The Principle of Evil

CHAPTER 11

Paul carefully placed the body block under Nola’s back, allowing her chest to arch up, her arms and neck falling back against the cold autopsy table. Stefan looked away as the wound at her neck briefly opened wider, reminding him of a mouth opening, puckering and shutting again.

Danika committed a few details to tape before making her first incisions with her scalpel. She cut the large Y shape into Nola’s torso and with the help of Paul, cut through and removed the sternum and ribs as one whole breastplate. After removing and taking further samples from the other main organs, Danika was ready to remove and open the stomach.

She carefully sliced into the tissue and inspected the contents. Stefan looked away, and swallowed hard. He saw Claire eye him with curiosity, and he looked sheepish.

‘I should’ve skipped breakfast.’

Claire gave a wry smile.

‘She’d eaten recently before she died, her stomach is fairly full,’ Danika said, raising her eyes to them. ‘I can tell more once I’ve looked at the intestinal contents, but I’d hazard a guess she’d eaten not much more than an hour before she was killed.’

‘Are we any closer to a time of death?’ Claire said.

Danika frowned.

‘Roughly?’

‘She’s been in extremely cold water. The bacterial process that causes the body to bloat is slowed. The cold would also have encouraged the formation of adipocere, which slows decomposition.’

‘Which means?’

‘A substance formed from fat in the body helps to protect it. I need more time.’ She studied Stefan’s face. ‘Inspector, if you need a time out, I’m sure DCI Winters won’t mind. You don’t need to be present. My full report will be ready within the next day or so.’

Exchanging glances with Claire, he nodded, reaching for the door.

‘Wait, I’ll come back with you,’ Claire said. ‘Save you the extra journey in the snow. I think I’ve seen all I need to here.’ She gestured to Danika and Paul. ‘I’ll leave you to it and wait for the report.’

*

As soon as Stefan reached the pool car, his foot slid on the ice, the bottom of his trouser legs dipping into the snow. He cursed as he brushed the fabric clean, but his ankles instantly felt cold.

‘I hate this weather,’ he said, climbing into the passenger seat beside Claire.

She grinned as she pulled off over the forecourt, towards the exit. ‘Did you get anything else from the boys at the firework display?’

His eyes remained focused on the road ahead. ‘Harry’s parents didn’t seem too bothered about what happened.’

‘Figured as much.’

‘Well, you should’ve heard his mother. She made sure she pointed out that if her beloved son hadn’t been messing around on the ice in the first place, we wouldn’t have found the body for weeks. Essentially trying to justify that it’s a good thing her son’s a little shit.’

He turned to face her. ‘I know Melissa and I have had our differences but we’ve kept it friendly for the kids’ sake. God forbid my babies turn out like that Harry.’

Claire glanced over his face.

This had been the second time in months he had mentioned his ex-girlfriend in relation to their children. Although in his mid-thirties, Stefan looked too baby-faced to have one kid, let alone two. He had been with Melissa since meeting her at university and shortly after he’d joined the police she’d quickly fallen pregnant with their son, Phoenix, now aged ten.

It’d been a happy five years for him and Melissa, watching Phoenix grow before they decided to try for another baby. Soon they were blessed with Melody, now aged five, to make their little family complete. It had been over a year since Stefan and Melissa had separated but Stefan was right – they had kept it amicable, despite a difficult break-up.

Claire knew better than to question him about it. He kept his private life out of sight as much as possible. She decided to ask how the kids were, and kept Melissa’s name out of the conversation as much as possible on the short drive back to the station.

*

Paul leaned over Danika’s shoulder to get a better view, as if he didn’t believe what she’d found. She was hunched over, which made it hard for him to see anything other than a little blood on her gloved hands.

‘You can’t be serious?’ he said, moving round the table to get a better view.

‘Look for yourself. Tell me I’ve made a mistake.’

There was no chance of that.

He looked into her dark eyes and frowned, before nervously risking a glance at her findings. When he saw what lay in front of her, he sighed and looked away, his eyes sad. ‘I wish I could tell you I’m wrong,’ she said. ‘The poor girl.’

‘Maybe the killer didn’t know. She wasn’t showing at all.’

‘You think it would’ve made a difference if he did know?’

Paul shrugged, leaning back against the counter, arms folded.

‘I don’t know, I’m not a murderer. Who knows what goes on in some psycho’s head?’ He studied her face and guessed what she was thinking. ‘I know I’m just the assistant, and please, don’t think I’m trying to tell you how to do your job, but I don’t think this is something that should wait until the report. You should inform DCI Winters. Now.’

