected. ‘Metal Mickey.’
‘Is what I said,’ she snapped, continuing to walk around the cube making no sound on the plastic with her trademark Doctor Marten boots.
‘You think male?’ she asked, turning to Kim.
Kim nodded. ‘The size of the hand,’ she explained.
‘And do you think he is all there?’
Kim shrugged. ‘Not sure but there’s a possibility it’s a vagrant who fancied a comfy sleep in a warm car.’
She continued looking and glanced at Mitch’s saw before giving him a filthy look, and laughed out loud at Keats’s scalpel.
‘It is a good job I am here.’
‘Can you offer some advice on the best way in?’ Kim asked, diplomatically.
Doctor A shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can not.’
Kim tried to hide her disappointment while three others almost danced with relief.
‘This metal box is no different to the ground. You develop a method and a rhythm as you go. The material begins to open up to you, to guide you, advise you. This is not something I can do from afar. I can not supervise from on top.’
‘Above,’ Kim corrected, quickly.
‘I will stay and work it,’ she said, decisively. ‘I shall bring tools of my own but I will be in charge.’
‘Done,’ Kim said, offering her hand and turning on her heel before Keats or Mitch managed to catch her eye.
For the briefest of seconds when the two men’s antagonism had been deafening she had wondered if she’d made the right call.
Dead Memories: An addictive and gripping crime thriller Page 5