by G H Mockford
‘Hello? Can you hear me, love?’ the female paramedic asked Sarah. When she got no answer, she asked if any of us knew her name. I told them. She repeated the question using Sarah’s name, but there was still no response.
‘That the window she fell from?’ asked the male paramedic as he looked up at it. The woman knelt beside Sarah placing a heavy looking bag on the ground beside her.
‘Yes,’ the lad who had threatened me, the policeman and I all said together.
‘That’s what? Five, six metres?’ the ambulance man said. I couldn’t tell if it was a rhetorical question or if he was asking his partner. I simply didn’t want to think about it. I stood there clutching the lilies, remembering what I had said about funeral flowers.
‘The airway’s clear, and she’s breathing, Chris,’ said the female paramedic as she gently took Sarah’s wrist into her hand. ‘Pulse is there, but a little weak.’
Oh my God! What was going to happen? I felt myself panic. Was she going to die right there on the cold hard floor in nothing but her underwear?
‘Let’s get her moved quickly, Bernie. Set up the Snatch Monitor, I’ll get the board.’ He disappeared before he got an answer from his colleague.
Bernie opened the bag she had placed beside Sarah and began extracting various wires. She asked her if she could hear her again. When Sarah didn’t answer, Bernie turned to the police officers. ‘Constable, can you tell me what happened?’
‘We’ve not been here long ourselves,’ he answered. ‘I think this man may have a clearer idea.’
‘Will she be okay?’ I asked.
Bernie quickly looked up at me, smiled and nodded her head reassuringly. ‘We’ll do everything we can.’ It was a good statement. A clever statement. It was reassuring, but without making any promises. ‘What happened?’ she asked. Bernie returned to attaching the cables to Sarah. Some went to her chest. A peg-like thing went on her finger. She turned the machine on. It instantly displayed Sarah’s heart rate and began beeping.
‘I think she was pushed out the window. She was attacked inside the flat. Look at her hands,’ I added, noticing the vicious slices across them for the first time. ‘I arrived too late.’
And there it was. I had said it. It was my fault.
‘So you didn’t see it happen? The attack or the fall?’
‘No,’ I told her. ‘Sorry.’
‘No need to apologise, love. What about you two?’ Bernie said, addressing the last remaining lads.
‘All I heard was a scream and then I saw her fall over that rail. She turned in the air tipped end over end and landed feet first. It was like it was in slow motion. I thought that only ‘appened in films.’
I didn’t know which of them was talking to the paramedic. I was crouched down, leaning against the wall with my head in my hands thinking how I could have prevented it, should have prevented it.
Chris’ urgent footfalls echoed off the wall as he ran back with what looked like an aluminium frame with Velcro straps. He laid it on the floor beside Sarah and started to undo the bindings. Then he separated the frame into two halves.
‘Has she always been unconscious, or has she woken up at all?’ Chris asked, his eyes flitting across the three of us.
‘I don’t think so,’ I answered. The lads answered with a more definite no.
‘That’s a couple of nasty breaks,’ Chris said. ‘Let’s get her on the board as quick as we can. Everything set?’
‘Yes, the readings are okay. Blood pressure’s a bit low though.’
‘You take the head,’ Chris said as he moved Sarah’s arms into her sides and straightened her legs as best he could considering her bones were protruding from one of them.
‘On three,’ said Bernie as she knelt behind Sarah’s head and took it in her hands. Then she counted down. Chris slid one-half of the frame under Sarah’s body, then the other. He rejoined the two pieces, careful to keep Sarah's movements to a minimum.
‘You finish up. I’ll get the trolley,’ Bernie said, heading off.
‘No point,’ Chris called out. ‘The path’s blocked by the bollards. We’ll have to carry her out.’
‘Can I come with you? To the hospital I mean?’
‘Erm…’ I wondered why she was hesitating. Did she suspect me? ‘Of course, love,’ she said.
