Watch You Burn

by KA Richardson

  Edina nodded, her eyes glistening slightly. ‘Poor little thing didn’t do anything to anybody. Why would anyone kill an innocent baby like that?’

  ‘’Cos there’s some cranks in the world. Through here, is it?’

  She nodded again and he took the lead. He quartered each room – a CSI method of getting a full photo image of the room over a series of four images – focusing especially on the kitchen, since that’s where the last letter and the kitten were located. Opening the fridge, he held the door with his foot as he snapped images of the interior.

  ‘Is the knife yours?’ he asked, his eyes still looking through the lens.

  Ed coughed behind him, her voice unsteady. ‘Yeah – it’s from the block on the side. Oh god, the kitten was alive when he did it, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Actually no, doesn’t look like it anyway. Come here, I’ll show you what I mean if you want to know?’ Kev waited as she crossed behind him and leant in. ‘The knife goes through the kitten’s tummy and comes out the other side, there’s no blood on either side of the wound. Even with the knife still inside to block most of the flow, there’d still be a little seepage. I’d be guessing but I’d say the kitten was brought here already dead. Whoever did this, he wanted to shock you.’

  ‘It worked,’ said Ed, moving back around him to the other side. ‘I’m not a cat person but I’d never do anything to hurt them. This is just… awful.’

  Kev nodded, then carried on with his investigation, packaging the cat and the knife after photographing them both. He’d never normally seize an animal as evidence, but this could form part of something much more sinister, and he needed to be thorough.

  Methodically, he went from room to room, paying close attention to the windows and potential entry and exit points. Eventually though, he had to admit defeat. He didn’t have the foggiest how someone was getting inside the premises. Was she making it up? Was it all in her head? But Kev didn’t know the answer to the questions running round his mind.

  5

  Ed stood and watched Kev as he moved from room to room. The night they’d spent together felt like a lifetime ago, and if she was honest, she didn’t remember a lot of it anyway. She should be unnerved and on edge that he was in her home, especially after finding the kitten. But she wasn’t.

  She knew she’d been harsh with him at the fire scene the other day, stubborn female pride more than anything else she supposed. But despite her rudeness he was still being polite and nice to her. She couldn’t say she’d have been the same if the roles were reversed. Ed felt her cheeks redden as she remembered the feel of his hand at the small of her back as he’d guided her through the door, then immediately rebuked herself. Stop that right now. The other night was fun, that’s it. You don’t date people you work with – even if he was interested, which he plainly isn’t.

  The self-telling-off worked, and she stepped back to let him work.

  Ed jumped as her mobile rang. ‘Blaze,’ she said into the phone, stepping back into the hall and leaving Kev to his examination.

  ‘Ed, it’s Ronnie in the control room. Just need to make you aware of a job please.’

  ‘Hold on a sec, not to be funny, Ronnie, but Mal’s on duty. Is there a reason he can’t take the job? I’d taken a half day today.’ She referred to Malcolm Godwyn – the other fire investigator she worked alongside.

  ‘’Yeah, sorry Edina. He’s in with the chief at the minute, and then has an appointment with a CSM in Sunderland, Knowles I think his name is. The chief asked that I call you in. He said you can either cancel your half day, or finish early instead of taking it this morning.’

  ‘But I’ve got some personal… never mind, sorry, I’m not griping at you, Ronnie. It’s fine, I’ll need to get my stuff together though so ETA will probably be an hour or so. Do me a favour and send the log details to my work email. I’m at home now, so I’ll print them off before I leave.’

  ‘It’s already in your inbox. Thanks Edina.’

  As she hung up the phone, she had to stop herself throwing it at the wall in frustration. Some days she wondered whether knuckling down and grinning and bearing it was worth the hassle.

  She looked up as Kev came back into the room.

  ‘Sorry, Ed, I’ve gotta run. I’m the only CSM on duty and it looks like we have a suspicious death. I’m heading over there now. You guys have probably been called too, who’s on duty today? The body’s somewhat on the crispy side.’

