Reprobates (2 page)

It was a short drive to Harrowfield Mortuary and the roads were void of the usual rush hour traffic, which made the journey appear all the more eerie. Vicky was unusually quiet on the approach to the town.

‘
Better keep your eyes peeled for anyone who looks like a zombie then,’ whispered Dylan not taking his eyes off the road.

Vicky slowly brought her hand up to her mouth and burped. Dylan could hear her stomach churning.

‘Funny ha ha!’ she said turning towards him and slowly rolling her hooded eyes. ‘Although, come to think of it there were a lot of people coming out of that night club this morning looking very much like... Got a drink?’ she said as she involuntary heaved. Dylan saw a flicker of panic in her eyes.

‘Don
’t you dare...’

She hunched her shoulders and shook her head in short jerky movements, clenched her teeth and swallowed hard.

He glanced across at her grey, waxy complexion as she gasped and leaned her head heavily on the headrest. Her eyes opened slightly. She looked sideways at him and moaned. Dylan stopped the car. Vicky opened the door. ‘I’m going to be sick ...’ she said, before promptly throwing up in the gutter. Dylan sat in silence staring ahead. He could hear Vicky taking deep quick breaths, fighting the nausea. It was Dylan’s turn to roll his eyes. He tapped her on her hand. She opened her eyes and he offered her his handkerchief. Gratefully she took it. ‘I knew I shouldn’t ’ave...’

‘
Whatever,’ he said. ‘The water is in the glove compartment.’

She nodded her head.

‘You take more looking after than our Maisy,’ he said, starting the car engine. Vicky closed her door. Dylan steered the car out of the kerb to continue their journey.

She gave him an eyes half-closed sideways glance, threw him a smile that was more of a thank-you and unscrewed the top off the bottle.
‘And you’d know that because you’re always at home to look after her,’ she said putting the bottle to her lips.

‘You
’re treading on thin ice,’ Dylan growled.

‘
True though, isn’t it?’ she said, brusquely taking another sip of water. She turned to him, drew a hand across her mouth and smacked her pale, thin lips together.

***

Dylan stopped the car outside the mortuary alongside a marked police car. He slowly turned to his Detective Constable with a raised eyebrow and steely glare that she knew meant she’d overstepped the mark. He remained silent. She was right and he knew it.

The old, grey stone structure of the mortuary was hardly a welcoming sight, with rotten wooden window frames that still held single pane glass. A rusty, metal fire escape clung haphazardly to one wall but it looked so frail and inadequate and Dylan doubted it would hold the weight of a squirrel, never mind a human being. In its day the edifice had probably been formidable, but it had been sadly neglected, like the cobbled street access with its crater sized potholes. Drab and dreary was an apt description.

The rusty hinges of the heavy oak door creaked as Vicky pushed it open. She held her stomach. The smell of formaldehyde was overpowering. Instantly, with lips clamped together Vicky put her hand over her mouth, turned and hurriedly retraced her steps. A uniformed officer approached Dylan.

‘She okay?
’ she said, indicating over her shoulder the fleeing Vicky.

‘
She will be,’ he said gruffly.

Police Constable Fearne Robinson read to Dylan from her pocketbook, the details she had obtained.
‘The missing body is that of a Kirsty Gallagher, thirty years of age,’ she said, pushing a rogue ringlet of copper hair back under her black velvet hat. ‘She was brought into the mortuary on Friday morning, according to Mr Harper, the mortuary attendant over there, who will explain the circumstances to you himself in a minute, no doubt.’ PC Robinson cocked her eyebrow in an unsmiling expression.

