Scream, You Die (9 page)

In a coffee shop on the Strand, Scarlett nursed a mug of coffee while staring out through rain-streaked windows. Bumper-to-bumper traffic meandered past and her gaze was settled on the glaring reflections of headlights and tail lights shimmering back from the rain-sodden road.

Suddenly, a hand flashed in front of her, making her jump. She felt a light tap on her forehead.

“Penny for them.”

She brought her attention back to Alex sitting opposite. “Sorry.”

“Thinking about the girl?”

She nodded.

“You think it’s Rose?

She rocked her head. “Part of me is saying it was her. I only got a brief glance, and it is such a long time ago since I last saw her, but it was just a look she gave me from the train. As if she recognised me.” She set down her mug sharply. It clattered onto the table.

“That’s good then.”

“It is if we find her again.”

“We’ve found her once, we’ll find her again. We’re all creatures of habit, stick close to the surroundings we’re familiar with. She’s obviously living in the London area if she’s using the Underground, and that’ll not be the only section she’ll be begging in. She’ll more than likely lay low for a couple of days but I’m guessing she’ll be needing the money, so she’ll back again. Not the same place, granted, but she’ll more than likely be operating in at least half a dozen places on the network. She’ll turn up.”

Scarlett picked her mug back up, rolling it backwards and forwards in her hands. She stared at the remaining lukewarm contents. “I’m gutted! So near and yet so far.”

Alex reached across and touched the back of her hand. “No point beating yourself up over it.” On a lighter note, he added, “Anyway, what’s to say she’ll not come back there again? If she has recognised you then maybe she wants to be found.”

Scarlett lifted her eyes and met Alex’s stare. “Somehow I don’t think so. She’s still a suspect in my dad’s killing, remember.”

“You don’t think that though?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not what
I
think though is it? It’s what others believe. It still niggles away at me: if she is innocent, why hasn’t she come forward?”

“Could be lots of reasons. From what you’ve told me about their killings only your sister knows why that is. You know your sister best though.”

“I thought I did. I used to when she was younger. But then I’d listen to Mum on the phone, when I was at university, getting upset when she told me the things she’d been up to.”

Alex scraped his chair back. “Well, nothing we can do now. The main thing is we’ve found her.”

“Someone we think is her.”

“Well, we don’t give up because of this. When I get back next weekend we’ll have a day out and run around the Underground. What do you say?”

Scarlett returned a meek smile. “That’ll be good.”

He pushed himself up and nodded down at the mug she was holding. “Well that coffee looks as though it’s cold. What you say I take you for a real drink? And then we’ll go for some food. I know a great Indian.”

Scarlett examined the contents of her mug and briskly set it down. “Let’s have that drink first and take it from there.”

Scarlett awoke with a start to the ringtone of her BlackBerry berating her ears. She rolled over and threw out a hand, scratching around in the darkness to search it out on the bedside cabinet. Within seconds she had clamped her fingers around it, lighting up the screen.

Pushing herself up in bed, simultaneously hitting the answer button, she said gruffly, “Hello, DS Macey.” She swallowed hard. Her mouth felt as if it was lined with cotton wool. The events of last night flashed into her thoughts. She knew in the taxi on the way home that she shouldn’t have drunk those two large glasses of wine after the curry, especially after the two pints of lager.

Why do you do this to yourself, Scarlett?

“Scarlett, time to drag that backside of yours out of that nice warm bed.”

The voice of Detective Chief Inspector Diane Harris brought her thoughts back.

“Boss?”

“Didn’t I promise you would get the next murder?”

“You did, yes.”

“Well right now I’m on the banks of the Thames with a body that’s got your name written all over it and I’d like you to join me.” There was a slight pause before the DCI added, “And that’s not an invitation by the way, that’s an order.”

Breaking into a smile, Scarlett threw back the duvet and swung a leg out of bed. “Where do I need to be?”

“I’m in your neck of the woods. Down near Glover’s Island. You know it?”

“Roughly. It’s a long time since I’ve been around there. Where do I need to be exactly?”

“I’m sending you a text with the location. Oh, and Scarlett…”

“Yes, boss?”

“I’d get wrapped up if I was you, it’s enough to freeze your tits off down here. And bring some wellies – I’m up to my ankles in mud.”

****

Twenty minutes later Scarlett was locking the front door of her home feeling distinctly excited. She’d been waiting to take the lead on a murder enquiry for months.

