Destruction of Evidence (27 page)

‘Butcher, baker, candlestick maker? Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I can say with any certainty is that it isn’t used by me or any pathologists of my acquaintance. But I did ask Ted Gant about it. As of this morning he hadn’t found any paper like it in the cellar of the Pitcher house, or in any of the other rooms, but that’s not remarkable. You saw the place. Paper has no chance of surviving an intense blaze and given the amount of ash it could take weeks to sift through looking for traces.’

‘The bed bugs?’ Trevor asked.

‘You really think I’m a miracle worker, don’t you? It would have been a first to have extracted DNA from baked bugs. I tried, but no go.’ Patrick finished his coffee and handed Jenny the specimen jar.

‘You didn’t find any live ones?’ Trevor persisted.

‘No, only a way to get them out of your house. Burn it down,’ Jen said cheerfully. ‘We’re thinking of posting the advice on the internet.’

‘Do you have cause of death on the others?’

‘All four were battered, but the only sign of smoke inhalation was in James Pitcher’s lungs. Jen examined the others this morning after I did his PM. She found nothing, so I think I can safely say they died from trauma. Three were definitely killed by the metal hoe found at the scene. I’ve found impressions of the handle and slice marks made by the edge of the hoe in Lee, James and Gillian Pitcher’s heads.’

‘Alun Pitcher?’

‘A single massive fracture to the top of his skull. The most damage was inflicted on Lee and Gillian Pitcher.’

Jen referred to a chart. ‘Fifty-seven fractures on Lee Pitcher’s body, fifteen to his head. Four blows to James Pitcher’s head. Twelve separate wounds on Gillian Pitcher, eight to her head.’

‘And Alan Pitcher?’

‘Something large flat and extremely heavy was dropped on the top of his head, possibly as he ascended the attic stairs. I mentioned the bronze Dying Gaul when you were in the house. Ted Gant’s team found Alun Pitcher’s blood and hairs on the base. If there’s more, they’ll put it in their report.’

‘And your reports?’ Trevor asked hopefully.

‘If you stop badgering us we may find time to write them.’

‘You sent for us,’ Trevor reminded him.

‘Did I?’ Patrick enquired absently.

‘I take it that’s a dismissal,’ Peter said caustically.

‘We’ve been up so long my stomach thinks it’s lunch time. Jen, we’ll take our break now. Fetch the sandwiches.’

Jen opened a drawer in the body bank. ‘Want to stay for coffee and sarnies?’ she invited Trevor. ‘They’re ham and tomato.’

‘Thank you for your help and thank you for the invitation but we have a briefing to attend.’

‘Whisky’s on you tonight,’ Patrick warned.

‘Sure you won’t stay for coffee?’ Jenny rinsed two specimen jars under the tap and carried them over to the electric kettle in the corner.’

‘We’ll take a rain check.’ Peter stripped off his white coat and followed Trevor to the car.

‘Are the cavalry on their way?’ Peter asked as they drove off.

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘Merchant and Brookes.’

‘Why Brookes?’ Peter demanded. ‘I can understand a computer expert to work on the pens and drive you found in Dai Smith’s house. And we may well need help to decipher the station’s record system…’

‘The record system is complicated?’ Trevor asked.

‘I couldn’t make head or tail of it.’

‘Merchant likes having Brookes around and he’s good at legwork. But as they won’t be here until this afternoon I’d like you to walk around the shops in town and find out which ones, if any, use brown paper. Hopefully there won’t be too many as I’d like you to buy something so we can match the wrapping without arousing anyone’s suspicions.’

‘You keeping Merchant and Brookes undercover?’

‘Yes.’ Trevor confirmed.

‘You going to do anything about Dai Smith?’

‘Get the locals to look for him.’

‘They haven’t found him so far.’

‘But have they really been looking?’ Trevor questioned.

‘It’s possible they don’t want to find him.’

‘That thought has occurred to me,’ Trevor concurred.

‘With Merchant doing the computer work and Brookes the legwork, what’s left for you and me?’ Peter drove off when the lights turned green.

