DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists Page 2

“Murdered, then,” Rocco interrupted.

  Ruth frowned at him. “Very much so. Dr Barrington will do the PM this morning.”

  “Do we have an ID?” Alice asked.

  “Not yet, Alice. There was nothing left with her that might help. Unless CSI find something, all I know is what I saw. A young woman, long dark hair, skinny, and very dead.”

  “Dumped, then,” Rocco said.

  “Dumped suggests it was done quickly. Whoever put her there wasn’t in any hurry. It must have been hard to get her up that high. The CSI officers will do a thorough search. If the killer left anything behind, they’ll find it. The post-mortem will be a tough one. The wound I saw, the nails driven through the hands and feet, suggest she didn’t have an easy death. Dr Barrington will have some harrowing details for us.” She looked at Rocco. “You can come with me.”

  The office door opened. “DI Calladine will not be in for a day or two,” announced DCI Birch. “He’s ill. Can you manage?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure we’ll cope for a couple of days while he’s off. I’m just briefing the team on the Brookside Road murder.” Ruth smiled at her.

  “Okay, but remember, in Calladine’s absence I’m available to help. Though I do have several meetings arranged for this week. One of them is an event in Oldston that’ll take a full day. I’ll brief DI Long, and DS Thorpe can give you a hand if necessary. They have nothing much on at the moment. I read the initial report. It’s a bad one. You must ask for help if you get nowhere within the next twenty-four hours.” Birch turned and left.

  “What’s up with him?” Ruth asked.

  “He had a nasty rash all down one side of his face,” Joyce said. “Shingles, according to the DCI. It came up suddenly yesterday afternoon. He looked a right mess, so she sent him home. I’m surprised he didn’t ring you.”

  So was Ruth. He was her DI, but they were close friends too. He could have let her know. “Sent home by the boss. I bet he loved that. I’m sorry for him, really I am, but he’s landed us with Long. And even worse, Thorpe.” She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s a big ask, but let’s try and sort this one quickly if we can. It’ll save us a load of hassle.”

  They all nodded. None of them relished the prospect of having Long and Thorpe in their midst.

  “And if we can’t, let’s hope the boss gets back quickly,” Rocco added.

  “Has your little Harry had chickenpox?” Joyce asked.

  Ruth shook her head. “He’s had nothing much. A few sniffles so far, that’s all.”

  “In that case I’d keep him away from the boss. I’ve an idea you can catch one from the other,” Joyce said.

  “Come to think about it, I’ve never had chickenpox myself. That means I’d better give him a miss too. If I get it, Harry’s bound to pick it up.”

  Rocco was grinning. “He won’t like missing this. Juicy murder, unknown female. Just the sort of stuff we can really get stuck into.”

  “It’s not a game, Rocco,” Ruth said sharply. Rocco hadn’t attended the crime scene. Well, she had, and it would be a while before she got the image out of her head. “The poor woman is dead. Killed horribly. Her family and friends’ll be missing her. They need to know what happened. We need an ID on her as soon as. That can be your job, Alice. Trawl through missing persons. See what turns up.”

  “You think she was local?” Alice asked.

  Ruth shrugged. “Who knows? With luck, Dr Barrington will give us something we can work with. If she does, I’ll let you know straight away. In the meantime, see what you can find, Alice. You’re good at that stuff.”

  Indeed, she was. Alice Bolshaw had helped them with a case long before she became a detective. She was meticulous and seemed to enjoy the small details of an investigation. When she’d first joined them, Alice had been a geeky student, far too serious for one so young. These days she was more relaxed, but she still applied the same rigour to her work. Alice had even taken it upon herself to look back at past cases the various units at the station had dealt with. Ruth was aware that she’d asked to see Calladine about a couple of them.

  “Will you speak to the boss later?” Rocco asked.

  “I’ll ring him. See how he is. Let him know we’re coping.”

  “He’ll want to know about the new case,” Rocco said.

  Ruth smiled. “And I’ll tell him. But it won’t hurt him to wait a few hours.”

  Chapter 3

  “How many times have we stood here?” Ruth said.

