Death Marks (The Symbolist) (3 page)

Officers sat on the edge of chairs, their arms crossed; studied calm belying the tension; others perched on desks, feet tapping the floor. A quiet buzz replaced the usual loud banter. Humour could be coarse; a means of relieving tension, an extra weapon to fight the grim horror of a vicious murder. Conversation faded, as Redd and Jack entered the room; already the word was out, they faced a grisly homicide. All they had to go on were grotesque remains and old bleached bones.

Redd stood in front of the white boards, one with detailed maps of the area around the crime scene, the other waiting to be filled with evidence from Forensics. Facing the officers, he noted the grim expressions, the barely concealed tension.

'Okay people, as you are aware, we suspect more than one perp. All leave is cancelled; it'll be twelve-hour shifts; some officers who commute, can use the beds.

A voice spelling out a hard smoker murmured, 'Bit OTT isn't it?'

Redd tensed, as usual it was Watkins. In his mid- fifties, he was one cynical bastard who delighted in muddying the waters. He smirked, heavy jowls working on a pencil.

Redd stared at him. 'It may look like overplay detective, but I promise you; the photos will change your mind.'

Redd turned back to the group. 'This is your worst nightmare. At a guess, we're up against a psychopath or psychopaths with meticulous minds. We'll have to make do with the photos I took, until we get the official ones through.'

He stood to one side, as a fresh-faced officer began projecting photos onto the board. A young woman's face blanched, as the first one appeared. A burly white haired officer sporting a florid moustache, muttered, 'Fucking maniacs.'

Picking up a laser rod, Redd pointed to entrails falling from the crosscut wounds. 'Here we have two bodies, male and female, both decapitated, the head of the female is missing. They were either late teens or early twenties. For some reason they're covered in tattoos from the neck down. The pathologist informs me the perps cut through the ribs, and removed the organs and entrails from the bodies. They subsequently replaced them. I can tell you now, the heart, liver and kidneys are cut open.'

DC Bessie Owen, her black hair caught up into a bun, muttered, 'They're insane guv.'

Clearing his throat of bile, a male officer, grunted, '
Sick fucks.'

Letting the groans settle, Redd continued, '
We may have a lead here. We can get this one out to the press and TV. He pointed to the decapitated head of the young male. 'The guy's eyes are closed; his mouth relaxed, so at the point of death he was either drugged or unconscious. We will know soon enough when we get the results of the autopsy.'

DC Green, stick thin, called out, '
Monsters - shoot the buggers.'

Redd turned to see her face screwed up - fighting tears, unusual for the gritty detective. 'Yeah - these last two pics give you an idea of the immediate site and the surrounding terrain. Although they bleached the bones, they're old. We'll know more after the autopsy.'

Nodding to the officer to switch off the projector, he said, 'I'll go through who is doing what in this inquiry. DCI Cummings and I will be the Senior Investigating officers. DS Dove will head the inquiry teams. With the budget cuts, we have to make do with two pairs of officers, that'll be DC Tim Crosby and DC Amanda Green, then DC Mack O'Connell and DC Bessie Owen.'

'Bessie, I want you also to liaise with Traffic as well; we'll need to check CCTV cameras in the area. I've already been in contact with Traffic, and they report that there are no cameras in the vicinity; however, there is one in the road off from the B2416. So get on to that.'

Amanda Green lowered her head seething. Why hadn't he given that job to her? Now she had to partner Crosby, he always had a faint smell of fish that no amount of showers could wash out. A fanatical angler, he spent evenings fishing off the beach. Besides, she was aiming high, trudging the streets, knocking on doors, was not on her agenda. She aspired to work behind a desk, organizing, liaising and interacting locally, and across the country. Straightening her back she said, 'What about the Office Manager?'

Seeing the antagonistic expression on her face, Jack spoke up, '
Well, there's only one guy for that - DS Hugh Price. He'll free us up to get on with the inquiry. Stop us getting our knickers in a twist, eh Price?'

