Doors Without Numbers (7 page)

“You need to get back to station quickly. Detective Superintendant Beech wants you to make a public appeal.” Hammond swore under his breath and disconnected the call.

“
The world is an unrelated mass of impressions.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

It was with part fear, part annoyance that Hammond stood amidst the flashing cameras and inquisitive reporters feeling as if he had been thrown into the deep end without a float. He had expected Beech to join them but had been told that his Superintendant was otherwise occupied leaving him with no choice but to answer the repeated questions himself. A press release had been issued but it did little in giving any more detail than what the reporters already knew. An unidentified Caucasian male of medium build in his late fifties had been found dead in woodlands near Hythe. There was nothing much more to tell at this time, Hammond stated.

“This is a pretty weak statement, is there any more information you can give us to work on?” The question was thrown from the back of the room; Hammond squinted whilst attempting to address the questioner personally. He recognised the female reporter from the Kentish Gazette Newspaper.

“We are unable to give you any more information at this time but we appeal to anyone who may help us to identify the man. If anyone saw a male of this description either travelling or walking towards Saltwood woods on Sunday, or has any information which they believe can be helpful, we urge them to come forward.”

“Is the death being treated as suspicious?”

“The body has yet to be formally indentified and a post mortem will be carried out. Because of the freezing conditions in which the body was found, the results will not be known until tomorrow at the earliest. However, until we can prove otherwise, the death of the man will be treated as suspicious. Therefore any information that can help us will be appreciated.” He responded to the questions by repeating himself until the reporters admitted defeat and grumbling amongst themselves left the room. Hammond was horrified to discover he had been sweating throughout the ordeal and made a hasty exit to the bathroom.

It was past 6pm when the team gathered in the briefing room. They were waiting for him with Detective Superintendant Beech seated on a chair at the back. He made an exaggerated gesture of looking at his watch as Hammond entered the room. Hammond ignored him, hoping that his thoughts couldn’t be seen in a cartoon bubble above his head. He would surely be fired. He stood at the whiteboard looking at the projected photographs that had been taken that morning. The body had been pictured at all angles, the surrounding area had been searched and noted in several diagrams scattered on the table in the middle of the room.

Hammond took centre position in front of the team.

“We have a lead. The dog owner William Barnes has identified the dead man as being a regular visitor to Saltwood Woods. Apparently, he had an interest in the bike enthusiasts that go there. This gives us two possible scenarios, either he was an avid BMX fan, or he had an entirely different interest; that of young kids. Semen was found on the hands of our victim, which could indicate the latter scenario is the more plausible. We can’t rule out robbery as a motive since he had no wallet or identification in his pockets.” Hammond switched off the laptop’s projector and looked at the faces turned toward him, he gestured for DS Lois Dunn to come forward in response to her upraised hand. She stood confidently in front of her peers, tacking a map to the board.

“This is a map of the woods in Saltwood. I estimate it is about 40 acres. It is owned by Kent County Council and is part of the Saxon Shore Way cross country walks, therefore it is open to the public at all times. This map shows five exits. The exit we used was in Sandling Road, another is at the end of a footpath that leads to Sandling Station, another exit here in New Road, one in Rectory Lane and the North West exit by Saltwood Stables” She dragged her finger over the exits marked in red circles on the map and then pinned a photograph in the centre underneath the map.

“Here is where our body was found, in the southern parts of the woods on ground that dips down away from the path toward farmland. The nearest footpath is parallel although due to the high banks on either side of the footpath, it is not possible to see the area where the body was discovered. This particular path leads toward Sandling Road and is the route for the Boxing Day Run so it is used regularly throughout the day by runners. Directly above this path are other smaller footpaths that lead to the main bridle-path. This bridle way leads from the stables and exits at Rectory Lane adjacent to St Peter and St Paul’s Church. There are footpaths all around this area, most lead toward the bridle path. These tracks in yellow...” She was interrupted by Hammond who had stepped forward to take a closer look at the map.