  She and Rocco were on the low parapet overlooking the business end of the post-mortem room.

  “Too many times.” Rocco nodded at the body Natasha Barrington’s assistant had just uncovered. “And it doesn’t get any easier. Look at her. That is some mess. Who does that to another human being?”

  “A monster, DC Rockliffe,” Natasha called up. “So we’d better get our heads together and catch him soon.”

  The sight of the body was getting to Ruth, but the smell was not too bad. “Why is decomposition not more advanced?”

  “It’s been a cold winter,” Natasha said. “That old church has no heating and part of it’s open to the elements. There’ll have been times when the body literally froze. Two weeks ago, for example. One night it was six below.”

  “Lucky for us,” Rocco whispered. “It could help with identification.”

  Natasha indicated to various places on the body. “It was murder. Pretty obvious, I suppose. She suffered a blow to the head, something wooden. There are tiny splinters in the wound.”

  “Like a baseball bat?” Rocco asked.

  “No, something smaller. But it had a smooth edge. The blow left a nasty cut and a large bruise, but it didn’t fracture her skull. It bled into her hair, but that wasn’t what killed her. Her throat was slit, from ear to ear. However, prior to that the killer inflicted a number of other wounds. He then nailed her by the hands and feet to the beam in the church. The wounds bled. CSI are checking the beam for blood.”

  “You think that’s where he killed her?” Ruth asked.

  “Forensic analysis of the area will tell us for sure, but I would say so. He also branded her. See the mark across her midriff? It looks like a sideways on letter ‘T.’ Natasha paused, her mouth a thin line. “You’ve got a bad one here. He spared her nothing. Apart from the head wound and the burn, there are numerous puncture wounds in the flesh of her arms and legs. There wasn’t much meat on her. It’s hard to tell because of the state of the body, but she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight. She’d have been semi-conscious, unable to defend herself. It would have made his task simple.” Natasha stepped back for a moment. “We’ll do all the usual tests. See if she was drugged. I hope for her sake, she was.”

  Ruth watched Natasha make the necessary incisions preparatory to opening the body. She felt sick.

  “The contents have deteriorated, but there is undigested meat in her stomach, cut into small chunks. Stew perhaps?”

  The poor woman had eaten just before meeting her killer. “DNA?” Ruth asked.

  “There’s a good chance,” Natasha said.

  “We are hoping to get an identity pretty quick,” Ruth was looking away, “but we need a lead on her killer.”

  “CSI are still going over the site where she was found. But I’m told that that old church is in a helluva mess. They might find the tools the killer used — discarded nails, the wooden implement used to cosh her over the head. But the search will take time.”

  Ruth felt lightheaded, and took several deep breaths. This was far worse than she’d thought. They were up against a monster. She tried to imagine the pain this woman must have felt. What must have gone through her mind during the ghastly experience? The plight of this young woman moved her deeply. Ruth was a professional, used to death, but now she was close to tears.

  Natasha was speaking again. “It’s difficult to tell exactly what she would have looked like. Her mouth has been mutilated. There are teeth missing. Her tongue and the area at the back of her thro
at have been burnt too, perhaps an attempt to hamper identification via dental records. But she had long dark hair, if that helps.”

  They watched while Natasha examined the hair more closely. “It was cut recently, but not very well. The ends are uneven. Still, the local hairdressers may give you something.”

  “Can you give us anything to help identify her?” Ruth asked.

  Natasha looked doubtful. “I’ll do my best, but it won’t be easy. She was found naked, and there’s no jewellery or handbag. I’ll put photos on the system. What I can do is get one of our forensic artists to do a mock-up of what her face might have looked like. And we’ll do further tests. Provided it’s on record, the DNA will give you her name. Failing that, I’ll try fingerprints, but I can’t promise due to the extent of decomposition. I would say she’s been dead roughly three months.”

  Natasha was looking through the girl’s hair again, at the back of her scalp and neck. “There’s something here.” She picked up a magnifying glass. “She has a mark just below the nape of her neck. Her long hair covers it up, but if she wore it short, it would show. It’s a birthmark, or perhaps a tattoo, the state of the body makes it difficult to make out. I’ll have a closer look, do some tests, and let you know.”

