Down Down Down

by L M Krier

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m treading on your toes, Mike. I know you’re well up to this. I just wanted a look myself. Just in case anything jumps out at me.’

  ‘No worries at all, boss. Any and all input gratefully received. We’ve not made much headway yet, have we?’

  Mike parked the car where indicated and the two of them got out. Ted stood looking around him for a moment.

  ‘Something like those London plane trees, for instance.’

  ‘Come again, boss? I’m not much into gardening. I leave that to the missus. That’s been a big help with her stress levels. Keeps them on a nice even keel. What are these trees, and what’s significant about them?’

  Ted pointed across the park to a line of trees next to a path.

  ‘Those trees over there, with the patchy bark. I only know what they are because I was the sort of small child who had to know the name and purpose of everything. My dad was great. Always finding things out for me. And for himself. He was interested in everything. That’s where I got it from. He went to the library a lot when he could. There were some of those trees growing in the road where my dad’s house was. Still there. People moan when they shed their leaves and they pile up in their gardens, though.

  ‘They can stand a pretty hefty pruning. They even pollard them in some places. Those over there have had a good trim. Quite recently, by the look of it. That’s a job for a skilled tree surgeon, working at that height in a public open space and doing a proper job of it. Can you make a note to get someone to check with the council parks department if they ever contract out their arboriculture work or if they use their own employees.’

  Seeing Mike’s look, Ted laughed. ‘I’m just showing off now. I told you, I was a precocious child who liked to know stuff. It’s the posh word for growing and managing trees. We have body parts the Professor thinks were removed with a chainsaw and she said she might be able to match fibres left on the body to the type of trees the saw had been used on, if it had. Over there we have a line of trees which have clearly had a recent encounter with a chainsaw. Not far from where the latest body part was found. Coincidence?

  ‘Right, let’s go and see if there’s anything else we might spot to give us another lead.’

  The area where the latest remains had been found was taped off. Ted signed in for both of them and they were given coveralls before they entered the scene.

  Doug, from the CSI team, was scene manager. He glared at them as they approached cautiously. Normally he had a lot of time for Ted. He’d given him Adam, the kitten, and they often chatted about cats, which Doug bred and exhibited. Today he looked decidedly disgruntled.

  ‘You need to get whoever’s behind this, boss. We’re stretched too thin to cover all of these sites properly. Plus I’ve got people on the arson case as well.’

  ‘I hear you, Doug. If it’s any consolation, we’re equally stretched, for the same reasons. We’ve no ID on the victim yet. But we are working on it, I promise you. So anything at all you can give us will be a bonus.’

  His appeasing tone seemed to smooth ruffled feathers to a degree. He shared Doug’s frustrations. They’d normally have at least an ID on the body by now. But with no head – yet – facial recognition wasn’t going to happen. The DNA wasn’t on record and so far there were no distinctive features to go on. No tattoos, no piercings, nothing to give any indication of identity.

  ‘As you can see, boss, I’ve got Uniform searching higher up that bank you came down for any traces of who might have left this body part. That’s because, from the slight indent in the soil where it was found, I think it’s likely that the bag was thrown down here, rather than brought down and placed. There’s a lot of confusion in terms of footprints where it was found, because I gather there was a bunch of teenagers here. I also hear one was Jo’s son, so he at least had the sense to keep the others back once he realised what the find was.

  ‘I can’t tell you yet how long it was lying here before they found it. But I imagine it would be tricky for someone to trot through the park carrying a bin bag in broad daylight, without raising some suspicions. And public vehicles aren’t allowed far enough down to get near to here. So somebody might have seen something.’

  ‘I think I might just have a theory as to the vehicle in question,’ Ted told him. ‘Mike and I will have a look around here then get back to the nick to work on the idea. Thanks for all you’re doing, Doug.’

  Warren was busily mopping the chapel floor. The same monotonous humming under his breath.

  Circle. Dab. Glide.

  Circle. Dab. Glide.

