SHADOW OVER THE FENS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense (7 page)

CHAPTER TEN

‘Good morning, Sergeant.’ Nikki’s voice echoed across the CID room. ‘My office, please.’ Joseph felt distinctly as if he’d been summoned for a caning by the head mistress.

He closed the door and looked at her speculatively. ‘Ma’am?’

‘A friendly word to the wise, my friend. Next time you plan an assignation, try to arrange it in a different pub to one that contains half the Fenland Constabulary! I’ve heard nothing else since I got in!’

‘But . . . !’ Joseph spluttered, ‘But I never . . . it wasn’t an assignation, ma’am! She was there by chance, and I know her from the fitness club. Like me, she swims most mornings. That’s all.’

‘Oh really? But you’d left before I even made it as far as the pub front door, and together, I hear. Or has the grapevine got it wrong?’

‘Well, yes, I mean, no.’ Joseph felt like a total idiot. For some reason, he hadn’t thought about what his colleagues would say the next day, and clearly, they were saying a lot. He looked up miserably, and saw his boss grinning at him.

‘Well done! At least that may quell some of the other things they say about you! Those mess room gossips won’t have a leg to stand on now, when they call you Holy Joe or Mr Goody Two-Shoes.’

‘Thanks for reminding me, ma’am. But I thought they’d already given up on that.’

‘They probably have. I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay the slightest attention to them anyway.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Why should I? While they are sniping at you, they are leaving me alone. I just couldn’t resist having a little dig myself. Frankly, I’m pig sick that I missed seeing her. Quite a looker, I hear.’

Joseph groaned and sank down into a chair. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d given last night a miss.’

‘No, you’re not, and you know it,’ she leant forward. ‘What’s she like, Joseph?’

A small smile spread across his face. ‘She’s gorgeous.’

‘More. I need details.’

‘Well, her name is Bryony Barton, she’s thirty, and she works for the Public Analyst, here in Greenborough. Funnily enough, she saw me first when I was in the hospital. Her brother was in the same ward.’

‘And she has a good sense of humour, likes the theatre, dogs, and walking barefoot in the sand at sunset?’

Joseph tried to look aggrieved, but it was so rare that DI Galena openly enjoyed something so much, he didn’t have the heart to stop her.

‘Well, we did talk, and we seem to have quite a lot in common, but . . .’ Joseph stopped as Cat Cullen appeared in the doorway.

‘Ma’am. Sorry to interrupt, but . . .’

Joseph had expected Cat to take the mickey out of him more than anyone, but to his surprise, her expression was serious and her tone unusually grave.

‘. . . some kids have found a body.’

The boss sighed. ‘Great. As if I hadn’t got enough on my plate with Martin’s death. What do we know, Cat?’

‘A male, guv. Found in some wasteland off Beale Street. Throat cut.’ She threw a sideways glance to Joseph, and he didn’t like the look on her face. ‘Thing is, and obviously I haven’t seen him yet, but he fits the description of the man that Sergeant Easter is looking for.’

Joseph felt a spasm grip his gut. Sweet? Dead?

He closed his eyes. When he’d left the army, he’d spent a lot of time trying to make his life right again. Trying to understand things on a deeper level. And he’d succeeded. Not through religion, although a lot of his fellow officers thought that was the case, but with a more spiritual approach to life.

He opened his eyes again. So why did he feel such delight in hoping that another human being was dead? It went against everything he believed in.

‘Joseph?’ The DI was staring at him. ‘I said, I think you need to see this.’

‘Yes, of course, ma’am.’ He stood up. The answer to his own question was clear. Billy Sweet wasn’t a human being. To be classed as that, you needed belong or relate to the nature of mankind, and there was nothing kind about Sweet. He took a deep breath. ‘Let’s go.’

* * *

The body was still in situ, although an awning had been hastily erected around it to protect the scene and block it from view.

Joseph, the DI, and Cat carefully picked their way over stones and rubbish to the covered area.

