by L M Krier
‘On it, sir.’
‘Rob, Jezza couldn’t get very far yesterday in finding out anything more about our victim, who we believe to be Latte – Giorgio Mantone. People she needed to speak to weren’t available and so on. I doubt you’ll do much better on a Sunday but give it a go, please. Can you also collate for us. Go through everything we have to date and flag up any links we’ve missed. See if you can build a logical structure to follow, based on priority of what we need to track down first.
‘Right, Maurice, you and I should talk in detail about your interview with Ronnie. Or Zofia, we should call her for the interview. I’ll be watching while you speak to her, then I can guide you on the direction it needs to take. No pressure, but if you could get her to tell us about the drugs, that would be a big leap forward.’
‘Right, Zofia, I’m DC Maurice Brown. You won’t believe me, I know, but I really am here to try to help you.’
Ronnie made a scoffing noise. She was slouching with arms folded, not showing much sign of being ready to talk. Denby was with her once more. Maurice wondered whether he was on the duty rota for the day or if he’d simply decided to stick with the case, sensing it might be something big.
‘You don’t believe me, clearly. I didn’t expect you to. You don’t know me. I’m a copper, so I must be the enemy, right? But I’m not. I really do want to get you out of the mess you’re in, if I can. And right now I think you need all the help you can get.’
Denby was quiet for the moment, weighing Maurice up and wondering what, if anything, he was going to offer his client.
‘I told your mates already. If I talk, I’m dead.’
‘You still won’t believe me, but I don’t want that to happen, Zofia. I want to try to help you here. Now, you’ll have been told you risk a prison sentence for assaulting a police officer. But I expect Mr Denby is going to tell you to claim self-defence. You didn’t realise the two men were police officers. You panicked. You were protecting yourself. You might very well get away with that. Possibly even be found not guilty. Or be convicted and get a lesser sentence.
‘My bosses want you banged up. As soon as. A nice tick on the statistics. But I’m a big softy. I wouldn’t like to think of you in prison if you don’t need to be. Not a young lass like you. I know how dangerous it can be on the inside. So I’m going to press to have you released on bail.’
She opened her mouth to speak but he cut across her. ‘Yes, I know you’ve been told you won’t get bail, with no fixed address. But I’m going to try to get you conditional bail. Let you out, as long as you come and sign in at the station at least twice a day. And of course, if you don’t turn up, I’ll have to send Uniform out looking for you in an area car.’
‘Are you trying to intimidate my client?’ Denby asked him.
Maurice was the picture of wide-eyed innocence. He spread his hands as he said, ‘Me? Intimidate a lass? Never. I’m just trying to help her out here.’
‘If I talk to you, I’m not safe anywhere. Inside. Out. Wherever. They’ll find me.’
‘Who’s they, Zofia?’
She snorted. ‘I just said, I ain’t talking to you.’
‘That’s a shame, Zofia. Because when you go up before the magistrates for a remand hearing, if I go to court to testify about how much you’ve been helping us ...’
Both Zofia and her solicitor interrupted him at the same time.
Zofia: ‘Fuck sake don’t do that, it’s a death sentence.’
Denby: ‘Stop threatening my client! This is entrapment and you know it.’
Maurice leaned back in his seat, doing his best to look offended that his offer of help was being refused.
‘I’m just trying to help you, Zofia, like I said. Because at the moment, things aren’t looking good for you. Assault on a police officer could turn out to be the least of your worries. We’ve got you present at the scene of a violent sudden death. A place where a substantial quantity of Class A drugs were being stored.’
‘Outside the premises, constable,’ Denby put in. ‘Ringing the doorbell, so clearly with no means of access to the place without the consent of the occupant. So that’s not going to get you anywhere.’
‘We’re working on fingerprints from inside the flat now. We’ve got yours on record, so it’s only a matter of time before we find a match.’
‘Change tack, Maurice. Ask her about Latte now,’ Ted told him through the earpiece.