The detective's bulldog face seemed to develop more lines, as he grinned. 'Any slacking and I'll chew your arm off.'

Relieved to see the guys lifting the tension, Redd said, 'Now, the Scientific Services Manager will be DS Ted Papworth.' He looked over to the DS, his long mouse brown hair tied neatly in a ponytail. 'You'll liaise with Forensics and make sure they deliver what we need, and that we follow through on the evidence.'

The man nodded solemnly, tapping into his tablet. He was never without it.

'So we come to Exhibits Officer and Evidence Room. We all know Perkins retired from active duty, and is working in the office; I think you'll fit the bill Tomkins.'

The tall lanky officer nodded, he was renowned for his fastidious attention to detail which showed in his immaculate grey pin striped suit.

'DS Williams I want you to take on HOLMES along with Papworth. It's going to be in great demand on this one. This might be the unsubs' first homicide in the area, but we need to check out the MO with other forces countrywide.'

Papworth, feeling proud, timidly grinned across to DC Green, looking for some sign of recognition. He fancied her from afar, if anything was going to happen between them, it would be up to her. Catching his glance, she raised her sharp pointed chin ignoring him.

'DC Barrett? You'll obviously take up the post as Family Liaison Officer.'

The young woman nodded, pulling at a long braid of chestnut hair, as her cheeks flushed a brighter shade of peach. Redd was grateful they had an officer of her calibre. Once a counsellor, she'd joined the Force feeling she would have more to offer the victims, and their traumatized families.

Clearing his throat after a bout of smoker's cough, Watkins growled, So what do I do?'

Pursing his lips, Redd, said, '
Back up Green and Crosby, check on the outer perimeter of the crime, knock up those isolated cottages leading into the Vale.'

'Aw come on boss, you know my back's a killer.'

'You can sit in the bloody car while the uniforms knock on the door - play back-up.'

Glowering, Watkins crossed his arms over his chest, muttering to an officer sitting beside him.

Red sighed; the man was on his second warning but if anything, his attitude worsened. Ignoring him, Redd turned to his partner. 'Now Dove, besides heading the inquiry teams, I want you to liaise with the media. Give out a follow-up TV news flash straightaway. Use the Conference Room, good backdrop there with the Sussex Police Insignia. Just a short sharp statement - give a picture of the male, conceal the decapitation and remember no details of the mutilations for both victims. Set up one to one interviews with the press when we have more to offer. Attend them yourself, if DCI Cummings or I are otherwise engaged.

Felicity Dove scowled; she thought he'd lump it on her. If there was one thing she hated, it was appearing on TV. She needed to lose half a stone in weight at least, and straighten out the corkscrew curls, if she was to go on screen.

She'd tackle him later. He wasn't going to get away scot-free. He might be her boss, but it didn't mean he could dump on her.

'So people, get to it. I want results fast. Papworth get onto forensics for the tyre marks. I need them ASAP. Let's get moving.'

Looking at their faces, he saw the set expressions, the determination in their eyes. They would hold the images in their brains, images of mutilated guts, images of bleached old bones that would push them when the going got tough. When they'd worked fourteen hours, grit scraping their eyeballs, fatigue breaking their backs, they would fight on. There were two kids brutally murdered, it couldn't happen again, not on their patch.

Sitting in Debbie Stamp's tiny office. Redd toyed with his cup of tea. As usual, the Station's counsellor wore a tailored jacket and skirt, fitting her slim curves; the dark blonde hair worn in a sleek French knot, accentuated the paleness of her blue eyes.

'You look like you need some sleep.'

'It's better than it was.'

Debbie frowned. 'A year is not a long time. So how do you feel, dealing with this case?'

'Okay.'

'You don't think you came back too soon?'

'What else can I do? Anyway, I need the contacts - need to be on the inside.'

'You're still searching?'

