Scream, You Die (18 page)

The atmosphere in the Major Incident Suite was a mix of excitement and anticipation. The team were buzzing. The investigation had taken an unexpected twist, but they were ready for the challenge.

DCI Diane Harris poured herself a glass of water and while taking a sip looked at the pictures on the large screen behind her. Three crime scene photographs, taken from different angles, depicted the naked dismembered man laying across the bloodstained brick floor in the cellar of the house in Wandsworth. Beside them was a blown-up page from a passport presenting the head-and-shoulders photograph of a dark-haired, handsome young man and his identification details.

Diane set down her glass and faced her audience. “We believe we have identified our victim in the cellar as twenty-two-year-old Henrikas Astrosky. Mr Astrosky met quite a nasty death. He was stabbed three times in the chest, four times in the back and once in the neck. He also has numerous defence injuries to his hands and arms where he has put up some form of resistance. The pathologist says none of the wounds in themselves would have proved fatal. His death would have been as a result of significant blood loss.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “Henrikas was Lithuanian. At the moment, identification has been by done by matching his face to the passport we found in one of the bedrooms. We don’t know if those are his correct details, but the passport appears to be authentic. We’ve submitted his details to Interpol and they will be liaising with the Lithuanian authorities. We are also checking with Immigration to see if he came legitimately into this country, and if so when and where.” The DCI picked up the remote and added two fresh pictures to the screen: the headless and handless female corpse in the suitcase, and the assembled female body parts found in the dumpsters on the Patmore Estate. “Professor Niall Lynch, the pathologist who attended the latest scene in Wandsworth, not only examined the body but also the knives and hand-grinder found there, and following his post mortem has concluded that the same instruments used to dismember Henrikas here were also used on our other two victims Greta Aglinsky, and our still as-yet-unknown female found in the Thames. Although the forensic work is still in the very early stages, CSI are pretty confident that the house in Wandsworth is the site where all our three victims met their deaths. There is significant blood staining, some of which is quite old, not only in the cellar but also in the bathroom on the first floor, where attempts have been made to clean it up. Though, thankfully, not too successfully. Plus, in one of the bedrooms they also found an identical suitcase to that which our headless body was found in. And I’m told the place is full of dabs, so hopefully we’ll come up trumps with a fingerprint hit for our killer.” She set down the remote, picked her glass back up and took another drink. “As regards the house, we have intelligence reports that the premise’s were being used as a brothel. Scarlett and her team have spoken with a few of the neighbours, and although none of them were willing to go on record, they have confirmed  that the house was being used for that purpose. We’ve learned that a number of regular females used the place and it had daily male visitors. This latest incident has certainly brought about developments, but it’s also created a lot of work. Unfortunately, time’s run away from us tonight to conduct any more enquiries, but tomorrow each of you will have a bundle of actions. Especially, we need to focus on our escaped suspect. He is at the centre of all this. So tomorrow we concentrate on identifying him.” She finished her water. “Unless anyone has any questions then we’ll call it a day.”

****

It was after ten p.m. before Scarlett got home. She was drained and she could feel a headache coming on. From the fridge she took out a carton of cranberry juice and poured herself a glass, and finding two paracetamol in her bag she swilled them down. Standing in front of the fridge and eyeing the contents made her realise how hungry she was, but all that remained was one pack of opened ham, some cheese and some limp and shrivelled vegetables, reminding her that she hadn’t shopped for over a week. Letting off a curse she binned everything and switched her attention to the freezer. All she found there was a frozen sliced loaf. She prised off a couple of slices and slotted them into the toaster.

While waiting for the frozen bread to toast she rang Alex on her BlackBerry. She’d not spoken with him since that morning and knew she owed him this call.

He answered almost immediately.

Scarlett said, “Sorry I haven’t got back to you until now. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

“Did you get your phone and warrant card then?”

“Certainly did, thank you.”

Before she could continue, Alex asked on a high note, “And did you get your muggers as well?”

“Funny you should ask that.” She gave him a re-run of her day, catching the noise of the toaster racking out the toast just as she ended her story. The smell of the cooked bread wafted across her nostrils, invigorating her tastebuds.

“Wow! So a result then?”

“Well, of sorts. Letting the suspect get away is a bit of a bummer and I got a bit of a bollocking for going to the house without permission.”

“You’re kidding me. You find a body, catch the killer and you get a bollocking! It’s not your fault he’s escaped.”

“It’s not really to do with that. Me and my DI don’t hit it off. He went off on one because I went to the house without permission in the first place. And when he asked me the source of my information I wouldn’t divulge your name, which pissed him off even more. He accused me of being reckless and failing to take orders. You know how it is with your army background.”

He sighed, “Tell me about it.”

“Anyway, the DI wanted to make something of it but my DCI’s been great about it. She’s gone out on a limb and backed me up, which has put the DI’s nose out of joint. I’ll have to watch my back for a while but it felt good getting one over on him.”

“So I guess you’re gonna have your work cut out over the next few days?”

“You’re right about that.”

“What do you want to do about Rose then? I don’t know how long she’s gonna be at the Notting Hill address. The council could get a court order next week.”

Scarlett took a deep breath. After a quick think she said, “Look I’m scheduled for this weekend off. I’ll ring you Friday night as soon as I finish work. If you’re up for it we’ll go to the flat then.” Hearing Alex agree she bid him goodnight and ended the call.

Biting into dry toast the image of the woman she had seen down in the Underground subway sprang inside her head. She dearly wanted it to be Rose and she dearly wanted to see her after all this time.

But before that there was other work to do. A serial killer was still out there.