‘I’ll carry on supervising, but don’t worry; I’ll find something interesting to occupy your mind after your shopping trip.’

‘Like?’ Peter pressed.

‘Studying all the serious crime files in the station that cover incidents of rape, murder and violence, during the last…’ Trevor reflected for a moment. ‘… twenty-five years.’

‘To look for officers, who’ve worked closely with pathologists and forensic experts, witnessed their methods and who might, just might, know enough to destroy the physical evidence at a crime scene.’ Peter drove into the police station yard, parked the car and turned off the ignition.

Trevor smiled. ‘And to think people wonder why I work with you.’

‘I’ll start when you’re in the briefing. I take it the official story is we’re looking for suspects who’ve graduated to arson and murder.’

‘Do you need to ask?’

‘Just making sure you’re as cunning as me.’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Trevor was crossing the foyer on his way into the briefing room when Reggie walked in with Carol and Paula. She drew him aside.

‘Nothing except Dai’s clothes and a few toys. By the look of them, ones the children had outgrown. Even the posters from the children’s walls and the bed linen had been stripped from their rooms. There were no single duvet covers or sheets in the airing cupboard. When a woman packs to that extent, she has no intention of returning.’

‘Thank you for being so thorough. Briefing in ten minutes?’ he asked.

‘As soon as we’ve stripped off our boiler suits, we’ll be with you.’

Trevor entered the conference room and found Frank Howell fixing photographs to a Perspex screen under the direction of Ted Gant.

‘Any news on the PM, sir?’ Frank asked.

‘You knew I’d been to the mortuary, sergeant?’

‘Can’t keep anything quiet on this case, sir,’ Frank informed him. ‘Too many officers knew and liked the Pitchers. We’ve all been hoping for some hard evidence.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant.’

‘Just want to see justice done, sir.’

‘As long as it is justice, not a stitch-up, Sergeant.’ Trevor looked at the photographs Ted had chosen to illustrate the devastation in the Pitcher house.

‘This is the last one, Frank,’ Ted Gant squinted at a print and turned it sideways before handing it over. ‘That’s the right way up.’

‘Inspector,’ Frank began. ‘This conference…’

‘Is a routine briefing, sergeant,’ Trevor looked at his watch. ‘It would be helpful if you could round up the others so we can begin on time.’

Frank took the hint and left.

‘You found anything?’ Trevor asked Ted, although he knew from the expression on Ted’s face what his answer would be.

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re doing tests?’

‘What do you think?’ Ted snapped. ‘We’re doing everything we can think of.’

‘I wasn’t being critical. This is my first clean crime scene.’

‘Mine too,’ Ted replied, slightly mollified. ‘Do you want a run down before the briefing?’

They heard the sound of approaching footsteps. ‘Save your voice. You may as well inform all of us of your progress at the same time.’

‘Or lack of it,’ Ted corrected. ‘Hi Reggie.’

‘Do you have anything for us, Ted?’

‘I told Ted to save it for the briefing.’ Trevor pulled a table to the side of the screen, so it wouldn’t obscure the view of the photographs from the rows of chairs facing it.

Gradually the room filled with officers. Peter beckoned to Trevor from the doorway. Trevor joined him outside.

‘I’ve volunteered to man the desk.’

Trevor didn’t ask if Peter had the station computer passwords. He knew from the expression on his face he did. ‘I’ll update you after the briefing,’ Trevor said loudly for the benefit of the local officers who were filing into the room.

‘Don’t worry I’ll hold the fort.’ Peter winked at Paula who pretended she hadn’t seen him.

Trevor returned to the room, lifted three chairs behind the table and waved to Reggie and Carol, indicating they should join him.

Tony Sweet lurched in last, tripping over his own feet.

‘Anyone behind you, Constable?’ Trevor took his seat.

‘No, sir.’

‘Who’s manning the desk?’ Reggie demanded.

‘Sergeant Collins volunteered.’

Reggie frowned disapproval. Trevor rose to his feet.