Maurice paused for a moment, looking at Zofia. Trying hard to look non-threatening.
‘All right, let’s leave the drugs aside for now. Zofia, do you know anything about someone called Latte?’
‘It’s coffee, innit. With milk.’ She said it with a smirk of self-satisfaction.
‘Do you know a person called Latte? Either as a name, or as a nickname?’
She was frowning now, ignoring her solicitor reminding her she didn’t need to say anything.
‘Is that who’s dead? Someone called Latte? Did someone kill him?’
‘So you know that Latte is male?’
‘You said he was,’ she said defensively.
‘I didn’t, pet,’ he told her, his tone gentle. ‘I said person. Mr Denby can confirm that for you. And we’re being recorded. You know that. You said “him”. So you do know the person, don’t you? It might be time to think about talking to me, Zofia. Let me see what I can do to help you. Particularly to find a way to keep you safe.’
Zofia was sitting stiff with suspicion. Looking from Maurice to her solicitor and back. She was backed into a corner and she knew it. Looking desperately for a way out. Her eyes drifted back to Maurice, weighing him up.
‘I want proper protection if I start talking to you. A safe place. A new identity. The works. I’m not kidding when I say I could end up dead for telling you anything.’
‘You’ll need to talk to my boss about that. He’s the only one who can agree to it. But you can trust him, Zofia. He’s all right. You help us and he’ll do everything he can to protect you.’
Monday morning and the full team was back in. Ted was bringing them all up to speed on the progress so far.
‘Maurice finally got Zofia to start talking. Not much yet, and it’s still unclear how much she might know. But she is cooperating, so she’s now in a safe house, under twenty-four hour protection.
‘We’re particularly interested in what she can tell us about the drugs. All she’s said so far is that a lad called Kane, who seems to be the boss of the group she hangs round with, sets up deals to store drugs and sell them on. All she’s been able to tell us about the contact Kane uses is that they all refer to him as the Big Man, but no one, except Kane who refuses to talk about him, has ever met him or knows his real identity. Which is clearly what we need.
‘Kane is on record. Kane Lomax. I’ll circulate all the details we have. Ronnie doesn’t always know the second names, but Kane was easy enough to track down. It’s not that common a name and he has a record. His name came up on face recognition so when she mentioned a Kane, it wasn’t too big a leap from there.
‘The big mystery so far is this character Data. There are a couple of faces which the recognition software couldn’t identify. So he could well be one of those. Zofia only knows him as Data, although she’s at least confirmed now that he’s male. And she says he’s fit-looking and can talk posh, as she put it.
‘The fact that she’s starting to cooperate means that there is a possibility, Mike, that we don’t proceed with the assault charge involving you, I’m afraid.’
‘Boss, I can’t tell you how happy that would make me. She’d be bound to plead not guilty if it went to trial, and having to stand up in public court to discuss my battered bits is not exactly top of my bucket list.’
It raised a ripple of amusement and some heads nodding in sympathy.
‘Right, Jo, priority for today, please, is tracing all the names we have so far and hauling them in for questioning. Whatever happens with the PM this morning, we have the drugs issue to deal
with, so we might as well do the legwork on that for now.
‘The plan is, depending on what the Professor can tell us today, to bring Abigail back in for questioning tomorrow. We’re got an experienced Makaton interpreter lined up, and Jezza, I think you should be in on that, since Abigail clearly already relates well to you and trusts you. I’d like to take the lead on it for now, though.
‘And don’t forget you’re with me for the PM later this morning, Jezza. Or that we need to be on time for the Professor, of course.’
‘Not forgotten, boss. Looking forward to it. You certainly know all the best places to take a girl.’
Ted smiled indulgently. It was good to see her looking less tired than she had on Saturday. When it was time to set off for the post-mortem, he let her drive his service vehicle, as usual.
‘Ah, here you are,’ Professor Bizzie Nelson greeted them. There was an implied ‘at last’ in her tone, although they were, as usual, ahead of the appointed hour.