  He barely glanced up as the door opened and the chaplain strode in, stopping short of the point Warren had already cleaned. The prisoner still made no gesture to acknowledge his presence.

  ‘Hello, William. Doing a good job there, as usual, I see. I hear you spoke to young Joey last night. I told the wing staff that I thought he was in need of a Listener and they put him on a 2052. Although I really hope he’s simply troubled by the newness of it all, rather than actually suicidal. You can never tell, of course. Especially with the quieter ones. I told Joey when you were next on the rota, although I’m not supposed to do that, strictly speaking, because I thought you’d be the best possible person to help him.’

  Now Warren lifted his pale eyes to the chaplain’s face. ‘Thank you, padre, that was a good idea. I think Joey and I made a connection, so I hope I can continue to help him. He seems a nice young man. Hopelessly out of his depth in here, poor thing. He spoke very highly of you.’

  ‘Did he?’ One of the chaplain’s hands went up to his neck to fiddle with his dog collar. ‘Good, good. That’s good to hear.’

  Warren was mopping again. Slowly. Rhythmically.

  ‘Indeed. He spoke of the comfort your touch brings him. By the way, I’ve put in an application to speak to the Governor.’

  ‘You have?’ The chaplain’s question came out as a squeak.

  ‘Yes. You know I hate to complain but if it’s not one thing it’s another. This time it’s my newspaper order being mixed up yet again. Surely I’m well enough known by now for it to be obvious I don’t read the red top gutter press. That, plus a few other things I want to talk to him about.’

  ‘Really?’ A note of anxiety in the chaplain’s voice now. ‘If ever there’s anything at all I can do to help you, William, I hope you know that you only have to ask. I think you know me well enough by now to understand that.’

  Warren paused in his work and leaned against his mop, looking directly at the chaplain, who was shifting from foot to foot.

  ‘Well, now you come to mention it, padre, there is another great service you can do for me. You’ve already helped me so much and I wouldn’t ask if there was any other way. But I know I can trust you to do this small thing for me.’

  Chapter Eight

  There was a new face in the office when Ted and Mike got back in. Sitting next to Virgil, poring over whatever information he was showing her with rapt attention. She looked up at the sound of the door opening and sprang to her feet.

  Ted decided Jim had been exaggerating when he’d said the new officer, DC Amelie Foster, looked about fourteen. She was more like sixteen at least. Everything about her was neat on first inspection. A smart tailored trouser suit. Hair pulled back into a severe French plait.

  ‘DC Foster? Amelie, is it? I’m DCI Darling, this is DS Hallam. Welcome to the team.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’m really excited to be given this chance. I’ve heard an awful lot about you.’

  ‘Don’t believe half of it, and make up your own mind about me. Virgil, have we got something new yet?’

  ‘Strong possibility, boss, with a bit of luck,’ Virgil told him. ‘Bartholomew Byrne was living in a council flat. When he disappeared and the rent wasn’t being paid, the council repossessed. They don’t hang about these days, apparently, when it comes to bad debts. All his personal effects were bagged up and taken to a lock-up, in case he should ever reappear lookin
g for them, but the flat is no longer his and the locks have been changed.

  ‘I’ve arranged to go down there this afternoon and a key-holder will give me access. With a bit of luck, I can find something which might have his DNA on it which can then be compared to that of the body parts.’

  ‘Nice one, Virgil,’ Ted told him. ‘Take Amelie with you. Amelie, what sort of things should we be looking for?’

  He decided to test how far her theoretical knowledge was going to help her in the workplace.

  Without pausing for breath, she started to reel off a list. ‘Toothbrush, hairbrush, comb, unwashed clothing, especially underwear, bedding ...’

  ‘Good,’ Ted told her and made to head for his office, but she clearly wasn’t finished yet. Jim had been right about her being keen.

  ‘Sir, I know we don’t have any fingers yet and that this man Byrne isn’t on record, but should we also be looking for items like drinking glasses, mugs, that sort of thing? In case the fingers turn up at some point and we can get a match that way?’

