Consequences (12 page)

‘Everyone okay?’ Dylan asked, sensing in the air, quiet initial shock of seeing carnage.

‘Well let’s just say, it’s enough to put me off barbeques this summer, boss,’ Vicky said, glancing back at Tracy who was grey, and held a hand to her mouth. Dylan could feel their reluctance to approach the body, and wondered if she was already regretting her attachment to CID?

The smell of petrol seemed to be diminishing, but the aroma of burnt flesh hung heavy. SOCO supervisor Phil Turnbull arrived. It was apparent to Dylan that he needed a specialist from the forensic laboratory to attend too. He would have to remind them to use specialist bags, so the inflammable liquids didn’t evaporate. He wanted to know, if it was petrol, what type? Where had it been bought; a nearby garage possibly? Would there be CCTV there? A ‘to do list’ ran through his head.

The barking and rocking of the police dog in the van that had pulled up on the car park, told Dylan that Trojan was ready and eager to start the sweep search.

‘Trevor, can you look for a trail that suggests whether anyone has been through here earlier today, please,’ Dylan asked the police dog handler. A few minutes later, Trojan pulled Trevor unceremoniously into the woods, by what Dylan could only describe as a tow-rope thrown over Trevor’s shoulder and around his waist. Dylan thought it was a bit like the anchorman in a tug of war being dragged along.

Thinking aloud and giving instructions to John, Dylan reeled off his thoughts.

‘We’ll need aerial photographs of the area if we ‘haven’t already got them on the database; a search team for the area once the body is moved, and we’ll have to consider how we lift the shell of the vehicle.’ Dylan shook his head. Everything was as black as a silhouette. There were no tyres left on the car. The body was melted to the tarmac. Was it a man or a woman, he pondered? There were no visible clues. The remnants of a suitcase could be made out nearby but it was mostly ash. Dylan needed an investigation team. What sort of car was it? The fire had been so fierce it had mangled it so badly, that at the moment it didn’t give any clues away. Once forensics arrived he knew they would take a closer look. His priority was to identify the deceased, the vehicle and what had taken place. Experience told him he had a murder on his hands not a suicide, and it wouldn’t be long before the press descended.

‘Get me a better cordon around the immediate vicinity of the park to stop all access. We need to keep this crime scene as sterile as possible,’ he told John.

Waiting for his instructions to be acted upon, he texted Jen, ‘
How you doing, love?’

‘Speaking to ‘Traffic’ at the moment. They’re hoping I got a current number plate.’

‘Good. Sorry I had to dash, picked up a murder in St Peter’s Park x I’ll speak when I can x’

Jen sighed and got back to the job in hand. To Jack, her car accident was trivial and she knew it, but so soon after her mum’s accident, it would have been nice for him to look out for her, just this once. Tears streamed down her face. Oh, God what did she sound like? He’d have a fit if he thought she was so dependent. She was acting so irrational. What on earth was the matter with her?

‘What colour was the car, if you don’t know what make it was?’ asked the young, impatient, PC Dale. Jen thought hard; she’d never been a witness before. ‘ Red...I think.’

PC Dale sighed audibly. She was just beginning to realise how difficult it was for those witnesses that she typed statements for nearly every day of her working life. How could they be so sure of their evidence they signed, to say was a true account of what they saw?

Dylan put his mobile back in his pocket as he walked round the scene. Somebody wanted rid of the evidence and they’d made a bloody good job of it. He scratched his chin. The obvious signs told him that this was going to be a ‘runner’: there would be no quick solution to this one.

Jacob Rhodes from the Forensics Laboratory was called in for his expertise in arson cases.

‘Should I arrange for the hot flasks, sir?’ Tracy interrupted Dylan’s thoughts.

‘Yeah, please. John, can you make sure Control is keeping a log of the attendees at the scene, etcetera.’ John told Dylan that the pathologist had been contacted, and would be attending at the mortuary.

‘Do you think it looks like rain, Vicky?’ Dylan asked looking towards the sky.

‘How would I know? I ain’t one of those glam weather girls. Even though I might look like one.’ Vicky posed. Dylan frowned.

‘I’ll organise an inflatable tent, just in case it rains,’ she sighed.

‘You’ve too much front for a weather girl, Vicky.’ Dylan called, as she walked away from him.

