Cleaver Square

by Sean Campbell

  'You've got to be joking, David,' Kiaran replied. The line crackled as he replied. He too was using a hands-free kit, but rather than pacing he was clicking hastily through a legal precedent database looking for a reference for an unrelated case's skeleton argument.

  'Deadly serious. I've got a dead kid, and absolutely no idea who he is. There's a connection there with the Matthews family, but I'm not sure what it is. The watch was last in the possession of Mr Eric Matthews, deceased. His son doesn't recognise the watch. So how did it end up with our Joe Bloggs?'

  'Chief, you're fixating way too much on this watch. What if it was just coincidence? It could have gone missing anytime in the decade between the death of Eric Matthews and Joe Bloggs Junior's being found. We only have Robert Lyons' word that the watch was on the body rather than near it.'

  'Where else can I look? We're running out of evidence. The public appeal has gone nowhere. Besides, if he'd been buried only near the watch then Lyons would have been able to keep the watch as a lawful find rather than evidence. He had no reason to lie,' Morton said. The line went quiet, and for a moment Morton thought he had lost Kiaran. In the background, he could faintly hear the prosecutor clicking furiously. 'Kiaran?'

  'You're the cop, David. I'll make an application to the Ministry of Justice, but I really don't think they'll let us disturb the dead on a hunch. Find me something solid, and I'll make it work. Until then, what else have you got?'

  'Bugger all. My gut says that the watch is the key to cracking this case wide open.'

  'You said that about the search warrant,' Kiaran jibed.

  'Same strand of the investigation. As a toddler, Charles Matthews lost his parents in a car crash, then his foster parents died in a house fire last year. Aren't you the least bit curious?' Morton cajoled.

  'I'll take a look at the coroner's report,' Kiaran replied dubiously, 'But these are cold leads, David. You'd better be right if we're going to start digging up graves.'

  ***

  Charlie waited nervously, fidgeting in his seat. The waiting room was a colourful affair, with toys and a television. He knew he wasn't there to play; Mrs Lattimer had intimated as much. The other kids in the waiting room were sitting with parents and teachers, but Mrs Lattimer had dropped Charlie off and gone. Charlie hoped she would come back to take him home, otherwise it would be a long walk.

  The door to the psychologist's office opened a smidgeon, and a pretty brunette leaned through the gap. 'Charles Matthews?'

  Charlie stood, leaving his school bag in the waiting room under the chair. All he needed was a pencil.

  Once he was inside, he took the seat nearest the door. There was a school-style table between him and Doctor Wagner.

  'Hi, Charlie, we're going to do a few exercises today.'

  Charlie glanced at the document on the table labelled 'Wide Ranging Assessment Test 4', and wondered what the afternoon had in store for him.

  'The first thing I'd like you to do is read out this card for me. There's no rush, so take your time.'

  'The dog ran over the road to the house,' Charlie began. Each word was pronounced slowly, as if he had to mull over how to pronounce it properly.

  After a few paragraphs, the doctor had assessed Charlie's reading age as being well below average. In the writing test, in which he copied out the same words, he was quicker. Charlie's biggest difficulty was the spoken word. Doctor Wagner watched him carefully as he worked, noting the neat cursive in which he wrote. Few boys had such pretty handwriting.

  'That's great, Charlie, thank you. We're going to do something a bit different now.' The doctor placed flash cards depicting shapes on the table. 'These cards show a shape made up of cubes. I'm going to give you a card with one shape on it, and a set of cubes that make up that shape. I want you to assemble the cubes to make the same shape as on the card. Do you understand?'

  Charlie nodded, already turning a piece of the plastic puzzle over in his hands.

  'Now, the first one is just a practice so I know you know how to do it. After the first one, I'll time how long you take. You'll be given sixty seconds per puzzle, and we'll see how many you get through. You ready? Go.'

  Charlie picked up one part of the puzzle, an L shape with three cubes on the longer side and two at one end. He looked at the other parts, and tried to visualise how they would fit together to make the cube depicted in the drawing. Then, without hesitating, he twisted the pieces together to form a perfect cube and set the completed puzzle upon the desk.

