Touching the Dead

by Wendy Cartmell

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Drive over and pick me up.’

  ‘I’m already here.’

  Jo tumbled out of bed and looked out of the window. There was Byrd and he raised a hand in greeting. She ended the call and hurried to the bathroom.

  The crunching of gravel under her feet on her way to the car made her wince. Her watch showed 6 am and she didn’t want to wake her father. Although that was rather a moot point as glancing up at the house, she saw him raise a hand in greeting from his first-floor bedroom. No doubt he’d be round when she eventually made it home that night to be brought up to date on the case.

  Byrd drove carefully but swiftly down into Chichester, once more heading for Bosham. This time they arrived while the mummy was still in the river. The body was being held by a long pole with a hook on the end while the divers got into position to bring her out. Jo realised she was calling the mummy a ‘she’ in her mind but guessed that was understandable. It looked like her father was right – their killer had struck again with a similar MO.

  Bandages were strewn out behind the body like trailing seaweed, bobbing around her as though they had a life of their own. It reminded Jo of the head of Medusa and hoped they wouldn’t all be turned to stone for looking at it. Jo kept getting glimpses of black hair that had become loose where the bandages had begun to unravel around her head. It was the most poignant sight she had ever seen, and she once more resolved to finding the twisted bastard who was doing this.

  ‘You alright, Guv?’

  ‘What? Yes fine, Byrd. By the way, thanks for the lift and for the coffee.’ She tipped her take away cup at him turning her thoughts away from the dead girl.

  ‘No worries, Boss. Glad to be of service.’

  Those sharp blue eyes of his smiled into hers and Jo found she had to look away and swallow. Hard. Behave, she admonished herself. This was certainly not the time, not the place, and probably not the right kind of attraction to feel. They worked together. She was his boss. It was totally inappropriate to have those sort of feelings for a subordinate. But on the other hand, his sense of humour, his little acts of kindness, those bloody blue eyes and that tight arse… What on earth was wrong with her? She was never this unprofessional.

  She was saved from her thoughts by the shout, ‘We’ve got her!’

  The mummy was carefully taken out of the river by two divers and placed on the blue plastic sheeting that had been laid out on the bank. There seemed to be some sort of chain around her waist.

  ‘What’s that chain?’ shouted Jo.

  A third diver emerged from the river, struggling with what looked like a concrete block.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Byrd, who’d appeared by her side. ‘It looks like she’d been weighted down.’

  A diver approached them, taking off his goggles and his mouthpiece. ‘She was weighted down,’ he agreed. ‘But your bloke is crap at judging the tides. She was exposed at low tide. He’d made the chain too long. Bloody idiot,’ he finished and went off to get changed.

  Just then Bill Burke turned up. ‘Right, everyone suited up please,’ he called. ‘And where’s my bloody tent? Let’s not contaminate my scene more than absolutely necessary.’

  Jo didn’t think he’d get anything from the riverbank as per the previous body, but kudos to Bill for trying his best.

  ‘I don’t think there’s much we can do here, Byrd,’ she said. ‘Let’s wait until she’s at the mortuary.’

  20

  Once back at the office, she called the Professor. ‘Morning, Prof Russell, it’s Jo Wolfe from –‘

  ‘Chichester Police,’ he finished for her. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘What’s the deal with this mummification?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Why did Anubis wrap the bodies up? I’m trying to get a hold of how our killer thinks.’

  ‘Um, okay, well the name Anubis is from the Greek form of the Egyptian and means ‘to decay’. That shows us that he had an early association with death. Later he had many other names and titles.’

  ‘Which were?’

  ‘Lord of the Sacred Land and He Who is Upon the Sacred Mountain, both refer to the area surrounding a necropolis.’

  ‘A necropolis?’ queried Jo.

  ‘A graveyard, or burial site. The other two main ones would be He Who is in the Place of Embalming and Foremost of the Devine Booth, both talking about Anubis being in the embalming booth and the burial chambers.’

