by Jay Nadal
A mortuary technician Cara called Neil, wheeled over the handheld rotary saw on its trolley. He was a slim bodied man, with thick-framed glasses, and long messy hair that was greying. Neil fired up the saw to make sure it was working, its high-powered motor spinning into action, the whining noise like something you’d hear from a dentist drill.
It was hard to comprehend how something so powerful would be used to slice open the woman’s skull. Cara gave Neil the nod to let him know he could proceed. She started making a Y shaped incision from the top of each shoulder, and because she was a female cadaver, the arms of the Y shape were diverted beneath each breast. Cara took the incision down to the pubic bone.
Whilst Cara was doing this, Neil carefully made an incision behind one ear of the cadaver. He traced his scalpel around the back of the head until he reached the other ear. He then carefully reflected back her scalp over the top of the head and down her face, creating some ghoulish mask more fitting for trick and treating at Halloween.
He switched on the rotary saw and began to carve a large incision around the top of her skull. The saw cut into the course material of the skull causing Abby to flinch. She narrowed her eyes as she peered out from behind her green facemask as small bone fragments flew off in all directions. Neil finally used the T-shaped turnkey to prise away the cut section of the skull, to reveal a light pink shiny brain that was starting to turn creamy brown in places.
Cara and Neil swapped positions as Neil reached for a pair of silver long-handled shears that looked robust enough to cut branches in the garden. As he began to cut through the rib cage, the sound of crunching bone bounced off every wall. The dense bone structure offered little resistance as Neil use both hands to break through each rib bone. Cara meanwhile, was delicately prising the brain away from within the skull to expose the optic nerves. Using a long slender scalpel that resembled a boning knife, she carefully cut away all connections in the brain, before gently lifting it out and placing it in a shiny steel tray. Another technician took it away to be weighed and added to the whiteboard.
Scott looked up and could see from the whiteboard that one cadaver had already been on the receiving end of Cara’s examinations. The weights of the brain, heart, left and right lungs, liver, spleen, left and right kidneys, had all been noted on the board. It wouldn’t be long before the details of this victim had been documented on that board as well.
There were various methods that pathologist’s preferred when removing the contents of a cadaver’s internal structures. Some preferred to take them out into several stages. Cara on the other hand, preferred to remove them in one piece before placing them in a yellow medical sack for examination at a later stage. This was commonly known as the Rokitansky method. She’d been vociferous is explaining why she preferred this method because it allowed for less damage to the internal organs prior to inspection.
Scott watched in fascination as she carefully worked away around the body, like an artist working on their latest model. She had this knack of paying attention to the smallest of details, whilst perversely also admiring her work. Scott held a degree of respect for those who worked in any mortuary. “Pathologists”, he recalled Cara saying, “Carried a sense of curiosity, scientific interest, and pleasure at being able to find the truth and share it,” and he could see why.
Scott and Abby watched in equal measures of awe and revulsion, as Cara made a small incision beneath the victim’s chin just above the larynx, detaching the larynx and esophagus from the pharynx. She then pulled the larynx and trachea downward, using her scalpel to free up the rest of the chest organs from their attachment at the spine. The diaphragm was next on her hit list, as she cut it away from the body wall, before the abdominal organs were pulled out and down. Her last act was a single cut with her trusted scalpel, to the pelvic ligaments, bladder, and rectum, which then allowed her and Neil to place her internal organ structure into a yellow sack.
Cara moved on to examine the victim’s fingers. “There’s a lot of debris matter under her fingernails,” she said holding the victim’s left hand and spreading out each digit to inspect them closely. “I’ll take some sample scrapings from each and send them away from analysis to see if we’ve got any valuable evidence.”
Scott nodded in agreement, but paid little attention to what Cara was saying. He was distracted by Neil using one of the soup ladles is to extract blood and liquid matter that had collected in the bottom of the body cavity. He deftly scooped up the liquid placing the contents of each ladle in a bucket he had positioned close by. Of all the things he’d seen, he never got over seeing a soup ladle been used in this way despite the many post-mortems he had been to.
Cara’s analysis of the body continued. Her hands disappeared in the body cavity before she moved onto the head, and then further down the body over the following hour.
Scott could see Abby becoming restless standing around, and sensed she’d much rather be stuck behind a mountain of files back at her desk, than be standing here observing this cadaver slowly being dismantled. “I’m going to have some liver and bacon for dinner tonight … What you going to have?” he asked nudging her arm.
Abby’s brows furrowed, as she turned to look at Scott not entirely sure she’d heard him correctly. “Are you for real?” She shook her head in mock disbelief and raised her hands in front of her. “We’re standing here, we’ve got soup ladles of blood, more splattered on the floor, entrails sitting over there in a yellow plastic bag, Cara elbow deep in shit, and you’re asking me what I’m having for dinner?” she spat incredulously.
Scott shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s a reasonable enough question.” To which Abby offered no reply other than a slow shake of her head.
