* * *
“So.” Phil Grant had changed her clothes and brought a cup of coffee with her to the office. “You watched, I suppose?”
Jordan nodded.
“You were right in your assumptions. She’s an older lady. I’d say well into her sixties, possibly even older. I’m being cautious because of the damage to the body. I’ve sent off blood and samples for DNA. It’ll help with identification if you need it, but you know it takes a while, so I hope you find out who she is sooner than that.”
“I didn’t think you’d be able to get blood, with her being burned,” Rosalind said.
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I was able to get urine as well. The lower part of the body wasn’t too badly damaged at all. It takes a lot of heat to burn a body, and time, neither of which seem to have been available. Anyway, things I can tell you right now: She was dead before the body was burned. There was no smoke damage to the lungs or trachea and the position of the limbs are strongly suggestive of that. Thank goodness, the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. The fire didn’t destroy all the body, in fact in real terms it didn’t destroy all that much. There was some evidence of heart disease and she was rather overweight. You already know from the fire officer’s report that an accelerant was used, so the burning was definitely deliberate. However, I imagine they knew that they were never going to be able to generate enough heat to destroy the body completely, so what was their intention? Maybe they were disturbed, maybe they were sickened by what they were doing. Fortunately for me, that’s your job, Jordie.”
Rosalind registered the use of Jordan’s nickname, glanced at him and back at the medical examiner. She shrugged off any idea they might be more than friends. It was well known the boss was happily married and besotted with his little son.
Jordan nodded. “Well, at least we can rule out suicide – self-immolation. Any idea about cause of death then, if it wasn’t the fire?”
“I need to consult an expert. I know someone at the University. I couldn’t find any evidence of wounds from a sharp object and again, you’d be surprised just how obvious they can be, even in a burn victim. There’s no suggestion of shooting. Poisoning, well – we’ll have to wait for the toxicology reports. However, the hyoid bone was fractured.”
“Strangulation then?” Jordan said.
“The burning complicates things. Bones fracture in the heat, so just to be sure it’s pre-mortem other than just a result of the burning I’m going to confer. Mind, I’ll be very surprised if I’m wrong. I’m taking the head and neck to a colleague this afternoon and I’ll let you know as soon as possible what he thinks. I’m sorry, Jordan, Ros, this is going to be a hard one to pin down. You’ve got your work cut out.”
“Well, I reckon the first thing is to identify her, so we’ll concentrate most of our effort on that for the time being. Thanks, Phil, I’ll wait for your call when you’ve spoken to your bone expert.”
“Oh yes, just before you go,” Dr Grant called after them. “We do have partial dentures, damaged of course but they may be of some help.”
“Brilliant, can you send pictures?”
“They’re on the way, and I’ll ask the lab to let you have casts as soon as somebody has a chance to make them. Shame it’s not more usual to have them marked here in the UK, in some other countries the answer would be right there. Ah well.”
They headed back to the car. It was turning into a clear bright day after the damp start. The leaves on the few trees around the car park were new and bright, birds were noisy and excited by the sunshine. The contrast between inside and outside was stark. Jordan called home and had a quick word with his wife before she left for work and listened while Harry babbled at the phone. Sometimes this job tore at your soul. His extended family assumed he was hard, that the work didn’t bother him, but they had no idea. Only Penny knew. Well, Penny and Nana Gloria.
Chapter 7
‘Molly, Molly. Really, stop crying. You’re upsetting the baby.” Gary sat on the settee jiggling little Jakey on his lap.
Molly rocked back and forth, back and forth. The tissue clutched in her hand was shredded, leaving tiny pieces on her dark trousers. They hadn’t slept, she looked haggard and ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, like bruises against the pallor of her skin. She had sat in the lounge all night hugging Mam’s blanket around her. Gary had stayed up with her as long as he could and then gone to lie on the bed in the spare bedroom. After a couple of hours, he’d given up, clattered back down the stairs and spent the rest of the night with his sister, hunched in front of the electric fire, listening to the clock ticking, and the sound of cars passing in the road outside.
