Touching the Dead

by Wendy Cartmell

  ‘And you know that because?’

  ‘I made the mistake of going to the gym. Once. Never went back.’

  ‘Not your thing?’

  ‘Nah, I’ll stick to running.’ Jo was well known for her daily running habit, which suffered greatly when she was on a major investigation and didn’t have the time, or the energy to run, making her grouchy. Or, some would say, grouchier than normal. ‘Come on then, Byrd. Let’s go. This should be fun.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’re bringing him in. Going to Westfield and collecting him. What do you think?’

  ‘You’re evil,’ smiled Byrd.

  ‘I know,’ Jo agreed, grinning.

  Jo went for maximum effect once at Westfield. She marched into reception, went straight to the top of the queue and brandishing her ID said, ‘Detective Inspector Wolfe. Where’s Daniel Tate?’

  ‘Um…’ the receptionist mumbled.

  ‘Here, I was first,’ grumbled a woman customer, but at a glare from Jo she fell silent.

  ‘It’s not a difficult question,’ she continued talking to the receptionist. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘The, the, gym,’ the spotty youth stammered.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Jo stalked across reception to the stairs, closely followed by Byrd. ‘I hope you’ve got handcuffs on you.’

  ‘Of course, Guv. Why? Did you forget yours?’

  ‘I left them in my handbag in the car.’

  ‘Really?’ Then the penny dropped. ‘Sorry, Guv, sarcasm.’

  ‘You fall for it every time, Byrd,’ Jo said as she climbed the stairs, grinning at him. She caught his returning grin, which made her smile even wider. She’d never noticed before, but Byrd’s eyes were different colours. One was blue and one was grey. She felt drawn to them. Blinking and dismissing such thoughts she pushed through the double doors into the gym.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Daniel,’ Jo said later that morning, as she entered the interview room at Chichester police station, where they’d taken Tate.

  ‘What do you want? I’ve a good mind to report you, or whatever it is, for coming to my place of work like that. Barging through the gym like a bull in a china shop and dragging me out. Oh, and telling everyone that you were the police and you wanted to question me in connection with the murder of Alison Rudd!’

  ‘But that was simply the truth,’ protested Jo.

  ‘That doesn’t mean you have to broadcast it at my place of work. I could get sacked for this,’ Daniel finished miserably.

  ‘Oh dear, never mind,’ said Jo. ‘Anyway, to business. Do you know where Alison was on the night she disappeared? What did she tell you? Where did she go? What was she wearing?’

  ‘How the hell should I know? And why all these bloody questions?’

  ‘Oh come on, Daniel, don’t be dense. Because, helped by a description of what she was wearing, we can try and track her movements on CCTV throughout the city. If you can give us an idea of where she was going, we can sweep that area and perhaps see if anything can give us a clue as to what happened. So are you going to help us, or obstruct us?’

  ‘Help, obviously. But I’m just not sure that I know anything that could help. And, of course, I’m very upset by all of this. Well, wouldn’t you be? I’m a victim here too, know what I mean?’

  Jo knew what he meant but didn’t like it one little bit.

  ‘At least you’re still alive,’ she snapped. ‘Alison’s lost her life. So the best thing you can do to help her, is to help us.’

  ‘Oh very well. What do you want to know?’

  ‘You’re going to tell us everything you know about Alison.’

  ‘Crikey, it’s not much, but I’ll try.’

  ‘That’s better, Daniel, thank you,’ and Jo touched his hand to encourage him to talk. But all it did was send her somewhere she wasn’t expecting to go…

  Jo was someplace that initially felt dark and foreboding. A bedroom? She wasn’t sure. Then she saw a flash of rope, a woman, hands bound, tied to a bed. Writhing. Where was the woman? What was wrong with her? Who was she? Was this another victim of Anubis?

  But then, instead of feeling terrified as she’d expected, Jo had an overwhelming feeling of excitement. Sexual excitement.

  The feeling disgusted Jo and she pulled her hand away from Tate. All the touch had done was to confirm that he was a bully, and now a sexual predator. Was the sexual excitement from Tate, or his victim, or both? It was possible that what she’d just seen was a bedroom, which didn’t fit, as she believed the girls were being held in an underground chamber or cave.

