BURN, BABY, BURN

by Jake Barton

  "How long since he was killed?"

  "A few hours only, but too soon to say for sure."

  "Come on, Dexter. Don't give me that wait-and-see shit."

  Dexter frowned. "Livor mortis, but not much sign of rigor." He turned to Donna, sitting alongside him in baffled confusion. "Livor mortis shows itself in pale blue markings, caused by pooling of blood in the lowest parts of the body. Gravity, pure and simple. The front of his thighs and the lower abdomen in this case as he was lying face down when he was found."

  Donna nodded. "With you so far."

  "No rigor, as far as I could see at first glance. Possibly the very early stages, but the burning made it bloody difficult to tell."

  Kate nodded. Donna said nothing, although he'd lost her again. Her baffled state must have shown on her face, as it was Kate who came up with the explanation this time. "Rigor mortis takes an hour or two to form, but livor mortis starts to show in a much shorter time."

  "A couple of hours then," Dexter rumbled. "We got there within an hour of the discovery, right?" He turned to Donna for confirmation.

  "A bit more."

  "Well, whatever, he'd been killed pretty recently."

  "His killer may have been watching."

  "What?" Dexter and Donna spoke in unison.

  Kate shrugged. "It's possible. If we rule out the drugs connection. Could be he’s fond of attention. Could he have been in the area without being observed?"

  Donna thought back to the murder site. All those boats, the rows of empty warehouses, the rough scrubland at the rear and shivered. The idea of the killer watching them was not pleasant. Made it more personal somehow.

  Kate tapped Dexter on the arm. "Tell me about the cause of death and anything you noticed from your quick look round."

  "A couple of decent foot-prints and some evidence that the man had been there for some time, a good few days I’d say. Food scraps and the way the ground around him had been disturbed. As if he had moved around a fair bit. Within limits, of course as he was tied up, and had been for a long time. Any longer and there’d have been no need to cut his fingers off – they’d have dropped off of their own accord." He made no attempt to answer her first question and, when he paused, Kate gave him a long look.

  Donna had seen this with Dexter in the past. He’d tell everything in his own way. Putting pressure on him only made him more stubborn. Kate obviously knew this as well because she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

  "Bindings on the hands especially, not so much the ankles, are interesting. He’d been tied up with wire, ordinary electrical flex, brand new, but nothing distinctive. On sale at every DIY store in the country. No gag, but no real need of one. He could scream his guts out and nobody would hear him. The body was in a depression at the back of an abandoned grain warehouse. Very remote. Chances are he’d have stayed there for months without being found if it weren’t for the anonymous call and the smoke." Dexter sat back in his chair.

  "Cause of death?" Kate prompted.

  Dexter hesitated. "Fire seems most likely, but I’d like to know for sure whether he was already dead when he was set on fire. I’ve asked for a full autopsy. Not really my place to interfere, but Abbott will see to it for old time’s sake. If it turns up anything relevant, I only hope he’s got enough sense to put it through as his own idea. Oh, and a stash of heroin, under a stone, near to where the body was found."

  A thought had been nagging away at Donna for the last few minutes. She cudgelled her poor old brain, trying to flush out the thought, but the more she tried, the further it retreated, moving from just beneath the surface to the deep dark inner recesses of her mind.

  Then, out of nowhere, she had it. "The hands," she blurted out. Dexter jumped. "You said the hands were interesting."

  Kate nodded approvingly. Donna wished now she could have joined Dexter in his close scrutiny of the murder scene, but had been too busy trying to avoid parting with her breakfast. The smell of charred flesh was more than enough for her, and when she caught a glimpse of the body it almost sent her over the edge.

  "I hadn’t forgotten," Dexter grumbled, although Donna suspected he had. "As I said, the hands were wired together, really tight. Underneath the wire, though, he’d been tied with nylon cord, like a thick twine. All of it had burned off, but there were a couple of end pieces near to the body that survived the fire. SOCO found a single blonde hair along with the twine. Definitely not from the victim, no connection at all with him. I’ve seen his mug shot and he had dark wavy hair. What makes it interesting is the knot in the wire."