  ‘Chambers?’

  ‘Yes, within the palaces or within the pyramids. The pyramids would be for the royals and their courtiers. Those of a lowly standing would be placed in tombs cut from the rocky site around the pyramid.’

  ‘All underground then.’

  ‘Yes. Does that help?’

  ‘Not sure, yet,’ said Jo being evasive. ‘One more thing. What’s with the head gear?’

  ‘The head of the jackal?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one.’

  ‘That’s how Anubis was depicted in the pictures etched into the walls of the pyramids. We believe it came from him keeping the grave sites free of jackals. Priests representing Anubis at the preparation of the mummy and the burial rites may have worn these jackal-headed masks in order to impersonate the god. They were certainly utilized for processional use as this is depicted representationally and is mentioned in late texts. The many two- and three-dimensional representations of Anubis which have survived from funerary contexts, indicate the god's great importance in this aspect of Egyptian religion, and amulets of the god were also common.’

  Jo was beginning to feel as though she were listening to a lecture up at the University. ‘So to sum up,’ she said. ‘We’re looking for an underground embalming site and for a bloke wearing a jackal head mask. Thanks, Professor.’

  Jo cut the call and leant back in her chair. She was sure the Professor could have churned more and more bits of information on Anubis and the last thing she wanted was to have him going on a her for the next 30 minutes.

  She wasn’t at all sure the information he’d given her would help her find Anubis’ lair, but it would help her recognise it when she did.

  21

  Jo didn’t have to wait long for the post-mortem. They were called to the mortuary within a couple of hours.

  ‘I’ve got a free slot,’ explained Jeremy. ‘So I thought I’d push your girl to the top of the queue.’

  ‘Thanks, we really appreciate it,’ said Jo. ‘The sooner we can get on this the better chance we might have of finding this sick bastard.’

  ‘Exactly, so let’s get started.’

  Everything went to plan, with Jeremy carefully revealing the body and Bill collecting evidence as they went along. Jo was impressed by the easy professionalism of the two men and was glad she had them on her team.

  As the girl’s head was revealed, Jo immediately recognised Charlie Flood.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ she whispered.

  But Byrd heard her. ‘I know, I’m sorry, Boss. I think we were all hoping it wouldn’t be her.’

  ‘This will devastate Helen.’

  Byrd didn’t reply but nodded his agreement. He then looked more closely at Charlie. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘Didn’t she have long dark hair?’

  ‘Yes, why?’ asked Jo moving to get a better view of the body.

  ‘He’s cut it!’

  So he had. Their killer had cut the victim’s hair off at the jaw line, in an approximation of an Egyptian hair style. Tears threatened and Jo had to turn away while she battled her emotions.

  She was blinking away the tears when Jeremy said, ‘You need to see this, Jo.’

  ‘What?’ she turned to face him and saw that he’d opened the bandages across Charlie’s chest. As per Alison’s body there was a long cut along her chest, her ribs had been prised open and the heart was missing. ‘Her heart’s been taken out,’ she said. ‘Just like Alison.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s been put back into the chest cavity.’

  Jo lean
ed in closer. ‘Why has he done that?’

  ‘Don’t know, that’s your job. But there’s something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Her heart’s been cooked.’

  Jo looked in horror as Jeremy lifted Charlie’s heart from her body. She could see it was a different colour, brown instead of red and raw. There was only half of it.

  ‘Where’s the other half?’

  ‘I reckon he’s eaten it,’ said Byrd.

  Jo ran for the ladies’ toilet, where she threw up the two cups of coffee she’d drunk that morning.

  22

  Jo and Eddie were in the car park, gulping fresh air and she was trying to stop trembling. It was as if she were shivering, but she wasn’t cold as she was wrapped in her tweed coat. It was this case. She’d never known anything like it. She’d dealt with some bad things before, but this one… There was nothing she could do about the horror, she had to get a hold of her emotions and finish this. Her feelings must take a back seat and she had to focus on the things she could control, instead of the ones she couldn’t. What she should focus on was their investigation. That was the best way of getting justice for the victims of the sick bastard doing this. But she had to admit this was one of the times when she wished she still smoked.

