Gail shook her head. “He doesn’t have a team, not one he trusts to come out to crime scenes, anyway.”
“So what happens when he’s not working?” Lesley said.
“When he’s not working, we wait for him to be working.”
Lesley gritted her teeth. They had to find a better pathologist. Somebody more accommodating, who didn’t treat them like his underlings.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of machinery near her right ear.
“What the fuck?”
Behind Lesley, Dennis cleared his throat. She turned. “Sorry, Dennis. I didn’t know you were there.”
He raised an eyebrow.
Gail pushed her to one side. “That’ll be Gav. He’s sawing through the back of the beach hut to give us better access.”
Lesley ducked down, pulling her body towards the cliff to get away from the wood. “Tell him to stop till we get out!”
“Gav!” Gail called. “Wait five minutes!”
Lesley looked at the back of the hut. “There could be evidence on the wood. We can’t just destroy it.”
Gail shook her head. “He wasn’t brought here.” She pointed upwards. “He was pushed.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Gail said. “Look at the tracks running down the cliff.”
Lesley looked up. There was damage to the grass above them. A shrub six feet up looked like it had been hit with something heavy.
“He came down that way,” Gail said.
“The shrubs?”
Gail nodded. “Plenty of rubbish down here, but nothing solid enough to do that.”
“Still, we need to keep all possi—”
“Trust me,” Gail told her. “This is my job.”
“OK,” Lesley replied.
The sawing had increased in intensity now, giving Lesley a headache.
“Let’s back up,” Gail said. “Then go out through the hut.”
Lesley and Gail shuffled backwards, shifting so they were two huts along. Dennis shunted along behind them. Lesley looked at the body on the ground. She hoped they wouldn’t damage it.
“They’ll make sure the back of that beach hut falls inwards, won’t they?” she asked.
Gail looked at her. “You don’t have to tell us how to do our job.”
“Sorry.” She needed to trust Gail. The woman knew what she was doing.
There was a crash and the rear wall fell away from them, towards the front. Someone stopped it before it hit the ground. It was gently lowered and then pulled away.
“Make sure you preserve it!” Gail called. “I want to get any evidence on that wood.”
Lesley looked at her. “I thought you said they didn’t come down this way.”
“That doesn’t mean there can’t be any forensics on the back of the beach hut. We check everywhere.”
Lesley nodded. Thoroughness, that’s what she liked.
Gail walked through the beach hut. The back wall had been carried out by her two colleagues and was propped up on the concrete walkway. Next to it, Henry Whittaker stood blinking at them. He cocked his head to look through at them.
“My turn now, I suppose.”
Lesley rolled her eyes. “Dr Whittaker. We’ve been waiting for you.”
He grunted. “I’m sure you have.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Whittaker bent over the body. “We’ve got a white man, in his late fifties by the looks of it. Slightly overweight, no injuries visible from this angle. But…”
He moved the man’s head, turning it sideways.
Lesley grimaced. The man had a deep gash on the back of his head. Hair stuck to it and blood was congealing around it. It was deep, sticky, blackened.
“Probable cause of death,” said Dr Whittaker.
“You’re sure?” Lesley asked.
He looked up at her. “I can’t be a hundred per cent right now, not until I’ve taken the chap to the morgue. But a wound like this would kill a man. If not immediately, the internal bleeding would do it.” He pointed at the man’s head. “See the discolouration around the wound, and on his face? Haemorrhaging. Head wounds can produce a lot of blood.”
Lesley looked up the cliff. “Was the blow delivered here, or before he fell?”
“It would take some force to do this. I very much doubt it could have been done in the confined space behind these huts.” He followed her gaze. “No. He was hit, then pushed down.”
“Not brought behind here from the front?”
“I heard what the CSI people think, and I agree with them. I can’t see any evidence of him being dragged behind here. There would be splinters in his skin, grazes where he’d been dragged through. There’s bruising on his shoulder – see, here?” He lowered the man’s shirt collar and Lesley ducked down to see a bruise beneath. “It’s the kind of bruise you get when you hit something, not from being dragged. That’ll be where he hit the shrubs on the way down.” He looked up. “There’s enough of them.”
“You’re sure he didn’t hit his head on the way down? A rock, maybe?”
The pathologist looked up the cliff. “I can’t see anything sharp enough to do this. Whatever it was, it was pointed. This was a deliberate blow, a forceful one. The shrubs would have slowed his descent, meaning if he hit something, it wouldn’t have been with enough force.” He straightened up. “Somebody did this to him.”
Lesley nodded. A second murder case in three days.
She turned to Gail. “We need to check for signs of somebody else being here, cordon off the area at the top of the cliff. Check for CCTV cameras. Any houses or flats overlooking it. I want to know if we’ve got witnesses.”
Gail looked at her. “Witnesses aren’t my job, Lesley.”
“Sorry.”
Lesley sighed. She turned to Dennis, who had joined them inside the beach hut. “Dennis, you get all that?”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll talk to Johnny and Mike, get them to make a start.”
“Good.” She looked back at the body. “So do we know who he was? Was he carrying any ID?”