  'Very good!'

  Charlie proceeded to complete every puzzle given to him. His spatial awareness was exemplary.

  He was a very unusual child indeed.

  CHAPTER 22: INSURANCE

  A rich aroma filled the incident room as Colombian coffee percolated through the coffee machine and dripped softly in the pot below.

  Morton found himself poring over paperwork once more. This time, it was the Grants' insurance documentation. Morton ran a finger down a page entitled 'Inventory List' which was sandwiched between several other appendices to the Fire Investigation Report written by Lucien Darville. The more Morton reread Lucien's words, the more convinced he was that the fire had been an accident.

  The insurance looked pretty standard at first. The 'building' element covered only the estimated rebuild costs, and the estimates were modest. It was the contents that had drawn Morton's attention.

  Inventory List: Disclosed high value objects (Replacement value only)

  1 x Dell XPS 8190 Laptop (£2000)

  1 x Panasonic DPT59X:LN Plasma Television (£1450)

  1 x Diamond engagement ring, 1.04 CT VVSI (£4750)

  36 x Cases, Vintage Wine Collection (£13,000)

  'Well, that explains how the fire spread so quickly.' Morton flipped back to the incident summary which read 'The property included an extensive cellar which was used to store vintage wines and spirits which acted as accelerants.'

  Morton sighed inwardly at the pretension. When would people learn to buy wine then drink it rather than letting it sit getting dusty for a decade or two. Morton turned his attention back to the Inventory List.

  1 x Art Collection (Full inventory located at addendum F) (£19,000)

  Audiovisual equipment (£800)

  Sports Equipment (£450)

  Watch collection (Full inventory located at addendum G) (£72,000)

  'Seventy-two thousand?' Flipping pages, Morton quickly uncovered addendum G.

  'Watch collection comprises four watches (as photographed) including Citizen Eco-Drive (Men's) (£900), Citizen Eco-Drive (Women's) (£1100), Rolex Abyss (£12,000), and Keppler Oechslan (£58,000).'

  Morton punched the air. 'I knew that bloody watch was important!'

  He grabbed his phone, hit the number nineteen speed dial for Kiaran O'Connor and waited impatiently.

  'Kiaran, I've got the evidence to prove Charlie inherited the watch. He had it when he was with the Grant family, whom he left last year. He should have known about it. We need to exhume Mrs Matthews. Get down to the incident room. Now.' Morton hung up without waiting for a reply. He knew he couldn't give orders to the CPS lawyer, but he also knew that curiosity would get the better of Kiaran. The CPS prosecutor had an office in a nearby building, less than fifteen minutes' walk away.

  ***

  'Charlie exhibits some of the core indicators for dyslexia. He has difficulty with reading and spelling. This difficulty is particularly pronounced when he attempt to utilise multisyllabic words. He further shows difficulty processing instructions without supplementary aids. His reading is inaccurate, and his completion speed for language comprehension exercises falls well below the normal range.

  'Despite this, Charlie shows an astonishing aptitude for mathematics. This segment of the test alone indicates an extremely high IQ. Charlie completed spatial awareness tasks quickly and easily, suggesting strong problem-solving skills, and above-average manual dexterity. His handwriting further demonstrates this. Although he writes slowly, and
has great difficulty spelling, his writing is exceptionally neat.

  'During the two-hour assessment, Charlie rarely smiled and seemed reluctant to make eye contact. His speech patterns were slow, and he paused often. His syntax was punctuated with 'umms', which could indicate that Charlie is high on the autistic spectrum, though such analysis falls outside the immediate concerns of the Wide Range Assessment Test.

  'In conclusion, I recommend Charlie is given Special Educational Needs status, and accorded help in exam situations, as well as weekly support classes to help him with his schoolwork.'

  Doctor Wagner finished typing, slender fingers pulling away from the keyboard. Something about Charlie bothered her, but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly. She hit print, readied her pen to sign, and then waited for the printer to churn out her report. It was a flat-fee gig, and every extra minute she spent thinking about work was a minute she wasn't getting paid.

