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Chapter 17: The Body in the Yard

Tuesday, Week 2

The disused warehouse building didn’t look so intimidating in daylight, although it still reeked of old motor oil, mouldy rags and rancid milk. Sophie turned her nose up.

‘Odd. I didn’t notice the smell quite as much last night. I suppose all my other senses were more active.’

She and Marsh found David Nash in one of the offices. He’d arrived an hour earlier and was directing members of his team to different areas of the grubby building. The two detectives went outside and joined a small team of police officers who were gathering, ready for a check on the neighbouring premises. There were only six other buildings in the immediate vicinity, and they divided them between the four detectives, working in teams of two. Little came out of the visits. No one reported anything suspicious. The warehouse had been largely unoccupied in recent years, with only an occasional visit from what appeared to be a maintenance crew.

‘I want you to stay around for the rest of the day, Jimmy,’ Sophie said. ‘We’ll leave you one of the cars. Take an occasional wander and keep your eyes peeled. It’s possible that someone might come back for a look, or to get rid of that rubbish we found. Report anything suspicious back to Barry.’ She sniffed. ‘You know, that smell is worse once you get outside. Barry, could you organise that dog team to come down and have a nose around? I want that stink checked out.’

The forensic chief phoned through with an interim report during the late morning. The spilled powder was crack cocaine, most surfaces had been wiped so there were few fingerprints, and the smell was caused by a partially blocked drain.

‘It’s probably been blocked for ages, but recent use of the toilets has resulted in a backup. I don’t think there’s anything suspicious about it,’ he said.

‘That’s a nuisance. I’ve organised a dog team to check it out. Maybe I’d better cancel.’

‘It’s too late, ma’am,’ said Nash. ‘They’ve just arrived. They may as well go ahead and give the place the onceover now they’re here.’

Sophie went through to see Marsh.

‘Quick work with the dog squad, Barry. They’re at the warehouse already. But it may be a false alarm.’

She gave him Nash’s explanation for the smell.

An hour later, Melsom called.

‘Ma’am, the dog’s acting funny. There’s an enclosed patch of ground out at the back of the building. The dog’s whining and pawing at the ground. Dave Nash wants to dig. Is that okay?’

‘Of course. Tell him we’ll be over directly.’

The piece of ground was a square of compacted earth and stones. When Sophie and Marsh arrived they found that the digging had just started, with the top few inches taken off a spot in the centre.

‘It’s tamped down hard,’ Nash told them. ‘Whatever it is, it’s been there for some time, I’d guess.’

They watched two members of the team labour at shifting the heavy soil, trying to probe each layer carefully. While they were working, Sophie went over to have a word with the dog handler.

‘That’s some dog you have,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing that it could pick up scents from under such a hard-packed surface.’

‘Floyd is the only dog in the division that could have done it,’ replied the handler. ‘It’s his speciality, ma’am. The force even loans us out to other counties. There’s no other dog in the South West that can come near him.’

‘Well, if we find anything I won’t forget you both, not after finding those other bodies at the farm. We weren’t expecting them either.’

Just then one of the forensic diggers called out and they walked across. There was a small piece of bone protruding from the exposed surface. The team switched to smaller hand tools. Finally a full skeleton lay exposed.

‘What do you think, Dave?’ Sophie asked.

‘I’m no expert — you’ll need a pathologist for that. But I’ll stick my neck out and say it’s an adult male. What I can tell you is that it’s been there some time, more than just a few years. There’s no organic matter left.’

‘I’ll get Benny Goodall across.’

‘There’s no need, ma’am. We can lift it out. We’ll do it once we’ve photographed it in situ. Then we can have a look underneath for any other remnants. I’d guess that the clothes have rotted away completely, but there might be traces of one or two things left from the pockets. That’s if he was wearing any clothes when he was buried. We’ll get the body taken across to Dr Goodall’s lab directly.’

‘Okay, Dave. You’re the boss.’

‘My guess is that it’s been there for at least a decade, possibly more. That soil hasn’t been moved for a very long time. Sometimes the surface can look solid, but it’s just been tamped down. But this stuff was hard all the way down.’

‘Could it be historic and nothing to do with us?’

‘No. The dog picked up the scent, and got the exact position. It has to be thirty years or less. Whether it’s linked to your current case or not, I wouldn’t know. But my guess is between ten and thirty years. With Dr Goodall’s help we should be able to narrow that down a bit.’

Sophie nodded. She walked through the warehouse and out into the street. Was this latest discovery somehow linked to the others? It hardly seemed credible. The answer would depend on how long the premises had been owned by Midwinter Tide, whoever they were. More digging through the records would be required. She sighed. Had there ever been a time when a police officer’s job was straightforward? Probably not, despite what the television programmes of the seventies and eighties would have had us believe. She’d grown up watching them and remembered how simple everything had been. Put a bit of pressure on a few obvious suspects, get a few clues, follow a few suspicious characters and suddenly the case was solved. The reality was this sense of being almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of possibilities, each one just out of reach. Then there was the huge volume of facts, reports, statements, records, documents and assorted bits and pieces, any one of which could hold the single clue that might unlock the case. Consider the snippet that Melsom had found from the church people in Southampton. On another day, and in a different mood, she might well have turned down his request to follow up this lead.

Story of my life, she thought. A seeming breakthrough one day, then on the next something that makes the fog come down again. She looked towards the quayside, where the harbour water rippled in the chilly breeze. She knew why she was so tense. It was now only two days until her father’s funeral and the thought was making her feel nauseous. She had never told anyone about her true feelings for her father. The events of the past week had turned all her emotions upside down. She was still in shock, reeling from the realisation that all the thoughts she had had about him throughout her life had been utterly wrong. In some ways a complex case like this was the best thing that could have happened. It occupied her mind and prevented her from thinking about her father.