Danika looked back at her hands and shut her eyes tight. After a long pause, she nodded.

CHAPTER 12

The incident room was large, busy and noisy. Phones were ringing and people were rushing around. There was a flat-screen monitor on a podium, and an image of Nola Grant flickered across the LCD screen.

There were several workstations in the four corners of the room, divided up into areas for detective constables, sergeants and inspectors. In the centre was another workstation, lined with computers and with staff trawling through CCTV footage.

There were more pictures of Nola Grant on the boards along the main wall, together with ‘before’ shots that Rachel Larson had given Stefan the day before and shots from when Nola’s body was found. There was a list of known associates written beside the board and a pile of statements ready to be typed up, read and cross-referenced.

Claire wasted no time pulling everyone together for a briefing to give them the information they had so far from the post mortem and the details of the voicemail message left on Rachel Larson’s phone. After she’d finished, she opened the briefing up for contribution.

‘I want to start putting together a rough character profile on the killer,’ she said, her eyes sweeping the room. ‘I know profiles can hinder a case if we don’t think outside the box, but I think we need to start with some basics.

‘The killer is almost certainly a man. If the motive was sexual in nature, perhaps the killer has had a bad relationship with women all his life. Nola was a prostitute, so maybe a client asked for something she wasn’t willing to give.’

Detective Constable Gabriel Harper stepped in. ‘Do we think it could’ve been an accident and the killer panicked?’

Claire shook her head. ‘It wasn’t an accident. The effort was made to dump her body and weight her down. There’s an amount of foresight and planning.’

‘Textbook stuff then?’ said Matthews.

‘If it were a crime committed in the heat of the moment then the killer would most likely have left her where she fell, whether it be sexually orientated or otherwise,’ Claire said. ‘But this appears to be cold, calculated.’ She paused. ‘It’s significant that she was naked. She was a target.’

‘And that makes you restless?’ Stefan said.

Claire stared at him. ‘Everything about it makes me restless. Aren’t you?’

Stefan shook his head and placed his coffee on a table in front of him. ‘No. I think it may be a one-off. We’ve had prostitutes turn up dead before.’

‘But not like this… Dead in an alley, yes. Dead in some crack den, or dead at the hands of a pimp, yes, but not dumped in a lake. Not the way she was found.’

The room fell silent. Outside it was snowing again, white flakes hitting the window in the strong wind.

‘The warden at the parkland said the lake started to freeze on the first and was completely frozen over by the morning of the fifth. He’s going to provide us with the CCTV footage from his Portakabin,’ Claire said.

Matthews then jumped in, standing up to address the team. He scratched the back of his head as he read from a sheet of paper in his other hand.

‘Uniform has conducted a house-to-house in the area where Nola was believed to have been seen last and from the houses around the lake. DC Harper will be leading another round of interviews, with DC Roberts.’ He looked up at Claire, who was leaning up against a table opposite him, arms folded. She nodded for him to continue.

‘I’ve got more CCTV footage to start trawling through from the town centre and from the shops below Grant’s flat. The chippy and newsagent both have cameras inside and outside their premises, but I also found this an hour ago,’ he said.

He held up a grainy black-and-white 10x8 shot of part of the town centre. A date and time were stamped across the bottom and judging by the angle and neon sign, it was taken from a CCTV camera opposite a McDonald’s.

The last time Nola Grant was seen alive.

The street was virtually empty with only four people, grainy shadows almost, in the frame. There were more people in the McDonald’s itself, but all Claire could see at that angle was the bottom of their legs through the glass window.

There was a car parked outside but the number plate was obscured and the picture was of such bad quality, she couldn’t correctly identify the make and colour, or anything else.

‘What am I meant to be looking at, Matthews?’

He grinned. She’d studied the photo briefly and missed what had caught his eye instantly.

‘This guy here,’ he said. She followed his finger across the photograph and squinted. Matthews then circled a few copies amongst the team. They stared at the photograph.

Leaning up against the wall of the McDonald’s, which led down a side alley, was a black smudge, which, after closer inspection, they all recognised as a man.

‘Can you tell me who he is?’ Claire said.

Matthews shook his head.

‘No name, but he was noticed by two witnesses, employees at that McDonald’s. They say they saw him hanging around Nola in the week leading up to her disappearance. Nola was a regular in there, the two guys knew her. They said the last time they saw her was when she got into a car the night she went missing, and this guy,’ he said, pointing at the figure again, ‘ran after the vehicle, before giving up and getting in his car… Which happens to be this one here.’