  ‘Supposed to be Mal,’ said Ed, rolling her eyes. ‘But it looks like you’ve got me again. I need to print our log and have a read; give me your number and I’ll call you when I’m en route.’

  Kev scribbled it down and handed it to her, then left.

  27th September, 0810 hours – Allotments behind Dodmire School, near Firthmoor

  ‘Is this how you found him?’ Kev asked DS Slater, not moving from the gate to the allotment which now had yellow crime scene tape across it, blocking entry. The loggist stood nearby, signing in only those essential to the scene investigation.

  ‘You know better than to ask that, Kev. None of my guys have moved the body. Doesn’t look to be much left of the shed. Think he maybe fell asleep and dropped a lamp or something? You know what the old boys on these allotments are like, come down for a sneaky tipple or two after dark to get away from the missus' nagging. Maybe he fell a-kip then the fire woke him. Not a nice way to go, like.’

  ‘Definitely not a nice way to go,’ said Kev thoughtfully. ‘No comment on the rest. Parsons, Edina Blaze the fire investigator will be here in a bit, can you sign her straight through, please. And send Jackson my way when he gets here.’

  Jackson Docherty had been a CSI for years, following in Kev’s footsteps after a stint in the forces. He and Kevin had all but grown up together – when Kev’s dad had died suddenly, Jackson’s mum had taken him in, raised him as though he was her own. He and Jackson had always been tight. It was just the luck of the draw Jackson had been pulled out of the hat to work this case – it was a bit grim to pull straws, but it was a fair way of selecting which CSI would deal with a murder when they came up. Likely there would end up more than one scene, as was usually the way when someone was killed. Kev knew he shouldn’t be calling it murder, not yet. He’d not even seen the body. But he had a feeling in his gut that screamed this was suspicious. He’d eat his camera case if this turned out to be nothing.

  Glancing at the pathway, nicely gravelled as it led down to the shed, or what was left of it anyway, he swept his gaze from side to side, looking for anything that stood out. Aside from a few broken twigs on a bush at the corner where the path veered left, there was nothing.

  His nose crinkled as the smell of burnt flesh hit him. He could pretty much cope with anything crime scenes threw his way, but that smell wasn’t a pleasant one. It was almost like roast pork, but stronger and more pungent.

  The body was curled up in a ball, its mouth agape in a silent scream that would never stop. The knees were pulled up to the chest – an obvious attempt at curling into the fetal position in the hopes it would dispel the flames that had ravaged the body. The hands were clenched in fists, and the whole thing was covered in a layer of what looked like red and black scabs, where the skin had blistered on blisters then charred in the heat.

  The ground around the body showed char marks as the flames had licked around the corpse, trying to set light to anything else it could reach.

  The shed frame still stood – charred pillars of virtually no substance whatsoever. A gust of wind could have knocked them down. The base of the shed was still present though looked highly unstable. The wooden planks had warped and split, leaving holes in places. The charred remains of what looked like a kettle and stove, were scattered on the floor of the shed, and Kev could just about make out what was left of a small window. The glass was broken and blackened, but the sharp edges gave it away.

  There was nothing obvious to indicate murder, not yet. But Kev still had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that woul
dn’t ease off.

  Turning, he faced the allotment to the side. A fully laden apple tree stood, its branches almost touching the ground with the weight of the apples. He noticed the sag to the fence, the dips in the grassy knoll around the base of the tree. And as he focused, he picked up on the footwear marks in the soil through the potato crop. They led to the small path that ran up to the shed in between two long garden beds.

  ‘Not good,’ he muttered under his breath.

  27th September, 0835 hours – Allotments behind Dodmire School, near Firthmoor

  ‘Kevin,’ said a voice from behind him as he worked placing markers for Jackson to photograph. Turning, he realised it was Nigel Evans, the pathologist.

  ‘Hi, Nigel. Sorry to get you out bright and early.’

  ‘Them’s the breaks – don’t worry. To be quite honest, I was on my way to the most boring finance meeting anyway – this is almost like respite.’