  ‘That’s a valid point and it’s certainly worth trying. Let’s go for the DNA first because it will take time for those results to come back and that’s most likely to give us the confirmation of identity we need. But bring back anything you think might be useful and relevant. Don’t bother too much about an itemised inventory at this stage. We can sort that later. DNA samples are the priority. Let’s concentrate first on anything likely to advance progress on the case.’

  Amelie started talking the moment she and Virgil were in the car together and heading for the council lock-up.

  ‘So that’s the famous Ted Darling. He’s not at all what I expected. Much shorter, for a start. I read up about him, when I knew I was getting this temporary posting. Have you worked with Ted for long?’

  ‘The boss,’ Virgil told her. ‘We always call him the boss, even behind his back. You won’t find a better one so he deserves that respect. And don’t go off appearances. They can be deceptive. I’ve been with him a good few years now and I wouldn’t willingly change.’

  ‘He’s very quiet, though. I thought he was ex-SFO? I was expecting some sort of Rambo-type macho man, I suppose. I knew he was gay, of course, from what I’d found out. I just didn’t expect someone so small and quiet.’

  Virgil gave a short laugh. ‘The time to watch yourself is when he goes even quieter. He doesn’t do shouting or reading the riot act. Very rarely, at least. But if ever he needs to jump on you, you’ll know about it.

  ‘Now, if you can read my scribble on that note, tell me which of these storage units we’re supposed to be heading to.’

  It was a depressing sight. The whole of one person’s life, reduced to a few dozen heavy-duty plastic bags and slung into a lock-up on a council site. It didn’t smell too fragrant in there, and that was before Virgil and Amelie had started opening the bags. A pervading musty odour of damp-infested fabric and stale socks.

  Virgil signed them both in on a clipboard produced by the officious man who met them. He promised to phone the man as soon as they were finished, to come and lock the unit back up. At least they were able to park quite close to. If they did find a lot of stuff to take away for testing, they wouldn’t have to lug it far. They’d also brought an ample supply of evidence bags of all sizes, with boxes to put them in. That way they could simplify things by arranging them in some sort of order.

  Virgil spread out plastic sheeting so they could empty bags out without risking contamination of the items they contained. They both pulled on gloves, then Virgil produced face masks and handed one to Amelie.

  ‘Really? Do we need those?’

  ‘This stuff is going to be dusty. It’ll make you sneeze. Believe me, I’ve drawn this short straw a few times. You can either put this on or you can explain to some grumpy sod from Forensics why you didn’t and you managed to sneeze all over what might have been a good sample. The choice is entirely yours.’

  Amelie laughed as she took the mask. They stood for a moment, looking at the task before them.

  ‘How do you want to do this, then? How about if we move everything to one side first, then as we search each bag, move it to the empty side?’ Amelie suggested.

  ‘Sounds as good a method as any,’ Virgil agreed. He was relieved that she didn’t appear to be in the least bit bothered by the work they faced. At least she seemed to have no illusions about the glamour aspect of the job. Then he smiled to himself, thinking the boss would pull him up short for having been judgemental about his new colleague. Just because she was wearing a sharp suit, which looked expensive, didn’t mean she was going to be too precious for the dirty parts of a police officer’s work.

  It was soon obvious she was keen to chat. It was natural she would want to know about her new team mates, even for a temporary posting. She kept up a barrage of questions, interspersed with a running commentary on anything she found which might be useful in the search for Byrne’s DNA to compare with that of the body.

  ‘Ugh, gross! What dirty type keeps used cotton ear cleaners in a bag in their bathroom? Still, I suppose they can extract something from those. And the world supply of used disposable razors. There should be plenty of skin cells and hair on them. They all look well used.

  ‘Do you have a theory about why there were no internal organs in the abdomen found yesterday? If someone took off the fingers and lower leg because they were scarred, might they have removed the organs because they could help with identification, too? Suppose he’d had his appendix out? Or his prostate removed? Something like that.’