‘Mate,’ Chris said to me, ‘we’ll need your help. Carry that for us,’ he said, pointing to the thing that was attached to Sarah, the hardware I’d heard him call a Snatch Monitor. ‘Be careful, not just for Sarah’s sake, but because that’s worth more than you make in ten years.’ He smiled at me as he said it.
Again the pair of them agreed to count to three. I picked up the monitor, and on the agreed number, Chris and Bernie lifted Sarah off the ground. We inched our way up the path. The crowd of gawping onlookers was swelling with people coming out of the restaurant on the corner, as well as the numerous other bars and clubs that litter the Lace Market. The first two cops on the scene and a team of four other police officers were busy trying to get the people out of the way.
As we approached the back of the ambulance, Chris called out ‘Steady!’ as the pair of them took Sarah over the top of the cast iron bollards. We made our way up the ambulance’s ramp and placed Sarah down on the trolley.
‘Won’t the police need to talk to me?’ I asked Bernie as Chris began to strap Sarah, frame and all, down onto the trolley.
‘Yes, but they can talk to you at the QMC, besides, right now you can help me more by giving me some of Sarah’s background and medical history.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
Chris placed a blanket over Sarah and said, ‘Let’s get going.’ He jumped out of the back and closed the doors. It went quiet as all the noise from the gathered crowd was blocked out. Bernie quickly showed me where to sit, and then got back to work.
The ambulance moved ever so slightly as Chris climbed into the cab. He blipped the siren to get the crowd to move, and eased his way down St Mary’s Gate.
As we drove past The Galleries of Justice, I realized I had left the flowers on the pavement. I hoped they wouldn’t become a memorial.
Forty-Seven
Detective Sergeant Alun Rees put the phone down, placed his hands on the edge of the desk, and slowly pushed himself away. Despite his weight, or maybe because of it, his wheeled chair glided across the wooden floor. Then he re-tightened his tie, which he had loosened while he had been reviewing a domestic abuse case. The situation had come to a dramatic end when the wife bit her husband’s ear off. As he smoothed the polyester strip down, he noticed the coffee he had spilled down it earlier.
‘Get your coat, Stokes, we’re off. That was DI Dykes,’ he said, indicating the phone with a dip of his head, his South Walian accent still quite strong despite the twenty or so years he had spent in Nottingham. ‘He’s appointed me SIO for the call that’s just come in. Shame, I was hoping to get a slice of that murdered prostitute.’ He paused for a moment before adding, ‘perhaps I should rephrase that.’
The young man sitting opposite him in the small, cluttered office, got out of his seat, grabbed his jacket from the back of it and swung the item of clothing on. He didn’t need to tighten his tie. ‘What have we got, Alun?’
‘There’s been a suspected, and quite serious, assault down Lace Market. St Mary’s to be precise.’ Alun watched his young officer, a nod his only reply.
Stokes had only recently become a detective, and they had been working non-stop. The newly appointed DC had so far proved to be quiet and introspective. Rees wasn’t sure if that was high on the list of qualities for a detective. Someone must have seen potential in him, and to be fair, Stokes had passed the new-fangled exams they did these days with flying colours. Rees was grateful he didn’t have to do all that studying back in his day. Yes, Stokes was doing a good job so far, but he would need to come out of that shell if he were going to get anywhere in the modern police force. Maybe a decent, juicy case would be just what he needed. These days Re
es often felt straight-jacketed by paperwork and lawyers. He had been in service almost thirty years and seen a lot of changes. How he longed for the good old days.
‘Come on, Stokes,’ Rees said as he led them both down to the car pool. ‘Want to drive?’
‘Sure,’ Stokes answered, and raised his hand ready to catch the keys, which the rotund Welshman threw to him. They smacked into his hand, and he smiled as he blipped the car open and climbed in.
‘What have we got, Sir?’ Stokes asked as he swung out onto the main road.
‘Not entirely sure. A woman’s fallen from her flat window. They think she may have been pushed. Could be a domestic, might be assault. Nasty one by the sounds of things. Remember the ABC of being an SIO. Assume nothing. Believe nothing. Challenge and check everything. I want you to take the lead on this, okay? We’ll work together until I know what resources I have and exactly what I’m dealing with.’