Derek Harper dressed in a dark green, button through overall was making his way towards the pair, but before he reached them the door opened and slammed a few seconds later as Vicky marched in. Dylan acknowledged her with a stern nod and Fearne introduced them both to Mr Harper. The CID officers flashed their warrant cards in his direction. Dylan hadn
’t come across Derek Harper before. He was like a muffled presence in the room. A gaunt looking chap, about six feet and one inch tall and around sixty years of age Dylan guessed. The man was exceptionally thin, almost skeletal. He had no colour to his complexion and his shirt collar appeared to be too large for his scrawny neck. His face looked hot and polished like his balding head. Derek spoke quietly but quickly, ‘I’m covering the early turn shift and the last thing I expected was this. Is nothing safe any more?’ As he spoke he gently stroked the head of a naked corpse on a nearby trolley. He held out his hands. ‘I’m still shaking. It’s really upsetting. How could anyone…? That window’s been forced,’ he said, turning to point to the window near the entrance. ‘At least the alarm worked. It’s still ringing in my ears.’

‘
Someone set off the security alarm?’ asked Dylan.

‘
No, the fridge alarm,’ said Harper. ‘They all work independently. When the temperature goes below two or above four degrees centigrade that signal alerts us to a fault. I thought that’s all it was at first but no, the door to number twelve was wide open and a body was there on the floor.’ All heads turned to look in the direction he pointed. ‘I put him back inside obviously,’ he said.

‘
But, I thought you said a body was missing?’ asked Vicky with a furrowed brow.

Harper looked at the Detective
.

‘
It is,’ he said, looking confused.

‘
But if the body was on the floor?’ asked Vicky.

PC Robinson shook her head in Vicky
’s direction and put her pen to her lips.

‘
How long have you worked at the mortuary, Mr Harper?’ asked Dylan.

‘
A few months.’

‘
And before?’

‘
I used to prepare the ground for their internment.’

‘
That’s no doubt a very lonely occupation?’ asked Dylan.

‘It
’s a necessary job that someone has to do. I don’t mind my own company and the peace and quiet,’ Harper stared defiantly at Dylan.

PC Robinson
’s eyes moved in DC Vicky Hardacre’s direction, but her head remained still.

‘
The rheumatoid arthritis means grave digging’s too physical,’ he said quietly and proceeded to mouth the last two words when barely a sound came from his lips.

Vicky looked bemused. Her malady somewhat forgotten.

Dylan scanned his surroundings. Vicky sat with Mr Harper. Dylan invited PC Robinson to give him a tour of the crime scene, a few yards away.

‘
The mortuary has the capacity for twenty-four bodies in the refrigerated units, sir,’ she said. ‘There are six rows of four. Which means that fridge number twelve is at the bottom of the third, at the far end,’ she said.

‘
Remind me, when was the lady brought into the mortuary?’

‘Ms Gallagher? Friday morning, sir.
’

‘
I finished Friday lunchtime,’ said Derek Harper. ‘It was my turn to work today. She was due for the knife tomorrow,’ he said tossing his head in the direction of the fridges. ‘Tomorrow was supposed to be her post-mortem to ascertain the cause of death. There’ll be hell to pay over this,’ he said. ‘I’ve telephoned Mr Fisher.’

‘
Mr Fisher?’ asked Vicky.

‘
His boss,’ said Fearne Robinson.

‘
Shocked he was,’ said Derek Harper. ‘He should have been in my shoes.’

‘
So let me get this right. This other person, he was in the same fridge as Ms Gallagher?’ asked Dylan.

Harper nodded.

‘Is that normal?’ asked Vicky.

‘
God no! But it was Old Alfie, died of heart failure on Thursday.’ Mr Harper’s mouth seemed to boggle the words. ‘Fridge number thirteen broke down... Number thirteen might be unlucky for some, but not for him,’ he said. ‘I had to put him on top of her.’ Derek Harper bowed his head and lifted his eyes to the ceiling smiling uneasily at Dylan. ‘Be assured, I knew Old Alfie. He wouldn’t have minded.’

Vicky shivered.

‘So “doubling up” I guess isn’t an approved practice?’ asked Dylan.

