Robbing the Dead (Inspector Jim Carruthers Book 1)

by Tana Collins

  Bingham motioned to Brown, then the two men pulled Carruthers and McGhee apart. Bingham held on to Carruthers, Brown onto McGhee.

  Carruthers looked down at his bleeding knuckles. ‘That wasn’t for Mairi. That was for me. You manipulative fuck. And keep away from Fletcher.’

  ‘Christ, you’re not setting yourself up as a champion of women’s causes are you? Or is it that you fancy Andie yourself? What am I supposed to have done to her, anyway?’ said McGhee struggling against Brown. Carruthers was also struggling to be free of Bingham.

  ‘That’s enough,’ roared Bingham.

  ‘Oh, just leave it,’ said Carruthers thinking it was pointless telling McGhee he should have kept his mouth shut about Fletcher’s pregnancy.

  ‘We’ve still got to work together,’ said McGhee sounding aggrieved, nursing his nose with some Kleenex he’d found in his trouser pocket. ‘Jesus, I’m bleeding all over my shirt.’

  ‘I don’t know where it came from, to be honest.’ Carruthers offered an insincere smile. ‘Call it a defective gene.’

  McGhee scowled. Carruthers, who suddenly seemed to be aware of Bingham for the first time now that the red mist had evaporated, put up a hand as if in apology. He hastily tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

  ‘Both of you. My office,’ said Bingham, ‘NOW!’

  As soon as Bingham had marched both men into his office he shut the door and turned on them.

  ‘Do you two mind telling me what the hell is going on here?’ said Bingham. ‘I will not have two officers fighting in my station. Start talking. Now!’

  McGhee shrugged. ‘It was nothing,’ he said.

  ‘It didn’t look like nothing to me,’ said Bingham. ‘There is not to be a repeat of this. Do you hear me? Do you, superintendent?’

  ‘There won’t be, sir,’ said McGhee.

  ‘OK, dismissed. I want a word with Carruthers. Don’t think this matter is finished with, Alistair. You may be a senior officer but this is still my station. I will not have thuggish schoolboy nonsense here.’

  Bingham closed the office door after McGhee, and turned on Carruthers. ‘Right, what have you got to say for yourself?’

  Carruthers was silent.

  ‘OK, I’ll make this very clear for you, shall I?’ said Bingham. ‘When this case is over I want you to take some leave while I decide whether or not you have a future here. It’s clear you have some unresolved personal issues, Carruthers, but I won’t have one of my officers behave like you did today. If this happens again, you’re out. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Dismissed.’

  Carruthers nodded shamefaced.

  ‘And Carruthers, before you leave the building, change your shirt, dammit.’

  ***

  ‘Don’t say anything,’ said Carruthers as they left the building. He could feel his eye starting to close. He gently probed the tender area of throat where McGhee’s hand had been.

  ‘I wasn’t going to,’ said Fletcher. ‘But… what on earth were you thinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘Well, that much is obvious.’ Fletcher sighed. ‘What are you going to do about that eye? It looks really bad. The cut’s still bleeding. And the bruising’s already coming out. I think you should go to hospital, get it stitched.’

  ‘No time. We’ve got a corpse to check out, remember?’

  ‘Well, at least let me look at it for you. Come over to my car. I have my first aid stuff in the boot. Anyway, I could use the practice.’

  Fletcher wrenched open the boot of her Beetle. Whilst Carruthers stood there feeling foolish she took out the first aid box and brought out butterfly stitches and a clean cloth.

  ‘What did Bingham say?’ said Fletcher.

  ‘Gave me a warning. Look, do you mind if we take two cars? I need some thinking time.’

  What he actually wanted was to sit in brooding silence. Think over Bingham’s words about whether he had a future at the station.

  Fletcher gave him a momentary hard stare then shrugged. ‘OK. Fine.’

  Was it fine? thought Carruthers. Or was it the sort of fine women say when things are anything but? He had no idea.

  Once Fletcher had wiped the wound and applied butterfly stitches, they took two cars and drove the short distance to Pinetum Park Forest. They parked up by the edge of the forest, where a uniformed officer directed them. Carruthers noticed the wind was picking up. Blackbirds chatted noisily to each other. Ears of green wheat swayed in the wind, changing colour swiftly as the sun danced over the fields.