This time there were no eagerly-watching students lined up in the viewing gallery, hanging on to the Professor’s every word as she spoke. Just Bizzie and her assistant, who was working away discreetly in the background.
‘We’ve just done the preliminaries so far, whilst we were waiting for you to join us. I can get started properly now you’re here. I hope you have your sweeties with you, or whatever you plan to use. He’s not exactly our most fragrant guest, it has to be said.’
As soon as she made the first incision, Jezza clamped a hand to her mouth, blurted an apologetic sound and bolted out of the door.
Bizzie watched her go with a sympathetic expression.
‘Poor lamb. Not the nicest one for her to have to attend. How far gone is she?’
She saw the surprised look Ted gave her and hurried on, ‘Oh dear, whoops. Situation normal. Open big gob and insert brogue-clad foot right in it, Elizabeth. As per usual. I take it she’s not made the news public yet?’
‘First I’ve heard of it. Are you sure?’
‘Edwin,’ she told him patiently, using his full name, which she only ever used in private, now Jezza had left the room, ‘I do know quite a bit about the human anatomy and how it works. More importantly, I have seen so many people get pukey in my autopsy suite. Believe it or not, not all of them behave in the same way. I may very well be wrong. It has been known. But that,’ she nodded to the door which was still swinging slightly with the speed of Jezza’s exit, ‘was not your average post-mortem puke.
‘So, do we bash on regardless, or wait for the unfortunate young lady to come back and join us. If indeed she feels able to do so.’
‘We don’t want to delay you, and I do need to know your findings as soon as possible. Carry on, please. We’d better not say anything for now. But I’ll try to find time to have a long chat with Jezza at some point. See if there’s anything she wants to confide in me. We get along quite well. She might well open up.
‘I usually stop for a cup of tea and a bacon barm on the way back to the station after a PM. For some reason, they always give me an appetite, especially for meat.’
Bizzie’s tone was dry as she told him, ‘You might want to consider that that might not be the most tactful course of action in the young lady’s presence, if I’m right.’
Chapter Ten
‘Right, so, on with the business in hand. The body is that of a young white male. Estimated age is eighteen to nineteen, subject to confirmation. Below average weight for his size but we don’t yet know if there is a pathological reason for that.
‘I’ve sent off samples to confirm the identity, and I have asked for everything involving this case to be fast-tracked as much as possible. But I understand you believe this to be the body of Giorgio Mantone, known as Latte.
‘As you can see, we have already removed the knife which appears to have delivered a single fatal blow to the thorax. It’s been sent for fingerprinting and DNA testing, also marked for fast-tracking, which might help you to determine who was wielding it at the time the wound was inflicted.
‘As usual, I’ve been playing around with the weapon and some cadavers – the fun part of my work – to try to reproduce as accurately as possible the wound and its direction of entry. All of which indicates that this was a single blow delivered by a right-handed person standing immediately in front of the deceased, although the blade has gone in at a slight angle. No great force would have been required as the knife was extremely sharp and very well made. I’ve made a note to get some of the same make. It’s much better than anything I currently have in my kitchen.
‘There’s a total absence of any sort of defensive wound on the deceased’s hands or arms, so it would appear that the unfortunate victim was not expecting any such attack and had no time to put up any sort of defence. The indications are that he clasped his hands to the wound after it was inflicted, rather than before, in any sort of preventive measure.’
The door opened quietly at that moment and Jezza crept back in, muttering an apology. Neither Bizzie nor Ted commented. Whether or not the Professor was right, Ted decided it was neither the time nor the place to take it any further.
Bizzie had cracked open the chest by this point and was peering inside with something of an air of triumph.