  But anything was possible, as Jo couldn’t make out any faces from the snatched vision.

  And there hadn’t been a wolf.

  Watching Tate leave the police station later that morning, Jo said to Byrd, ‘Well that didn’t help much did it?’

  ‘No,’ replied Byrd. ‘Tate had answered that he didn’t know the answer to most of our questions. He said he only saw Alison briefly as she was leaving the flat that evening and that she’d not told him where she was going. He also denied knowing anything about Egypt. He’d never read any books on it, seen any tv programs about it and the books found under Alison’s bed weren’t his.’

  ‘I wonder if she kept away from him, you know, as he doesn’t know anything.’

  ‘Or he could be lying to us.’

  ‘Yeah it could be that. To be honest, Byrd, I don’t like this bloke. He gives me the creeps. Gets my antenna twitching, know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes, Boss.’

  ‘Let’s keep an eye on him, yeah?’

  ‘Sure, whatever you say. I can arrange for eyes on his flat from tonight. Even if it’s just a regular drive by.’

  ‘Thanks, Byrd.’ Jo watched her DS walk away, liking what she saw, then mentally slapped her wrist. Stop it, woman, she thought. Don’t even go there. Jo very rarely let people in, let them breach her defences. No one must know about her gift (or curse depending on how you looked at it). No one that is, except her father.

  Jo sighed, feeling isolated, but there was nothing to be done about it, so she best get on with the job in hand. She turned to her computer screen to read the updates on the case.

  13

  Jo gave up around 7pm and headed for home. Perhaps a meal and a good night’s sleep would help her. Maybe give her a different perspective on Tate, even. But that feeling of menace she got from him wouldn’t go away.

  Once at home, she put a ready meal in the oven, then took out of her oversized handbag the copies she’d taken of the paperwork. She was just pinning them up when her dad messaged.

  Free?

  Yes come on up, she replied.

  He must have been by the door, as it opened straight afterwards, and she heard a heavy tread on the stairs. Mick was beginning to suffer from ‘man in chair’ syndrome and she was trying to persuade him to get out and move more. She’d even invited him to accompany her on a run, but so far he’d resisted her suggestions.

  She was just pinning up a picture of Daniel Tate when Mick arrived and stood at her shoulder. He smelled of his usual Old Spice aftershave. Jo hadn’t managed to persuade him to update it. He wore his usual jeans and polo shirt, which was not tucked in. She was sure it was to hide his growing stomach and thickening waist.

  ‘Your suspect?’ he said.

  ‘Could be. Maybe. Not sure yet,’ she replied, and Jo proceeded to tell him about Daniel Tate and the reaction she’d had to him. The more she talked about Tate, the more her suspicion grew. ‘The problem is, Dad, that I’ve not got anything that even remotely constitutes evidence.’

  ‘Just your feeling? Your visions?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s about right.’

  Mick moved along to pictures of Alison Rudd in various stages of having her bandages unwrapped at the post-mortem.

  ‘I wanted to talk about this.’ Mick pointed at Alison’s mummified body at the water’s edge.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘You have a feeling about
Tate, well I have a feeling about the way Alison was murdered, having her poor heart ripped from her body and then wrapped in bandages in an approximation of being mummified. Her body wasn’t drained of blood was it?’

  ‘No, nothing like that, thank God. Just wrapped in bandages. And?’ Jo prompted her Dad to carry on with his thought.

  ‘And I have a feeling she’s not going to be the only one.’

  ‘Ah, you too. Professor Russell thought the same.’

  ‘I believe this is too ritualised to be just one killing. If he enjoyed it, he might refine his MO, but he’ll do it again.’

  ‘Are you certain of that?’

  ‘As certain as I can be at this stage of the investigation. But I’d strongly advise that you watch out for any missing persons reports for females who look like Alison. If you get one, that could be your man again. And on that note, it smells like your supper is ready, so I’ll be off.’