  ‘Do you know much about this area?’ asked Carruthers, breathing in the sweet scent of pine.

  ‘I haven’t been in the forest since I was a child. It’s a popular nature reserve. Great for bird watching. We used to come up here for family holidays,’ Fletcher admitted, coming across to him from her car carrying overalls, latex gloves, face masks and paper shoes.

  ‘Come on. We’d better rescue the poor dog walker,’ he said.

  Carruthers led the way. As they approached the crime scene, they saw the woman with her dog. She moved from side to side, full of nervous energy, but knowing she couldn’t go anywhere. Her breathing was juddery, and the hand not on the dog lead shuddered as she fiddled with her headscarf. She appeared to be in her late forties. The dog, a Labrador, sat quietly by her side, but came to swift attention as the officers arrived.

  ‘Have you touched anything?’ asked Carruthers.

  ‘No, of course not!’ She looked quite offended by the suggestion. ‘He’s back that way.’

  ‘Would you show us?’

  ‘I would rather stay here if you don’t mind,’ she sniffed. ‘I have no wish to see it a second time.’ Her accent was well-to-do Edinburgh, perhaps Morningside.

  ‘We’ll need to get a statement from you, Mrs...?’ said Fletcher, taking up her notebook.

  ‘Mrs Henderson.’

  ‘OK, Mrs Henderson. Sit tight and I’ll be right back.’

  Carruthers and Fletcher walked further into the forest, the fresh scent of pine in Carruthers’ nostrils. With every step it grew darker. Twigs snapped underfoot sounding like starting pistols on sports day. His right hand throbbed. He wondered if he’d broken a bone.

  The body, that of a bare-chested young man wearing blue jeans, was lying on its side in the undergrowth.

  As Carruthers walked into the forest, the canopy of trees seemed to close in on him. The forest was so dense it shut out the sky. It was overcast but humid, and inside the forest was airless, oppressive and dark.

  Fletcher threw a packet towards him. Threw it harder than strictly necessary. She started to put on her overalls.

  Carruthers started to pull on his own overalls. Clearly he’d annoyed Fletcher, and as much as he resented his current position, she was right, it was time to start being professional again. He put his feet into the paper shoes.

  ‘Shit,’ said Fletcher, wrinkling her nose as they approached the corpse. The smell of death was overpowering. Even from a distance there was no mistaking the condition of the body. She reached into her pocket for the tape and started taping around the crime scene, marking the minimum exclusion zone.

  ‘He’s been tortured,’ said Carruthers. ‘See those rope marks on the wrists, cigarette burns on his chest.’ He looked at the bloody concave mess of his scalp. ‘He’s also been shot in the head. Perhaps that’s what killed him but we’ll have to wait to see what forensics say.’

  The two approached the body cautiously from another angle. Remembering the photograph, Carruthers said. ‘I think it’s Dave Roberts. What do you think?’

  ‘Looks like the same man to me,’ said Fletcher. Then ‘What’s that smell?’

  ‘I can’t smell anything over the smell of the corpse,’ said Carruthers. ‘Decomposition will have already accelerated in this heat.’

  ‘I can smell smoke,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps someone’s got a barbeque set out.’

  Fletcher frowned. ‘There are
strict rules about firing up barbeque sets in forests. Look.’ She pointed at a small clearing a few metres away, looked like a couple of trees had fallen in the winter and nature had yet to fill the gap in the skyline. As they gazed towards the gap a plume of smoke filled the scrap of sky. A sudden roaring noise erupted, and a huge jet of orange flame leapt into the air.

  ‘Jesus Christ, it’s a forest fire. And it’s close. Quick, call the fire brigade,’ said Carruthers. ‘All it takes is if the wind changes, and we’ll be in serious danger.’

  Fletcher deftly got out her mobile phone and punched the number of the emergency services into it. ‘They’re on their way. We’re in luck. There’s a crew from Lochgelly training over at Edenside. They won’t be more than a few minutes. They’re also mobilising crews from Castletown and Cupar. They have Tayport on standby.’ In answer to his raised eyebrows, Fletcher explained, ‘The last forest fire here took ten hours to put out after reigniting, and had six fire crews in attendance.’