  Kate sat up straight, gesturing with her hands for more details.

  "I’ve not seen it before. To tell you the truth, I didn’t pay it much attention until one of the CSI boys pointed it out. He’d done a lot of work in hospitals and recognised the knot. He reckoned you’d expect to see a knot like that in an operating theatre, a hospital anyway. It’s used for sutures, I understand."

  He held up a hand at Kate’s questioning look. "I spoke to Doc Edwards about it. Luckily, we got there before they took the body away, so I’d had a good look. He confirmed the nature of the knot. Told me he’d noticed it straight away. Showed me how to tie it, as well. Do you have any string?"

  Kate reached down, removed the lace from one of Dexter’s shoes, and handed it to him without a word. He held one end in his left hand and made three turns around the other end of the lace. Tongue protruding in concentration, he brought both ends together and looped them again. Yanking fiercely on both ends simultaneously, he secured the resultant knot and held it out for inspection.

  "I’m impressed, Doctor Dexter," Kate smirked.

  "Not hard to do, but not how the average person would tie a knot. It won’t slip, you see? That’s its value in the operating theatre. Pretty good for making sure someone’s hands stay tied as well. Oh, and one other thing. This knot here is opposite to the one on the body. That’s because I’m right handed. It would be much more difficult for me to tie this knot the opposite way around. So, he’s left handed." He sat back in his chair, pleased with himself.

  "Interesting." Kate’s voice gave nothing away.

  "Is that all you’ve got to say, interesting?" Dexter’s cheeks were flushed.

  "No," Kate said slowly. "We’re now looking for a fair-haired, left-handed man with some specific medical training. Is that right?"

  Dexter slammed his hand on the table. "What do you want? You’re saying ignore it?"

  "No. Obviously you can’t ignore it. It’s the first real physical evidence he’s given us. That’s the problem. It’s too much. Remember the fingerprints? They were evidence too. Strong enough for Abbott and his merry men to throw all other theories out of the window. With the body having fingers missing it raises the question as to whether the prints were added deliberately to give the impression that Alex Melia was implicated in the abduction. Just don’t go overboard on this, that’s my advice."

  Dexter slammed a hand on the surface of the desk, dislodging a pen that rolled to the edge of the desk, teetered for a moment, and then fell to the floor. Kate leaned over and replaced it, without comment.

  "I shouldn't have to say this," she said at last. "Not to you of all people. Keep an open mind about the footprints and the rest of this new so-called evidence. I don't think they'll be helpful." Dexter frowned, but accepted the rebuke calmly.

  "The man we're looking for, if he's involved in the death of Alex Melia, is too clever to leave a stray footprint behind, let alone a hair sample or a specific type of knot. It’s just the sort of thing that gets the average policeman all of a lather, but I’m telling you now that our man plans too well to make elementary mistakes like that. If he's left evidence behind, then almost certainly he intended them to be found."

  Dexter nodded. "I know what you’re saying," he admitted, somewhat grudgingly. "I can't vouch for my former colleagues, but-"

  "They'll treat it as gospel," Kate concluded. Dexter nodded.

  "I can help
with the footprint if you like," Kate offered. "Get me a copy of the cast and I’ll do what I can. Get it out of the way a damn sight quicker than the Police lab. May even get you a few brownie points with the boys in blue, help to keep you in the picture."

  "I thought you said-"

  "It’s a load of crap?"

  "Well, yeah."

  "So it is, but the Police dare not ignore it, and neither should I. At least I’ll get a result on the footprint, and we can move on to more important stuff. Marcus Green, what do we have on him, for instance? Not a lot as it happens." She moved her computer mouse in a series of rapid movements, clicking on files as they appeared on the screen.

  "Look at this," Kate said, finally. "Marcus Green, aged thirteen, after his arrest." She clicked again to enlarge the picture on the screen."

  "God," Donna interjected, "Talk about butter wouldn’t melt."

