‘Really?’
‘In fact, look she’s walking through the incident room now.’
Jen hovered around Lisa’s desk. Dylan got up, walked towards his office door and opening it he invited her in.
‘I don’t want to disturb you,’ she said. ‘I’ve just been sorting the post and there’s a letter marked urgent, for your attention so I thought I’d bring it down personally.’
ACC Smythe stood and held out her hand to Jen. Dylan winked at his wife. It gave her reassurance.
‘Would you like to join me in a drink,’ the ACC said to Jen. ‘We’ll leave Dylan to get on with what he does best.’
‘Well, I don’t know about... I’ll have to square it with my boss.’
‘Oh, I’ll sort Avril Summerfield-Preston,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard she’s a bit of a dragon with you ladies,’ she said with a raise of her eyebrow at Jen. ‘What’s her nickname, Beaky isn’t it?’ Wendy Smythe turned to Dylan. ‘I’d hate to think what mine is.’ Dylan’s smile was lopsided. Jen was impressed with the ACC.
Dylan walked with them as far as Lisa’s desk in the incident room when his phone rang. To his surprise Wendy Smythe walked off with Jen, chatting like old friends.
‘That’s it, my career’s over,’ he said winking at Lisa.
Dylan leant over his desk and snatched the phone off its cradle.
‘Boss, John, Jarv and the others are just finishing up here and we will be back with you and Vicky in the next twenty minutes but that’s not the reason for the call. Claire Booth, Martin Crossfield’s senior dental nurse is here with us. We’ve got a background statement. She’s been a dental nurse for a long number of years in the area so I thought she might be useful to us to put some names to the faces in the pictures we had taken at Timothy Woodcock’s funeral?’
‘Great idea, they’ve just arrived,’ said Dylan pulling the pictures from the envelope Jen had handed him. ‘Will you tell the others the ACC is here and wants to be present for the scene update.’
Chapter Thirty
In all probability the only person who would be identified at Timothy Woodcock’s funeral by other officers, from the pictures, would be his adopted son Jim, the son-in-law Devlin Gillard and the deceased Martin Crossfield.
Dylan studied the bundle of images in his hands and flicked through them slowly one by one. They didn’t mean anything to him but he would wait for Vicky to return to get her views. If it was possible he wanted all those in attendance identified as soon as possible. He put the pictures down and pushed them to one side before picking up his policy book. Pen hovering, his eyes were drawn back to the photograph that sat on the top of the pile. The photograph was taken outside the crematorium. The men were smoking. Martin Crossfield stood out amongst the others because of his height, blonde hair and model-like looks. Dylan picked the picture up once more and studied it. ‘Left handed or right handed?’ he said to himself.
Mr Crossfield was holding his cigarette in his left hand. The others in their right.
***
Senior CSI Sarah Jarvis, John and Vicky gathered. They waited with Raj for Dylan and ACC Smythe. The room was in half-darkness, a storm was brewing outside and daylight diminished.
Lisa switched on the lights where the meeting was to take place; the empty boardroom on the top floor, a sanctuary for them from unnecessary interruptions. All was quiet and still, the window had been left open and a cool breeze blew in bringing with it fresh air. She laid down the tray with glasses and a jug of ice cold water on the big table around which they sat. She left them alone. Dylan arrived just before ACC Smythe, writing materials in hand. ACC Wendy Smythe took a seat at the head of the table. She opened her notepad and put on her glasses. ‘I’m ready,’ she said leaning forward and crossing her legs.
Dylan sat back in his chair and poured himself a glass of water at the opposite end of the table. He offered the jug to the others, all but Jarv declined. Slowly and methodically they went through every minute detail of the discovery of the dentist’s body. At the point in the discussions when the body was first shown to them Vicky sat back and Jarv took over.
‘Before we moved the body I took this three hundred and sixty degree video. If I play that to you, you will see the exact position the body was found,’ she said.