  “Can you give us anything on her age?” Ruth asked.

  “Young. I’d say early twenties. And she’s given birth.”

  That might be useful, but it wasn’t much. A couple of crumbs to take back to the waiting flock. Ruth had been hoping for more.

  * * *

  Ruth and Rocco made their way back to the carpark in silence. Ruth was edgy. She was disappointed at the lack of any positive ID. Taking on this case in Calladine’s absence was a big deal professionally. She wanted to do well for personal reasons too. Jake Ireson, her partner, was still considering an offer he’d had from a private school in the south of England. For a teacher at a Leesworth comprehensive, it was very tempting. For starters, it meant more money and better prospects. The final decision was still to be made, but Ruth wanted to stay put. She’d made a pact with herself. If Jake agreed to stay in Leesdon, then she’d put in for DI. A big step, but it would take some of the financial pressure off Jake.

  Rocco broke the silence. “Three months dead, and a mum. It’s a start, I suppose.”

  Being the mum of a toddler herself, this worried Ruth. “Why has no one come forward, Rocco? There’s a kid out there without its mother. You’d think someone would have noticed! I for one want to know who’s caring for the child.”

  “Alice might find something. She’s good at working with the difficult stuff.”

  “How are you two doing?” Ruth asked.

  Rocco and Alice had been in a relationship for a few weeks. The team were surprised when they found out, because they had such different personalities.

  “Not that good, if I’m honest. We started off fine, but I think she’s gone off me. I ask her out and she comes up with an excuse. Well, I’m a big lad. I can take a hint.”

  “You could be misreading the signals,” Ruth said.

  He shook his head. “Don’t think so. They seem plain enough to me.”

  “Is there anyone else on the scene do you think?”

  “Who knows?” Rocco shrugged. “She’s good at keeping the personal stuff to herself, is Alice.”

  But Ruth’s mind was back on the case. “The little girl Henry held captive. She saw the body. It might be worth talking to her. Ask if she touched or saw anything. You never know.”

  Chapter 4

  Alenka Plesec froze on the spot. Danny Newton, known as ‘Newt,’ was talking to a group of kids at the entrance to Heron House, one of the tower blocks on the Hobfield estate. He was one to avoid, particularly if you owed him money. Alenka would have doubled back and hidden until he’d gone. But with a child in a pushchair, that was out of the question. Alenka’s heart sank. He’d seen her.

  “Alenka, babe! I was about to pay you a call. I’ve come to collect,” Newt said.

  Just what she didn’t want. Newt on her back. For the last couple of weeks, she’d been delivering his dodgy drugs to various customers around the estate. They paid her in cash. Cash that Alenka should have passed on to Newt. But she hadn’t done that. All the money she’d collected had gone on rent for the flat, and on stuff for her child.

  She tried to push past him. “Can’t stop. Lara needs feeding.”

  Alenka was slender, with long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Seriously underdressed for the chilly March weather, she wore a cropped top that exposed her midriff, skinny jeans slashed at the knees and a puffer jacket. Alenka was pretty, but wore too much make-up. Her eyes were ringed with dark kohl, stern beneath thick brows.

  He glared at her. “You sold the stuff. You got paid. Fair enough, to take your cut, but you owe me.” He leaned closer and grabbed hold of her arm. “People don’t cheat me, babe. It makes me angry.”

  She wasn’t strong enough to wriggle free, and it was unlikely that anyone would help her. People round here were too afraid of Newt. “I didn’t cheat you. Not on purpose. I needed that money or we’d have had nowhere to live. Give me a bit more time, Newt. I’ll find it.”

  “That was valuable gear. You collected hundreds. The money you got, I have to pass on. What do I tell the big boss now? I know what. Perhaps I should make you explain.” He laughed.

  “Please don’t do that, Newt. I’ll get it! Tell your boss I’ll pay as soon as I can.”