He pointed to the parked car in the photo, the one with the obscured plate.

‘Here are their statements,’ he added, handing them across to Claire. ‘I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no.’ He leaned back against his desk. ‘They can’t remember the make, model, colour or even a partial plate number of the man’s car… or a decent description of the man, except that he wore a black-and-red checked hooded jacket with a baseball cap. Usually with the jacket hood pulled up over the cap, obscuring his face.’

Claire eyed him carefully then looked back at the man in the photo.

‘Let me get this straight… Two people both notice a man tailing Nola. Notice enough to know a man chased after a car she got into on the last night she’s seen alive, but neither of them have any real description of this man’s face, height, colour? Nothing on his vehicle?’

Matthews shrugged. ‘They serve a lot of customers, and they said they didn’t think it relevant. Apparently it’s not the first time Nola’s had admirers. Maccy D’s is very busy, Claire, sea of faces and all that. Fast food, fast paced. Their story sounds credible.’

‘What about the other car, the one she got into?’

‘We picked it up on CCTV on the first of November, same spot.’ Matthews turned towards Detective Constable Jane Cleaver. ‘Jane?’

Everybody turned to face Jane as she spoke.

‘The last car Nola got into was a silver E-Class Mercedes, registered to forty-five-year-old Kenneth Philips, of 92 Magenta Drive, Stevenage.’

Jane accessed the CCTV footage and resumed playback. The LCD screen at the front of the room changed to show grainy footage, taken across the street from the McDonald’s.

Everyone watched the mystery man from the photograph Matthews had shown them. He was looking at Nola from the side of the McDonald’s, before running across the road after a car as it pulled off. The footage offered no further help in terms of a description of the man.

They watched him go to his parked car, sitting almost out of the shot, and hoped that as he drove off, they could pull a plate from the grainy footage.

Claire spoke first. ‘Could anyone make that out?’

Everyone muttered a negative.

Stefan shook his head. ‘Footage is too grainy, lighting’s bad. I think I could make out an R and maybe a five and even that I wouldn’t swear to. I’ll get image enhancement to have a look at it.’

Claire jabbed a finger towards the screen. ‘I want the other cameras in the area checked. Find this man’s car. Get me a number plate, if he’s not using fake ones. Which direction does he head in? Find him.’

She looked back at Jane. ‘Does this Kenneth Philips have any previous convictions?’

‘One speeding conviction last year and a history of unpaid parking tickets.’

‘Kenny came in voluntarily this morning,’ said Harper, ‘although he seemed more concerned that his wife would find out about his night-time activities than the fact he was the last person to see Grant before she was murdered.’

There were a few raised smiles and knowing glances.

‘Aren’t they always,’ Claire said. ‘Carry on, Harper.’

‘Kenny picked Nola up and took her down the side street next to the Wickes warehouse in Haverbridge industrial area. After about an hour in his back seat, he dropped her off.’

‘You showed him the shots of the man chasing his car? Did he say if Nola recognised him?’

Harper shook his head. ‘Apparently Grant barely looked at the guy. She told Kenny she had no idea who he was. It was then that Kenny started worrying about the fact this could make the papers, then his wife would know what he’d done. He said he should’ve forgotten the whole thing and dropped her off when he’d had the chance.’

‘Did he provide a description of the man?’ Stefan asked.

Harper shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said, passing the statement to Claire.

She read over it as Harper continued. ‘He says he was looking through his wing mirror so he didn’t see a great deal. It was dark and raining. He gave the same description as what we’ve seen in the footage.’

‘He thinks he could be about five-eight, average build, but he was wearing a thick coat, so he could’ve been thinner,’ Claire said, skimming over the statement. ‘Mr-fucking-average. He’s like any other man on the street.’

She turned to Matthews.

‘Matthews, check the CCTV footage in Haverbridge industrial area, concentrating on the Wickes warehouse and Turner Street. That’s where Kenny says he dropped her off.’

‘Yes, Guv, but I don’t think there’s any cameras down Turner Street.’

‘You’ll be able to pick him up around that area.’ She looked back at the photograph of the shadowy figure. ‘If he is our man, he’s taking risks, being sloppy, out in the open like this… Have this circulated to the local press. See if we can’t draw in any more eye witnesses. Right now he’s a person of interest.’

‘First mention of Nola’s death has already gone to the local news,’ said Matthews.

Claire handed him back the photograph. ‘They’ll print that photo. It may, if we’re lucky, flush out our man sooner rather than later. If he has anything else planned, he’ll change his plans accordingly if he thinks his time is running out.’