  Carruthers’ eyes widened before he said, ‘We’d better be making tracks. I want you to rescue Mrs Henderson before her day gets any worse. We’ll take the statement from her once we get her to safety.’

  ‘Not before I do this,’ said Fletcher taking photographs of the body and the area around the body at different angles with her mobile phone. ‘I know it’s not the same, but just in case the SOCOs don’t arrive in time, it’s better than nothing.’

  Suddenly a faint cry could be heard from further inside the forest. ‘Ssshhh. Did you hear that?’ asked Carruthers. ‘It sounds like someone crying for help.’ They both listened.

  ‘It sounded like an animal to me,’ said Fletcher straining her ears.

  ‘There it is again,’ said Carruthers.

  ‘That’s definitely human.’

  ‘Stay here, Andie. I’ll go.’

  Fletcher made a move to join Carruthers.

  ‘I mean it. Now you’re pregnant you have to put the baby first. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Be careful, Jim.’

  Carruthers listened for the cry for help. It came again, this time a little fainter. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but it definitely wasn’t animal, that was for sure. He started walking towards where the voice was coming from, hoping that it wouldn’t lead him straight into the path of the fire. As he moved deftly, twigs broke underfoot. He brushed branches of pine trees out of the way as he hurried through the undergrowth. The normally sweet smell of pine was marred by the acrid smoke being carried on the wind. Carruthers was concerned. The smoke was becoming stronger, and the density of the forest, coupled with the smoke from the fire, meant visibility was becoming poor. He stepped over a fallen branch, but failed to see another half hidden by undergrowth, and catching his foot on its underside, tripped right over it and went sprawling.

  ‘Fuck.’ He sat up awkwardly. Gingerly tested his ankle. It was tender, but he was still able to walk on it. He brushed himself down. Kept walking. Suddenly he stumbled across one of the many cycle paths in the forest. ‘Where are you?’ he shouted.

  ‘Over here,’ came the response.

  Carruthers looked over to where the voice had come from. A lycra-clad young man was lying in an awkward position on the ground, his electric blue mountain bike behind him at an angle. Carruthers limped over to him.

  ‘Must’ve hit a hidden tree stump. Went over the handlebars. I’ve banged my head on a stone or something and my knee’s a mess.’ Carruthers saw a gash on the man’s head. He then looked down at his legs. The man’s left knee was bloody. He looked at Carruthers in his SOCO get up. ‘Christ, you been to a fancy dress party?’ He touched his lip with a dirty hand. ‘Think I bit my lip when I fell,’ he said tentatively probing his cut lip with his tongue.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Michael.’

  ‘Can you get into a seated position, Michael?’

  Carruthers half-helped Michael into a sitting position. ‘We need to get you to hospital, get them to take a look at that head wound,’ he said. ‘But first, we need to get you out of here. Not to alarm you, but there’s a forest fire.’

  ‘I know. I can smell the smoke.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I blacked out.’

  ‘OK,’ said Carruthers. ‘Look, this is going to hurt, but on the count of three I’m going to haul you up. Put your arm round my shoulder. We’ll talk as we go but I want us to get moving.’

  Carruthers winced as he took some of Michael’s weight, his ankle tender and weak. They stumbled as Carruthers steered the injured cyclist through the dense undergrowth back to relative safety.

  ‘Shit, I think the wind’s picking up,’ gasped Carruthers. There was a whooshing noise through the trees and his voice came out in jagged breaths. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t blow in this direction.’

  ‘Thank God you found me. I don’t think I could have managed on my own. My knee’s throbbing. The other bloke I saw just ignored me.’

  Carruthers looked at Michael intently. ‘What other bloke? There was another man in the forest?’

  ‘Don’t know who he was. Looked like a vagrant. He had wild eyes. Like he was out of it. Seemed to see me, but not see me, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Can you describe him? What he was wearing? How old was he?’

  ‘Why are you so interested? Are you a policeman or something?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They suddenly heard some shouts coming in their direction. ‘There you are. I was getting worried. You’ve been ages,’ said Fletcher. She stopped when she saw Michael.

  ‘Who’s this?’ she asked.

  ‘This young man’s had an accident mountain biking. Can you call for an ambulance? He’s had a nasty bump on the head and he’s hurt his knee.’