Rees didn’t especially like being a Senior Investigating Officer. It was more a coordinating, management role these days, and one of the reasons he’d stayed a DS was so he could stay in the field.
He knew the team at Central was busy at the moment – there was the murdered prostitute, several gang killings, not to mention the hundreds of less sexy crimes. He hoped that by letting Stokes take the lead he would have a chance to still get his hands dirty as they were so overstretched.
‘Crackin’!’ Stokes answered with a teasing smile and the hint of a Welsh accent. Rees smiled. He’d noticed quite early on that while Stokes might be quiet once he felt comfortable, a certain cheekiness had a tendency to come out.
‘So, what are you going to do when we get there?’ Rees asked.
‘Hopefully the uniforms have sealed up the area and stopped the public traipsing all over it. Difficult in such an open, public area. Hopefully they’ve detained any suspects, kept any witnesses and protected any evidence.’
‘I hope so too. It’s a busy area by there, so let’s hope they have the Common Approach Pathway signalled to avoid any further fouling of the crime scene. How many individual crime scenes are we looking at?’ Rees asked, pushing Stokes to think on his feet, a key skill for a detective.
‘Until we reach there I can’t be sure, but, I’d imagine …three.’
‘Good. Quick,’ Rees pointed out through the windscreen, ‘jump the light before it changes.’ The car surged forward as Stokes put his foot down. ‘Tell me more about the scenes. Where will they be?’
‘The area the body landed. The hospital bed and victim’s clothes. The window and, depending on what happened to cause her to fall, the whole flat including the entrance and the stairs leading up to it as well.’
‘Tidy. Right, swing in by 'ere,’ Rees said, as he pointed out of the window and down Broadway. Stokes quickly spun the wheel around and was glad it hadn’t been raining, or he was sure he would have skidded on the slick bricks.
The two detectives left the unmarked car and followed St Mary’s Gate down toward the apartments. It was easy to find. There was a huge crowd, a SOCO van, numerous uniforms and PCSOs; two of which were standing at the opening of the footpath between the building and the church.
‘I’m afraid the ambulance has just left, DS Rees,’ one of the uniforms informed him.
‘Damn! Oh well, I suppose it’s more important that the vic’s in hospital.’ Rees pointed down the path, ‘Is this where the body landed?’
‘Yes, DS Rees,’ the one on the right, PC Richie, said.
‘We’ll have a quick look before we head inside,’ Rees said to no one in particular.
‘If you wouldn’t mind signing the log, sir,’ said the uniform on the left, as he handed him a clipboard. Both detectives signed in, and the crime scene tape was lifted allowing Stokes and Rees to duck under it.
‘Thanks,’ Stokes said as he passed underneath.
‘You’re welcome, Angel Eyes.’
Stokes stopped on the other side and turned to the uniform. ‘It’s Detective or DC Stokes. If you’re lucky enough for me to consider you a friend, you can call me by my name. Understand?’
‘Yes, Detective Stokes,’ PC Richie answered, even though Stokes was no more senior than him.
Rees allowed Stokes to go past him, looked at the PC and then caught up with his young companion. ‘What was that all about?’
‘Nothing. A stupid nickname.’
‘Oh, right,’ Rees said, ‘because of your first name.’
Stokes nodded, and Rees remembered how he had asked him not to use his first name when they first met.
‘Shall we crack on then?’ Stokes said.
Forty-Eight
As soon as we were clear and out on the main road, I heard Chris giving the ED an update on Sarah’s status as well as an Estimated Time of Arrival. Bernie continued to work on her. A patch of her blonde hair had turned dark by the leaking blood. I turned away, but I couldn’t help but turn my attention back. I wasn’t watching as such. I was hoping. I was willing Bernie to do exactly what she said she would – “to do everything she could”. Bernie covered Sarah’s ears either to stop the bleeding, stop infection or so that I couldn’t see it. Maybe all three.