  Jo came out of her introspection and smelled burning.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ she exclaimed and rushed to the kitchen to rescue her lasagne. When she returned to the sitting room her dad had gone.

  ANUBIS

  Anubis needed to prepare for the final stage of the ritual. He’d installed a small table-top oven specifically for this.

  He washed and cleaned out the heart, cutting off the small stalks that had been the arteries and veins that the heart pumped blood around the body through. Past experience told him that they were hard and rubbery and indigestible.

  Once prepared to his satisfaction, he seasoned the organ, then placed it in the pre-warmed table top oven he’d installed for this purpose.

  While he was waiting for his meal to cook, he looked over his research on the next girl that needed his particular kind of justice.

  By the time the heart was cooked, he had the beginnings of a plan in place and smiled in satisfaction as he sharpened his carving knife.

  Once the rites and rituals were over, Anubis had one more task to perform. In accordance with Egyptian writings he had to mummify the bodies. Not having the 70 days required for the full ritual, Anubis nevertheless wrapped her in linen bandages. Some form of mummification was required, so she would be able to pass swiftly through to the underworld. Anubis believed that the mummified body was the home for this girl’s soul or spirit. If her body was destroyed, the spirit might be lost. And he didn’t want the soul to be lost, for it was going straight to hell, a just ending for a life of sin.

  After one complete wrapping, he covered the bandages with warm resin and then continued with a second layer.

  ‘I see you’ve taken my suggestion.’

  Anubis closed his eyes and sighed. ‘You again!’

  ‘Well I did warn you last time. If you’re putting the mummy in water, then you have to do a better job of wrapping those bandages.’

  ‘I know, I heard you. Look see I’m doing it. What you said to do. Two layers with glue between them so as to ensure the bandages stayed in place, vital as her grave would be a watery one. There’s no need to gloat.’

  ‘Not gloating, just saying.’

  ‘Well stop saying.’

  ‘It’s not as though I don’t know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Shut up! Leave me be will you? Go away and bother someone else.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m sure.’

  Without the irritating voice, Anubis was able to quickly complete his task and he stood back to admire his work. All that was left was to place her in her watery grave.

  14

  As Jo walked into the nick, the officer at the entrance said, ‘Ah there you are, Guv, good timing.’

  ‘Morning Jed, what is it?’

  ‘I’ve literally just had someone in, reporting a missing person.’

  ‘So what has that got to do with me?’ Jo tried to push away her feeling of dread. It couldn’t be another, surely? But it had been two weeks since they’d found Alison and Jeremy had reckoned she’d been dead two to three weeks before that.

  ‘Look familiar?’ Jed held up a photograph of a young girl.

  ‘Jesus, she looks like my dead girl. Hang on Jed, I’m coming round.’

  Jo punched her number into the security lock on the door that kept the general public away from the police officers. She walked around to Jed’s area next to the window.

  ‘Let me have another look, would you?’

  Jed handed over the photograph and Jo looked closely, seeing a young female, in her 20’s, with smooth, shining black hair.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her name is Charlotte Flood, known as Charlie. She’s local and lives with her girlfriend.’

  ‘Her partner?’

  ‘Yeah I think so. Anyway she’s just come in, the partner. It seems Charlie has not been home for a couple of days, and no one seems to know where she is.’

  ‘What does Charlie do?’

  ‘She’s a student at the Uni.’

  ‘Go on,’ Jo said, ‘give me the file, we’ll get on it. You’re right, she is the spitting image of Alison. Good spot, Jed.’

  ‘Thanks, Guv. All the contact details are in there.’

  Jo walked to her office, but didn’t take her coat off, dumping her bag on her chair. Walking back out she called to Byrd. ‘Eddie, you’re with me,’ and she turned on her heel and walked towards the stairs.

  Byrd scrambled to catch up with her. ‘Where are we going, Boss?’

  ‘Here.’ Jo thrust the file into Byrd’s hands. ‘You can read it while I drive.’

  15

  Jo and Byrd were in the sitting room of a flat in another of Chichester’s many blocks. They’d confirmed that they were talking to a young woman named Helen Sandford, who’d reported Charlie missing and that they were flatmates and partners.