  "Yeah, he’s the very picture of innocence, isn’t he? Now look at the last picture of him, taken just before he was released a few months back." She clicked again and the picture of a heavily bearded man appeared, long hair overhanging his forehead, not even remotely resembling the boy in the previous picture.

  "He won’t look like that now," Kate said, "I’d lay odds on it. That picture has all the signs of a setup to me. Clever bugger." She sounded impressed.

  Dexter nodded in apparent agreement. "Shows what we’re up against," he said. "That’s the only picture on file, not that anyone seems to be even looking for him."

  "Nobody but us," Donna pointed out.

  Dexter fiddled with his tie and popped open the top button of his shirt. He looked knackered, the lines on his face like a diagram of the London Underground. Donna noticed a stray clump of hair springing from the gap between tie and collar. She liked hairy men. Some girls do, some don't. It's the sort of thing that polarises opinion. She had girlfriends who find male body hair repulsive, a real turn-off, but Donna liked a man to be hairy. A hairy back was not such a bonus, rather the reverse in fact, but not the end of the world. If everything else adds up, quite frankly she didn't give a toss about a few more hairs here and there. Donna shook her head and attempted to get her mind back in gear. Why she was having these thoughts after a glimpse of Dexter's chest hair was a bit of a worry.

  Dexter of all people!

  "Remember those IQ tests?" Kate’s question broke Donna’s reverie. Not before time.

  "Yeah,"

  "I’ve done some background digging. Enough to convince me that Child M is none other than Marcus Green."

  "So, we’re up against a genius?" Donna mused.

  Kate frowned. "Genius? What is genius? A much-abused word, that’s for sure. My definition would exclude the majority of so-called geniuses. Would you quarrel with a definition such as someone gifted beyond the comprehension of his contemporaries? No problem with that? Okay, but how if it’s a child?"

  "A child? What, like Mozart?"

  "Good example. Some of the greatest musicians were remarkable from their earliest years, limited of course by the physical limitations of their size."

  "Sorry, I don’t really follow that."

  Kate sighed, holding out her hands for inspection. "Imagine playing the piano. A child’s hands can only span a certain distance on a keyboard. Same thing applies to the frets of a violin. Or a cello. But, still going with music as an example, when it comes to composition, there are no limitations on what goes on inside the head – the physical limitations are no longer applicable. Music is all mathematics of course, in its purest form." Kate picked up the printout of the IQ test results and brandished them aloft. "These tests demonstrate one thing, over and above everything else. Marcus Green was a mathematical genius. Remember, his father was a professor of mathematics, no dummy himself. These tests must have staggered him. He, more than most people, would be aware of what he’d produced. Possibly, he was jealous of the boy’s ability. If that was the case, it may even have killed him."

  "What?"

  "With the people I deal with in my work, I’m always suspicious of accidents. I know Marcus Green was only a child, but these tests don’t lie. This is no ordinary child. He may have been gifted in many ways, perhaps artistically, musically, but it’s the maths that’s significant. Ability like this shows a degree of analytical capacity, a clinical calculation, that scares normal mortals, especially in a child. I’ll bet he wasn’t a high-flyer at school that would have exposed him. People are fearful of things they don’t understand, and right from the start Marcus Green was operating on a different level to other kids.

  "Clever kids stand out and he wouldn’t want that. Also, clever kids aren’t popular. There’s a lot of jealousy and insecurity at that age. What about a child with superior intelligence to his teachers? More than his teachers could ever imagine? No, I’d lay odds he was thought of as an under-achiever at school. I’d guess he taught himself. I imagine he could manipulate his mother, who was certainly no academic, and after the death of his father, he probably did whatever he chose."

  Dexter stirred. "Just out of interest," he mused. "What would your IQ tests say about you?"

  Kate smiled. "They’re not up to this level, that’s for sure, but above the average score. Certainly higher than yours. Some similarities with the results of Marcus Green, that much I’ll admit."

  "Such as?"

  "A bias towards analytical ability, mathematical deduction, that sort of thing. I’m someone you wouldn’t want to play chess with."

  "So why aren’t you one of the bad guys?"