She stopped and turned. ‘Somewhere for you to shelter under if it does rain though, eh?’ she laughed. ‘Good job Finchy isn’t here, eh?’ she said.

Dylan tutted and smiled as he turned to John, ‘We’ll make the most of the time whilst we’re waiting for Jacob. All CCTV in the area will need seizing, or have I already mentioned that?’ He didn’t wait for a reply. ’We need to organise a HOLMES incident room as well as the investigation team.’ John nodded as he scribed away in his notebook.

‘Boss,’ Trevor shouted. ‘Trojan has followed something on the footpath that leads up from the woods to the main road. There are possible recent footprints in the mud.’

‘John, estimated time of arrival for the Police Support Unit please? I need them to prioritise searching that route.’ He shouted, as he ran towards Trevor.

‘On their way, sir, fifteen minutes max I’m being told.’ John called back.

‘It could be nothing...just a dog walker,’ Trevor deliberated. But anyone who knew Dylan knew that he left nothing to chance, he’d have it photographed for the pattern and size but a plaster cast would give him a three- dimensional impression.

Wheels in motion, Dylan studied the body once more. What would the small, perhaps female skeleton tell them? The open jaw showed fear, he was sure of that but it was so charred and burnt. The blaze had been intense there was no doubt. Was the person in the car when it ignited?

For a moment the skeletal hand, seemed to reach out to him. Fingers splayed, quite a reasonable sliver of flesh hung from one. Was there enough for DNA or a fingerprint? Was he losing it? Dylan stared unblinking as he stepped back, soaking up the image and considering the possible motives. Upset lover? Revenge? What was the body doing here? What did he tell others to do? Find out who the victim is...find out how they lived that way you’ll find out how they died.

‘Tent’s on its way, Boss.’ Vicky called. ‘You’ll be glad it’s self- erecting,’ she said. ’Did I tell you I once went out with a guy who…’ Seeing Tracy’s face, she shook her head, deciding not to continue. Tracy dropped the flask and bent down to pick it up.

‘It didn’t last long...and neither did he,’ she contemplated sadly.

‘An inflatable I think you mean Vicky,’ Dylan chuckled.

‘Yeah he’d one of them as well I think,’ she answered back.

Jacob Rhodes wore slim, black, designer spectacles, which made him look sincere and intelligent. He greeted Dylan and John as he eagerly took his protective suit from the back of his dark blue Range Rover. It was obvious by his manner he was keen to get started.

‘I’ll need copies of any photos as exhibits for disclosure,’ Dylan told him.

‘No problem Jack, both Phil and I will take samples and I’ll get copies of them for you from the memory card.’ Dylan watched them as they quietly busied themselves, sifting carefully and meticulously over the scene.

‘I’ve asked for a low loader to collect the vehicle shell and take it up to the forensics lab, but I’d be grateful if you could try and identify a chassis or engine number before they take it,’ Dylan said, leaning over the men.

Jacob didn’t raise his head or make any comment.

‘Anything? Anything would be welcome. That’d give us a head start.’

‘We’ll do our best and it’ll be priority at the lab. We’ll bag the remains of the suitcase and take it back with us once we’ve finished with the car. My first impressions  though...,’ said Phil Turnbull reaching out to poke the ash, ’...are that the contents of the suitcase were paper, not clothes, this certainly wasn’t an accident or suicide.’

Dylan stood staring at the burnt remains, wondering what Tracy was thinking. He remembered one of the first bodies he’d been called out to, which just happened to be on the fourth floor of a hotel. A suicide note had been left at the scene. He’d offered to help the elderly undertaker place the body into the body bag and together they’d precariously carried it from the bedroom to the lift. Dylan had only then realised just how heavy dead bodies were. The dead man was around 6ft 10 in tall and they had struggled repeatedly to squeeze the man’s stiff frame inside, so that the lift doors would close. The undertaker of some years experience came to Dylan’s aid, as he showed him how the body would fit in diagonally. Doors closed at the last ping of the lift, and signalled that they had arrived at their elected floor. Last in, and without further ado, when the doors opened Dylan proceeded to walk backwards out of the lift, straight into a wedding reception. Red-faced, he’d realised they were on the wrong floor. Fortunately, the body went quickly into the lift that time. Looking back, to observers it must have looked like a farce out of a silent movie. He chuckled to himself; it had caused a few laughs back at the nick but at the time he’d been horrified.