  Her days were filled with fear that they’d hear of another missing girl and her nights… Well, they were full of horror.

  Wolves howling at the moon, then their open mouths turned her way. She was close enough to smell their rotting breath, to see the saliva drip from their jagged, sharp teeth. Fangs. They lunged at her, going for the kill, aiming for her throat.

  Big bad wolf.

  There were Egyptian hieroglyphics that she couldn’t understand. Painted on the chamber walls, from floor to ceiling, they told the story of Anubis, God of Death. Threat hung in the air, thick enough to taste. There was no way out. She was trapped, with the walls slowly coming towards her. She backed up against one wall, only to feel it move, pushing her forward, rocks grating together, grinding and squealing.

  Girls tied up on a metal table, naked, cold, terrified. She felt the jabs of a cattle prod, saw red marks appear on her skin.

  And then there was the claustrophobia. Underground tunnels that she couldn’t find her way out of. Dim lighting hindering her. Running and running, with nowhere to go. Coming up against brick walls and having to back track. All the time the cries of the wolves carried to her on the fetid air.

  Big bad wolf.

  She gulped but didn’t manage to get any more air into her lungs. She felt as though she were doomed to die in Anubis’ lair.

  Shaking away the remembered nightmares, she said, ‘Come on, Byrd. You can drive,’ and she threw him the car keys.

  ‘Where are we off to, Boss?’

  ‘We have to see Helen Sandford and tell her that her partner is believed to be dead.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I know, but it has to be done and I’d rather it was us that did it.’

  It was only a short drive and they were there too soon. Jo gave Byrd a watery smile as he turned off the ignition.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked.

  Jo nodded. ‘Come on, let’s do this.’

  They climbed the stairs to Helen’s flat and she answered at the first knock.

  ‘Any news?’ The hope in her eyes was almost the undoing of Jo.

  ‘Can we come in, Helen?’ Byrd said.

  Helen nodded and backed away from the door.

  Refusing a seat, Jo said, ‘Helen, I’m sorry to tell you that we recovered a body from Chichester Harbour today…’

  ‘No, no, please don’t tell me it’s her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we have good reason to believe it’s Charlie.’

  ‘NO!’ Helen crumpled like a marionette whose strings had been cut and she fell to the floor sobbing. Byrd helped her up and led her to the sofa. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  She looked up at the two police officers, sobbing and gulping, then managed to say, ‘Do I have to identify her? I don’t think I can do that. Oh what am I to do without her?’ Helen wailed.

  Jo was upset for Helen, but a small part of her thought that perhaps the girl was being a touch melodramatic, as Helen screamed and sobbed. But what did she know? Never having been through a death of a partner. Her mother had died when Jo was only three years old and in all honesty she didn’t remember her. Then the unwelcome thought of her dad dying sent chills down her spine.

  Helen continued to cry, but the storm was abating, subsiding into hitching breaths. ‘Byrd, would you make Helen some tea please?’

  He nodded. As he left the room Jo said, ‘I’m just going to double check your bedroom and study? Is that OK?’

  Helen nodded and Jo slipped away. She found what she wanted in the bedroom. In many of the photos of the couple in the flat, Charlie was wearing a ring on the 4th finger of her left hand. It looked like the engagement ring Princess Diana wore, a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds and Jo found it in a trinket dish on the dressing table. Jo picked it up and held it in her hand, it was just costume jewellery, but she was sure it meant a great deal to Helen and Charlie. Jo took several deep calming breaths and then, with a frisson of fear, slipped it on her own finger.

  She was enveloped with a sense of the deep love between the couple, feelings of happiness and contentment. But then other emotions began to break through, as though they were lightning strikes.

  Hate. Fear. Anger. There was pain. Darkness.