  ‘The thing is, Helen, why isn’t Charlie on a bender somewhere?’ asked Jo.

  ‘Cos she’s not like that and she’s missed an exam, she wouldn’t do that either.’ Helen twisted a handkerchief in her hands. ‘This is so unlike her. I’m really worried,’ she said and blotted her tears.

  Jo tried to keep references to Charlie in the present tense. Maybe she wasn’t their killer’s victim. She was walking a fine line between being positive that Charlie would be found alive and well and dread that she was the Egyptian killer’s next victim. ‘What is she studying?’ Jo hoped it wasn’t Egyptology and held her breath.

  ‘Nursing.’

  The relief was tremendous. What would studying nursing have to do with Anubis? ‘How does she fund her course?’

  ‘Loans like the rest of us and she works in a bar a couple of nights a week.’

  ‘Do you mind if we look at her room?’ Byrd asked.

  ‘No, of course not. We, um, we share a bedroom and made a joint study out of the second one. You might want to look at both.’

  Byrd smiled at Helen. ‘Thanks, we appreciate your co-operation.’

  Helen tried a watery smile that didn’t reach her eyes, which were becoming haunted.

  Byrd and Jo looked at the bedroom but couldn’t find any books on Egyptology.

  ‘Go and check the study, Byrd,’ Jo said, ‘I’ll check the rest of this room.’

  He nodded and left the room, leaving Jo to sit on Charlie’s side of the bed. There were medical tomes and some lighter reading. There was a silver ring, drop earrings and a rather unusual tree of life silver necklace with the addition of a gold heart hanging at the top. It looked expensive, and out of place among the costume jewellery. Jo picked it up, intending to ask Helen who had given it to Charlie.

  Immediately Jo had the sensation of falling backwards. Something was over her mouth and nose. It smelled strange, making her gag and choke. She grabbed at the arm across her chest, holding her close to her attacker. She tried to pull it away but the person holding it there was too strong. She was being dragged backwards, her shoes bumping along the floor as her legs gave way.

  Big bad wolf.

  And then - nothing. Only blackness. There was nothing of Charlie left.


  Jo searched, her mind probing the darkness, but to no avail. It was as if Charlie were dead and her soul had crossed over. If that were the case, Jo hoped it was to a better, safer place.

  She jerked back into the present, still sat on Charlie’s side of the bed, the chain of the necklace wrapped around her hand, biting into her flesh.

  Forcing her hand to open so she could unwind the chain, she took a minute to compose herself, rubbing her hand where it had gone red with the imprint of the chain. She then walked back into the sitting room, to Helen.

  ‘What are Charlie’s interests?’ Jo asked.

  ‘I guess she likes live music and drinking. Pretty much like all of us at Uni don’t you think?’

  Jo nodded, remembering her own student days. ‘When did you see her last?’

  ‘Two nights ago when Charlie was leaving the flat. I was staying in to finish an assignment.’

  ‘What are you studying?’

  ‘History.’

  ‘What sort of history?’

  ‘Modern, European.’

  Damn, so not Egyptology.

  Byrd walked back in and said, ‘Where was Charlie going when she left that night?’

  ‘To work behind the bar at the Student Union. We kissed goodbye and she said she’d be home around 1am. But she wasn’t. I woke up at 2ish and she wasn’t there. I managed to fall asleep again but then woke at 5am and she still wasn’t home, that’s when I started to worry. After a day and then one more night alone and with no word from her, I was convinced something was dreadfully wrong and so this morning I went to the police station.’

  Jo opened her hand. ‘Is this Charlie’s necklace?’

  That brought on another bout of tears. Helen nodded. She gulped and stammered, ‘Y yes. I g g gave it to her for Christmas. It was found on the floor outside the bar by one of our friends, who returned it to me yesterday. You can see the clasp is broken. It must have fallen off, when, when… Oh I don’t know. I just want Charlie back!’

  Jo watched, helpless, as Helen ran into the bedroom. Through the open-door Jo could see she’d thrown herself on the bed and was sobbing into a pillow.