Jakey woke early and she brought him down and fed him. He picked up on the mood and became fractious and difficult. Gary didn’t know why people still had kids. They were always demanding, always a pain just when you had to think about other things. Molly could have got rid of this one. His dad was long gone, and she said she never wanted to be with him long term anyway. She wouldn’t even tell them for sure who it was. So, why lumber yourself with a kid? She was too young. She was lovely, had always been slender and slight, fit-looking. Now she was beginning to get her figure back, but he thought she’d lost something of her beauty, her carefree spirit. He looked at Jacob, all red-faced and snotty. If it wasn’t for the desperation in his sister’s eyes, he’d just go home. His flat was quiet – he’d be able to think.
“Why aren’t you doing anything? God, Gary, it’s Mam. She dead, Mam’s dead and burned up on the field and you won’t do anything.” As she spoke the hysteria grew and the baby joined in the howling. There was a thud on the wall, the old woman next door making her thoughts felt about the cacophony.
“We don’t know, Molly. Nobody knows.”
“I do, I do – I know. It’s Mam. A blue skirt with little flowers on, that’s what Davo said. Black shoes, he said. Oh it’s Mam, I know it is.”
Gary wanted to reassure her, he wanted to tell her that they had to wait and see. He couldn’t do it. Although he was trying to keep control, to be the strong one, he was sick inside. He was almost certain she was right. He knew the clothes. Mam only wore a few different outfits, a black skirt and jacket for church, a pair of trousers for when it was really cold and she had to go up the hospital, and her blue skirt with rosebuds all over it. The rest of the time she wore her dressing gown or some nasty tracksuit bottoms with sloppy tops. She didn’t go out in them, they were scruffy and poor-looking. They’d talked about it, him and Molly, he’d told her all about the stylish woman she had been when they were little. She’d always been well turned out, quite glamourous really. His sister didn’t remember her like that. Mary had already been into her forties when the surprise of a baby had shocked them all. His dad had been coy about what that meant but thrilled. Having a child to look after had kept Mary young for a while, mixing with the other mothers at the school had been good for her. But once Dada died the years of worry and the loss of the strong right arm had turned her, seemingly overnight, into the dowdy woman she had become. Ill health and boredom had finished the job. Making her old before her time. Her children had grown up and didn’t need her anymore. She put on weight and stopped caring about her appearance. She’d lost interest in a lot of stuff. She still enjoyed the grandkids and the odd Sunday lunch at the pub. But really, she just sat in her chair, watched the programmes on the television and let them all go on with their lives around her. Lately the only trips had been to the hospital or the blood clinic. It was pretty miserable, but she told them she was fine. She played with little Jakey and still enjoyed her dinner and a few drinks on the occasional nights when they’d all come round.
Thinking about her, about the family, was a step too far and Gary let the sadness and the fear overwhelm him. He lowered his head and snuggled it into the baby’s shoulder. He was warm and smelled the way only babies could, an odd mixture of milk and powder and something sour. He didn’t cry, not like Molly, still roaring beside him, but he l
et the emotion have its way just for a minute or two.
He straightened, lifted his head and turned to place the baby on his sister’s lap. “Take your baby, Molly. I’m going to ring our Eddie.”
At the mention of their older brother Molly stopped crying. She gulped back sobs and reached out for her son. “Eddie?”
“Aye. I have to tell him.”
“So, you do think it’s her, don’t you?”
“I think it might well be. We don’t know for sure but I’m sorry, Molls. Yeah, that’s why I won’t do anything, do you see? No point until we know for sure. I need to phone Eddie. Then I suppose we should call Sandra, just to sort of prepare her.”
“How will we find out? Davo said she was burned up. The woman in the field, burned up so you couldn’t tell who it was. So, how will we find out?” Molly wound the disintegrating tissue round and round in her hands, dabbing at her eyes and nose with the tiny piece of soggy paper. She juggled Jakey up and down on her lap and he settled now, sucking his thumb, and gazing up at his mother.
