Guilty as Sin (8 page)

“Yeah, but 'body' was easier to say on the phone, guv.”

Culverhouse could see that what was left of the body had been wrapped in newspaper as an afterthought, seeing as most of it was in more-or-less pristine condition. More than could be said for the body. He was no expert, but even he could see that the body had been subjected to the acid attack
in situ
, and had not simply been dumped. The cloying silt which surrounded her body had turned to glue, the process of biodegradation sped up by the chemical interference. The newspapers which covered the cadaver, though, were remarkably unscathed.

“Great. Fucking great. Has Dr Grey been down here yet?”

“Yep, she's been and gone. She says she can't tell much from what's left and it'll be virtually impossible to tell the age and sex of the body, but she said she's 80% sure it's a woman between eighteen and forty years of age.”

“Nice and precise, then,” Culverhouse remarked sarcastically.

“There is some good news, though, guv. Danielle Levy's handbag was found just a few feet away and Dr Grey reckons the general height and build fits the description we have of Danielle. She's pretty certain it's her.”

“Great. Just what we need.”

“Oh, and she said that the body definitely couldn't have been covered up before Saturday.”

“What? How can she be so sure?”

“The newspaper's got Saturday's date on it.”

The warm glow of the sun belied the dark cloud of grief which was soon to wash over 101 Heathcote Road. It was a job that every police officer hated. The only thing worse than seeing a dead, decaying, rotting body was having to tell their nearest and dearest what had happened to them. No matter how many times you had to do it throughout your career, it got no easier. To have to start with a lie; the pleasantries, the how-are-yous, the all-impending knowledge of what was to come, what was inevitable, eating away at every part of you.

Perhaps it was fortunate that Darren Parker had picked up on a facial expression, an atmosphere, when he opened the door that afternoon. The initial smile was eradicated by his sinking features. Wendy could swear that she had seen him age by ten years right in front of her.

“Mr Parker, we've come to speak to you and your wife about Danielle.”

“She's … she's dead, isn't she?”

“Can we come in, Mr Parker? I'd much rather we spoke inside.”

Miriam Levy was sat, perched on the edge of an armchair, a scrunch of tissues clenched to her chin as she rocked her elbows on her knees. Her eyes told of pain and sorrow, but her voice said nothing.

“I'll get straight to the point,” DCI Culverhouse started, surprising no-one. “We've found a … body, of sorts … in the woods between Upper Berrydale and Middlebrook. We have reason to believe it might be Danielle.”

The last glowing embers of hope died visibly on the faces of Darren Parker and Miriam Levy, the fire already all but extinguished.

“Will we … will we need to identify her?”

“That probably isn't a good idea, Mr Parker. We'd like to carry out a DNA match instead. We don't have Danielle's DNA on file, so we'll need to take an item of unwashed clothing. Either that or a hairbrush used exclusively by her. Might you have anything?”

“Well, yes, both. Now?”

“In your own time, Mr Parker. I understand how distressing this must be.”

“I'm no fool, Inspector. I know how these things work. The reason we can't identify her is because she's unidentifiable, isn't it?” Culverhouse said nothing, but diverted his eyes towards the cream carpet. “So what makes you think it might be her in the first place?”

Wendy spoke on behalf of them both. “Some of her belongings were found close by, Mr Parker. That doesn't immediately mean the body is Danielle's, but the location is eight-and-a-half miles away from where she was last seen, so it does make it a lot more likely.”

“Right. I see. Well, I'd better go and get some bits for you, then.”

It occurred to Wendy that Darren Parker was one of many different types of grievers. He was the rock. The one who tried to appear as the calm organiser, the steady force, but in private would break down worse than anyone else. Miriam Levy, on the other hand, was quite the opposite, being visibly torn from the inside out in front of their very eyes.

A few minutes later, Darren Parker re-entered the living room with two large sandwich bags, one dwarfing the hairbrush within it, the other almost at bursting point with the woollen jumper which it held. He handed them to Wendy.

“I picked them both up with the bags. So there weren't any more fingerprints on them than necessary, you know.”

“Thanks. That's very helpful.”

“When will we know?”

“It shouldn't be long, Mr Parker. I know every minute can feel like an hour, but we'll do our best to ensure your mind can be at rest as soon as possible.”

“Thank you. I just … I just don't know what I would do if it was Danielle...”

The rock slowly crumbled.

Mildenheath General Hospital was a place that Wendy would be glad if she never saw again. The cold white walls, the beeping of machinery, the deathly rattle of old people coughing. The reminders of Michael. She was only pleased that now she was here for happier reasons. In a way, the juxtaposition was beautiful. What had come out of absolute tragedy was wonderful, serene.

She had told herself that she had come to terms with her new state of being. Wendy the mother. Inside, she knew that she was no mother. She was a police officer and that was that. The everlasting memory of Robert, though, would change all of that. To be carrying his baby made her feel as though a part of him was still with her. A part of him which hadn't suffered, hadn't died in writhing agony at the hands of her brother, Michael. The truth be told, she had rarely been happier.