“When you kids have stopped fighting, you may want to know what my findings are so far,” Cara interrupted.
“We are all ears,” Scott assured her.
“Well, my initial findings are she died from a deep impact trauma to the head. Her skull was depressed in several areas, suggesting some blunt force trauma injury, which also led to heavy bleeding. There is no evidence of sexual interference than what we know already. No traces of other bodily fluids like semen either. Oh, and her nipples were removed after she’d died.”
“Cara that’s all we need to know the moment. That gives us enough to go on, we need to head back to the office, so I’ll await your full report later and leave you to it now if that’s okay?” Scott asked.
“Yep, it sure is. I’ll catch you tonight,” she replied giving him a knowing smile.
Scott nodded in embarrassment and avoided looking in Abby’s direction, knowing her eyes were boring down on him, ready to wind him up.
Chapter 9
Scott and Abby made their way through the back of the station, the desk sergeant hollering down the corridor in Scott’s direction, “The DCI is looking to you.”
Abby whispered under her breath, “Lucky you.”
Scott grumbled something incoherent and shook his head as his phone rang. “Is she in her office?” He said, glancing at his phone whilst also trying to pay attention to the sergeant.
The sergeant nodded once to confirm.
Scott recognised the number as being of the FLO Andrea Smith.
“Sir, I’m just at the mortuary with Mr Newland. Unfortunately, he’s confirmed that the body we have here is that of his wife. He is in a pretty bad way; do you still want me to bring him to the station?”
“Ideally yes, we do need to get a statement from him, and the quicker we get to build a timeline around her movements the better.”
“We’re on our way. One thing of interest sir. Mr Newland was looking through her personal effects. A watch he gave her was missing, a Dior watch, engraved on the back with, ‘love Alan,’” she replied before ringing off.
“Abby, do me a favour, take Sian with you and get back over to the Newlands. Ask around a few neighbours; let’s get some background and history on the Newlands and Christine in particular. He’s just ID’d the bo
dy and is on his way in here now, I’ll have another chat with him.”
***
DCI Jane Harvey was going through a report in her office whilst absentmindedly singing to herself something that vaguely resembled a song. The DCI was an unusual character and certainly not your stereotypical modern day police officer. She was gritty, vocal and batty by all accounts from those who had worked with her. Her gruff voice and piercing stares intimidated even the toughest and most seasoned officers.
Rarely did other officers dare to challenge her or take her on in a verbal duel, including her spineless superior, Detective Superintendent John Meadows. He was six years her junior at 49, and the senior officer who many blamed in private for DCI Harvey still firmly being in post uncontested nor adequately supervised.
On first impressions, it would be hard to believe that she had such a formidable reputation, as her short, stout frame disappeared behind her large desk and chair. Anyone would think that she was sitting in an oversized chair from Alice in Wonderland. Scott speculated that her feet probably didn’t even touch the ground behind her desk, which amused him.
Scott interrupted her by clearing his throat, “Ma’am, you want to see me.”
She continued to gaze at her report humming to herself whilst casually waving him in to take a seat. Locking eyes with him finally, she asked, “How have you been recently?”
The question took Scott by surprise, He was fully expecting to be asked about the current cases, but now found himself being questioned on something that sounded a lot more personal. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, I don’t understand?”
The DCI shrugged, raising her brows at the same time. “You seemed a little stressed at the briefing yesterday, I just wondered if something was on your mind, that’s all.” She stared at him inquisitively.
It was hard to read what the DCI was thinking. That’s perhaps why so many other officers found her intimidating. Her face like a closed book, she gave little away. Scott often wondered if he’d ever seen the real her, or whether she was like this all the time. It reminded him of the quote he once read: ”You’re like a closed book; no one can read you until they look, look inside the pages so deep; then they’ll know what makes you weak.“ Did she have a weaker side, a side she chose to hide at all costs?
“No, I’m good, Ma’am, the team and I have a lot on our plate at the moment, and I’m sure like me you’re keen to get results as quick as we can. We’re dealing with one or two slippery characters at the moment.”
“How are we getting on, on that front?” she asked locking her fingers together on the desk in front of her. Her steely gaze firmly fixed on him, causing Scott to shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“We’ve just had a positive ID on the woman that we found last night. It looks like a blunt trauma injury to her head that caused her death. I’ve got the husband coming in now to be interviewed and hopefully he can shed some light on her background and movements. I’ve just dispatched Abby to the victim’s street to ask around neighbours to see if we can gleam any information.”
The DCI nodded approvingly, “And the girl?”
“Nothing further to add since the briefing last night, Ma’am.”
The DCI continue to nod, having not stopped for what appeared to be the last minute or two. She resembled one of those nodding dog figurines that sat on the rear parcel shelf of a car.
“Okay that will be all, come and find me if you have further developments but for now we’ll have a team briefing before the close of business. Oh, and by the way ,Scott,” she paused for a moment, “If there’s anything on your mind, my door is always open.”