  ***

  Kiaran entered the conference room to find David Morton practically bouncing around. As soon as he saw Kiaran, he skipped over, the balls of his feet barely connecting with the floor.

  'Afternoon!'

  'Hi, David. You rang?' said Kiaran.

  'I've got a break. That watch...'

  'Not the damn watch again?' Kiaran interrupted.

  'Yes, the damn watch. The damn watch the kid didn't remember. It was insured at the Grant residence.'

  'The home he was in for several years? Remind me again what the chronology is.'

  'After Charlie's parents died ten years ago, he spent three weeks with a temporary family. The usual trauma support placement. Then on to the Grants, where he spent several years. Then the Lovejoys for a short stint after the fire, and now he's with the Lattimers.'

  'They really do bounce around the system,' Kiaran observed wryly.

  'Yep, but you only insure a watch if you know it exists. So why didn't Charlie recognise the watch? I've played the interview video back over and over. His eyes don't even flicker when Vaughn takes the evidence bag out. If I'd lost my parents, I'm sure I'd remember the only heirloom.'

  'I suppose so. So how did the watch get from Charlie to Joe Bloggs Junior, and why didn't Charlie recognise the watch?'

  'Could the Grants have kept it safe for him?' Morton thought aloud.

  'Or from him,' the lawyer remarked dryly. 'If they did, they didn't do a great job. It ended up buried in the Marshes, after all.'

  'There was no safe at the Grant residence, not according to the fire investigation report. So the watch must have been worn.'

  'Mr Grant might have worn it. Could have been stolen.'

  'But then you'd claim on the insurance.'

  'Unless it wasn't long before he died.'

  'I'm not buying it. A guy gets robbed, and then he gets burned to death. Then the thief either dies, or sells it to a kid who dies? Doesn't make sense, you wouldn't fence a watch worth over fifty-thousand pounds to a kid.'

  'So what do you want me to do with this?' Kiaran asked.

  'Get Mr Matthews exhumed.'

  'Why not Mrs Mathews?'

  'Ayala did some digging; she's been cremated. We'll have to use DNA to confirm there's no familial link between the Matthews and our Joe Bloggs Junior. An heirloom like that would naturally end up with a relative.'

  'I'll give it a try. The Ministry of Justice might be swayed. We don't need a criminal standard of proof, but even a bureaucrat will need some convincing to let us dig up a body.'

  'Keep me posted, Kiaran,' Morton said as the lawyer departed. Morton sat down, suddenly deflated once more. When will this case break?

  CHAPTER 23: SECOND TIME LUCKY

  Kiaran crossed his fingers, and hit the send button, causing his application to whizz through the ether to the Ministry of Justice.

  'S25 Burial Act 1857 Application to Exhume

  'For the urgent attention of Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for Justice.

  'An application is made herein for a licence to disinter the body of Eric Matthews for the purpose of a DNA test to confirm his relationship to a deceased child found buried in Hackney Marshes. Mr Matthews is the only possible relative that could be disinterred for this comparison as the child's mother, Jacqueline Matthews, was cremated and as such her DNA is unavailable.

  'The child was buried with a watch that belonged to Eric Matthews and was known to be in the possession of Eric's son in November of last year. This has been confirmed by insurance documentation.

  'In this active investigation, the DNA link is the cornerstone in identifying a murder victim. It has not been possible to contact Eric Matthews' next of kin, as the decedent left behind no relatives...'

  The application was not the most elegant ever made by Kiaran O'Connor, but he rarely had cause to exhume a body. From his previous experience dealing with extra-judicial applications, and civil servants in general, Kiaran thought it might take days, if not weeks, to get a reply. Even then, it would take a day or two to organise the exhumation.

  ***

  The laptop screen cast a pale blue glow on David Morton's face as he sat in the dark. David was still at the Travelodge, where he hid under the covers in room 212 as he perused his credit file. Where a nice round 900 had previously been, his score now read 36B7. Even recent bankrupts can manage better than that, he mused.