Jacob stood up from his hunched position to face Dylan. ‘It’s the remains of a female and she was outside the car when she was set alight...no question. I’ve moved the body slightly and look,’ he pointed, ‘there’s a white patch unsoiled beneath. I should be able to identify the accelerant no problem. It’s most likely petrol, but I’m certain of one thing; the car, suitcase and body were all heavily doused in it. I might get you the type of petrol, too.’

‘That would be great,’ Dylan said, as he walked with Jacob to where John was talking to Vicky and Tracy.’ Then we might be able to locate where it was bought.’

‘Sir, best I can do I think is a partial finger-print from flesh on the finger of the right hand,’ said Phil.

‘Bugger.’ said Dylan, scowling.

‘Low loader confirmed boss and en-route. Tracy will help with the packaging of all the other exhibits, boss.’ John said, as he approached the men. ’I’ve elected Vicky as the Exhibits Officer.’

Dylan was pleased that John felt confident enough to act on his own initiative. He’d listened to what Dylan had said and got on with the job in hand. Dylan felt sure he was going to like working with his new team.

All the photographs and samples had been taken, and the removal of the body to the mortuary was next on Dylan’s agenda.

‘Sorry Dylan, I’m not able to find an engine or chassis number for you here but I’ll be able to examine it more thoroughly back at the lab,’ said Jacob.

Everyone held their breath at the lifting of the fragile skeletal remains. There was flesh under the body and a clump of hair at the base of the skull. Because it was stuck to the tarmac, it needed John, Dylan and the undertakers to release it.

‘You wouldn’t have thought a skeleton would be so heavy, would you?’ John groaned, as he struggled to help lift the charred remains. Dylan smiled knowingly.

The Operational Support Unit transit van driver waved to Dylan as the  Operational Support Search Team arrived in the car park, just as he was about to leave.

‘Can you believe we’ve been at the scene for three hours?’ said John.

‘It’s not something that can be rushed is it? And let’s face it, the body’s not going anywhere is it, so the investigation might as well be as thorough as possible,’ Dylan said as he made his way to speak to the sergeant in charge of the team.

‘Search the route first taken by the dog handler before you start the fingertip search of the car park, will you, and make sure the area remains sealed to the public.’

‘Will do, sir,’ replied the OSU Commander who, in Dylan’s absence, was now in charge of the scene.

‘Tracy, you go with Vicky to the mortuary in the CID car and follow the hearse for continuity. Phil Turnbull is already en route and one of his colleagues from SOCO will join us there.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Vicky and Tracy replied together. Dylan smiled as the ladies walked away, chatting amiably.

‘I don’t know about you John but I’m bloody starving. It’ll be an hour or so before the pathologist arrives at the mortuary, so if you want to go back with Vicky and Tracy for some food and bring me a sandwich back to the mortuary, I don’t mind. I’ll see you there, eh?’ Dylan said, as he opened his car door.

‘You sure?’

‘I’m certain. Jen is bound to have slipped some snap in my briefcase to put me on until my dinner tonight, if I know her. It’ll give me chance to write up the Policy Book.’

‘Okay, boss. See you at the PM,’ John said as he raised his hand to catch the girls’ attention.

Dylan watched from his car, at what looked like a vacant hearse being driven away by the undertaker. The CID car containing John, Vicky and Tracy was close behind. He had never known before joining the police, that in the rear of the hearse, underneath the platform where the coffin rested, there was a void where bodies in body bags were transported, out of the view of the public. Although some funeral directors had started to use black transit vans, which these days were more economical.

PC Dale had very kindly taped up the remaining arm of Jen’s car wing mirror but had kept the rest of the debris for evidence. Alone now at home, she cried. Why? Goodness knew. She was safe. The police were doing what they could to find the person responsible, and with the statement, identification and number plate she had given them, they had a good chance. So what the hell was up with her? Max sat beside her, resting his head on her lap, and she looked into his deep brown eyes as she stroked his head and he leaned his body heavily against her leg. Jen had watched Max grow up and grow wise, and she felt that he knew at that moment what was in her heart: she needed Jack, just a brief cuddle would do.