THE JAGGED LINE A Thrilling, Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 2)

by Carolyn Mahony

  He turned to another smaller area near the body that had been marked off with tape. ‘One benefit of the ground being so wet … we’ve recovered a couple of partial footprints here, which could be relevant. We may be able to match them up if you get a suspect. Trainers I’d guess, by the look of them.’

  ‘That could come in useful. Anything else?’

  The pathologist looked back down at the body. ‘Only that he was given a bloody good pasting before they killed him, poor bugger, and he’d have been in a lot of pain from that. Someone’s used him as a real punchbag.’

  ‘Right.’ Harry looked around, taking in the relatively undamaged scene around the body. Edwards was right. It didn’t look like a fight had taken place here – though SOCO would do a thorough search of the surrounding area to confirm that – and the man had literally been dumped in the middle of a pathway where someone was bound to have found him sooner rather than later. Was that symbolic … some sort of warning to others, perhaps?

  He snapped his notebook shut and pulled out his phone. ‘Mind if I take a couple of photos with this? It’ll give me something to start the incident board off with when I get back.’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  ‘Thanks. Murray’s off at the moment, due back tomorrow, so if you’ve got anything for us before then, send it through to me, will you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Harry took the photos then looked about him. ‘Is the person who found him still here?’

  ‘Talking to the WPC over there.’

  Harry wandered over through the group of SOCOs to where a middle-aged woman was being comforted by the WPC.

  ‘Hi, Jo.’

  ‘Harry.’ Jo gave him a thin smile, confirming what he already knew, that she still blamed him for pushing her into ending their relationship six months back because of his commitment issues.

  ‘Your trouble is, Harry, you keep everyone at a distance. You don’t let anyone get too close and that doesn’t work in a relationship. You need to give as well as take.’

  He guessed it was true because she wasn’t the first to have said it or the first to end their relationship because of it. But he didn’t understand it any more than they did and sometimes he wondered if, as a theory, it wasn’t somewhat overblown. Maybe he just hadn’t met the right woman yet?

  Either way, the end result was the same. Each time it happened it tended to put him off taking those first steps into a new relationship again.

  ‘This is Mrs Engel,’ Jo said now. ‘She came across the body this morning, when she was walking her dog.’

  ‘Did you know the man?’ Harry asked the middle-aged woman, noting her pallor.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Is his face familiar at all? Could he have been one of the regular dog walkers round here, for example?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘I’d know if he was.’

  She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I was just walking the dog like I always do and saw him lying there right in front of me. Twinkie ran over and wouldn’t come away. I had to go right up close to get her back. It was horrible.’

  ‘I’m sorry you were put through that,’ Harry said, glancing at the tiny, rat-like dog at her feet. He instantly dismissed the theory that the person who found the body should be high on the list of suspects. Anyone who could call their dog Twinkie …

  He turned to Jo. ‘Have we got a statement from Mrs Engel?’

  She nodded, and he turned back to the woman. ‘Is there someone at home? Or someone you can call?’

  ‘I’m a widow but I’ll call my friend when I get back. She’ll come over.’

  ‘Good. Then I don’t think we need to keep you any longer. Are you okay to drive home?’

  ‘I can walk back. I only live over there. My back gate opens onto the park.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure DC Evans here will see you home. We’ll be in touch if we need to talk to you again.’

  Turning around, he made his way back to where a thorough search of the undergrowth near the body was already underway.

  ‘Found anything?’ he asked one of the SOCOs.

  ‘Nothing so far. Whoever did it was a pro if you ask me. But we’ll keep looking.’

  ‘Let me know if you find anything.’

  Harry and Beth trudged back across the wet grass to their car and removed their temporary clothing.

  ‘If he was killed somewhere else and then dumped here, why leave him where he’s so easily going to be found?’ Beth asked. ‘It doesn’t look like they even tried to conceal the body, does it?’

  Harry shook his head, impressed that she’d picked up on the same thought he had.

  ‘Good question. See if you can come up with an answer to it. Are you ready for some door-to-doors? Everyone whose garden backs onto here will need to be questioned to see if they saw or heard anything suspicious during the early hours. I’ll come back tomorrow morning, too – see if any of the regular dog walkers saw anything.’

  Beth looked around. ‘That’s quite a few houses.’

  ‘Yeah, but look at the style of them – you’ll get to see how the other half live. Just be aware that any one of them could hold the murderer, though, so anything suspicious, you let me know straight away.’

  She shot him a look. ‘You’re making me nervous now.’

  Harry’s lip curved. ‘Don’t worry. It’s unlikely anyone’s going to do you in when the place is crawling with cops. We’ll do the first house together and after that you’re on your own. I’ll phone Geoff Peterson, get him down here to give you a hand while I get things rolling back at the station.’