Pulling up her face mask Scarlett entered number forty-four with Tarn following. They had been given the task that morning of liaising with the crime scene manager, retrieving any exhibits of note and bringing back to the evening briefing the status of the forensic examination. Other members of Scarlett’s team were doing house-to-house along the street, while DS Gary Ashdown’s team had gone back to the Patmore Estate over in Battersea.

Scarlett stopped in the hallway and listened. She could hear shuffling noises and voices in the rooms above. She pulled her face mask away from her mouth and called out the crime scene manager’s name. Within seconds there was a call back from the next floor. She peered up the stairway and saw Mason Gregory peering over the banister.

He called down, “And to what do we owe this pleasure?”

“Hi Mason, just come to see how you’re getting on,” Scarlett replied.

“We’ve done the cellar and ground floor and we’ve almost finished this floor. We should have the whole house done by today.”

“Found anything of note?”

With a smile he said, “Some interesting apparatus in the bedrooms up here, which you’re more than welcome to come and look at. It’s made me realise I’ve led a very sheltered life.”

“As if, Mason Gregory.”

He let out a laugh.

“Any more surprises?”

“No more bodies, if that’s what you mean. We’ve videoed and photographed the basement and done a thorough search. The evidence certainly confirms that more than one body has been cut up down there. We’ve swabbed the area and got samples, so DNA should give us an idea if more than three have been done down there.”

“And what about up there? The bathroom’s been used hasn’t it?”

“There’s certainly lots of blood spatter in the bath and on several rows of tiles above it, which looks to me as though there’s been a bit of a fight up here. An effort has been made to clean it up, but whoever’s done it has not made a very good job of it. The bathroom door’s been forced as well. If you ask me, one of our victims has taken refuge in there before being attacked, and if I were to lay my reputation on the line I’d say it was the man you found in the cellar yesterday. The bloodstains between some of the tiles look to be quite fresh.”

“Mind if we have a look round?”

“Be my guest.”

Scarlett replaced her face mask and made her way to the cellar. Pausing on the top step she recalled yesterday’s events. The coppery smell of blood had lessened. The strongest smell now assailing her nostrils was one of damp. She made her way to the bottom. Tarn was only a couple of steps behind. As before, a single light bulb lit the way. Staying away from the lime-washed walls she negotiated the thin corridor, carefully skirting past the stone and brick slab. As she passed she saw atop the slab a yellow plastic pyramid marker placed next to a dark stain and she noted that the tools she had seen on it yesterday were no longer there. They would be in a sealed exhibit bag in the back of one of the forensic vans.

At the end of the corridor Scarlett and Tarn stepped through the doorway into the main cellar chamber, where they halted and took in the surroundings. Four tripod lights had been strategically placed, one in each corner of the room, but currently they were not ablaze. Dotted around the floor were more yellow forensic markers and in the dim glow Scarlett made out more dark stains covering the brickwork. The image of the dismembered man flashed back inside her head, but the vision was weak and only fleeting. It disappeared in seconds.

Scarlett nudged Tarn. “Come on, I’ve seen what I need to see down here. Forensics have sorted it. Let’s have a look upstairs.”

The front reception room was gloomy; heavy maroon drapes were drawn across a large bay window. And it smelt fusty. Some of that smell was stale cigarette smoke. Two large sunken tan-leather settees and a wide armchair dominated the room. An eighties-style pattern carpet in garish colours, well worn and heavily stained, covered the floor. In one corner, next to a faux gas fire in a black Victorian surround was a large-screen TV on a heavy black glass and metal stand. Scarlett noticed a number of porn DVDs scattered in front of the TV, and hanging on the walls around the room she took in gilt-framed prints of Asian males and females in erotic poses. There were no forensic markers in this room but the furnishings and smooth surfaces were covered in fine metallic powder where they had been dusted for fingerprints.

Returning back to the hall, Scarlett and Tarn took the stairs up to the first floor. They met Mason Gregory on the landing.

“We’re done here. Just got the floor above to do and that’s it. Feel free to have a nosy. Except for the bathroom, where we’ve found the blood, all we’ve got is loads of semen stains and dabs.”

Scarlett watched him take the stairs up to the second floor and then stepped into the nearest bedroom. What struck her first as she pushed open the door was the colour scheme – crimson-red walls with a black ceiling. She stopped in the doorway and ran her gaze around the room. A large mirror, fastened to the ceiling above a four-poster bed covered with red-and-black satin sheets. The top sheet was half off the bed, giving her a view of a heavily sex-stained bottom sheet. A shudder ran through her and she screwed up her face. On a velvet-padded wingchair next to the bed was a black leather full-head mask and a whip. Then she took in the leather restraints at each corner of the bed.

“Can have some fun here, hey?” said Tarn, leaning over her shoulder.

“Disgusting,” exclaimed Scarlett. “Just look at those sheets.”

“You can be so picky some times.”

Scarlett elbowed her partner and backed out of the room, pulling closed the door.

“Let’s have a look at the bathroom.”

In sharp contrast to the bedroom this room was bright and airy. It was fully tiled in white, with a black border running around halfway up the walls, and contained a relatively new white bathroom suite. On some of the tiles above the bath there were fluorescent yellow stickers, and staining from the Luminol spray which had been used to find the blood. It appeared as if a lot had been uncovered, given the number of marks and streaks she could see.

She was about to close the door when a shout came from above. It was Mason Gregory.

“I think you two need to come up and see this!”

Scarlett exchanged a brief glance with Tarn and then the pair trotted up the stairs.

Mason Gregory stood in the doorway of the bedroom at the front of the house. It was the room where Ella Bloom had found Scarlett’s phone and warrant card. In his hand he held out a burgundy-coloured booklet. He said, “We’ve just found this in a coat pocket in the wardrobe.”