Now he’d been moved, she could see the man’s face for the first time, or the little of it that was visible through the thick spatter of blood from the head wound. It obscured his right eye and covered his cheek. Even his nearest and dearest would struggle to recognise him.
Lesley reached out a hand to the wall of the hut. This never got easy.
Gail bent to search his pockets. “Nothing,” she said. “Completely empty.”
“Could his killer have emptied his pockets?” Lesley asked.
“Not many people have absolutely nothing in their pockets,” Gail replied. “So I’d say there’s a good chance, yes.”
“That’s encouraging. They might have left their DNA behind.”
“Unless they wore gloves.”
Lesley sighed. “Let’s hope our killer wasn’t that clever. It could just have been a drunken fight at the top of the cliff. Somebody hit him too hard and he went over.”
Gail shook her head. “Have you seen the height of the fences up there? You can’t push somebody over there by accident. Whoever it was, had to lift him and get him over.” She looked at the pathologist. “Is there any evidence of him having been dragged over the fence?”
The pathologist shook his head. “Not from what I can see with him clothed, but obviously we’ll know more when we do the post-mortem.”
Lesley crouched down to get a better look at the body. A ring on his right finger caught her eye. It was a signet ring.
She looked back at his face. Now she knew what to look for, he was recognisable.
“Oh, sh...”
She glanced at Dennis.
In death, she hadn’t recognised the man. There was something about the size of his personality that had made him different in life.
“I know him,” she said. “You two, Dennis. We each interviewed him.”
Gail twisted to look up at her. “Who is he?”
&
nbsp; Lesley swallowed. “His name’s Harry Nevin.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The pathologist was still inspecting Harry Nevin’s body, with Lesley watching on.
Dennis stood back, surveying the scene. He looked up and down the cliff, wondering how much strength it would take to push a large man like Nevin over it. They’d been certain that Nevin had killed Ameena. In which case who’d killed Nevin, and was it related?
He took a step towards Lesley and she turned towards him.
“What are you thinking, boss?” he asked.
“They’ve got to be connected,” she said. “Nevin was looking likely for Ameena’s death. Which means somebody could have killed him, because he killed her.”
“Or somebody else could have killed them both,” Dennis suggested.
She shrugged. “We’ll know more when we get the DNA.” She looked at Gail. “When are we expecting that?”
“The lab said it will be today or tomorrow. I’ll see if they can hurry it up.”
“Thanks.”
Lesley looked at Dennis. “I’ll stay here for a bit, keep an eye on things. But I want you and the DCs to make a start on CCTV and witnesses. I’ll come and find you when I’m done here.”
Dennis walked away from the crime scene, towards the path that led up the cliff. It would be harder going up than it had been coming down. As he reached the bottom of the path, he spotted Johnny coming the other way.
“Alright, mate,” he said.
“I hear we’ve got a new body,” Johnny replied.
Dennis nodded. “Harry Nevin.”
“Whoah. The same Harry Nevin who…?”
“The one and only. You’ve come from the office?”
Johnny gestured behind him. “Mike’s with me, we went to see Danny Rogers.”
“And?”
“He was obstructive. He insisted that Sam Chaston was a mate of his girlfriend, but I didn’t believe him. There’s something fishy going on there.”
“Right,” said Dennis. “Find out if his girlfriend backs up his story.”
“Will do,” replied Johnny.
“Meanwhile, the DCI wants us to see if any CCTV overlooks the crime scene. And we need to knock on some doors up there.” Dennis gestured towards the flats at the top of the cliffs.
Johnny followed his gaze. “No problem, boss.”
“Come on, then.” Dennis hauled himself up the hill, wishing he was fitter.
Mike was walking down towards them. “Alright, Sarge? What have we got?”
“Harry Nevin, pushed down the cliff. Sometime last night, most likely.”
Mike winced. “Really?”
Dennis didn’t want to have this conversation again. “I want you to start collating evidence. Forensics, witnesses. You can do that?”
Mike nodded. He looked disappointed. “You want me in the office?”
Dennis scratched his nose. “Uniform are already knocking on doors. I want someone back at base pulling it together.” He looked towards the crime scene. The DCI was distracted; he needed to set the investigation in motion. And he’d done this plenty of times before.
“Go on, then.”
“Sarge.” Mike turned back up the hill, striding purposefully. He was almost thirty years younger than Dennis, who envied him.
“You want me here with you?” Johnny asked, a smile playing on his lips.
“I want you here, yes. Door knocking, those flats. Find out if there’s any CCTV. Ask the residents if they saw suspicious activity last night. If Harry Nevin was pushed over, someone must have seen.”
“So he wasn’t brought in from the road at the bottom, taken around the back of the beach huts?” Johnny asked.
“There’s evidence of him going down the cliff. Damage to shrubs.”
“That fence is a bit high to be shoving a body over.” Johnny looked up, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.
“We might be looking for more than one suspect,” said Dennis. “Only one way to find out.”
“OK.”
Before Johnny had a chance to turn away, Dennis put a hand on his arm. “Wait a moment.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Something up, Sarge?”
“That case of Ameena Khan’s, the one they didn’t tell us about...”