  ‘I suppose it’s possible. We’re lucky with the pathologist we have. Professor Nelson. She’s one of the best in the country. If we ever get most of the body together in one place, I imagine she’ll do a standard post-mortem and find out details like that. In the meantime we’ll try to get hold of Mr Byrne’s medical records. That’s routine in something like this.’

  After a moment Virgil spoke again. ‘I don’t think personal hygiene was big on our Mr Byrne’s agenda. Not judging by the kecks I’ve just found. They almost qualify as an offensive weapon.’

  ‘Kecks?’

  ‘Underpants. Skid-marks and all, plus something I’d rather not speculate on. Kecks is what we call them round here. But it can get confusing as some people use the same word for trousers in general.’

  ‘I see. Thank you. I’m from Surrey, so I hadn’t heard that one before. And it sounds delightful. I think we’re probably going to go back with samples of every possible kind from our Mr Byrne.’

  ‘You’ve probably covered it in training so I apologise if it sounds patronising, but when you bag items, you put your initials on the bag and give each one an individual number. Like this.’

  He held out the bag into which he’d just put the underwear. Amelie took hold of his gloved hands in hers while she leaned over to read what he’d just written. She kept hold of him as she said, ‘DT? I thought your name was Virgil Tibbs?’

  Virgil grinned at her. ‘That’s just a nickname. My real name’s Dennis, which I use for anything official. No one ever calls me that, except the wife. Especially when I’m in her bad books.’

  Amelie was looking at him appraisingly. Virgil gently extricated himself from her hold and attempted to change the subject.

  ‘Surrey’s a long way down south. What made you come up to Stockport?’

  ‘Putting as much distance as humanly possible between me and an over-protective, cloying family.’ She was rummaging through the contents of another bag as she spoke. ‘Oh, look, here’s a mobile phone. I wonder if it’s an old one he didn’t use and he had his newer one with him’

  ‘Some people do go out without a phone. After all, if he was a bit of a loner, like it seems, he wouldn’t have many people to call. Bag it up. It might tell us something. Although if there was no signs of a disturbance in the flat and this was his current mobile, it’s possible he didn’t have one with him when he disappeared, so we won’t be able to pinpoint his last locati
on. I know Maurice said it was examined when officers entered his flat, but probably no more than a quick look.’

  ‘So, what about a drink when we finish the shift, after a lovely job like this?’

  ‘We sometimes go for a drink at the end of the week. The boss is good about putting his hand in his pocket, too. Another reason we like him. Or we go for one if we get a good result.’

  ‘I was wondering about the two of us? As mates, at the end of a shitty shift?’

  Virgil went back to his rummaging, not making eye contact with her.

  ‘No, you’re all right, thanks. I have a wife and a little daughter to get home to. Another time, perhaps.’ Then he paused and held up something he’d just found. ‘The only photo we have to date of Mr Byrne, from the Misper poster, is his ID shot from his personnel file at work. Typically, it could be almost anyone. Here’s a photo, from one of those booths, by the look of it, which looks a bit like him, though a bit younger. But he was supposedly a single man with no family other than a distant cousin.

  ‘So who’s the little girl sitting on his knee?’

  Amelie looked up with interest and crawled closer across the plastic sheeting to study the photo Virgil was holding out to her. He wondered fleetingly if she needed glasses for distance and for some reason didn’t like wearing them. This time, he was uncomfortably aware of her perfume. Subtle, with more than a hint of musk.

  ‘There’s something seriously pervy about that photo.’

  ‘She could just be a relative we don’t yet know about. A niece. A daughter, even.’

  ‘Yes, but look where his hand is. That child looks about ten or so. That means she could well have been developing breasts. And feeling self-conscious about it. Whoever she is and whatever his relationship to her, there’s something not right about him having his hand right over her boob.’

  Ted made it to the dojo by the skin of his teeth in time for the junior self-defence club. He’d left Jo to wrap things up for the day, telling himself again that there was no point in having a perfectly competent DI if he didn’t make good use of him.