“You said that there is a path directly above the runner’s route?”

Dunn hesitated, having lost her flow, then nodded and retraced her finger on the marked footpath in reply.

“Is it possible to see where the body had been hidden from this height?”

She looked at the map and then returned to table where she had been seated moments before. “I’ve got some photographs here that were taken from the higher footpath, looking down toward the site. As you can see, it is possible to see a little but vision is restricted by the trees.”

Hammond studied the photographs. “Did you go up there yourself?” He noted her negative gesture. “It may be worth going there again, try to see a different perspective of the site. You are right, it isn’t very visible from where the photograph was taken, but this photograph was taken early morning. There is a chance that later in the day when there is more daylight it is possible to see people standing near the sight. Also, we should do an audio test, check if it is possible to have heard any arguing or raised voices from both positions.” Hammond’s audience nodded in agreement. Tom Edwards wondered aloud how it had taken thirty hours before the body had been discovered since the woods were in constant use by the local public. He was reminded by Michael Galvin of the cold and wet weather conditions that had undoubtedly compromised the footpaths. A lot could go unnoticed when people are concentrating where they are going without slipping in the mud with their heads bowed Galvin reasoned. Edwards muttered a reply and continued scrutinizing his fingernails.

Dunn waited for several seconds, unsure whether to continue sharing the information she had gathered during the day, then, prompted by Hammond, directed their attention to highlighted yellow lines spreading across the map like a spider’s web.

“These tracks highlighted in yellow are the bike tracks. They are designed specifically for dirt tracking stunts and have been built by the bikers themselves, (most likely without the Councils permission). Horse riders trek through the woods using the main bridle path but they are not allowed to venture onto the smaller footpaths.” She paused, having lost her train of thought.

Galvin spoke up addressing Dunn’s report but his eyes focused on Hammond.

“I looked at the bike tracks, there are five separate areas covering 40 by 20 meters, but they all contribute to one play track. Whoever built the track were amateurs but did a good job.” He got up from his chair, flashing Dunn a smile as he took her place in front of the whiteboard. He pointed to Dunn’s map. “Here, about thirty meters from where the body was found is the start hill. They have used most of the natural resources from the woods by piling up sub soil to create a steep incline here...a platform here...and a slope. Next, there is the table top, which again is a steep incline, a platform and then a decline, before double jump, then the berm which bends downwards towards this area, to a swooping step-up. This part here is designed to be a speed jump.”

His finger rested on the red X that showed where the body had been found.

“The hole in which our victim was found was not intended to be a grave. I think it was part of the track, the aim being to jump the bikes over the hole where logs have been placed across.”

Hammond listened in silence; He tried to hide the fact that he had only partially understood what Galvin had explained. He had no idea what a swooping step-up was but assumed it had something to do with a mound of soil that was used to perform bike stunts. He was tired and still hungry. It was tempting to call the meeting to a close but he wanted to get the investigation going as soon as possible.

“The next twenty-four hours are crucial. We’ll start with door to door enquiries. Is our man local? How did he get to the woods? Was he seen walking or is there a car parked nearby unaccounted for? Until we get a formal identification of our victim we will concentrate on prospective witnesses or people who may have known him. We can assume that the tracks were built by the kids themselves, but it means they would have had access to tools somehow. It must have taken them weeks to design and build the tracks which suggest they plan to continue using it for a while. We need to go back to the woods, try to identify the BMX enthusiasts. Barnes said that our victim would watch them often, in which case they may give us some more information about him. Perhaps he was their coach. It is worth finding out where the kids were between Sunday and Monday morning.”

Edward’s examination of his fingernails was interrupted for a second whilst he called to Hammond across the room.

“The secondary school is on the other side of Sandling Road, there is a chance they saw our victim on Monday morning on their way to school if they used the woods as a shortcut.”

Dunn looked at Edwards with exasperation.

“It’s hardly a short cut, especially when it is so muddy. By the time the kids get to school; they’ll be dragging half the country-side behind them.”