  Jo was bombarded, pushed this way and that as the strikes hit her again and again. A woman’s voice called out for help and then with a final bloodcurdling scream it was over.

  Jo was left alone, the vision fading. There was nothing else the ring could tell her.

  Glancing in the bedroom mirror Jo wiped away the tears that had been streaming down her face. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Sorry I couldn’t save you.’

  She replaced the ring in the dish and returned to the living room just as Byrd was handing a mug of tea to Helen. ‘Ah, there you are, Boss. Everything okay?’

  ‘Fine thanks, Byrd. Right, we’ll get Charlie’s parents to do the formal identification and I’ll ask them to visit you afterwards, Helen. Is that alright?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ said Helen her hands wrapped around the mug. ‘I appreciate all you’re doing. I know you’ll try your best to find Charlie’s killer.’

  Byrd and Jo could only nod and then left the flat, closing the door quietly behind them.

  23

  The second death stunned Archie and Lindsay. Archie had been dripping a little more information every day to keep the story alive in the paper, including background on the poor victim, Alison Rudd. The police wouldn't speculate if they had a suspect or not, so that was a dead end. The new victim was quickly named as Charlie Flood and her body had also been wrapped in bandages.

  Archie and Lindsay met at Costa Coffee which was quickly becoming their regular haunt.

  ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘About?’ asked Lindsay wiping milk from her latte off her lip.

  ‘The fact that he’s taken another girl and wrapped her in bandages as well.’

  ‘It kind of reinforces my diagnosis. The fact that he’s done it twice now, confirms a delusion.’

  ‘This bloke is really nuts then?’

  Lindsay threw him a look. ‘Honestly, Archie, paranoid schizophrenia is a mental illness.’

  ‘I know, but you’ve got to have a screw loose to be going around killing young girls and doing that to them.’

  ‘Perhaps you had better focus on the girls for now.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Are they a type? Are there any connections between the victims, or individually between the killer and the victim?’

  ‘I know,’ huffed Archie. ‘I am the reporter.’

  ‘Well get on and report,’ Lindsay said and left him sitting there staring into his coffee cup as though tha
t’s where the answers were.

  Lindsay was more interested in what would have triggered their killer’s delusion. But she couldn’t think straight in the noise of the café. She needed to go home and get her thoughts in order and collect as much information on the case as she could glean from the newspapers and from the internet.

  24

  Back at the office, Judith had found Charlie on CCTV. Byrd grabbed them coffees and then they met in Jo’s office to look at the footage. Judith had already isolated the parts with Charlie in them.

  ‘There she is, Boss,’ said Judith and pointed to the screen. They watched a girl come out of the Student Union, with lights going out in the building behind her. The girl’s clothing was similar to that described by Helen; short skirt with hoodie on over it.

  ‘She’s leaving after finishing her shift,’ Judith explained. ‘She stops for a moment and lights a cigarette.’

  They watched as the campus cameras picked Charlie up as she walked in the direction of the town centre. She didn’t meet anyone, nor was anyone else shown on the film. In the silent CCTV footage, she seems to be the only one left alive in some sort of weird dystopian world.

  Then she seemed to disappear into thin air.

  ‘Where did she go?’ Jo asked.

  ‘That’s the problem,’ said Judith. ‘There is one place that is a black spot just outside the campus grounds. It’s just our luck she had to walk through that bit. Who knows where she went from there?’

  ‘And you can’t find her anywhere else after that?’

  ‘Not at the moment, Boss, because I don’t know which way she would have walked. Also there could be an alleyway or something she walks through that I don’t know about.’

  ‘Shit!’ Jo thought for a moment. ‘Did she meet someone? Where there any cars in the area that seemed to be patrolling, waiting for someone or looking out for someone? Judith get onto that. Byrd get in touch with Helen and get the exact route Charlie would have taken from the campus to their home. Then Judith can follow that up as well. Come on guys, there must be something. There has to be. Oh, and get Tate back in, Byrd!’