‘Close the door, Constable Sweet.’ He faced the assembled officers. ‘For reference, you have files on your chairs containing, among other papers, the timeline that fixes events, movements and locations of people on the night of the murders. Mr Gant has volunteered to deliver an update on the examination of the Pitcher house. Mr Gant?’ Trevor gave Ted the floor.

Ted stood to the side of the screen. Using a laser pointer, he indicated the photographs on the lowest line. ‘These have been placed in order of the rooms of the house. The ones on the lowest level are of the cellar, above them the office floor, above that the Pitchers’ living room and kitchen, then the bedrooms, finally the attic. They are here for later reference only. If you’d look to your left.’ He switched on a computer and laptop and the photograph in the bottom left corner of the Perspex screen filled a whiteboard beside the screen.

‘Some of you have seen the cellar, if you haven’t it was gutted by the fire. We have established it was arson. The glass panel in one of the doors was smashed and bottles filled with petrol thrown in. We have retrieved splinters and neck fragments from three separate green glass bottles. We’re attempting to match fragments to a brand but so far without luck. There’s no sign of fuses so I’m guessing paper. As for the rest of the cellar, we’ve found a few surviving fingerprints, all belonging to the Pitcher family and employees. Nothing that shouldn’t have been there apart from the remains of the petrol bombs. There’s no evidence to suggest the cellar was broken into. The doorframe was in place and locked from the inside, as were all the windows.’

‘Did you find the remains of any petrol cans that could have fed and accounted for the severity of the fire?’ Reggie asked.

‘No. But, we found the remains of various containers that had held chemicals.’ Ted flicked on to more photographs. ‘According to Alun Pitcher’s employees, metal tools and tin trunks were stored in the cellar alongside the furniture. It’s going to be a long job to sift through all the debris. But we are making headway, just not at the speed you’d like us to.’

‘The petrol bombs were made outside the cellar,’ Trevor suggested.

‘In my opinion, yes.’

‘Could the petrol have been siphoned from the Pitchers’ cars?’ Trevor questioned.

‘We found no alien prints on the cars.’

‘But you found evidence the cars had been wiped clean?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have the petrol tanks on the Pitcher cars been checked?’ Trevor persisted.

‘They will be now,’ Ted said drily. ‘The office floor. The fire in the cellar burned through the floor in what had been the conference room and two of the other offices. The room Alun Pitcher used as his office was comparatively undamaged because it was at the end of the house and the furthest from the door and windows which were the sites of the seat of the fire. As far as we can ascertain this floor wasn’t touched by anyone outside of the family and Alun Pitcher’s employees. Alun Pitcher’s office has been examined and, documents, cash and jewellery retrieved from his safe. Nothing appears to be missing but we haven’t received confirmation from Alun Pitcher’s surviving son. There were fingerprints on the front door and staircase rail leading from the office floor to the living quarters above but only those of the family.’

‘So it wasn’t wiped clean?’ Trevor clarified.

‘Unlike other areas of the house, it wasn’t,’ Ted confirmed, ‘which suggests no one entered the area that night. The kitchen.’ Ted flicked on to slides of the next floor. ‘Propellant was used to start the fires, in this case cooking oil. But in every room in the living quarters, including the halls, stairs and landing, flammable items had been piled up and set alight. Alcohol was used to feed the fires in the living room, perfume, deodorant, after shave and cologne in the bedrooms. We have smudges that suggest rubber gloves were worn. We’ve found very few prints, all of the family, and fewer of those than we’d expect to find in a family home.’

‘So, to get this right, the murderer broke into the Pitchers’ house, killed the family then cleaned up the evidence before setting fire to the house?’ Jim Murphy clarified.

‘If you’re asking if there’s evidence of thorough and professional cleansing, the answer’s yes. The most obvious example is that of the bucket of bleach and water we found containing the unscrewed sink and bath traps from the attic bathroom. We also found diluted traces of Lee Pitcher’s blood around the plughole in the shower which suggests the murderer showered after killing him. Given the extent of Lee Pitcher’s wounds the killer would almost certainly have been heavily sprayed with his blood.’