She refrained from patronising Edwards further and turned her attention back to Hammond.

“You think it is worth going to the school?”

There was a good chance that the BMX enthusiasts were pupils at the local school. William Barnes had implied as much. Hammond nodded at Dunn.

“Yes, take Edwards with you in the morning, start with the corner shop opposite New Road, apparently the kids congregate there often, then go to the school; address the kids in assembly, just indicate that we are there for help gathering local information. There is no point in making them panic. They probably already know that a body has been found in the woods since the area has been sealed off, and a small village like Saltwood is bound to have its share of gossip, especially now the media has been informed.”

He delegated Galvin to taking another look at the bike tracks in the morning, using the opportunity to interview other dog walkers and runners who frequented the woodland paths. Hammond announced that he would chase up on Forensics. The team arranged to regroup the following afternoon before spilling out the room in undisguised eagerness to get home.

Wallace Hammond sank into a chair allowing himself to digest the day. He stayed there quietly for several minutes hypnotised by the sound of the wall clock ticking until he saw Dunn through the glass door walking down the corridor with a mug in her hand. He called to her, surprised that she hadn’t yet left the building like her peers. She responded to his call by walking back to the briefing room, poking her head around the door until she saw him in his crumbled state.

“You are not going home?”

Hammond gave her a lop-sided smile. “I am waiting for my body to get up and move.”

Dunn laughed and walked further into the room, still swinging her mug by its handle at her side. “I am going to stay here a few minutes longer, catch up on some e-mails.” She saw Hammond’s raised eyebrow and blushed slightly.

“Well...truth is, I don’t want to go home yet. My boyfriend is there, waiting for an answer that I cannot give him.”

“Oh.” Hammond felt this comment was heading towards unchartered territory. He had only known Dunn professionally for two years; their private lives had never been discussed, until now. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Don’t worry Sir. I am not going to spill my inner soul over the carpet, I just...” She stopped herself from saying anything more with sigh and sat down heavily on a chair next to Hammond, studying her cup as if looking for coffee grounds that could guide her.

“My life is great. I love my job; I’ve got a great apartment. Everything I ever wanted. I’ve met this amazing guy and we have fun, but now he wants commitment and everything is ruined.”

Hammond looked at her sympathetically. Lois Dunn was still so young; he guessed she was about thirty years of age. It was unusual to know a woman so driven in life without the desperation to be married or have children. He admired her tenacity.

“Do you like being with him?”

Dunn shrugged her shoulders hopelessly.

“Yes, but not enough to want to give up my independence.” She looked at Hammond and blushed again, apologising with a wave of her hand as if to wipe away her candour. The two colleagues sat there in silence, lost in their own thoughts before Hammond spoke.

“There is something I have been asked to investigate, something that is not really my responsibility but I feel the need to do it anyway.”

He was surprised by his own admittance although now he had spoken aloud of the thoughts that had tormented him throughout the day; it felt as if he were unburdening a heavy load. Dunn looked at him, surprised. She turned her chair so she could face him and listened as Hammond told her about Lloyd Harris’s request. She didn’t say a word until Hammond relayed the details of Mark Callum’s death.

“Well, there are no rules to suicide.” She said simply in response to Hammond’s questioning the method of suicide. Hammond agreed but then explained his puzzlement over the missing paper and pen, Callum’s lack of a social life, the unexplained rent payments. As he spoke, he became aware that Harris’s instinct warranted more attention. A detective had no tools of the trade other than their instinct. It couldn’t be handed to a young rookie with an id card and a pair of handcuffs, it was instinctual, organic. Hammond shouldn’t have doubted Harris’s instinct, especially now that his own was beginning to gnaw at him. There was something that wasn’t right. Mark Callum’s death had been as neat and tidy as his apartment and as such, it bordered on implausible. He shared these thoughts with Dunn as she sat there silently. When he had finished talking, she looked at him intently.