‘Ah, the good detective inspector! And my old Fenchester friend, Joseph! How are you, dear boy?’ Without waiting for an answer, the tall, beanpole of a man pushed his wire-rimmed glasses further up onto the bridge of his hawk nose, and beamed benignly at Cat. ‘And we must not forget you, lovely lady, although we haven’t yet been introduced.’ He peered at the DI.

‘Cat Cullen meet Professor Rory Wilkinson. Home Office pathologist. Forensic science wizard, and the possessor of the darkest sense of humour imaginable. And another ex-pat from Fenchester.’ She gave him a grim smile.

‘You forgot your usual slanderous comment about allegedly being a raging queen,’ he added, sounding slightly put out at the omission.

‘Sorry, and that. So what have you got for us?’

‘An interesting one to be sure. But not pleasant.’

‘Murder can be pleasant?’

‘Murder can be many things, Inspector,’ said the pathologist enigmatically. ‘But this is not some crime of passion, or a fight that got out of hand. This is an execution. Now, if you’d all like to follow me?’

Joseph didn’t want to follow him anywhere. Joseph wanted to turn his back and walk away. The word execution had sent a ripple of horror down his spine. He had seen too many executions, and he still saw them, when sleep would not come or when a nightmare took possession of his slumbers.

Rory Wilkinson moved beneath the cordon, lifted the canvas flap to the awning, and invited them inside as cordially as if it were a garden party. ‘Mind yourselves, the ground is somewhat uneven, and the copious quantity of blood doesn’t help either.’

Joseph breathed in, held his breath, and moved reluctantly into the temporary shelter.

No one spoke immediately. Even the garrulous pathologist seemed somewhat in awe of his newest acquisition.

The man lay on his side, his knees bent, ankles tightly tied with some kind of thin rope, and his hands tied in the same manner behind his back. He had been made to kneel for his last moments on this earth. His throat had been sliced from ear to ear, and he had fallen sideways, allowing his lifeblood to ooze into the weeds and the detritus of the waste ground.

Bile rose in Joseph’s throat. This was something that belonged in his past. Something he had prayed that he would never see again.

He swallowed, and steeled himself to look at the body.

A black nylon bomber jacket, old jeans, a T-shirt, though the blood had made its original colour impossible to see, and scuffed and worn trainers.

Unsteadily, he took a few steps backwards, then ducked out under the canvas to drag in some gulps of fresh air.

The dead man was ugly, had a rough cut thatch of corn-coloured hair, uneven features and pale blue eyes, but he wasn’t Billy Sweet.

* * *

Nikki sat in the car and stared across at him. ‘You are sure?’

‘Absolutely. I’ve never seen that man before.’ Joseph looked pale and gaunt. ‘Although there is a resemblance.’

‘Could it have been the man that you think has been following you?’

‘No, ma’am. The man I saw was Billy Sweet.’ His lips drew tighter. ‘But thinking about it, the dead guy may have been the man I saw hanging around the station buildings last night. Beale Street is only a few minutes from there.’ He rubbed hard at his temple. ‘If only there had been some kind of identification on him,’ muttered Joseph. ‘It would have given us somewhere to start.’

Nikki shrugged. ‘No such luck. We’ll just have to wait for the fingerprint check, a photo image identification, and failing all that, DNA tests.’ She took a deep breath.

‘And you have to consider that this may have nothing whatsoever to do with you, or this guy who has been watching you.’

‘Billy killed him.’ Joseph’s voice was little more than a monotone. ‘I’ve seen his work before.’

‘You mean this Billy Sweet has already killed in this manner?’ asked Nikki incredulously.

‘Oh yes.’ Joseph gave a small humourless laugh. ‘It was a kind of hobby of his.’

‘You’re making me feel sick,’ said Nikki through gritted teeth.

‘So now you know why I’m half out of my mind at the thought of him being here in Greenborough, amongst people I care about.’

‘And the only connection that we know about, to Billy Sweet and Greenborough, is you, Joseph.’ Nikki bit on the side of her thumb nail. ‘I think it’s time to take this back to the station. We’ll set up the murder room, then go over everything that we know so far. And Joseph . . . ?’ She looked at him with real concern in her eyes. And although she did not want to compound his problems, she knew that she had to ask some questions that he would find hard to cope with. ‘You do know that we are going to have to go over some pretty unpleasant stuff, don’t you? About your past.’