‘
I used my initiative,’ he said tapping his head. ‘She was a bit of alright was Kirsty Gallagher. Didn’t have a mark on her.’ As he spoke he put on a green plastic apron and plucked two disposable gloves from a box, ‘Sorry, I hope you don’t mind if I continue.’ He didn’t wait for an answer but continued with one hand resting on the corpse’s thigh. ‘I must get this one back in the fridge.’

Dylan looked across at Vicky.
‘How did you manage to move Alfie with your rheumatoid... condition?’ Vicky asked.

‘Ah,
’ he said. ‘I used the hydraulic trolley. I couldn’t do this job if it wasn’t for that.’

Dylan turned to PC Robinson.
‘Take a detailed statement from Mr Harper will you and I mean everything he can tell you. Don’t touch anything until SOCO, CSI, whatever they’re calling themselves these days, arrives and have done their bit. When Mr Fisher has a minute get him to call me will you. I want a word.’

‘
Will do, sir.’

‘We
’ll need both of their prints and DNA for elimination purposes.’

‘
Understood,’ she said, turning to Derek Harper as she flipped her pocketbook open and poised her pen over a clean page.

Dylan guided Vicky away by her elbow.
‘Look at the mortuary register. Take down the details of when and where Ms Gallagher was brought in from and by whom, next of kin, etcetera. I want as much detail as there is.’

‘
He looks like an undertaker, speaks quietly like one but some of his comments bother me,’ she said, pulling a face at Dylan.

‘I
’ll be having a word with his boss. For now, we need to make sure Kirsty Gallagher is nowhere in this building. All the fridges will need checking and I want to know what’s exactly wrong with fridge number thirteen. I also want to know what the normal practice is if the fridges are full and should he have recorded any decisions he made whilst he was in charge?’

‘
Would all the bodies in the fridges be naked and frozen?’ Vicky said. Aware once again of the smell of formaldehyde she held her stomach as it did a somersault.

Dylan nodded.

Tilting her head back Vicky fanned herself with her pocketbook. ‘Any chance of lifting any marks or fibres from Old Alfie’s body? Because whoever took Kirsty Gallagher would have had to lift the guy off her, wouldn’t they?’

‘
A possibility.’ Dylan said. He scratched his chin. ‘Anything’s worth a try. No doubt we will find Derek Harper’s dabs there.’

‘
Mortuary attendants don’t always wear gloves. Or at least this one doesn’t. You’d think they would, wouldn’t you?’ she said, as Dylan moved towards a dissecting table.

‘
Had you noticed these marks that could be associated with something being dragged?’ Dylan pointed to the floor.

Vicky shook her head.
‘How could I? I was watching him,’ she said. Her eyes went back to Derek Harper who was looking in their direction.

‘I
’ll get CSI to check it out.’

‘
Crime Scene Investigators. It’s a lot easier to call them SOCO.’

‘
Well that’s TV for you. Let’s find out as much as we can about Ms Gallagher. We will need to do an in-depth intelligence check on Harper as well. CSI should be here any time. Then we can get things moving in respect of the search. Make sure they check the point of entry and exit to confirm a break-in and see if there is anything else there that suggests the body was removed via the window.’

‘Don
’t you think it would take more than one person to get her out of that window?’

‘I
’d think so. Or someone strong.’

‘You
’d have thought whoever planned to take her would have considered that, wouldn’t you? I’m guessing she didn’t weigh that much. That poor woman, she’s just died, she’s stripped by him presumably, then no sooner as she is she left in the fridge some frozen, naked old man is put on top of her. That’s fucking sick by anyone’s standards.’

‘He
’s definitely not reminiscent of the genuine, sincere person that we usually meet at mortuaries, is he?’ asked Dylan. Control Room called Dylan on his personal radio. Dylan turned and walked a few steps to answer.

‘
Just to inform you that Sergeant Megnicks is at Fishpond Lock on the canal banking, first left turn after the Harrowfield Building Society building on Watergate Road. A full set of men’s clothing has been found abandoned on the towpath. Underwater search team has been requested. She says she will liaise with you there.’