Zipping up her leathers, she roamed her eyes along the tree-lined road, taking in the early morning peacefulness as well as the weather pervading the surroundings. It was damp and drizzly, and icy cold, and the last thing she wanted to do was take out her bike, but it would be easier and quicker to go direct to the scene, rather than go to the station to pick up a pool car. So for the first time she had sought out the black sports bag she had stored under the stairs. In it was everything she required for attending a crime scene. She had put it together following her last appraisal with the DCI, after being told that as part of her development the next murder was hers. As she strapped it to the back of her Triumph she was already running through in her head the list of priorities from her Professional Investigation Programme training.

Within ten minutes of leaving home Scarlett was nearing the rendezvous point, buzzing with adrenaline. Approaching a hazardous bend she spotted a liveried police car, off road, blocking the entrance to River Lane, and easing back on the throttle and gearing down she turned off the wet metalled highway, mounted the footpath to get around the unmanned patrol car, and edged onto the minor road leading down to the banks of the River Thames. She caught sight of a uniformed officer in a high-visibility jacket, hands in his pockets, directly in front of a line of blue-and-white crime scene tape fixed across the road. She squeezed on the brakes and coasted towards him.

Parking the Triumph she removed her helmet, placed it on the seat, and stepping towards the officer, who she didn’t recognise, lowered the zip of her leathers and pulled out the lanyard securing her ID.

“DS Macey,” she announced flashing her card.

Snapping his hands out of his pockets he pulled out a clipboard tucked beneath an armpit and wrote down her name in his scene visitors log. Then, with his pen, he pointed the way down the street.

“My colleague PC Devlin’s down near the bottom of the lane with the witness who found the body,” the officer said, adding, “She’ll direct you. Can you keep to the left-hand footpath, Serge? That’s the established route to the scene and it keeps you away from some tyre tracks halfway down that they want to keep preserved. Could belong to the suspect’s car. You can’t miss them, there are some cones protecting them.”

Scarlett couldn’t see beyond twenty metres, everywhere was enveloped in a fine damp haze, reminiscent of a sea fret. She asked, “Who’s here already?”

The officer glanced at his log and then returned his gaze. “A DCI Harris, a CSI supervisor called Gregory, my sergeant and PC Devlin. I’ve heard on the radio that they’re requesting the Marine Search Unit, Forensics and the pathologist. Oh, and the helicopter will be up once this weather’s cleared.”

Acknowledging his reply with a nod she returned to her bike and took out her forensic protection suit from her holdall. Putting on the white all-in-one was a real struggle. It was a tight squeeze and awkward because of the resistance in her leathers but after several minutes she managed to pull it on. Then, red-faced and puffing loudly, she picked out two pairs of disposable gloves and a face mask and began making her way along the narrow pavement, keeping as close to the various boundary walls as possible. She remembered from her previous jogs around this area that the first section of the side road was residential, containing a small number of exclusive and expensive homes within sumptuous grounds surrounded by high walls. Some of the walls she passed were well over ten feet tall so she couldn’t see beyond. However, passing a couple of the ornate metal gates securing their entranceway she took the opportunity to take a look along the driveways, scouring the frontage of the houses to determine if any of them had CCTV. She identified two homes with their own personal system and made a mental note for later. A hundred yards down she came across the cones the officer had referred to, on the opposite side of the narrow road next to some wooden fencing. She paused to check out the tyres tracks. They were at the very edge, where it abutted a grass verge, and it looked as if whatever vehicle had made them had done so avoiding a good-sized pothole. She could see that a lot of the lane’s stone chippings had been churned up and the soil beneath had a series of deep ruts gouged into it. The marks looked to be reasonably fresh and the rain had not disturbed them. The forensic team would be able to get a good cast made of the tracks so as to identify the make, model and size of the tyre. If they did belong to the suspect’s car then it was a good start.

Another twenty metres down and the lane’s geography changed. Opposite was a hedgerow of trees and beyond that a huge field. She knew this to be Petersham Meadows; she’d jogged past it enough times along the riverside towpath. To her left was the beginning of a copse which, in spite of its lack of leaf cover, she had difficulty penetrating because of the fine mist shrouding everything. Drifting between the skeletal trees it gave the wood an ethereal appearance.

Another fifty metres along Scarlett finally began to pick out signs of life. First, as silhouettes, but a couple of steps further and the shapes became more distinct. She picked out a female officer in a fluorescent jacket standing beside a police-liveried Volvo – PC Devlin, she said to herself. She had the passenger door partially open and was using it as support while looking inside the car. She lifted her head as Scarlett approached.