Joseph slumped back into his seat, as if all his energy had sapped away and left only a limp shell. ‘Then we’re going to need a very large bottle of Scotch and a tape recorder, because if I do manage to talk to you, the story will be told once and only once, okay?’

‘I’ll buy the whisky,’ said Nikki flatly. ‘And for your sake, I think this part will be best dealt with away from the station, don’t you?’ She gave him an enquiring look. ‘So, your place or mine?’

‘Have you
seen
my place, ma’am?’ he answered, showing a hint of the old Joseph.

‘Then Cloud Fen it is. After we’ve done the preliminaries back at the nick. Seven o’clock, and bring a toothbrush. You won’t be driving afterwards.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nikki left the others preparing the murder room, went to her office and closed the door. She needed some time alone to try to get her head around what was happening.

Martin Durham’s unexplained suicide still haunted her. Over and over she saw him, riding off down the lane on his bicycle, waving to her. He’d said he had something to tell her, “a little bit of interesting news.” His face had been alive, bright. Then apparently he had prepared a stew for lunch, jumped into his car and driven to Greenborough, where a few hours later he lay dead in the stinking mud of the Wayland River.

Nikki gave a shaky little sigh. She’d read somewhere that suicide was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Could something
that
terrible have happened between the hours of 7.30 a.m. and midday? Something awful enough to make Martin Durham kill himself?

She reached across and picked up the old picture that was still propped against her monitor. She felt sad now that she had seen him so infrequently while she was staying in the town. He had been a great support to both her and Hannah when her ex-husband Robert left home. Not pushy, not intrusive, just there. And now he’d gone, and she owed it to him to put the record straight. She didn’t want him written off as some flaky saddo, because he was far from that, and maybe she were the only one who would have the incentive and the wherewithal to bring the truth to light.

‘Hang on in there, Martin,’ she whispered. ‘Things have gone a little mad here right now, but I’ll find out what happened, I promise.’

‘First sign of madness, Nikki, talking to yourself.’

She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even heard Rick Bainbridge enter her office. She grinned ruefully, ‘And what is the second sign, Super? Because I’m sure to be displaying it.’

‘I’m not sure. Something about looking for hairs on your palms, I think.’ He stared at the picture that was still in her hand. ‘Who’s in the photo?’

She passed it across for the superintendent to see. ‘My old neighbour, Martin Durham, Hannah and I.’

‘I never realised that you were that close.’ He scrutinised the snap, then handed it back to her.

‘We were just good neighbours, sir. Kind of there for each other. Cloud Fen is a small, outlying community; it’s what you do.’

‘Then no doubt his loss will hit hard.’

Nikki nodded. ‘He was a good man, he will be missed.’ She stared up at the superintendent and was pretty sure it was not Martin that he wanted to talk about.

As if on cue, he sat down and said, ‘But that’s not why I’m here. I want your honest opinion on Sergeant Easter.’

Nikki was somewhat taken back. She had sure it would be a request for a report on the dead man, but Joseph? ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

The super’s brow wrinkled into furrows. ‘I’m concerned that he’s come back too soon, Nikki. I saw him yesterday and I didn’t like the look on his face. He seemed totally distracted by something.’

Nikki thought quickly. If Joseph’s possible involvement with the dead man came to light too soon, the superintendent would have them off the case before she could draw breath. ‘Ah, I see the grapevine hasn’t stretched its sticky little tendrils in your direction yet, sir.’ She mustered a broad smile, ‘Our Joseph has got a new flame. And if the rest of the station is right, he has every right to look preoccupied, sir. Apparently she’s a stunner.’

‘Joseph?’

‘The one and the same.’

‘Good Lord!’

‘My sentiments precisely. But don’t worry about him, sir, he’s still on the ball regarding his work. He’s been nose to the grindstone ever since he started.’ She lost the smile. ‘And we
are
busy, sir, what with Martin, and now the death in Beale Street.’

‘Mm. That was my next question. Is this execution-style murder true, or have the rookies hyped it up?’