The parting comment and then the immediate return of her attention to the report left Scott feeling a little unnerved. He slowly rose from the chair slightly bemused, not really sure why she’d called him there in the first place. He couldn’t help but feel that there’d been a hidden agenda to that discussion, an agenda that he wasn’t privy to.
Scott tried to shake off the niggling feeling that the DCI had been probing. He questioned whether it was something he’d said recently. Had someone else said something? Was she questioning his efficacy?
Back in CID, he stopped enroute to Raj’s desk, helping himself to a French fondant fancy that doughnut boy had picked up this morning. It was only when the sickly stodge hit the bottom of his stomach that he realised he had eaten nothing since breakfast and was getting a headache. He convinced himself that a second fancy would miraculously help soothe the orchestra of dull thuds rioting inside his head, as he helped himself again.
As Raj saw him approaching, he swivelled around in his chair to take himself away from what he was doing on your computer.
“Raj, the victim found last night has been positively ID’d as Christine Newland, Abby’s down there having a chat with a few neighbours. Mr Newland is downstairs waiting for me. I need you to do a bit of digging around. Do a background check on Christine Newland. Speak to her colleagues at work, her manager, have a look and see if she had a social profile on Facebook. See if anything unusual has been happening to her in life over the last few weeks, okay?”
“Yep, I’m onto it,” he said as he swivelled back and started furiously typing away on his keyboard.
Scott in his own way was looking forward to seeing Cara this evening, so much so that he sent her a quick text before his interview.
“Hi it’s me, looking forward to seeing you tonight, fancy some fish and chips for dinner?”
He’d only taken a few more steps when his phone pinged back.
“Boy you know how to show a woman a good time!! Yep sounds good you cheap skate, Ramsdens at 7.30pm? x”
He laughed as he hit reply.
“LOL! Yes, see you there.”
Cara had a quality he cherished: she made him smile. He even surprised himself as he reflected on the beauty that she was, and how much he was wishing the hours away until he saw her.
***
Alan Newland cast a lonely figure, his hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. The family liaison officer PC Andrea Smith was by his side giving him some words of reassurance when Scott entered the room. Newland raised his head slightly toward the door, just briefly acknowledging Scott’s arrival. His eyes were narrow, sore and red. It was as if he hadn’t stopped crying since Scott had last seen him. He looked a shell of a man. His cheeks were gaunt, his hair a mess, his eyes staring wildly into his cup of tea. He may have been present in body, but Scott doubted that he was present in mind.
“Mr Newland, I’m sorry for your loss, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to come in at what is a very difficult moment. As you can hopefully appreciate, we’re dealing with the tragic death of your wife, and the first 24 hours are absolutely crucial for us.”
Alan Newland nodded wearily, without raising his head, “Why would anyone want to murder her?” he muttered, his lips barely parting to let the words out.
Scott didn’t have an answer; he only wished he did so he could bring some resolution to this man’s pain and torture. “That’s what we’re trying to find out, Mr Newland, and any help or insights into your wife’s movements or daily life could be really helpful.”
For the first time since Scott had entered the room, Mr Newland raised his head, and just stared for a moment’s into Scott’s eyes. He didn’t have to say anything, the pain written all over his face. It was a combination of fear, anguish, loss and sheer confusion.
Scott explained the reasons why the interview would be recorded before asking, “Mr Newland, was there any change in your wife’s behaviour recently?”
“No, nothing,” he replied.
“Did she seem herself when you last saw her?”
“Yes, she seemed fine. She just went about her normal routine first thing in the morning. She gave Lucy a kiss goodbye before she left. Everything seemed fine. She’d even made my packed lunch as normal,” a small smile softening his face as he stared at the table.
“Did she mention anything about having any pro
blems or arguments with anyone else, or someone at work?”
“Not as far as I was aware. She was a feisty, gutsy woman at the best of times, but I never knew of anyone that she’d fallen out with. She hardly had a bad word to say about anyone,” he said slowly shaking his head.
Scott had been watching Alan Newland for any signs of him holding back. So far, the man seemed genuine, but he needed to probe further. “Mr Newland, were you and your wife having any difficulties as a couple?”
The insinuation seemed to both upset and confuse Alan Newland. He looked up at Scott, not knowing exactly what to say in response. “No, nothing like that,” he said furiously shaking his head. “We love… loved each other,” his voice trailed off. “As any couple, you have the occasional disagreement about things like buying too much shopping in Sainsbury’s, or the expensive Next credit card bill. Don’t all couples have those types of disagreements?” he asked.
Scott continued, “So what were your movements on the day that she was found?”
Newland’s eyes narrowed, “Are you suggesting I had anything to do with this?”
“Mr Newland, we’re trying to ascertain her last movements and whether anything out of the ordinary happened on that particular day. Anything that could give us an indication as to the reason behind her death. We have to explore all avenues for completeness, so if you could just answer the question, that would be helpful.”
“I left home about 8.45 a.m. and drove straight to my office. I was there all day until late afternoon; my secretary can vouch for that.”