As she sat in the waiting room of the maternity ward, the fabric of the chair grew softer, enveloping her with warmth and comfort. This was the maternal glow, she thought. The miracle. Her over-rational head tried to tell her that it was purely hormonal – that this wasn't her – but she knew better than to listen to her head. Her heart was telling her otherwise. Her heart was beating for two.

*

“DCI Culverhouse? Liz Prior here from forensics. I've got some rather interesting news for you.”

“Go on.”

“Well, first of all, the DNA found on the body in the woods matches that provided by the family of Danielle Levy.”

“So it's her?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. The thing is, there's a big crossover match between another investigation I believe you're currently working on.”

Culverhouse's eyes lit up. “Go on...”

“It's regarding the samples taken from Gary McCann's house. We found a number of hairs which we've identified as belonging to someone you may be interested in. Danielle Levy. This puts her as having been in his house and car on at least one occasion fairly recently.”

“Fucking brilliant! Well done, Liz. I owe you one.” Culverhouse didn't replace the handset, but simply pressed the hook button before releasing it and dialling Wendy's mobile number. “Knight. Culverhouse. I need you at the station as soon as you can. There's been a very interesting development.”

“I'm waiting to see the midwife, guv. Is it urgent?”

“Put it this way – your baby's going nowhere. As for Gary McCann, that's another story.”

Gary McCann smiled smugly as he leaned back on the two rear legs of the chair in the interview room, his hands behind his head.

“Worried about something, McCann?”

“Why would I have anything to worry about, Inspector?”

“In my experience, the cool, calm characters become just a little bit
too
cool and calm when they're guilty as sin.”

“And in my experience, police officers start to make up all sorts of ludicrous psychological theories when they get desperate at having nothing else in their arsenal.”

“Oh, my arsenal is positively overflowing, Mr McCann. Tell me – do you know a girl called Danielle Levy?”

“Sorry, what has this got to do with Bob Arthurs?”

“I'm not sure myself, just now. What I do know, though, is that Danielle Levy went missing from her house on Friday lunchtime and hasn't been seen since. I also know that in the process of scouring your house for material in connection with the murder of Bob Arthurs, we found a number of hairs belonging to Danielle. Can you explain how they got there?”

Gary McCann slowly lowered the front of his chair, allowing the legs to come to a rest on the floor with a clop as he brought his hands down in front of him, crossing them on the table. “Absolutely not. I've never heard of her.”

“I would like to remind you that this interview is being recorded, Mr McCann, and that we have evidence which shows that Danielle Levy has been in both your house and car recently.”

“That's impossible. No-one else uses my car and we don't have other people around at the house. Not until we started holding your police parties for you in the past few days, anyway.”

“You'll have to come up with something better than that, McCann. The forensic evidence doesn't lie. Danielle Levy has been in your house and she has been in your car. And I want to know why.”

“I'm telling you. I ain't never heard of her, all right?”

“Have you had any parties at your house recently, Mr McCann?” Wendy tried to nudge the conversation in some sort of forward direction.

“No, I don't tend to go in for that. We're a very private household, know what I mean?”

“Hardly surprising,” Culverhouse added, drily.

“Yeah, we have friends around occasionally but only the odd dinner party and that. And never with no Danielle Levy, that's for sure.”

“And do you ever take anyone else in your car?”

“Only my current wife, and she's tucked up safe and sound at home and definitely not lying dead anywhere.”

“Your first one is, though, isn't she?”

“Listen, I can't speak for your forensics blokes, but I know damn well who's been in my house and I know damn well who hasn't. Now, unless I'm being fitted up, I'm afraid I can't help you, Inspector.”

“Fitted up? Who'd want to fit him up?”

“A lot of people, Knight. McCann's a viscous bastard and he doesn't care who he hurts. I'm damn sure he killed his first wife and everyone else knows it too. The worst thing is, he knows we know it and we can't do a fucking thing about it.”

Justice was cruel, sometimes, and a lack of evidence meant a lack of trial and a lack of conviction. In essence, the killer walked free. This, amongst other things, was what riled Jack Culverhouse the most.

“But surely if he's come that close to being caught before he's not likely to kill again on a whim. Besides, killing your wife is completely different to just popping off a business associate. It's not the sign of a serial killer. It just doesn't add up.”

“A killer's a killer, Knight. And Gary McCann is a killer.”

“But what reason would he have to kill Danielle Levy? He said himself he doesn't even know the girl.”

“That doesn't mean anything. McCann's good at lying through his teeth. For all we know, they could have been carrying on together and he did her in before she started gobbing off to her mates.”

“Pardon me, guv, but I can't see any reason why a seventeen-year-old girl would want to 'carry on' with a greying, beer-bellied man with a criminal history.”

“You'd be surprised what attracts some women, Knight.”

Wendy surreptitiously eyed Culverhouse before trying to work out whether she agreed or disagreed with his summary.

“Yeah, I think I probably would be surprised.”

“The fact of the matter is, Danielle Levy's hair was found in McCann's house and car. She was there – that's a fact. We just need to find out why.”