Scarlett announced herself.

“Morning, Serge,” replied the officer, stepping back, straightening and almost coming to attention.

Scarlett took a good look at her. Once again the officer wasn’t a familiar face. Fresh-faced PC Devlin, who Scarlett deemed to be in her early twenties, was shivering and did not seem too impressed to be here. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sorrow for the officer. Scarlett remembered the numerous times, during her uniform days, when she had been given the job of guarding a crime scene and knew what it felt like.

Scarlett shot her a friendly smile and flicked her head back up the lane. “Your colleague said you were down here with the person who found the body?”

The PC sprung the passenger door fully open, giving Scarlett a clear view inside. She got a glimpse of a man wearing a heavy-duty waterproof and khaki-coloured woollen hat. He swung out his legs and poked out his head. His clean-shaven face was drained of colour and displayed a stunned look.

“I still can’t believe it. I never expected to find that this morning, I can tell you. It was a real shocker!” His accent was broad East London.

Scarlett stepped toward the police car. The man started to haul himself out from the passenger seat. Raising her hand Scarlett brokered for him to remain, and he returned to his sitting position, though he left his legs planted outside the car as he faced her.

Scarlett said, “Morning, I’m Detective Sergeant Macey. You are?”

“Linane. Michael Linane.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened Michael?”

Pursing his lips he shook his head. “I’ll never forget this, you know. Until my dying day, I tell you. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

Scarlett was still unaware of the circumstances of how the body had been discovered, and though she knew it was somewhere inside the thicket behind her, and had been found close to this section of the Thames, that was the fullness of her knowledge. She remembered her cognitive training; she needed to lead this crucial witness with open questions. “I can see this has been a bit of a shock for you, so just tell me in your own time what happened.”

He took a deep breath. “Well, I was on my usual walk this morning. Set off from home, like I normally do, round about quarter to seven. Came up the trail past Buccleuch Gardens.” He thumbed backwards indicating the wide expanse of fields. “Then I crossed over here and went into those woods.” He gestured beyond Scarlett. “You’ve seen what the weather’s like. It was thicker than this an hour and a bit ago and I was keeping my eye out for Jackie, who’d run off. I was wondering where she’d got to.”

Scarlett arched her eyebrows. “Jackie?”

The man dipped his head.

Scarlett followed his line of sight and in the footwell of the car she saw a black and brown Jack Russell terrier looking up at her with wide-open brown eyes. She re-engaged with the man and gave him a nod of clarification.

“I spotted her fussing round this tree on the banking. I thought she’d found a rabbit hole or something like that, and walked past her at first, but when she wouldn’t come when I called I went back to have a look at what she was fussing at. That’s when I saw this suitcase just below the banking. It was a big thing and I could see it had got itself wedged in the roots of the tree. I mean, you do see a few things floating in the river. Once found a couple of cats in a bin liner that some bugger had drowned.” He paused and shook his head before continuing. “But I’ve never seen a suitcase before. I thought it was a bit suspicious. Wondered if might be full of stolen goods, from a burglary or something like that, know what I mean?”

Scarlett nodded.

“Anyway, I decided to pull it out and take a look.” He took another deep breath. “If I’d have known what I was going to find I wouldn’t have done, I can tell you. Especially as it took me a fair while to lug it up. It weighed a ton.”

Scarlett wanted him to move on. “But you managed to get it out?”

“Yes, eventually. Dragged it up the banking. I could see it was in fairly good nick, to say it had been in the Thames. I also saw it wasn’t locked and so I opened it up.” He visibly shuddered. “There was all this plastic wrapping inside. I pulled a bit of it back and that’s when I saw there was a body in there. Didn’t half make me jump back, I can tell you! I only saw part of it, but it looked to be naked. I tell you I’ve never seen anything like it before. Proper shocked, I was. I didn’t even look to see if it was a man or a woman. As soon as I saw what it was I rung the police.”

Scarlett reached in and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing, Mr Linane. Now I can see this has been pretty traumatic for you, but I need you to hang around for just a while longer. I’m going to arrange for someone to take you to the police station, where we’ll get a statement from you.” Then, switching her gaze, she made eye contact with the policewoman. “Now, I need to take a look at what we’ve got and make contact with my DCI.”

The PC extended an outstretched arm toward the coppice. “They’re about fifty yards in, Serge. We’ve set up an inner cordon around it. And, there’s a line of tape to lead you in. Just keep to the side of the main path.”

Scarlett nodded a thank you and set off into the mist-shrouded belt of trees.