‘It’s true, sir.’ Nikki decided to keep her information to the minimum for the time being. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it before. Professor Wilkinson has said he will prioritise the post-mortem, so we should get his preliminary report pretty quickly.’

‘And we have no idea of the man’s identity?’

‘None, but hopefully we’ll get some answers soon. Everyone is geared up for the investigation, and the murder room should be ready by now.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘I’d better get back out there, sir. I’ll keep you updated of everything as we go along.’

‘Good. And let me know if you need more detectives. Some of the enquiries being dealt with at present can afford to go on the back burner.’

‘Thanks, Super. I’ll ascertain where this is going, and let you know.’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you think Sergeant Conway could spare me a couple of bodies for some leg work? Yvonne and Niall would be a great help if they were free?’

The super shook his head, then gave her an exasperated half-smile. ‘Oh, alright, I’ll do my best, but no promises, Nikki. You know that CID should work closely with uniform, not just commandeer their staff, as and when.’

‘I’d really appreciate it, sir.’

‘As I said, no promises.’ He walked to the door, then turned back, a disbelieving smile playing across his face. ‘A real stunner, you say?’

‘Absolutely, sir. Haven’t seen her myself, but the words that are being bandied around are pretty descriptive. ‘Stunning’ was the mildest of several very colourful, and graphic adjectives.’

‘Oh, I can imagine exactly what kind of words the mess room have come up with, and most of them quite unrepeatable, I should think.’ He shook his head again. ‘Poor old Joseph!’

Nikki raised her eyebrows. ‘Hardly! If what I hear is right, it’s lucky old Joseph!’

* * *

‘Ma’am?’ Joseph looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. ‘What’s with the super? I could swear he winked at me?’

‘Oh dear, you may have me to thank for that.’

‘Thank you for what?’

‘Just think about it, Sergeant. What have half the station been talking about, until we had a murder land on our patch, that is? Just believe me, what I told the super is all for the best.’

Joseph shook his head, and remained totally bemused.

Nikki turned to Dave. ‘Are we all set up?’

‘Yes, ma’am. And you’ve just received a note from Professor Wilkinson.’ He handed her an envelope.

‘Okay, get everyone together, and we’ll take a look at what we’ve got so far.’ She tore open the envelope and looked at the copperplate script that was Rory Wilkinson’s everyday handwriting.

My Dear Inspector. As you were tactful enough not to demand an immediate answer to that age old question, “Can you give me a time of death?”, I have made it my business to provide you with a little gift, my closest ‘guesstimate,’ pre-post-mortem findings, of course. I believe our man was executed, and there is no doubt that is what happened, between ten and eleven o’clock last night. It was quite warm last evening, and although the rigor mortis was advanced, it had not reached the point of full body rigidity. Our insect friends were naturally enjoying themselves enormously, but the eggs had not hatched into maggots, so we are looking at the fact that he had been dead for less than twelve hours when he and I were introduced.

I can also confirm, even without detailed examination that your killer is right-handed. The incised wound was made by the killer standing behind the victim, and the cut extends from high up close to the ear, sweeps downwards across the throat, then back up again. The cut is left to right, indicating a right-handed assailant. It was a clean, efficient, and highly effective move, so alas, I suspect this is not the first time that this person has used this particular procedure.

See! It pays not to hassle your friendly pathologist at the scene of the crime!

My opinion and prelim report, will be on your desk tomorrow, God willing.

And now back to my cold cadaver,

Felicitations

Rory. MD, BCh, MRCP, FRCPath, Life-time Member of the Judy Garland Fan Club, etc. etc.

Nikki smiled to herself. Professor Wilkinson had a reputation for stalling if pressed over the elusive time of death, although it hadn’t been easy, she had purposely refused to ask him his opinion. She now had her answer and more.

She looked up and smiled smugly, as the door opened and Yvonne Collins and Niall Farrow walked in. Things were progressing exactly as planned.

‘Okay, guys, find a seat and we’ll recap on what we know.’ She walked to the front of the room. ‘And until we get the forensic reports back, we’ll stick to the facts. We can throw ideas around when we know more.’