His voice tensed, '
Why would I stop?'

'Come on Redd, you know I have to ask the questions. D'you think this case is too soon - too much?'

'You're like my bloody sister. I can handle it.'

Seeing the thin scar on his cheek redden, she said, '
Look, as your counsellor, I suggest you contact Doctor Evans, just let him know what kind of case this is. You may need his support, as well as mine.'

'I don't need a psychiatrist again - I'm over it, okay?' His heart seemed to climb into his brain, pounding it to pulp. 'Let's just quit now.'

Debbie's voice toughened. 'We're dealing with feelings here Redd; they just don't vanish. This case is horrific. Can you cope?'

'Far better than mooching around behind a desk. Now, that would send me crazy.' He gave her a tight smile.

She gazed at him, compassion brimming in her eyes. 'We both know it will never close - you're still searching. Look I'm on your side.'

'Okay - I'm here -right? I'm talking to you.'

'I have to be sure—'

'I'm dealing with it.'

Seeing the anxiety in his eyes, she shrugged. 'Okay - fine.'

Shuffling through his notes, he said, '
Right, so let's get to the point. Our profiler, Dr Timmins, is ill - undergoing tests. D'you know of anyone?'

'I might. Dr. Tessa Davies, a psychologist, an American, from Alabama. She's come up with a new line of research in profiling - calls it Symbolism. It's more to do with the symbolic content of the crime than clear-cut behavioural analysis. It's original; I'll say that. She's at Chichester University.'

'Hmm - so does she have a success rate?'

'Well, she's helped out on a couple of cases with the FBI before coming over here. I thought she might fit. From what you say, the crime smacks of ritual - the parchment scroll, the ancient writing. You say it took place in Kingley Vale?'

'Yeah - spooky place, some of the yew trees are over five hundred years old.'

Debbie put down her cup. 'The place has got a history, goes back to the Bronze Age - ancient barrows - Devils Humps. Wiccans hold their ceremonies in the groves.'

'Maybe the perps picked the place for that reason - some kind of sick ritual. Perhaps this Symbolist could shed light on the case. Have you got her number?'

'I'll phone her now, no need to waste any time. That alright with you?'

'Sooner the better - thanks.'

Tapping in the numbers, Debbie frowned. 'She's left a message saying she's away on a conference for a couple of days.'

'Don't worry I'll phone Worthing - they may have someone free, failing that, I'll ring around the other stations.

***

Music thundered, as Redd and Dove entered the morgue. Mahoney chose poignant pieces. Today it was Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 in C. Minor.

The pathologist waved a bloodied gloved hand. 'Come in, tis late ye are - no way to treat our relatives. Respect, d'you hear? Respect.'

'Sorry, got caught.'

Dove's stomach clenched, as she saw the bodies on two stainless steel slanted tabletops with perforated dissection grids, for drainage. She shivered seeing the drained fluids on the tray underneath them - it was necessary all bodily fluids were analy
zed.

Seeing her hesitate, Mahoney waved them forward. 'Now first thing.' He picked up a small bowl. 'There were mistletoe berries in the male victim's mouth.'

Redd raised his eyebrows. 'Strange? Why the hell would they do that?'

Mahoney shrugged, 'First time I've come across it. Ye never cease to be surprised.' Pointing to two gruesome organs in a bowl, Mahoney said, '
D'ye see the liver here now?' He brought the bowl to the table. This is not natural - look - the indent right across the two sections. Buggers cut it open and then scored it; did the same to both livers.' Muttering, he turned his back and strode to another bowl, picking out a heart, 'They cut this open along its length, that way they have sight of the valves. Again both hearts.'

Dove felt her own heart flutter, the one thing she never got used to was the bloody theatre of traffic scenes, and now autopsies. Try as she may, ants skittered against her stomach wall. She had to get a grip on herself. She'd worked damned hard to get to DS and now partner to the DCI. There was another reason for her not losing her job - him. She'd never looked at another man since death so spitefully snatched her husband - eight years of celibacy and silent grief. With Redd, she felt a yearning covered in cobwebs. She needed this guy, if only from a distance.