‘Excellent,’ said Wendy under her breath.
Raj stood and went to the window where she busied herself pulling down the blind. The black cloud had quickly passed and the sun had come out. Its rays were immediate and strong. There would be a rainbow somewhere she thought as she scanned the landscape from the front of the police station building which she rarely saw.
‘To the untrained eye the first impressions at the scene of the body are that this is a suicide. We have the empty alcohol bottle, the smearing of the word sorry in blood – you can see here, coupled with the slash wounds to each wrist, and the one to his neck. Bearing in mind we have no forced entry,’ said Jarv.
Lisa tapped on the door and John let her in. A tray of hot drinks were put down on the table before them. She turned with little fuss and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
‘A substantial find is this partial mark, of the front of a training shoe in blood beneath the body of the deceased,’ Jarv said. ‘I would have expected at least a partial fingerprint in the word sorry that was written in blood, on the right side of his body. This is not evident but what we did find was evidence of what I am confident are glove marks that the scriber wore.’
‘Do we know if Martin was left handed?’ said Dylan. ‘The reason I ask is that on the photograph taken at Timothy Woodcock’s funeral he can quite clearly be seen holding a cigarette in his left hand.’ Dylan lifted the picture and pointed to Martin Crossfield. ‘Now, correct me if I’m wrong but the way the word sorry is smeared in blood on his right side suggests to me that he was supposedly sitting on the floor, when it was written, before he lay down to die. In that case wouldn’t the inscription be on the left of his body?’
‘I’ll check that with Claire Booth,’ said Vicky.
ACC Smythe drew her head back and frowned.
‘His dental nurse,’ Vicky said. ‘That’s a thought. I wonder if there are dental tools specifically made available to left-handed dentists? Maybe he could not have used the antique tools with such precision if he is left handed?’
‘Check,’ said Dylan. ‘We also need you to try and get names for the others at the funeral,’ Dylan handed Vicky the envelope containing the funeral photographs. ‘If you can’t help maybe Claire or someone at the dental practice can?’
Vicky gave a little nod of her head as she wrote the action down.
‘John, do you want to tell us about the blade used and the dentistry tools found?’
‘Yes sir,’ John cleared his throat. ‘We recovered a red handled craft knife at the scene. This we understand belongs to the dental practice.’
‘I’ve got it on my to-check-list with Claire who is in charge of stock control,’ said Vicky.
‘Sorry to interrupt. We will also need to speak to everyone at the practice with regard to their background and whereabouts in the early hours of this morning,’ said Dylan.
John continued. ‘On a working surface, placed on a green drape on a plastic base that is used in the practice, were two antique dental instruments. These instruments are known as forceps and elevators. These have identical markings on the handles to those in the set we have in our possession that belonged in the first instance to the deceased Timothy Woodcock. These were recovered from the Forget Me Not charity shop. We can’t think of any other reason for these being on display in Martin Crossfield’s surgery unless they were deliberately put there by someone who wished them to be found by us.’
‘Professor Stow will be looking at those to see if he can identify the striation marks left by these particular instruments at the murder scenes of our serial killer. The instruments will then be sent to Forensic and treated as a priority. ACC Smythe will be releasing a press rel
ease today via the press office which will let the killer think, for a short time at least, that we are going along with the suicide of Mr Crossfield. Martin Crossfield did not have any extracted teeth on his person.’
‘Do you think that was an oversight on the murderer’s part?’ said Vicky.
‘Maybe,’ said Dylan. ‘Or maybe he might have thought that was going a bit too far for credibility.’
‘Probably didn’t want to waste any more extracted teeth on us,’ said Vicky.
‘I will remind the Force to remain vigilant,’ said the ACC.
‘The idea for this is that maybe the killer will think that the extra patrols we have advertised are in place will be stepped down.’
‘Giving him a false sense of security?’
‘Exactly,’ said Dylan.
