Getting straight down to business didn’t work. Rob Kent, a ladies’ man and excellent forensic pathologist, grinned widely at Jack before his gaze shifted. ‘Hello Kate,’ he said, conversationally. ‘Haven’t seen you before.’
Jack was surprised when she replied evenly. ‘Never done this before, although my boss suggested I didn’t admit that to you.’
Jack looked at her now, impressed by her composure, very little of which he seemed capable of exercising himself. He almost hoped the victim was another illegal immigrant and no parents would ever have to come and claim this body.
‘A virgin?’ Rob mouthed silently at Jack, delight in his eyes.
Jack had to admire Kate’s honesty. He nodded, keen to keep this meeting appropriately sombre out of respect for the victim, who looked so small and inconsequential beneath the green sheet that allowed her some dignity. A matching green cap covered her scalp.
Rob sensed Jack’s wishes and proceeded professionally, which Jack was sure meant he’d now owe the pathologist one.
‘Well, as this is your first time, Kate, I’ll explain everything as I go along. If you’re wondering why we have her hair covered, it’s because we’re yet to comb through it for forensic material.’
Jack saw Kate nod from the corner of his eye. ‘Holding up?’ he murmured, not really needing to ask.
‘Better than I thought I would,’ she answered. ‘You?’
‘I want to be sick,’ he admitted, knowing she’d appreciate his honesty.
Kent flicked off his recorder. ‘No whispering, please, when the great Dr Kent is performing.’ He gave them a mock glare.
‘Sorry,’ Jack said. ‘Proceed.’
‘All right, so just to recap before we go merrily cutting into this sad, beautiful victim, this is what we know. Her hair tells us she is of oriental ethnicity. Age . . . well, we’ll have something more accurate later today but at a guess I’d say late twenties. She has no outward injuries like cuts or bruises, other than the obvious.’
‘How did she die?’ Jack asked, repulsed all over again as he helplessly looked at the ‘obvious’ injury.
‘I’ll confirm this for you but I think it’s going to be an overdose of anaesthetic. We’ve found needle wounds and bruising on the top of her hand’ — he held it up — ‘and in her right arm. All consistent with intravenous attention.’
‘Was that the same for the others?’ Kate wondered.
Kent nodded at her. ‘Okay, my assistant, Sandy, is going to start combing through her hair. I’ll begin the internal examination. This is the nasty bit, Kate. Are you up to it?’
‘DCI Hawksworth will catch me if I fall, I’m sure.’
‘Why do you always get to be the knight in shining armour, Hawksworth?’
Jack wasn’t enjoying the banter. He was watching the victim’s dark hair heavily unfolding, reminding him of Lily. A sharp tug of fear passed through him. He hated listening to this with Lily’s whereabouts unknown. He needed to make that call and set things straight with the team in charge of her missing-persons case. He hoped this post-mortem — his part in it at least — could be concluded quickly.
‘Right, your boss is clearly not interested in conversation with us, Kate, so I’ll just quietly go about my business.’
Kate must have smiled or nodded, Jack didn’t know, because now he was staring at a mark on the corpse, just near her shoulder. He felt his breath catch.
‘What’s that mark at the top of her right arm?’ he asked. His voice sounded tight.
Kent frowned, stepped around to look at the victim’s right side. ‘Er, this? No, that’s not a bruise, Jack, just a birthmark . . . looks a bit like a tiny heart.’
Jack froze. He must have let out a sound of some sort because Kent looked up quizzically, and he couldn’t be sure but Kate might have been squeezing his arm.
‘Sir?’ It was Kate. ‘Everything all right?’
‘What’s happening, Jack?’ Kent called out.
Jack shook his head, numbing disbelief mingling with chilling despair. His mouth couldn’t form words.
‘Kate?’ Kent pressed.
‘Just give us a minute, Rob. Not sure what’s happening. DCI Hawksworth looks unwell.’
‘Then get him out of here,’ he replied, ‘although he’s done this enough times not to be squeamish. I suspect he’s been on the turps.’