  Kate shrugged. "Just be grateful I’m not."

  "So. Are we any further forward?" Dexter’s finger was prodding again.

  "Probably not, except in the sense of knowing your enemy. In a nutshell, what these tests show is a logical, deductive personality who works everything out in advance. He’s a planner, always thinking ahead. You most certainly wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Add a touch of basic evil and you’ve got real problems. In this job, I see a lot of evil but, if I’m right and these tests really do relate to Marcus Green, then he could well be just about as bad as they come."

  *****

  Abbott strode along the silent and deserted corridor, switching on lights and disturbing tiny motes of dust. As his invited guests, Dexter and Donna followed close behind. Abbott had told them the coast would be clear as the nocturnal army of middle-aged women who cleaned the building were in dispute with their employers over changes to their pay structure, and had not made an appearance for over a week.

  Donna felt like a kid sneaking in to the pictures through the back door. Dexter had badgered Abbott to show him the medical report, but he’d refused to make him a copy. "I’ll take you in for a quick look," he offered. "Long as you’re out of the building before six."

  Dexter agreed. "Even better," he said.

  This trip up the backstairs at five am was as a result of that arrangement. Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor, the sound rebounding from the part-glazed walls.

  Abbott reached his office and entered, switching on the lights. The fluorescent tube hanging from rusty chains above the desk flickered and made a loud buzzing while it made up its mind whether to remain lit or revert to its former state.

  "Needs a new tube," Abbott grunted. "I’ll leave a note at the front desk about it." As if contemptuous of this threat to its continuing existence, the tube gave one final flicker of defiance and switched off completely. Abbott looked at Donna who understood his frustration. It was one of those moments when her presence, the token female, mitigated against the therapeutic value of cursing. She moved to the window and looked down at the car park. Weak overhead lights shone a faint orange glow over the neatly parked vans and patrol cars. Dexter joined her at the window.

  "They used to be round the back – the motors," he said.

  Abbott grunted. "Too many getting nicked," he said sardonically. "Bit embarrassing when it got in the papers." Dexter gave a bark of laughter.

  Donna glanced at Abbott
’s desk while he rummaged around in the gloom, trying to find the medical report. She was only too well aware, having had the fact pointed out by Roper more than once, that one of the ways in which an Associate demonstrated his or her efficiency, was in the possession of a tidy desk. It was all part of an American-inspired efficiency study which Roper had adopted as gospel. Donna didn’t know whether her failure to conform was proof of inefficiency or not. What she really thought was that fault lay with the anally retentive drones who devoted their working day, and probably their entire lives, in attaching importance to such trivial matters.

  Her desk was her castle, or it should be and she’d said as much to Roper when the question had first arisen. When she’d cited the example of Dexter whose desk made her own look immaculate, Roper’s superior disapproval had reached out to envelope the whole room. She could now welcome Abbott to the untidy desk brigade. His desk was much worse than hers and Dexter’s combined. Files everywhere and scattered message slips attached to every available surface.

  "Got it," Abbott announced with a huge sigh of relief, brandishing a thin buff file in his right hand. "Take it into the corridor where there’s more light and for fuck’s sake hurry up." He glanced at Donna awkwardly, but she acted as if she hadn’t heard. He’d adjust to her soon enough, and stop trying so hard. Donna doubted whether any of his female colleagues received anything like the same consideration.

  Abbot shuffled papers on his desk, ignoring her and Donna knew he resented her presence here. Dexter was an old mate and his former Guvnor. A lot of history between them. Donna was not part of that history and she vowed to remain low profile and keep her head down.

  Dexter really rated Abbott. He’d told Donna the man had been up for Inspector a few years back and cocked up the interview in some way. Although his ability warranted it, he’d not had another sniff of promotion since, and didn’t appear too bothered about the fact. Too useful in his present rank, Dexter reckoned, plus he knew his own strengths and weaknesses, probably preferring the life he knew and understood to the more desk-bound and political working life of a DI. This acting promotion was well merited, but Dexter had voiced his doubts whether Abbott would appreciate the step up on a permanent basis.