  ***

  It wasn’t much of an incident board, he was forced to acknowledge a couple of hours later, once he’d pinned his pictures and what few bits of information he had onto the wallchart – but it was a start. And that was what really fired him about the work he did. It started off as a few scrappy pieces of paper that grew in front of your eyes, to a shitload of photos, information, clues and leads – each one going off on its own tangent, each one needing to be followed up with precision and care in case you missed something crucial. He’d always been a bit nerdy at school – probably not totally unrelated to the fact that his father was an archaeologist – and he thrived on the minutiae of a case, watching as the information built, sifting through the debris to find the pearls. He’d known from the age of ten that this was what he wanted to do. His parents had had reservations about his choice of career when he’d informed them, but not his gran. He smiled to himself as he remembered how fiercely she’d supported him. But then she’d brought him up and his decision had come as no surprise to her.

  He studied the rather harrowing pictures of the unknown man on the information board. Had he woken up yesterday morning knowing he was in danger, or had his life started perfectly normally and then been snatched away from him on a quirk of fate? It was a question that always intrigued him, but he supposed it didn’t really matter as far as the victim was concerned. Dead was dead – a life cut brutally short whichever way you looked at it. It never failed to strike Harry how tenuous life was, and somewhere out there, there were people who cared about this man. It was a visit he never relished making.

  His phone rang as he was still studying the picture.

  ‘Ah, Harry. Great.’ It was Amy, on duty on the front desk. ‘There’s a lady here wants to report a dodgy bloke who she reckons was following her last night after she left the pub. She says he tried to get her to go for a drink with him and was aggressive when she said no. Can you come down and deal with her? Geoff’s not around – he’s still doing the door-to-doors.’

  ‘On my way,’ Harry said, hanging up his phone and heading for the door. He wondered what separated aggressive from pissed off. Most men probably had tendencies towards being pissed off if they felt they’d plucked up their courage to make a move on a girl and she subsequently turned them down. But true aggression was a different kettle of fish, as he’d seen only too often – and there’d been a couple
of attacks on women in the last year that were still on file. Couldn’t afford to be complacent.

  CHAPTER THREE

  At seven o’clock sharp the next morning, Harry swung into the Gobions car park and parked his car. He’d come better prepared this morning, donning a thick scarf and solid walking boots, before heading off across the wet grass to meet the local dog walkers. He wasn’t really surprised to find that none of them had seen anything unusual the previous day, though several of them looked alarmed at the thought of a possible murderer stalking their well-trodden paths.

  ‘I hope you’re putting someone on watch out here to protect the public,’ one coiffed, white-haired lady said, looking somewhat incongruous in her Barbour jacket and thick wellington boots. ‘One doesn’t feel safe knowing there are criminals like that wandering around. I mean, it could be anyone, couldn’t it? Even someone I see here every day.’

  Glancing around at the rather motley selection of people walking their dogs, Harry thought that was unlikely, but he knew better than to ridicule the woman’s fears.

  ‘We don’t believe that’s necessary at this point in time, but don’t worry, we’re keeping an eye on things. I’m sure you’re quite safe.’

  ‘Well, I hope for your sake you’re right, young man,’ the woman sniffed.

  Traffic was light going into the station, so despite hanging around for a few of the later park frequenters, it still wasn’t late when Harry got into work. He glanced into DCI Murray’s office as he removed his jacket, and saw that his boss was back from leave and, true to form, already stuck into wads of paperwork.

  He beckoned Harry through the glass partition. Beth was in there looking terrified.

  ‘Our new DC here’s been filling me in on what’s gone on in my absence,’ Murray said briskly, as Harry entered the office. ‘She also happens to make a very good cup of coffee. Your job could be under threat, Harry.’

  Harry grinned, his eyes flashing to Beth. Thank God she didn’t seem to be the sort to take offence easily over women’s lib issues. Her expression was relieved as their eyes met.

  ‘I was just telling DCI Murray that we might have a possible ID on the body found at Gobions yesterday,’ she said. ‘A woman phoned in this morning reporting her boyfriend missing since Monday. She says they had a bit of a row, so when he didn’t come home that night and yesterday, she thought he was still sulking. But when she still didn’t hear from him last night, she began to get worried.’

  ‘Where does she live?’ Murray asked.

  ‘Barnet. She said she’ll be there if we want to go over. She’s not going into work today. She’s too worried.’

  ‘You’d better get over there, Harry. See if she can ID him.’

  Harry looked at him in surprise. ‘You not coming?’

  DCI Murray shook his head. ‘No. It’s always the same after a break. Nice to have it for the fact it earns me a few Brownie points at home … but then I come back to this lot and wonder if it was worth it.’ He waved his hand at the overspilling in-tray. ‘Take PC Macaskill with you instead – what’s your name, by the way?’

  ‘Beth.’

  ‘Right. Take Beth. If it is him, the girlfriend might need a bit of TLC.’

  Harry pulled up outside the rather dilapidated house in Myton Road, Barnet, and looked around him. The road was typical of its kind – large, semi-detached dwellings built quite close to each other with small front gardens. Most of them had been renovated and converted into upmarket flats, but No. 28, though it may well have been converted, clearly didn’t fit into the renovated category if its exterior appearance was anything to go by. There was a large ‘Let By’ board in the corner of the front garden.

  He and Beth exited the car.

  ‘Her name’s Susan Porter,’ she whispered as he rang the doorbell.