Jack looked at Kate bleakly. He saw all the confusion written across her face.
‘You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong,’ she urged.
He heard a buzzer sound and Kent irritably answer. ‘Yes?’
A disconnected voice replied. ‘The homicide team handling this has just given us details on the van. We’ve traced it. We’ve got a likely name and address for the victim, Dr Kent. It’s a Lily Wu. She’s twenty-nine.’
‘Thank you. I don’t need those details right now but have the file ready for when I do. Now, Jack? Are you —’
Jack fled the gallery, mercifully knowing where the closest bathrooms were, and was heaving up breakfast in one of the cubicles, disinfectant fumes stinging his eyes.
Lily? Surely this was a mistake. Or a nightmare. He was going to wake up and she would be at his side and he would kiss the heart-shaped birthmark he’d kissed every morning they’d shared.
‘Jack!’ Kate was banging on the men’s bathroom door. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she took the chamber by storm. Kate had few sensibilities in that respect. He was right. Her fist had moved to the cubicle door that he had closed, but not locked.
‘Answer me. What is going on?’
‘Pretty obvious,’ he croaked.
‘Okay, okay,’ she said, easing the door open. ‘But why?’
He sucked in a big breath of unpleasant air and wiped his mouth with toilet paper. He flushed. ‘Let me out, will you?’ He pulled open the door and took in the frightened concern in his colleague’s expressive face. He said nothing, proceeded to wash his face, clean out his mouth. He gargled long and loudly. Kate said nothing until he was drying his face with paper towels.
‘Now apart from the fact that I know you wouldn’t have tied one on last night, I also would have smelled it on you if you had. So that’s booze out of the equation,’ she said.
‘Does food poisoning work for you?’ Jack replied absently, his mind churning with fear and anger.
‘I’m not the bad guy here. If you’re sick, just say so. No need to be embarrassed.’
He covered the snarl that came easily with a more reasonable expression. ‘I’m not sick, Kate, not in the way it looks. But I have to make a phone call — an urgent one — and then I have to get down to the crime scene before this girl’s family does. You stay here and finish up. You seem to be handling it really well. It doesn’t need both of us.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I say so,’ he said, leaving.
‘No, sir. I mean why do you have to get to the scene before the family does?’
He pulled at the door, turning briefly. ‘Because I know the victim,’ and he was gone before Kate could gather up her shock and respond.
6.
Jack stared, transfixed by the familiar van. SOCO people were crawling all over it as Sharpe had warned. From a distance he could see one of his own team, Malik, keeping a close watch on their progress and liaising with the homicide crew. He stepped back into a doorway and rang the young detective, watched him reach into his pocket for his phone.
‘DS Khan.’
‘It’s Hawksworth. I’m trying to find Brodie,’ he said, doing his best not to lie.
‘Hi sir, um, he’s been here at the scene with me. We’ve got a name for the victim, sir, have you heard?’
‘I have. Where is Brodie?’
‘He’s accompanying the victim’s parents back to their place in Hadley Wood and heading straight back to the ops room. Is he not answering his mobile, sir? Because I spoke to him on it just a few minutes ago.’
‘Not at the moment, Mal,’ he lied, reflecting he
probably had switched it off out of courtesy to Lily’s family. ‘How are they holding up?’
‘Not good, sir, as you might expect. That’s why he’s gone with them. They wanted to go straight to the morgue but he persuaded them to be escorted home first.’
‘They’ve hardly begun the post-mortem. It will be hours yet. Have they found anything in the van?’
‘Nothing yet, sir. But you know SOCO, everything takes an age. The photographer’s just on his way down now.’
‘Okay, good job, Mal. Catch you later,’ Jack said, dragging in cold air to keep himself alert, prevent himself from falling prey to the rush of emotion that was pummelling him.
He needed to call Stu Appleton from the homicide team and he really should call his boss, but he knew Malcolm Sharpe would not give him the support he needed on this, not at this moment, not until he’d made a different call.
Jack’s jaw was rigid as he punched in the number. ‘It’s me,’ he said as soon as it was answered. He didn’t wait for a response. ‘I need to see you.’