Mahoney turned to her, pointing to a bowl of wrapped sweets, he said, 'Take one of those peppermints and suck down hard on it.' Looking at Redd, he waved a hand at the female victim, 'Raped her, poor wee soul. I'll be sending off samples for traces of DNA.'

'Then we might just have a lead?'

'There's something important here ye should see.'

Redd stepped sideways for Dove to come alongside him. 'You're doing fine Dove. This is the worst it can get.'

Mahoney grinned. 'It's not the gore that will get to ye; it's the smell, but these are fresh.'

Fighting the urge to run, she nodded, watching Mahoney place a kidney on the tray. Gently prodding it open, he said, '
Again, same scorings, but there's some kind of pattern. Come and see; same on all four of them.' He grunted, taking some heavy-duty paper from a roll. 'I'm going to flatten it against this, that way ye'll have a better idea.'

Seeing a pattern of three sticks jutting from a centre point, like the spokes of a wheel, Redd muttered, '
What the hell is going on?'

Mahoney
glowered, 'Ye are faced with the darkest heart of man and the divil's is climbing out.'

Redd shook his head. 'Bloody strange.'

Turning to the mutilated remains, Mahoney said, 'I would estimate the female to be about five feet three inches, the male five feet ten inches. The left side of his body is thicker, stronger, so he was left-handed.' Crossing over to another stainless steel table, he brought back a bowl filled with two lumps of darkened flesh. 'The stomach contents may be of some help to ye.'

Dove swallowed bile, reaching for another peppermint.

Mahoney poked at one of the quivering organs. 'I found the remains of a salad in both - with potatoes and salmon, no meat or dairy products. More importantly, I think ye may have a lead here; I also found some greens, could be opiates. I'm sending them off to the toxicologist along with other body fluids.'

'Opiates?'

'I'm thinking cannabis, but ye can't chew cannabis, it doesn't have any effect that way.'

'So when d'you think time of death occurred?'

'Approximately three o'clock in the morning. When I examined the relatives in situ at one thirty PM, lividity was fixed, and rigor full. The body temperature at the scene was 80 degrees Fahrenheit. There was some insect activity - signs of eggs and hatchings. Now hatching takes a few hours, so I would estimate both victims died at approximately 3.00 am.'

Redd frowned, 'So how long does it take for everything to leave the stomach?'

Mahoney rubbed his chin, it varies, but ye can say from maybe one to three hours. '

Redd muttered, '
They ate after midnight? Strange.' He looked over to the bones scattered on the steel table. 'Have you got any ideas about the bones found by the bodies?'

'Bleached they are, but from the texture, they're hundreds of years old - completely separate from the two young victims. It will take several days for the lab to work it out. We've got a mixture of male and female bones here.'

Dove said, 'How can you tell, which is which?'

Mahoney frowned. 'Now there's no mean rule for the size of male and female skeletons. Ye see, some males can have a smaller skeleton than a female. If ye have a female who's had good nutrition and manual exercise, she could be larger than a male who's led a sedentary life and poor diet. But, ye can in some circumstances, tell the differences in certain areas. See here, the humerus is often bigger in a male, as is the lower bone on the thumb side, and the femur.'

Dove whipped out her notepad, scribbling down the information. She'd taken many courses in her career, but forensics was not her forte.

Mahoney said, '
These pelvic bones can also help ye identify the sex. The female pelvis is wider than the male. Ye'll see the sciatic notch is broader as well.'

Feeling the phone vibrate in his pocket, Redd took it out to see the Station number. Clicking it on, he listened, his face tightening. Clicking it back off, he turned to Mahoney. 'That was bloody quick, we might have a lead on the male, and we've got an address.'