  The door was answered by a pretty, dark-haired young woman, who surveyed them anxiously as they showed her their cards.

  ‘Have you got some news?’

  ‘Is it alright if we come in for a minute? Talk to you inside?’

  In the house Harry wasted no time pulling out the photo of the man in the morgue.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Porter, but from the physical description you gave of your boyfriend, I’m afraid it’s possible we may have some bad news for you. Would you like to sit down?’

  ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘A man’s body was found in Brookmans Park early yesterday morning, but we had no means of identifying him. He had no wallet or papers on him to help us with that.’

  He hesitated, but she was already holding her hand out for the photo in his hand. ‘Show me,’ she said abruptly.

  He passed it to her. ‘It’s not a very nice picture but it’s all we’ve got, I’m afraid.’

  She looked at it, then gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. Yeah, that’s him, but … his face … What happened to him?’

  ‘I’m afraid he was beaten up. We’re still waiting for Forensics to confirm exactly what happened.’

  She looked as if she was about to pass out and Beth stepped forward, placing an arm around her shoulder and guiding her gently to one of the armchairs.

  ‘You’re alright. Just you sit yourself down here. Can I make you a cup of tea or coffee?’

  The woman shook her head, turning frightened eyes to Harry. ‘What happened? Was it a fight? Who’d wanna hurt him? I can’t believe it.’

  ‘He didn’t have any enemies that you knew of?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What work did he do?’

  ‘Decorating, odd jobs – anything he could get his hands on. Money’s short at the moment, especially now social’s cut our benefits. He took whatever he could.’

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘I do shift work at the Pizza Bar. Should’ve been in today – but I knew summat was wrong. I just did.’

  ‘When did you last see your boyfriend?’

  ‘Monday morning.’

  ‘I understand you had words?’

  She shrugged and went quiet for a moment. ‘It weren’t nothing serious – just a silly row, and when he didn’t come home Monday night I thought he was still pissed off and had stayed at his mum’s. But when he didn’t ring me all day yesterday and didn’t come back last night … I began to worry, you know? We’ve never gone that long without being in touch, not even when we rowed. So I phoned his mum and she said she hadn’t seen him either. That’s when I phoned your lot.’

  ‘Do you mind telling me what your argument was about?’

  Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘I hardly even remember now. It was to do with the flat. He was bangin’ on about buying somewhere and I said who did he think he was kidding – we didn’t have that sort of money. He got arsey about it – told me I didn’t know everything, and stomped out.’

  ‘And you have no idea where he might have gone?’

  She seemed to give it some thought and when after a few moments she still hadn’t said anything, Harry looked at her keenly.

  ‘If there’s anything you can tell me, Susan, that you think might help us find whoever did this to him?’

  She shook her head. ‘He told me he was meeting someone that morning, but I don’t know who and I don’t know where he went after that. He hasn’t got any jobs on at the moment, see, so I don’t always know where he is. Do you mind…?’ She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her bag and lit one with shaky fingers. She took a deep drag and exhaled, staring at the cigarette in her fingers almost resentfully. ‘No need for me to give these up now, I suppose – I were only doing it for him.’

  Harry pulled out a card and scribbled something onto it. He’d done enough interviews to know they wouldn’t be getting any more mileage out of Susan Porter at this point in time. Better to give her some space to come to terms with everything and see her again when she’d had a bit more time to think. ‘This is my card, and I’ve written my colleague’s name on it as well. If you remember anything or want to talk to us, just call and one of us w
ill get back to you. I’m sorry about your boyfriend but we’ll do our best to find whoever did this. Do you have anyone you’d like us to call for you?’

  She shook her head and reached for a tissue on the table with a shaky hand. ‘My bruvver’ll come. But I’ll call him when I’m ready. Don’t want to talk to no one at the moment.’

  Harry stood. ‘Who lives in the upstairs flat? Is anyone there for us to have a quick word with?’

  He waited while she blew her nose fiercely.

  ‘They went out about half an hour ago,’ she said, her voice more composed. ‘You’d know if they was in. Bloody noisy lot. That was part of the reason why Paul and me wanted to move. What with them and the grumpy old bugger next door.’

  ‘Did they know Paul? Might they have seen him on Monday, do you think?’

  ‘Dunno – doubt it, we don’t really know ’em. It’s a friend of our landlord what lives there. We only ever said ’ello – not our sort.’

  ‘Well, if you do see them, can you tell them the police will be round to interview them? We’ll be questioning everyone in the road.’

  ‘Yeah, alright.’

  She looked suddenly crestfallen again and Harry exchanged a look with Beth.

  ‘You sure you’ll be alright until your brother gets here?’ he asked.

  She nodded and stood up, crushing her cigarette out in an ashtray. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll see you out then.’

  Back in the car, Harry looked at Beth.

  ‘What did you think?’

  ‘She was genuinely shocked, wasn’t she? It must be awful when the police turn up on your doorstep with news like that.’

  ‘Yes. Did you get the impression she was holding back on anything?’

  ‘Don’t think so. Did you?’