  Kevin saw the moment the pathologist clicked from his jovial mood into his professional one, and he said, ‘Body’s over this way.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like this fellow fared too well, not that one does when confronted with fire. There’s not much it can’t destroy. I’ll probably not be able to tell a great deal until I get it back to the morgue.’

  Looking round carefully before he dropped to one knee on the floor beside the charred remains, he saw the oil drum set off to the left and the flammable sign on it. A small pool of liquid sat beneath it, evaporating slowly in the sun. ‘Presume you’ve seen that?’ he said to Kevin, nodding his head in the general direction.

  ‘Aye – possible accelerant but we won’t know as yet. I’ll be honest, Nigel, something about this whole thing just isn’t sitting right with me. For one thing, who comes to a shed in the middle of the night?’

  ‘You know, I once knew a lad who did his gardening in the wee hours. Said the plants listened more when there wasn’t such a hullabaloo going on around the allotment. He swore the moonlight made his plants grow bigger. Maybe he was right: he won the county show for three years running.’

  Watching Nigel lean forward and inhale deeply – Kev knew he was sniffing for some obvious sign of accelerant. He also knew the naked nose wouldn’t have picked anything up – a lot of accelerants evaporated in air – when what was left of the clothing was removed from the body they would send a sample off for gas chromatography.

  ‘I think the best thing to do is get him back to the morgue – we’ll unfurl his fingers during the Post Mortem and see if we can get any prints – there’s a chance they’re preserved inside his fists. I’ve scheduled it in for 1pm this afternoon – does that suit?’

  ‘Yeah that’s fine, Nigel. Jason will be attending with two of his staff, we’re a bit short down here. Will it be Darlington Memorial?’

  Nigel nodded and clambered to his feet, brushing his hands over the now dirty knees of his trousers. ‘I’ll change back at the hospital,’ he muttered under his breath – Kev just smiled. He never quite got the zone the doc went into when he got to a body – it was like he forgot that things like mud and gravel existed. Kev had witnessed him mucky his knees too many times to count, and he always looked surprised when he saw the dirt.

  Seeing Edina standing by the loggist signing in, Kev checked that Jackson was OK photographing, and made his way over.

  ‘Hey. Long morning, you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m good thanks. Let’s have a look then.’

  All professional, she followed Kev back down the path.

  27th September, 0940 hours – Allotments behind Dodmire School near Firthmoor

  ‘Kev, how we going? Is there any ID on the body?’ DS Slater’s voice came from the cordon at the top of the path. Kevin knew he hated fire bodies – something to do with something from his past if the rumour mill was to be believed – he wondered why Slater had opted to be sergeant for the fire investigation team when he hated the bodies. Maybe he’d ask, one day. But he knew, really, he probably wouldn’t – Slater was a colleague, not a friend. Definitely wouldn’t make a good subject for polite conversation.

  He stuck his head round the shed and glanced up the path to the gate where Slater stood.

  ‘Not yet, boss. I’ll check his pockets now unless you want to come down and do it?’

  ‘Nah, you go right ahead,’ said Slater, shaking his head.

  Kev turned back to the body and nodded at Jackson who was stood nearby. You OK to photograph as I check for ID?’

  ‘You know I am. You think you’ll find any? I can’t even tell if he has any pockets.’

  ‘Don’t know, but we won’t know until we check. Ed, you OK just stepping back for a sec?’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand, two hands better than one where stuck clothing’s concerned I reckon.’ Snapping on another pair of latex gloves over the pair she already wore, Ed knelt down beside the body and looked up at him expectantly.

  Kev felt his knees groan in protest as he lowered himself to the ground. A football injury from his twenties meant his knees were older than they should have been – that’s how the doc at the hospital had described it anyway, right before he’d mentioned the words ‘arthritis’ and ‘manageable with pain medication’.

  Kev placed his hands around the top of the thigh, feeling for a wallet shape. Shaking his head, he said, ‘We’ll have to turn him, I think it might be on the other side.’