‘Something up?’
‘I need to see you now.’ His voice was terse.
He heard the sigh. ‘Okay, no problem. Er, at Empress, or —’
‘No. I’ll see you at the Blackbird. Give me half an hour.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘No.’ He rang off. Took one last look at Lily’s van, closed his eyes briefly to fix her beautiful face in his mind, banish the memory of its ruin, then began running towards Whitechapel tube station. Taxis were few and slow at this time of the morning;
besides, he wanted the ground to swallow him up and he wanted to be anonymous with no chatty taxi driver discussing politics or London traffic.
Fourteen stops later he alighted at busy Earls Court, a friendly face waiting at the ticket barriers when he showed his warrant. His hand was instantly caught in a firm shake, his arm squeezed tightly. He’d never been so glad to see his huge friend.
‘Geoff, thanks for coming. Nice beard.’
Amused, green eyes clouded with concern. ‘You look shaken, matey. Am I about to hear something really bad?’
Jack felt his bile rising again but he swallowed the urge angrily. It didn’t go unnoticed by his pal, Geoff Benson, who frowned now, and placed a big, bearlike arm around Jack’s shoulders. ‘I think you need a drink.’
‘I’m on duty.’
‘I’ll vouch it was for medicinal purposes. You’re ghost white, what’s happening?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I need some air. I’ll tell you everything at the Blackbird.’
‘All right, let’s go. Are you sure you’re going to make it?’
‘I’ll be okay.’
They moved in silence, dodging people, weaving their way towards the traditional watering hole, easily visible from a distance because of its distinctive black paint. Inside, it was all but deserted, predictable considering the hour.
‘What do you want?’
‘I don’t care,’ Jack said, looking wan and distracted. ‘But Geoff, no alcohol. The last thing I need is booze on my breath with what’s just happened.’ His friend nodded, turning back to the bar. Jack had felt his phone vibrating several times since he’d met Geoff and without even checking knew it would be Kate, or perhaps Cam. He had no desire to answer Kate’s inevitable questions or hear Cam’s report on Lily’s parents just yet. He needed a few moments longer and some advice. He slumped in a seat by the window, staring sightlessly through the grubby glass into busy Earls Court Road.
Geoff arrived, with two strong-looking coffees.
‘Get that down you,’ he said firmly.
Jack obeyed, grimacing at the first hit of bitter caffeine. Under the coffee he tasted something stronger still. He looked up at Geoff, query in his face.
‘I think you needed that,’ Geoff said lightly but softly. ‘It’s just a splash. Drink, Jack.’
He finished the cuppa and warmth spread through him from the malt whisky that had lurked beneath the roasted brew.
‘You can suck some mints later . . . or refer any complaints to me,’ Geoff counselled. ‘Better?’
‘Yeah,’ Jack admitted, but knew it was transient. He felt his eyes water, and covered the pain by pulling out his handkerchief and rubbing his face all over.
‘You need to tell me,’ Geoff coaxed.
He began, words suddenly spilling out easily now that he felt safe, cocooned in his closest, most trusted friend’s attention. ‘I’ve been seeing a woman. Her name’s Lily.’
‘The florist, right?’
Jack nodded. Geoff looked cuddly and that fooled people into thinking his friend was somehow dopey. But Jack didn’t know a sharper brain at work once Geoff threw his into action. He hated playing cards against him.
‘I’m impressed you remember,’ he said sadly.
‘You met her . . . what? Two years ago, or thereabouts?’
‘I did. You’re right, it’s two years. But we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months.’
‘All right, so I know this girl is British-born Chinese and beautifully exotic. I think that’s the description you used when you first told me about her.’
‘Very good, Geoff. I really am impressed by your memory.’
‘So?’
‘So . . . now she’s dead,’ he said baldly.
His friend carefully put down his glass of coffee. He sat back, regarding Jack, his eyes narrowing but filled with concern. ‘I don’t know what to say. Was it an accident?’
‘She was murdered.’