I had only just found Sarah, and I couldn’t lose her now. Not like this. This was my fault. If I hadn’t been in such a rush, so excited, I wouldn’t have forgotten the flowers. I wouldn’t have had to go back. More importantly, I remembered how I had turned and bumped into the bastard who'd done this. Tears began to spill from my eyes.
‘Come on now,’ Bernie said. ‘She needs you to be strong.’ I nodded back and wiped the hot, stinging tears away. Bernie got up and popped her head through to the driver’s cabin. I only caught fragments of what she said to Chris, but I knew it must be bad, or she would have said it in front of me.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked as she sat down and retrieved a pen light from the equipment rack.
She looked at me closely, probably trying to decide if I could handle the truth. ‘Her blood pressure is low and the pulse is…’ She paused and having seen the look on my face was no doubt changing her initial assessment of me and changed tack. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. The team at the ED know we’re coming, and they’ll have everything ready. They’re a great team.’ She turned from me and softly pulled Sarah’s right eyelid open and flicked the light across her eye several times. She repeated it on the left.
I heard the ambulance’s horn blare several times and then the vehicle stopped moving. I heard Chris curse from the cab.
‘Why have we stopped? Get moving,’ Bernie said.
‘I can’t,’ Chris yelled back.
‘We need to get moving.’
‘What? Why?’ I asked. Bernie took my hand and gently pulled me back down to my seat.
‘There’s a broken down bus. iIt’s a right snarl-up. People are trying to get out of the way, but it’ll take time,’ Chris shouted back to us.
‘Her pupils are dilated and reacting slowly,’ Bernie shouted back to him.
‘Okay, okay,’ Chris called with surprising calm before shouting at the cars to ‘Fucking move!’
I heard the sound of a police car outside, and I hoped that the sound of its siren alone would magically make everyone move out of the way.
‘What was that about her eyes?’ I asked. I knew it was bad. It had to be, they were the cause of the urgency, the reason why we had to get to the QMC as soon as we could.
Bernie ignored my question. ‘I need to set up some saline and something we call haemocell. It’ll help. Tell me about her history as I do it, okay?’ I could tell that she was trying to keep my mind from what was happening, keep me calm, even though the information I might be able to give her was useful and potentially lifesaving.
Unfortunately, I knew nothing, and I told her so.
‘Is she allergic to anything? Heart conditions? Past operations? Illnesses?’ She paused, and I couldn’t be sure if it were because she was concentrating on fitting a pink cannula into her hand, or if i
t were because she was about to ask the next question. ‘Pregnant?’ she said.
‘It was our first date,’ I said, and then I realized she probably misunderstood my meaning. ‘I mean I don’t really know her that well, not that…’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Do you know who her relatives are? Where they live? Phone numbers?’
‘I don’t know!’ I felt useless. I was frustrated. Trapped inside my ignorance. How could I have worked with Sarah for half a term and not know anything about her? How much did I really know about anyone at work for that matter? We know about children who have asthma or are allergic to peanuts or something, but not the staff.
The ambulance moved forward a bit, and my hopes began to lift. They were quickly snuffed as we came to a halt. Through the small hatch that separated us from the cab, I could see a police officer frantically waving his arms as he tried to get the traffic moving again. I wanted to get out, join him, and start shouting and screaming at people to move.
‘We’ll be moving again soon, try not to worry,’ Bernie said to me. ‘Are you sure you can’t tell me anything?’ She had a chart balanced on her knee that she was filling out. I shook my head. ‘Do you work together? What do you do, by the way?’
‘We’re teachers.’
‘Do you work for the city council?’ she asked, and I nodded in reply. ‘Maybe we can get some information from them. She ever say anything in the staff room? Down the pub? Maybe you overheard her talking to someone else?’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ I wondered if Mrs Forrest might know something, just like she knew about those damn flowers, but I couldn’t ring her right now.
‘It’s okay, love. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
I nodded and asked, ‘What was that thing you were doing with the torch?’
‘I was checking her pupils.’