***
Avril Summerfield-Preston teetered on her high heels along the top corridor. The briefing room door was thrown open and Dylan allowed the four ladies out past him. The ACC stepped into the Divisional Administrator’s path.
‘Ah, ma’am.’ Avril smiled sweetly. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you. I saw you talking with my personnel officer earlier when I was otherwise occupied with the Chief Superintendent, talking budgets. You know how it is. Were you looking for me by any chance?’
‘You shouldn’t have put yourself out Avril,’ said Wendy Smythe. ‘I’m sure you have more important things to do than chase after me. The ladies in admin answered everything I needed to know.’
‘Oh, well, we will have to catch up over a G & T sometime,’ she said. ‘And I won’t forget the lemon.’ Avril Summerfield-Preston raised her nose in the air.
ACC Smythe turned to Dylan who was putting a wedge in the door. ‘I’ll speak with you later,’ she said.
Dylan walked towards the CID office.
‘Dylan!’ Avril Summerfield-Preston called from behind. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to turn off the lights!’
Dylan turned, looked over his shoulder at Avril and sniggered. ‘Why does that woman always look as if she is sucking a bloody lemon?’ the ACC asked.
Dylan shrugged his shoulders.
‘And now I know how she gets the nickname Beaky.’
‘That’s not for me to comment on ma’am,’ he said.
‘You are diplomatic,’ she said. ‘It’s much more fun listening to the admin girls’ gossip. The admin is always a bit of normality in this mad world.’
***
The afternoon’s office briefing was short. Dylan needed to be at the post-mortem. He reinforced that whilst the latest information regarding the murder of Martin Crossfield was a positive line of enquiry it was far from being the only one and that everyone needed to remain open-minded. ‘I know from experience sometimes a route that looks very positive often comes to a dead end. If you pardon the pun...’ he said in conclusion.
‘And that’s why we never put all our eggs in one basket,’ said Vicky to Ned.
‘You talking to me?’
‘If the cap fits,’ she said.
‘Whatever.’
***
The time for the post-mortem of Martin Crossfield was looming and Dylan knew this one wouldn’t be over quickly. It would be a late night for all concerned and because of that he sought Jen out before he left the building.
‘I’m sorry to land you with the ACC earlier,’ he said, catching up with his wife in the admin office.
‘Don’t apologise we had a good chat. She’s got Avril weighed up. Did she show you her impression of her?’
Dylan shook his head.
‘She didn’t? What a scream? She should be on the stage.’
‘So should most of them in the Headquarter’s ivory tower.’
‘Dylan?’ Jen said with a scowl.
‘Have you felt the daggers in your back yet?’ said Dylan.
‘We admin girls are tough. We can cope. We know what Beaky’s like. Better the devil you know as they say. The ACC asked us in confidence to tell her our views on all the changes that are afoot and what we thought about the process they are using to save money for the force in reducing the support workers... And how we felt we were being treated.’
‘And I bet you lot didn’t hold back?’
‘What do you think? Actually, it was refreshing to be treated like a grown-up for once and not like a school child by a member of the command team. Wendy Smythe said she was fed up with people like Beaky paying her lip service.’
‘That is refreshing. Look, I’m going to be late tonight so don’t wait up. I’m off to the mortuary next and then we’ve scheduled a late debrief.’
***
The trip to the mortuary was an uncomfortable one and not because of the thoughts of the imminent post-mortem but because dusk was falling, a warm summer dusk. The tar on the roads was sticky and it seemed everyone was seeking shade. As Dylan walked through the car park to the mortuary the air was full of the scent of roses, the garden full of a sad silence; and as he went up through the thickets and looked towards the vines that clung to the old building he remembered each body he had seen in the last few weeks and his heart sank. When would he get the breakthrough he so desperately needed? Soon he hoped as he looked up to the sky. He stopped and took one last deep breath before opening the big, wooden door.