  'Victim of Impersonation – CIFAS' stood out in bold typeface at the top of the screen, just under his full name, David Gareth Morton. From a brief text message exchange, he knew Sarah's record was similarly inscribed. She still wasn't talking to him, despite a bunch of flowers sent to her office using a credit card he'd pilfered from expenses.

  For a mere twenty pounds a year, CIFAS put David on their Protective Registration service. Now, all credit applications would require an extra step to verify it was really him. David thought it was closing the stable door after the horse had bolted, and the cost was simply rubbing salt in the wound. He and Sarah had argued about that too. Everything was an argument lately.

  ***

  Eric Matthews was buried in non-consecrated grounds, which made the job of Henry Larkin much easier. As an employee of the Ministry of Justice, Henry spent his whole life dealing with the politics of the Anglican Diocese. If a body was buried in consecrated grounds, then Henry could not simply grant a licence as the diocese had to agree to any exhumation on church grounds. The process for getting their permission made the Ministry of Justice's process look like the Gatwick Express. Electronic applications for licences gave way to local ministrations holding ecclesiastical meetings to determine the right way to decide. Certain older priests were known to pray on a decision for days or weeks at a time.

  Despite being a bureaucrat, Henry was different. He'd received an application from Kiaran O'Connor at the Crown Prosecution Service at half past four. By quarter to five he'd made his decision. There would be no fallout from the church, and there were no relatives to complain or apply for a judicial review. Henry didn't care about the rights of the dead, but he did care about his own career, and having an ambitious young prosecutor on his side couldn't hurt.

  Henry signed the licence, and dropped it in his out tray. A secretary would fax a copy back to the CPS first thing in the morning. Until then, Henry was a free man. God bless the civil service nine-to-five. He grabbed his umbrella from the rack by the door and headed home.

  ***

  They arrived on the dot of 8:08 a.m., the break of dawn. Frost danced across the grassy knolls, bathed in the orange glow of the sun.

  'Get that marquee up,' Morton barked as the pole framework of the structure was dumped unceremoniously from the back of a police van. The cemetery was not due to open until nine o'clock but they were taking no chances. If the media realised they were digging up a body then they'd want to know why. Any story could tip off the killer that they were onto him.

  Once the marquee was in place, they began to dig. The topsoil came off quickly as a mechanical digger did most of the work. Once they approac
hed the six-feet depth at which the coffin was buried, they switched to manual excavation to avoid damaging Mr Matthews' remains.

  It was unlikely that any soft tissue would remain after the better part of a decade, so getting a DNA sample would probably mean removing one or more of the teeth. DNA could survive for a long time inside a tooth, protected by the walls of calcium. If they could get a match between Mr Eric Matthews and Joe Bloggs Junior then that would explain how he came to possess Eric's treasured watch, as well as giving them a lead on who Joe Bloggs Junior might be. It would also confirm if Eric was in any way related to the child living in Cleaver Square.

  Morton preferred to think of the investigation in old-school terms. Who, what, why and when? So far, he had very little. He didn't know who had been killed, who the killer was, how the victim died or why he was murdered. All he had to go on was a loose timeline. The watch would be the key to cracking open the who, he just knew it. Morton leant back in his pop-up chair, letting the younger detectives do the digging. He'd crack this case wide open soon enough.

  CHAPTER 24: FOLLOW THE MONEY

  With his aversion to lawyers, Morton could rarely be found in a solicitor's office. Yet, thanks to his wife's insistence, he had called in on Mr Theodore J Edmonds. He had known Teddy in another life, when they'd stolen cigarettes and downed cider in the woods with the local girls. The man sitting opposite him couldn't be further from the boy he had once known. Teddy sat in an executive office chair; his stark grey suit pinstriped with silver exuded an air of success and confidence.

  The image was deliberate: in Teddy's mind, it was what everyone looked for when they consulted a lawyer. Sarah had c hosen to sit equidistant between her husband and Teddy. She had not yet forgiven Morton.

  'Well David, it looks like we've got quite a big mess to unwind here. Do you want me to start with the good news or the bad news?'