‘I try not to go in with any preconceptions, but it’s always pleasing when my initial ideas – I prefer to call them that as I don’t do guesswork – prove to be correct. I’m seeing largely what I expected to see. The knife has gone in through this intercostal space, here,’ she was poking a gloved finger into the entry wound as she spoke. ‘It’s passed cleanly between these two ribs without touching either of them. Luck? Or carefully judged precision? That’s for your department to determine, Chief Inspector.’ She was being formal now that Jezza had rejoined them.
‘The blade has nicked a lung here – do you see? – then gone on to sever arteries and the aorta, as it penetrated the heart.
‘Now, because I saw the body in situ, I know that this unfortunate young man, once stabbed, slumped first to his knees then pitched face-forward onto the floor. The pressure of his own weight would have been expected to cause the blade to pass right through and exit at the back. It’s long and sharp enough. But there is no rear exit wound so I’m expecting to find, as I delve deeper, that the point lodged itself either against a rib or against the spine. If the latter, then depending on the damage it inflicted there, it could have considerably accelerated death.’
‘Would death have been an inevitable outcome of a wound like that? Could he have been saved if medical assistance had been called at once?’ Ted asked her.
‘Unlikely in the extreme, I would say. We all know the waiting times for ambulances these days. Paramedics do an amazing job, but something like this would have required the immediate attention of a highly skilled cardio-thoracic surgeon. Not someone who would be routinely despatched to an incident like this. Not unless the person calling for emergency aid knew enough to indicate the nature of the wound and the likely ensuing problem. Even then a positive outcome was highly unlikely, given the amount of damage.
‘A penetrating wound to the heart, such as this, causes a condition called cardiac tamponade. If you watch any of the dreadful hospital series on television, you might already know that that is
a clinical syndrome caused by the accumulation of fluid in the pericardial space. It results in reduced ventricular filling and subsequent haemodynamic compromise. It's an extreme medical emergency which can easily lead to death, if not given immediate emergency intervention.’
‘Would it have been obvious to the person who stabbed him that he was dying, Professor?’ Jezza asked. She still looked pale, but at least she was now watching and listening attentively.
‘The most obvious immediate sign of cardiac tamponade would probably have been distended neck veins and some difficulty in breathing. Then a clinical examination would reveal low arterial pressure and distant, muffled heart sounds. Both of which would require specialised knowledge and e
quipment to detect.
‘And we are still talking about Councillor Buller’s daughter being the principal suspect here, I take it? Pending the findings from the knife, of course. If that were to be the case, then I would find it unlikely in the extreme, based on what I have heard about her, which is admittedly not a lot. It really is very specialised knowledge. Unless she is an avid watcher of said medi-soaps, then I’m not sure where such knowledge would come from. Even if she had it, she could have done nothing, single-handedly, to prevent this person’s death. Whether or not she caused it, either deliberately or accidentally.
‘In conclusion, this young man has been killed by other than his own hand. But whether in an act of murder, or of self-defence, is beyond my realms of science to answer. Your best hope now rests on what the knife itself can tell you. Although I’d venture to suggest that, unless you have some witnesses, it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to rule out self-defence.’
‘Can you pull over here for a moment, Jezza, please. You’re about to witness my guilty secret. I usually stop here for a cuppa and a bacon barm on the way back from a PM which, for some reason, always gives me a ravenous appetite.’
‘It’s a survival reflex, boss. Some people, confronted by death, become rampantly randy. I should be grateful your instinct is nothing worse than to eat dead pigs.’
Ted laughed then asked, ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘Just a tea, please. No milk or sugar.’
She was quiet and thoughtful when Ted got back to the car and handed her the drink.
‘Will it bother you, me sitting here eating my greasy dead pig? I can open the window ...’
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
Ted took a first eager bite of his barm, trying to work out in his head how he was going to broach the subject. He was worried about saying the wrong thing. Blundering in and spoiling the good relationship he had with Jezza.
He swallowed his bite of sandwich; washed it down with a mouthful of tea, then began, treading carefully, ‘Are you all right, Jezza? Because I hope you know you can always talk to me. About anything. Not just work stuff. If it would help you at all.’