She paused a moment. ‘That car and the van on the other side of the street that are parked up, see if we can get clear shots of the number plates. Who owns them? Someone must remember something.

‘I want someone to speak to the two employees at McDonald’s again, push them harder this time.’ She paused as she looked around the room. ‘I also think we need to look at cold case.’

A few murmurs sounded around the room, nobody really relishing the thought of being assigned the task.

‘It’s just a thought,’ Claire said, trying to quiet their discord, ‘especially if we think the killer planned Nola’s murder… Matthews, can you organise it, see if we have any unsolved murders like this one. Look for similar MO and social class of victim. Nola Grant was a prostitute. It may be the reason she was chosen.’

She looked around the room and pointed at DC Richard Lloyd. ‘Lloyd, I want you to assist DI Matthews.’

While Claire was talking, Stefan was watching Elias from the far side of the room. He didn’t miss the look Elias gave Claire as she spoke. When she paused for breath, Elias raised his hand. Claire gave him a sideways glance.

‘Crest?’

‘I’d assume that cold case is a waste of time.’

Claire paused, giving him the once over. ‘I need to be sure we don’t overlook something that could be waiting to be found in the old files.’

‘You can’t be sure Grant isn’t just the first and last victim.’

‘And you can’t be sure she is, Crest.’

She pushed herself off the table and walked over to him. ‘The killer may have done this before, and his MO might have changed. If he made any errors, our man may strike again and correct what went wrong the first time. She may not be the only victim. She may be part of something bigger.’

‘It’s a novice, not a pro,’ Crest said, and looked away from her with contempt. ‘If the man from the CCTV footage is the killer, he might as well have had a neon sign over his head.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re just not seeing it.’

This stirred a few murmurs from the rest of the team. Those who had worked with Claire previously had seen colleagues like Elias challenge her before, and knew he was skating on thin ice.

They knew it wasn’t so much the content of what he was saying. It was a reasonable assumption that Grant’s murder was a one-off and she’d died by the hands of a first-timer, but it was more the way in which he was behaving and speaking to Claire that niggled.

She leaned back against the table opposite Elias’s desk and her eyes bore into his. ‘Perhaps you can tell me who I should be looking for, Sergeant, since you seem to have a wealth of experience that rivals my own?’

Elias leaned back in his chair, wanting to distance himself from her as much as possible. ‘Daryl Thomas might be a good place to start.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard you had the pleasure of making his acquaintance.’

‘He’s got priors for assault. We know he’s smashed up his girls before… What’s to stop him making that final leap?’

‘Daryl’s a nasty piece of work, Crest, I’ll give you that, but he’s not a murderer.’

Elias took in her face for a moment before he spoke again. This time he lowered his voice and tapped his pen on the desk in front of him, as if driving the point home.

‘He’s stupid. He’s stupid and careless enough to rouse suspicion, and it’d be presumptuous of us not to question him, even if it is to merely cross him off our list.’

‘The killer’s not stupid. He managed to kill Nola Grant with one expert cut of his knife,’ Stefan said, coming to Claire’s aid.

The last sentence hung heavy in the air. A few nodded their heads in agreement with Stefan. Claire saw the eyes around the room watching her carefully and when her gaze fell back to Elias, she saw the twitch in his mouth. It was a silent “fuck you” and it made her blood boil.

‘Can I speak with you privately?’ Elias said.

She met his stare and gave a sharp nod. ‘When we’re done here and I’ve seen DI Fletcher. Now,’ she said, looking to Matthews. ‘I want a Family Liaison Officer assigned to Rachel Larson. See if they can find out any more information that might shed light on the last few days before Nola disappeared.

‘I want the CCTV footage processed ASAP. Statements on HOLMES, any inconsistencies I want flagged and followed up.’

The Home Office Large Major Enquiry System (HOLMES), developed in the 1980s, held all the information gathered for the investigation, consisting of evidence, such as statements, to intelligence. It made it far less likely that the investigation could succumb to human error and made sure any coincidences or inconsistencies were flagged up.

Claire had a real fixation about it and made sure it was always referred to and scrutinised for a possible hole, link or lead in any case.

She looked at Elias, who sat staring at his desk, avoiding her gaze. ‘Crest, I want you to gather intelligence on Grant’s and Larson’s mobile phone records for the last few weeks, and get a location where Grant’s phone was when the voicemail was left on Larson’s phone.’

‘Whatever you say,’ he said in a flat voice without looking up at her.

She glared at him, but took a deep breath, pushing her anger down inside her, right to the pit of her stomach.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.