“I don’t know. I don’t think we should do anything. Not until I’ve talked to Eddie. He’ll know what we should do. He might know somebody who can help us. He’ll have contacts.”
“Can’t we just ring the bizzies? Ring the station or Crimestoppers or something – can’t we do something? I need to know, Gary. I need to know for sure.”
He was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “No, we can’t. Best to wait and see what Eddie says. It might not be her.” Gary didn’t believe it and knew Molly didn’t either, but he felt it was his job now to calm her down, to take control. At least until his big brother told them what they should do.
“I’ll put the kettle on, Molls, then I’ll ring Eddie.” He left her sobbing quietly as she rocked the baby who was drifting off to sleep now his mother had him. He walked through to the back kitchen and filled the kettle. As he turned, he saw Mam’s pinnie on the back of the chair. He picked it up and held it to his face. It smelled of bacon fat and there was the hint of cigarette smoke. She wasn’t supposed to smoke but they all knew she did. It hit him like a knife to the belly. His Mam was gone.
Chapter 8
“Did you talk to him, did you reach Eddie?”
Molly had put Jakey in his play pen where he lay on the floor chewing at a soft toy. She stood in the kitchen doorway watching Gary brewing tea and cutting bread for toast. She wouldn’t be able to eat anything, but it was giving her brother a job.
“I left a message. It went straight to voice mail. I just asked him to ring back – soon as. No point trying to explain. I’ll call Sandra. I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage, to be honest. She’ll fall apart. She’ll want to come.”
“Course she will. I’ll go and make the bed in the back room. Tell her not to bring the kids though, eh. Brian’ll have to step up and look after them. We can’t do with kids around just now. Gary?”
“Yeah.”
“I was looking out of the window while I was putting Jakey down. The police are up the street. They’re knocking on the doors. All the doors. They’re going to come here, won’t be long. What are we going to do? Can we ask them if they know who it is? Who they’ve found? What are we going to tell them – about Mam?”
“Okay. Look, let me do it. When they come. I’ll do it.”
“Won’t they want to speak to us both, you know, everyone in the house?”
“They might. I can tell them you’re in bed. Why don’t you go up and get into your nightie?”
“No. I’m not doing that. I have to be here. I want to talk to them.” She started to cry again.
“Oh, hell. Okay, but look, be careful. Don’t say too much.”
They waited, standing in the kitchen, sipping at the tea neither of them wanted. The toast sat cooling and unnoticed in the toaster. They heard the quiet rattle of the gate, the knock on the door. Gary put down his mug and walked along the hallway. He made a point of looking closely at the warrant card as soon as he opened the door. “What do you want?”
“We’re investigating a serious incident in the neighbourhood. I just have a few questions, sir. Is that alright?”
“I don’t know anything. I don’t live here.” As he spoke, Gary realised he’d made the wrong start. “Not all the time, anyway. My sister lives here, with her baby. I’m visiting.” He needed to stop. His nerves were making him gabble. He’d just told Molly to be careful and here he was, his bloody mouth running away with him. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, sniffed and moved half a step backwards into the hallway and reached out to push the door closed. He didn’t think for a moment that he would get away with it, but it was worth trying.
“Right. So, how long have you been here, visiting?” The bobby was ticking off questions on a piece of paper. If he just answered what he was asked it could be okay.
“Just this morning. Just a quick call. I’m about to go.”
“Could I speak to your sister?”
“Well, she’s still in bed.”
The policeman glanced at his watch. “Nearly ten o’clock. Bit late, is she okay?”
“None of your bloody business, but yes, she’s okay. She’s tired, got a baby and he’s teething.”
“Does she live here on her own with the baby?”
“Yes.”
“No partner then?”
“Yeah, and that’s some more ‘none of your business’. Look, we’ve been nowhere and seen nothing, so if that’s everything.”