She heard footsteps approaching. Barry Marsh.

‘I don’t think there’s much more we can do here, ma’am. The dog seems to be happy, so it doesn’t look as though there are any more bodies. But I wonder whether there’s any scanning equipment that might confirm it for us? You know, like you see on TV programmes about the past?’

‘Bournemouth University has an archaeology department. I wonder if they could advise us. We’ll get Jimmy to contact them when we get back.’

* * *

They returned to the incident room and continued probing into the tangled world of Midwinter Tide. The company had been in existence for at least twenty years and its registered address, at the Poole warehouse, had remained unchanged during all that time.

‘Are the directors listed in the entry?’ Sophie asked.

‘Yes, there’s five. A. Hazard, E.D. Inch, E.L. Luff, R. Frimwell, B. Sourlie. No first names, just initials. The only address is the place we’ve just left. And, interestingly, that bungalow we visited at the weekend is mentioned in one of the records I found. So do we start looking at these other names?’ Marsh said.

‘Yes. More time in front of those blessed computers. Get Lydia onto it as soon as she’s tied up all the boat stuff. Does that company registration say anything about what the company does?’

‘Nothing useful. It just states “General Trading.” Not giving anything away, are they?’

Pillay joined them. ‘The boat isn’t in the harbour, ma’am. The harbour police and the marine unit have been out searching all morning. They think they’ve covered all the marinas and jetties. Either it’s been hidden in a boathouse somewhere or they’ve moved it completely. Shall I contact the other harbours along the coast just in case they’ve moved it further afield?’

‘Yes, do that, Lydia. Have any names turned up yet?’

‘Just the company. It’s registered to them, but there is a signature on one of the VHS radio forms. It’s just a scrawl and difficult to make out.’

‘Take a look at these names. Could it be any of them?’

Pillay looked from the names to the form in her hand.

‘It could be that last one, B. Sourlie. It’s the closest, but it’s hard to be sure.’

The other two detectives came in. Sophie sat staring at the list of names. There was something odd about them. They already knew the name Frimwell, and now Sourlie seemed to match the record that Pillay had found. She looked at the other names, and suddenly it struck her. It couldn’t be. Jesus. Surely it couldn’t just be coincidence? She made herself a coffee and walked through the incident room to the office where Matt Silver sat.

‘Look at this, Matt.’

She handed him the list.

‘So how does this help?’ said Silver.

‘Take out the names Frimwell and Sourlie. They’ve cropped up elsewhere, so we know they exist. Look at what’s left.’

He stared at the list.

‘What am I looking for?’

‘Anagrams, Matt. The first three names, A. Hazard, E.D. Inch, E.L. Luff, form an anagram of the words Hazel and Charlie Duff.’

‘Surely that’s coincidence?’

‘No. And do you know what? I’ve spoken to the bastard without realising it. Barry and I went to visit Frimwell’s house on Sunday and chatted to the neighbour. He told us his surname was Black, but I thought he was uneasy when he said it. He’s a widower. He also said his wife’s name was Hazel. The name of their house was Chez Lahar Lei. That’s an anagram of Hazel and Charlie. I noticed it as we drove away. This fits in. Someone, and I’d guess it was the dead wife Hazel, liked anagrams. She was probably a crossword addict.’

‘Do we go across to pay him a visit?’

‘No. Let’s just keep a watch on the place for the time being. This can’t count as substantive evidence, can it? I don’t want to alert him by calling again. As far as he’s aware, we only know about Frimwell. Let’s keep him in the dark but watch his movements. By the way, Matt, has there been any luck with the search for street girls from Romania?’

‘We’ve got teams out in Bournemouth, Poole, Weymouth and Dorchester. I’ve asked our colleagues in Hampshire for their help. Southampton and Portsmouth are much bigger markets, so it’s more likely they will have ended up there. That’s if they haven’t moved them further afield to the Midlands or the north. I’d guess that most of the trafficking for the whole country comes in through the South Coast ports and then the women are distributed around some kind of network.’

‘It’s appalling, isn’t it? What you’ve just said describes these women as goods for consumption in the market, not human beings with lives to fulfil.’

‘I know. But that’s the reality of how they’re treated by the men who run them. A commodity, just like any other. It’s a dreadful truth, Sophie.’

‘From what Nadia said, the gang appears to start with a softening up process in which the women are beaten, raped and intimidated. It’s likely to be carefully planned, even though it might not appear so to the girls on the receiving end. How long do you think this stage might last, before they’re shipped onwards to start work?’

Silver drummed his fingers as he thought. ‘The drugs would make them more acquiescent. So my guess is a couple of weeks. Maybe three at the most. It wouldn’t be too long because while they’re not working, they’re not earning. And it’s the money that drives it all. It’s lucrative once they start working, once they’re out on the streets, but before then they’re using up money rather than making it.’

‘So we need to trace the batch Nadia was in by the middle of next week? I’m assuming they’ll have been delayed a bit because of the moves.’

He looked at her. ‘Do you realise that you used the word “batch” just then? But your logic is right. We probably have a few more days at most. They won’t be working a five day week.’

Sophie stiffened. ‘Nadia has her heart set on us finding the youngest one, Sorina. Let’s focus on her, Matt, if you think I’m in danger of not seeing them as individuals. She’s sixteen. She’s slightly built and looks younger than her years. How do you think she must be feeling right now? Terrified, weak, exhausted, sick to the heart? Again, I’m only guessing, Matt. It’s so far outside my experience. But she’s there in my heart, in my mind and in my soul. She isn’t just another item on a list for me!’

‘Sophie, I know that. I didn’t mean my comment in the way you’ve taken it . . .’ Silver’s reply was too late. The door had already slammed shut behind her.