“Steven Leonard?” Johnny said.
“We need to talk to him,” Dennis replied. “If the Kelvin family have got something to do with this, we need to know about it.”
“Have you spoken to the DCI?”
“Not yet.” Dennis looked up the hill. “I’m heading over to his address. You work the door-to-door.”
“Of course, Sarge. You sure about this?”
Dennis looked up the cliff, and back at the DC. “I am.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lesley answered her phone. She pushed her hair back behind her ear; the wind was picking up from the sea now and buffeting it around her head.
“Dennis,” she said, “You’ve got news for me?”
“Just an update boss,” he replied. “Johnny’s here, I’ve sent him up to the flats at the top of the cliff. He’ll find out if we have any eyewitnesses or CCTV. I thought I’d go and interview Mrs Nevin, break the news to her. Somebody’s got to do it.”
Lesley pushed her hair back again, cursing the wind. “No, I’ll do that.”
“You seem busy at the crime scene.”
“It’s fine, Dennis.”
“Well, I’ll go and speak to the partners then. Cross and Short.”
She hesitated. It was probably best if she wasn’t involved in interviewing Elsa.
“OK,” she said, “But call me before you speak to them. I want to inform his wife first.”
“Will do, boss.” He hung up.
Lesley pocketed her phone and walked back towards Gail. Dennis had been odd on the phone. When she’d spoken to him before, he’d said nothing about disappearing to do interviews. He’d said he would look for CCTV and witnesses. But Johnny could handle that, and Uniform would be knocking on doors too.
“How are we doing?” she asked Gail.
“Pathologist’s finished for now,” Gail replied.
Sure enough, Whittaker was packing up his bag.
Lesley approached him. “You still think it was that gash on the back of his head?”
“I can’t see anything else,” he told her. “Obviously, there’s the post-mortem to do and then I’ll be able to confirm. I don’t like to commit myself before that.”
I bet you don’t, Lesley thought. “When will you be doing the PM?”
He shrugged. “Tomorrow, I imagine.”
“Surely today would be more appropriate?”
“I’m a busy man, Inspector.”
She jabbed a fingernail into her thigh. “We’ve got two related murders, that takes priority.”
“I can’t just move all of my other work to one side because you’re in a hurry.” He stood square to her, his gaze level.
“In that case, tell me what you can from your examination here. Any defensive wounds?”
“Nothing,” the pathologist said. “His hands are clear.”
“OK. See if you can get a shuffle on though, won’t you? I’m sure my bosses would be happy if you could do the post-mortem today.”
Whittaker raised an eyebrow. “I don’t answer to your bosses, DCI Clarke.”
She gritted her teeth. Henry Whittaker was a pain in the arse, but if she didn’t play nice he might delay even more.
“Just tell me when you’re doing it. I’ll send one of my guys along.”
“Of course.” He picked up his bag and walked away.
Lesley stood beside Gail, watching the pathologist striding towards the end of the beach.
“He does my head in,” Lesley said.
“I know what you mean,” Gail replied. “I’ve been working with him for years.”
“Looks like he was here since the dinosaurs.”
“Don’t be too harsh on him. He knows what he’
s doing.”
“He’s slow,” Lesley told her. “He’s rude, he’s uncooperative and he’s arrogant. When I was in West Midlands, we had—”
Gail put a hand on her arm. “You’re not in Birmingham now, Lesley. You need to work at our pace.”
“But you don’t work at a snail’s pace,” Lesley told her. “You’re one of the most efficient CSMs I’ve ever met.”
Gail smiled. “Thanks for the compliment. It won’t get you any favours.”
Lesley laughed. “You don’t need compliments to work hard. I’ll leave you to it.”
“I’ll tell you if we find anything else.”
“I know you will.” Lesley walked away.
She approached a uniformed sergeant who was standing near the cordon. “I need a lift,” she told him. “To Canford Cliffs. Can one of your people drive me?”
“Certainly, Ma’am,” he said. “Follow me.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Steven Leonard lived in a council flat in the north of Bournemouth. The holidaymakers who came to this town probably never imagined that there were local people living in places like this. They probably thought it was all wealthy retirees, and multimillionaires with their luxury pads in Sandbanks. But like all towns, Bournemouth had its rough patches.
Dennis parked his car and strode to the outside door of the block of flats. It was a low block, six flats in a squat two-storey building. He buzzed flat number three.
The intercom crackled, and a male voice spoke. “Yeah, what d’you want?”
“Mr Leonard?” Dennis said. “My name is DS Frampton. I want to ask you a few questions.”
“You got a warrant?”
“You’re not under arrest,” he said. “I just have some questions.”
“You haven’t got a warrant then?”
“Like I say,” Dennis told him. “It’s just background information. I’m sure if you cooperate with us...”
“You ain’t got no warrant, you’re not coming in,” the man said.
The intercom went silent. Dennis looked up and down the row of buttons. At this time in the morning, the trades button would work. He pushed it and the door opened. He elbowed his way inside and walked up the stairs, his footsteps light.
The Clifftop Murders (Dorset Crime Book 2) Page 12