For all his professional composure, Geoff couldn’t hide his astonishment. ‘What? When?’
‘Sometime yesterday, I think.’ He made a sound that was half despair, half disbelief. ‘But it gets so much worse, as only my fucked up life can.’ He lifted his gaze to meet Geoff’s. ‘A post-mortem is currently under way on Lily . . . a post-mortem I was sent to observe because she was the latest victim in a killing spree. He likes to cut off their faces.’
Geoff looked stunned, and said nothing for a few horribly long moments, while Jack gazed at the dregs of his coffee. ‘Operation Panther,’ Geoff finally murmured.
‘The very one.’
‘You saw her?’ Geoff squirmed as he asked, and Jack imagined his friend regretted the question the second it was out.
‘Yes. Of course I didn’t know it was Lily then, because the woman on the table had no face.’ That was harsh. It wasn’t Geoff’s fault. He saw Geoff look down. ‘Sorry, you can’t imagine . . .’
‘No, I can’t. I really can’t. Jack, what can I do? Anything.’ He fidgeted with his new beard.
Jack’s anger fought through the pain. ‘I want to stay on the case,’ he growled. His voice sounded almost primeval.
‘That is not a wise idea.’
‘I don’t want to hear that. All I want to hear is that you’ll help me.’
Geoff leaned forward in his seat. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jack, your girlfriend’s a victim of a serial killer, and a clue in a major operation that you’re heading up, and you think it’s appropriate that you continue with the case? What are you thinking, man?’
‘I’m thinking about Lily,’ he groaned. ‘She was beautiful, Geoff. She was young. She was intelligent. She was funny. She was sexy. He sliced off her face! She was getting married — did I mention that?’
Geoff stared at him. Jack knew everything about this conversation must sound ominous to his pal.
‘We had no future, she told me. She was always honest. But we were having fun and she was going to marry someone she didn’t want to. So we kept seeing each other for as long as we could. It was early days. I wasn’t in love but I loved being with her, and who knows where it could have . . .’ He stopped, swallowed. ‘A few more weeks and our relationship was destined to finish, but she was lovely, Geoff . . . special, you know?’
His friend nodded sadly. ‘And you’re absolutely sure it’s her?’
‘It’s her. I recognised a birthmark.’ He touched his shoulde
r instinctively. ‘I even went down to the crime scene to be sure it was her van. The morgue’s just ID’d her. It’s Lily. My Lily . . . she’s lying there on the steel table, dead, with no face.’
Geoff squeezed Jack’s forearm. ‘Okay, matey, listen to me, I know you want to find her killer but there’s too much emotion here. It’s dangerous, Jack. And after —’
‘Don’t say the McEvoy case. That was different.’
‘It’s no different. That case fucked with your head and your emotions.’
‘I came here for your support, not counselling,’ Jack argued, but he didn’t pull his arm away.
‘Jack, before I’m anything else, I’m your friend and my advice as your friend is to tell you to go home now and ring Sharpe and tell him you’re off the case and why. You know that’s the right thing to do, and correct police procedure.’
‘No.’
‘I’ll do it for —’
‘No!’
‘Hawk . . .’ Geoff’s voice trailed off.
‘I’ve told you because you’re part of Ghost Squad and you’re very senior. You can protect me.’
‘Are you crazy?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps. But I’m going to find this monster and —’
‘Jack, listen to yourself. This is revenge, there’s nothing cool-headed about what you’re planning. You can’t run an operation with this poison in your gut. It has the potential to destroy you but it also has the potential to compromise the case and let him get away. You know that. It’s why you’re here — you want dispensation, so you can go off and hunt him down and kill him with your own bare hands or something along those lines. I’m not going to sign off on this.’
‘I’ve never asked you a favour before,’ Jack said, fixing Geoff with a firm stare. His friend looked down. He knew he had him then. ‘And I have no intention of letting him off that easily.’
Silence stretched between them before Geoff finally spoke. ‘You want me to sit on this. It’s unprofessional.’ He shook his head helplessly.
Beautiful Death Page 7