Nikki drew in a deep breath. Joseph’s involvement would stay in the background for now, with one small exception, his jaywalker. ‘Right, last night between the hours of ten and eleven p.m. . . .’ She clearly described everything they had found on the filthy wasteground in Beale Street, and when she paused to gather herself, a low murmur of disbelief greeted her.

‘Dear God,’ muttered Niall. ‘Sounds like something from Vietnam, not Greenborough.’

Nikki silently agreed, then continued. ‘He had no identification on him, but his description is approx.. five foot ten, naturally blond hair, blue eyes and no distinguishing features other than a small scar on his wrist. No visible tattoos or birthmarks, although the full examination may show something. We have him as about thirty-five, maybe younger.’ She listed his clothes, and watched as they all scribbled down what she said. ‘Now,’ she looked at her team. ‘We are already running a fingerprint check and his picture will be circulated, but I don’t need to tell you that we need to get on top of this really quickly. Whoever killed him is a highly dangerous individual, and we have no idea if this is just a one-off, a personal vendetta, or the start of a killing spree. Whatever, we don’t want what appears to be a professional hitman on our streets for long.’

A murmur of agreement ran around the room.

‘So, we need CCTV checks for that whole area, including the station. Officers out asking questions of local residents and workers, not that there are many as that spot is pretty low density housing, and we need a real push on identifying the dead man.’

‘I was in the vicinity of the station last night, ma’am,’ said Joseph slowly. ‘I saw a man loitering in the shadows and went to investigate, but he had disappeared. I’m not saying it was the same person, and the street lights drained everything of colour, but I think he had blondish-fair hair.’

Nikki nodded. ‘Hopefully there may be some working cameras that will show him up.’ She was glad Joseph had mentioned the fact that he was there
before
the CCTV check began. ‘A completely separate incident occurred the day before, again involving Sergeant Easter. Some men were messing around on the High Road, dashing in between cars. One of them hammered on the sergeant’s windscreen as he was going out to Cloud Fen to conduct an interview. We’ve got them on camera, but it’s very poor quality. The thing is, the man was of the same build and description, and wore similar clothes. May be coincidence, may not.’

She looked up and saw Joseph looking at her apprehensively, but she had no intention of telling anyone about the man he had seen in the alley, or of his fears about knowing the identity of an evil man in their midst. All in good time. She wanted to hear the history of Billy Sweet, and get Joseph’s involvement with him clear in her head long before she discussed it with the team.

‘Okay, sort out who does what between yourselves. I know we are pretty well stuck until we get some reports and some answers back, but do what you can, and try to get some sleep tonight. We could be pretty busy until we catch this killer.’

She turned to Joseph. ‘Come with me. There are a few details I need to discuss while the others organise themselves.’

In her office, she told him about the super noticing that he wasn’t himself.

‘He must have seen you after you spotted your mystery man in the lane. He thought you’d come back too soon, and I have to say that you did look like shit.’

‘I probably did.’ Joseph sighed. ‘Ah right, so you told him I was love-struck?’

‘It was the first thing that came into my mind, and it worked. So, if he winks at you again, don’t worry, he’s not a friend of Dorothy. Just run with it, I need you here with me, not being sent on extended R & R again.’ She scratched her head thoughtfully. ‘By the way, did your new woman, what’s her name . . . ?’

‘Bryony.’

‘Oh, yes, Bryony. Did
she
see this shadowy figure?’

‘No. He disappeared as soon as I pointed towards him.’

‘Shame, it would have helped to have another pair of eyes see him.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he grumbled. ‘But she was in the cab by that time, and the station buildings were not in her line of vision.’

‘When are you seeing her again?’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. ‘Sorry, Joseph, it’s none of my damned business what you do. Hell, I must have sounded just like your mother!’

‘Believe me, you are nothing like my mother.’ Joseph gave her a rueful smile. ‘And to be honest, I’d planned on seeing her at the pool tomorrow, work permitting. And I was going to ask her out for dinner on Saturday evening, but now I’m not sure if I should be planning anything, with Billy Sweet out there.’