  Fletcher nodded. ‘The SOCOs are already here,’ she said. ‘I’ve filled them in on the fire. Told them the fire brigade’s on its way.’

  ‘OK, that’s good.’ He turned to Michael. ‘Can you stand unsupported?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine.’

  Carruthers limped towards Fletcher.

  ‘I tripped. Don’t ask. We need to get a move on.’

  ‘You’d be surprised how quickly we can work,’ interrupted Dr Mackie, striding towards them as the gowned-up officers in white worked silently and efficiently in the taped-off area. He looked Carruthers up and down, no doubt taking in Carruthers’ dishevelled appearance and half-closed eye, but said nothing.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Michael, straining to see over Carruthers’ shoulder. Carruthers watched Dr Mackie, Liu the photographer and the SOCOs grimly going about their tasks.

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked Mackie frowning. ‘The public shouldn’t be in this area.’

  ‘Oh my God. Is that a body?’ said Michael aghast. He pulled away sharply, turned his back and was noisily sick all over his own shoes.

  ‘That’s one reason for keeping members of the public away,’ said Mackie. ‘On top of everything else, I don’t want to have to sidestep pools of vomit.’

  ‘Sorry, never seen a body before.’ Michael wiped away a dribble of vomit from his chin. He winced with the pain in his shoulder.

  ‘Come on. We need to get you checked out. We also need to interview you about the man you’ve seen in the forest,’ said Carruthers. In the distance he could hear the wail of the fire engines.

  Fletcher’s eyebrows shot up. ‘When was this?’

  ‘Only about five minutes before I saw him,’ said Michael looking towards Carruthers.

  Fletcher opened her mouth to say something but it was drowned out by shouts from the approaching firefighters ordering everyone to leave the area. Carrying hose reel jets, water backpacks and beaters they started making their way further in the forest.

  ‘We need to get the body moved.’ Carruthers addressed his comment to Mackie. If Mackie heard, he gave no sign of it. He was already kneeling by the body starting to take temperatures.

  �
��As soon as I take the temperature. Then we’ll move him.’

  Carruthers looked away. He knew Mackie would be taking the rectal temperature. He wasn’t particularly squeamish but he felt that everyone deserved a bit of dignity in death.

  Fletcher scoured the ground. ‘I don’t see any tyre tracks,’ she said to Carruthers, ‘drag marks or footprints.’

  ‘Andie, I want you to take Mrs Henderson to safety. Take her statement. I’ll see you back at the station. Get a statement from the injured cyclist before the ambulance arrives.’

  Fletcher nodded.

  ‘Don’t take any risks,’ said Carruthers. ‘You’re no good to me dead. I’ll see if the SOCOs need any help.’

  ‘Right,’ said Fletcher turning to Michael. ‘Let’s get going.’ She called over to Carruthers. ‘See you back at the station.’

  Carruthers spent the next few minutes with the SOCOs, gleaning what information he could before they took the body away to the mortuary. Back at his car he called Fletcher for an update.

  ‘The dog walker can’t give us anything useful, I’m afraid,’ said Fletcher.

  Can’t? Or doesn’t want to get involved? Carruthers thought of the way the woman had reacted when she was asked if she’d touched the body.

  ‘What about the cyclist?’

  ‘Not much better really. I checked the description he gave with the local uniform boys and they say the guy is a known vagrant who has been living rough in the forest for a couple of months,’ said Fletcher. ‘What’s the current situation on the fire? Are you still at the scene?’

  ‘We’re just leaving. They’re still trying to contain it,’ said Carruthers. He looked across to see a couple of fire-suited men with hedge beaters.

  ‘Has it crossed your mind it might have been started deliberately to cover up the evidence?’ said Fletcher.

  ‘They could have just set fire to the body? Would have been a lot easier.’

  ‘Perhaps they weren’t expecting it to be found so soon. After all, it’s pretty dense in that forest.’

  ‘We won’t know the facts about the fire until we speak to the firefighters and find the cause. If it was a fag, it may have been smouldering for a while. Of course, if the vagrant’s been living in the forest, then it could’ve been his fire. If the cyclist saw him then he was in the area when the fire took hold.’