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You’ve given the both of us one huge problem. The boss’ll have me beaten to a pulp if I tell him this little tale. He’ll come after you too. Piss him off, like you have me, and you’re dead meat. Not sure what to tell him now. Mention your name and, kid or not, you won’t last the week.”

  “Give me a chance, Newt. Please. I have to look after Lara. I will help, I’ll find the money somehow. You can’t tell anyone what I did.”

  “Come back to work then. You’re a natural. You wander round this estate with that pram and no one takes a blind bit of notice. I’ve got some prime stuff to sell. A whole new supply. It’s cheap too. It’d get you out of trouble.”

  “Heroin?” She wasn’t going to touch that.

  “Nah. Meth, spice and other stuff. I can get an unlimited supply. We’ll clean up. No other firm’ll be able to match our prices.”

  “I don’t like having the stuff around the kid.”

  He laughed. “Do as you’re told. She’s the perfect cover. Use her. You and I both know that your little flirtation with motherhood could come unstuck at any time. Other folk might not have put it together, but I know the truth.”

  “Leave me alone! Say anything about me and I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them all about the dealing. I saw what you were doing with those kids. You were selling dope.”

  He grabbed the neck of her jacket. “Do that and you’ll suffer.”

  She stared him down. Newt had the gaunt half-starved look of an addict. His clothes were scruffy and his hair hadn’t seen a barber in years. “Just leave it be,” she said. “Don’t fuck with my life and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  “And the money?”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  “Shame, babe. You used to be such a laugh. You and Ingrid.”

  “Get lost, Newt. Leave me alone.”

  “Can’t do that. Want what’s owed. I’m not a charity, and neither is the boss Change your mind and you know where I am.”

  Alenka had been lucky to get away. Newt had a temper. But more importantly, he could get her into real trouble. He really did know the truth about her ‘flirtation with motherhood,’ as he put it. If he chose to, he could change her life drastically. Three months ago, her sister Ingrid had asked her to babysit for a couple of hours one evening while she was at work. Alenka wasn’t doing anything else, loved her little niece, and had been happy to agree. Ingrid had gone out at about seven.

  When they both moved to the estate, Ingrid had worked for Newt
too. But they’d argued and she told him she’d had enough. Ingrid had her faults, but she was ambitious and hardworking. She’d made a decision to do cleaning work while she waited for something better to turn up. She put ads in the local paper and in shop windows. That evening, she’d received a call and gone out to work.

  She’d never returned.

  The normal reaction would have been to go to the police. But Alenka had thought better of it. She didn’t want the attention. There was the business with Newt. The police would have asked questions that Alenka couldn’t answer. Besides, Alenka believed that her sister had done a runner. Ingrid hated the flat, and she hated being a mother. She’d freely admitted that baby Lara cramped her style. Ingrid was selfish. She didn’t look after Lara properly and had left her alone on numerous occasions. It salved Alenka’s conscience to believe that Ingrid had spotted her chance and grabbed it. Any other possibility she swept from her mind.

  Taking Ingrid’s place was easy. Both were young, with long dark hair. They were Slovenian, spoke alike, looked alike, and kept themselves to themselves. People in the block mostly ignored them and when they did chat, often got them mixed up. The girls were close, and they shared a flat. The result was that it had been easy for Alenka to take on Ingrid’s roles, and so far, no one had challenged her.

  Alenka did lie awake some nights wondering what had happened to her sister. She did love Ingrid. Alenka firmly believed that one day she’d come back. She’d have money and take them all away from this dump of an estate.

  It did mean that Alenka now had to care for Ingrid’s daughter, her niece. But it was no hardship. Lara was an angel, a joy to have in her life. The child was only eighteen months old and wouldn’t remember anything of this time. With Alenka looking after her, Lara was content. She thrived.

  The only person who had the power to put an end to her new life was Newt. He wasn’t stupid. Given half a chance, he would use the fact of Ingrid’s disappearance against her. Alenka’s one wish was to be rid of him.

  Chapter 5

  Tom Calladine’s eyes snapped open. Something had woken him, but it wasn’t a noise. The bedroom was as silent as the grave. It could only have been the strong sunlight streaming in through the window and striking his face.