  Ed nodded grimly – repositioning herself at the bent knees of the body, she took hold of the knee caught beneath the top knee, and glanced at Kev to make sure he was ready at the top of the body.

  He nodded at her once, ‘One, two and shift,’ he said, pulling the shoulders and turning the body a full 180 degrees so it faced the opposite way. The bottom side of the body wasn’t burned quite as much – the weight of the body would have extinguished the flames at the point where it met with the paving slab, and the pocket was clearly visible in the male’s trousers.

  Gingerly, Kev placed his hand inside and pulled at the shape inside. The wallet came out easily enough, and though singed, wasn’t too badly damaged. Kev put it on the floor so Jackson could photograph it, then opened it, pausing again while the images were taken. Pulling out a driving license, he let Jackson finish up before picking up the whole thing and making his way back up to path to where Slater was stood waiting.

  ‘Here you go, boss. Obviously having the wallet isn’t proof that the deceased is the lad concerned, but I would say it’s likely. If one of your guys can get a DNA sample from the address listed on the driving license, we’ll be able to compare it with samples taken at the PM this afternoon.’

  ‘Not my first rodeo,’ said Slater knowingly.

  ‘Aye, sorry. I forget myself sometimes. You gunna attend the PM this arvo? I should be OK to sit in with any evidence we find by say 5pm I reckon. The scene itself isn’t too extensive, and I’ve got Deena coming down to assist shortly anyway. Hopefully those rain clouds will hold off until later on. Last thing we need right now is a downpour.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be attending,’ said Slater grimly. ‘Shaw, one of my DCs, will stay here for the time being. I’m not releasing the scene any time soon. Know this hasn’t been confirmed as murder but I’ve got a sinking feeling it’s going to be.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. Right, I’ll crack on. Catch up with you later, boss.’

  27th September, 1015 hours – Allotments behind Dodmire School, near Firthmoor

  ‘I’m about done, Kev. It’s all in my report but you already know what I’m going to say, right?’ Edina’s voice was soft, she knew he’d seen her examining the burn markings on the base of the shed. To those not in the know, they looked like normal scorch marks caused by fire on wood. The untrained eye wouldn’t have noticed the distinctive pattern in the burns – it spread out from the centre of the shed base towards the edges, and there was a slight trail to where the door had once stood.

  It told Edina all she needed to know – accelerant, something along the lines of diesel, had been used to
douse the shed and the victim whose body still lay on the ground outside what was left of the shed’s structure.

  ‘Aye, I know. Knew it in my gut before I even got here. If his ID’s accurate then this sucks – poor kid – wouldn’t want to think I’d go like that. One of those worst nightmare situations. Gunna be here for a while I reckon. Seems fairly obvious the fuel was taken from the vat near the greenhouse – we’ll take a sample and compare it to the air vapours captured in the nylon bag. Think whoever did this knew what they were doing?’

  ‘Wouldn’t like to speculate to be honest. It’s possible – he or she may not have considered that the vic would make a run for the door – if the fire had been contained inside the shed it would have burned hotter and faster until it met the air outside – that much oxygen in one go – well suffice to say there wouldn’t have been much left. Or it could be the complete opposite and the offender had thought it through to the final detail of him running for the door. Do me a favour, keep me updated. Know my bit’s essentially done but I’d like to know the outcome.’

  ‘Sure, no problems. Your number’s on the force systems right?’

  ‘Yeah. Listen, Kev, I – erm, I wanted to thank you for this morning. It could have been awkward between us – after what happened the other night I’ve been acting like a complete bitch towards you so I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d said I was nuts, walked away without checking the house for me. I do appreciate it.’

  ‘It’s fine – I can’t believe how well you’re taking it all to be honest. If someone was coming in my house like that, I’d be in pieces. You’re a strong woman, Edina – keep reporting the issues – he’ll slip up at some point – they always do. Then we’ll clap the cuffs on and you won’t have any further problems. I’m just sorry I couldn’t figure it out this morning. When I get a second, I’d like to come back round and have another look about, if you don’t mind?’