The air conditioning in the mortuary was broken. All the windows were open but the place was extra pungent. Engineers were hard at work, they wore hideous masks that looked as if they should be in a war zone but he couldn’t blame them. Dylan dug deep in his pockets for his mints.
Professor Stow arrived, took out his handkerchief wiped his forehead and held it over his big, loose mouth with its flabby pinkness. ‘My goodness,’ he said, ‘I think I’ll be keeping my mask on today.’
Dylan explained the circumstances of the discovery of Martin Crossfield’s body and their subsequent findings at the scene. He allowed the professor to peruse the photographs of the body in situ.
Professor Stow didn’t interrupt him but listened intently until he had finished. His half-rimmed glasses glittered in the light from the fluorescent tubes. The usually remarkably jovial man had become suddenly very solemn.
‘So let me be sure that I understand exactly what you are telling me. On face value this death would appear to be a suicide. You have an apology written in blood on the floor where he lay and the implements left on display suggesting that this person is your serial killer. Mmm... Can I take a look at the dentistry tools?’
Dylan threw him a glance of caution.
‘Don’t worry. I appreciate that they have to be forensically examined,’ he said.
He was passed the dental implements which were individually wrapped in see-through containers and secured within.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘if I was a gambling man Inspector Dylan I would be putting quite a bit of money on these. Right era, right pattern and once I am able to I’ll check them against the striation marks data we have already acquired. So let’s start with the examination of this chap, shall we? Murderer, victim, or impostor?’
Chapter Thirty-One
Martin Crossfield’s body was laid out on the examination table before them. The room was now pleasantly cool. The team gathered for this post-mortem stood around him, booted and suited. Professor Stow’s half-rimmed glasses rested on his rosy, red cheeks just above the face mask and as his head was bent downwards they fell slightly to the ridge on his nose. He pulled his sleeves of his gown up slightly at the elbows with his gloved hands and stood with his arms extended outwards. Dylan saw from the rise and fall of his gown at his chest that he was breathing slowly and deeply as he focused on the corpse in front of him.
Crossfield’s clothing was removed carefully and searched where relevant. Each of the dead man’s clothing items was put into separate exhibit bags as they were removed. His shoes, like any article in pairs, required two bags which were offered to the mortuary attendant in quick succession before the bags were given to DC Wormald for them to be sealed by t
he exhibits officer and a label attached. In this case the exhibit forms would be signed by Professor Stow and not the officer at the conclusion of the post-mortem. There was no time to think about the smell of the mortuary now – there was a job to be done.
It seemed to Dylan that Stow took a while to visually examine the naked man’s body. Whilst the corpse lay on his front he asked for the back of his head to be shaved and a photograph taken.
Professor Stow spoke the obvious for the sake of the recording.
‘The only visible injuries are cuts to the throat and both wrists.’
Samples of hair were cut and plucked from the body, along with samples of blood and urine. Stomach contents were necessarily taken and these were immediately put into a container, sealed and the labels attached. Stow looked very closely at the injuries to the wrists.
‘Did you say to me that Mr Crossfield was left handed?’
‘Yes, that has been confirmed by his dental nurse,’ said Vicky. ‘For future reference, when a dental surgeon is left handed the surgery is set up the opposite way around to a right-handed dentist.’
‘I knew there was something different about Martin Crossfield’s surgery,’ said Dylan.
‘We learn something new every day,’ said Stow. ‘Look here, I would suggest the way each wound tapers off that these injuries were made by a right-handed person and not by himself.’
The professor turned his attention to the dentist’s mouth. He spoke to no one in particular as he continued. ‘No teeth missing?’ He raised his eyebrows. His lower lip stuck out as he looked up at Dylan. ‘However, looking at those gorgeous gnashers they may very well have attracted our killer. Okay, let’s open him up.’ The mortuary attendant stepped forward to hand him a tool and he proceeded to make the cuts to the chest and trunk.
The mortuary attendant removed the skull cap to expose the brain with an electric saw.
Killer Smile Page 27