You had to give it to Molly, she had perfect timing. She chose just that moment, just as he was closing the door in the rozzer’s face to appear in the hallway. The policeman didn’t actually put his foot in the door, but he moved inwards so it couldn’t be closed without hitting him. He leaned forwards around where Gary stood to speak again.
“Could I have a word, love? Just a quick couple of questions, then I’ll leave you to go back to bed.”
Molly glanced at the clock on the wall, back at the two men who were watching her. Gary gave one short shake of his head, and pursed his lips.
“Okay. What do you want?”
The policeman went through the start of his spiel again. Gary had no idea how much his sister had heard. This could all go very wrong, right here, right at the start and who knew where it would lead. The tea soured in his stomach and he had to swallow back the bile.
“I haven’t seen anything. I haven’t been anywhere. The baby’s not well.” She was doing okay. Gary held his tongue.
“Didn’t I see you up at the spare ground later on last evening. You with a baby in a push chair?”
“No. I’ve not been out.”
“You live here on your own?”
“I said,” Gary interrupted.
“That your coat is it?” The policeman pointed to the hat stand, Mam’s raincoat, obviously far too big for the young woman.
“No.” Molly tossed her head slightly as she answered, lifted her chin. “It’s my mam’s.”
Oh shit.
“So, could I have a word with her?” He was scribbling now on the sheet of paper.
“No. You can’t – she’s dead.”
Gary couldn’t breathe, his throat had dried. Shit, Molly, what are you doing?
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
When did people start saying that? It sounded so fake, so false, like an American TV programme? Gary opened his mouth to tell the copper to bugger off, it might not work but he had to do something.
“Not long ago. That’s why I can’t move her things. It’s too soon.” Molly began to cry. It was obviously easy for her. She let go all the tension of the last few hours in the loud sobbing, the flood of tears. The young bobby looked away and coughed, embarrassed and awkward.
“Okay. Look, if you think of anything you’ve seen lately, anything odd – cars loitering, anyone hanging about – can you just let us know? I’ll leave this with you, the number is on the top.” He thrust the A4 sheet into Gary’s hands and turned to
stride back down the short path.
“Shit, Molly, I thought you’d dropped us in it there, but you were brilliant.” Gary pulled her into his arms and hugged her, let her cry, the tears soaking his hoody.
Chapter 9
Jordan drove back to the scene, but the crime scene manager was adamant he couldn’t enter the field. “I don’t want anybody else tramping around. Sorry, Jordan, I know this is frustrating, but you have to let me finish. This sort of locus is always problematic. Give me a nice domestic setting every time.”
“I know, Doug, and I understand but I’m kicking my heels a bit. We don’t know who she is yet, we don’t know where she’s from – nothing.”
“I really don’t think you’ll get anything much from here. The grass isn’t even scorched. You’ll have my report as soon as possible, but I can say pretty conclusively she was killed and burnt somewhere else and then just dumped in this place, poor old biddy. Whoever did it must have had something to carry the body, a tarp maybe, a blanket, a piece of wood. There are marks near the gate that could have been caused by something being dragged. We haven’t found anything yet to tell us what it was, I’m afraid. We’ve looked for footprints, but the place is used by teenagers for” – he shrugged – “teenage stuff. It’s a favourite with dog walkers and even people on off-road bikes. You can see there’s fly-tipping and all of those bags will have to be searched. As I say, this sort of scene is difficult. Have you found nothing on CCTV?”
“There’re no cameras here. There were when the site was active, but the builders took those away. So, for us at the moment, she turned up out of nowhere. We could have film of her being transported from pretty much anywhere in the country and we wouldn’t know. I can’t have people just viewing videos with no clear idea of what they’re looking for, it’s not a good use of manpower. I’m hoping the house-to-house will turn up something – a strange van or a car parked up or whatever – but, well, you know the problems with that. Nobody ever sees anything. There has to be a reason for her being left here, surely. It’s not handy for the motorway, nothing like that. Someone had to come here pretty deliberately, so why? How has it been here for rubberneckers?”
Body by the Docks: detectives investigate a baffling mystery Page 3