by Conrad Jones
“To who?”
“I want guaranteed immunity from prosecution and total anonymity,” Tibbs said stubbornly. “I’m too old to go to jail especially as a nonce. You lot have made sure that I’ll be a target for the rest of my days and if this certain family gets wind of me talking to you, I’m fish food.”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Annie warned. “Until we know what we’re dealing with here.”
“Then I can’t remember.”
“I want the name of the man you recognise,” Annie demanded.
“I can’t remember,” Tibbs sulked. “It’s slipped my mind.”
“You’re in big trouble, Tibbs,” Stirling said angrily. “Get up and show me exactly where you first saw them.” He gestured with his head. “I’ll tell uniform to extend the cordon up to that path, Guv. Then I’ll have him locked up for breach of bail until his memory improves.”
“Good. I’ll go and tell the K-9 unit to start up there.” Annie walked back towards the car park and pondered what to do with Tibbs. If he really did have a name, she wasn’t sure if they could prove anything on the strength of his word alone, especially if it was purely on the back of a family resemblance. They needed his testimony but he was an unreliable witness, breaking his bail conditions. As she neared the edge of the trees, the rain seemed to intensify. Her head was bombarded by heavy drips from the branches above. The smell of pine trees scented the sea air. Despite the weather, it was a peaceful place.
The dogs were barking as she approached and their handlers looked perplexed. “Has your witness given us anything useful, Guv?”
“A fucking headache, Sergeant,” she answered the uniformed officer and grimaced. “There’s a primary school down that path and I’m certain that’s why he was here.”
“We picked him up last year near a playground. He had touched a couple of little girls, sisters. I wanted to lock Tibbs up and throw away the key,” he said. “There’s no stopping an offender like him. If they’re determined to mingle with kids, then they will find a way.”
“Well, until we can string them up from a gibbet, we’re stuck with it,” she sighed. “I need the K-9 unit up the path just beyond the first pond. It would be great, if they can start there please.”
“Guv!” One of the handlers called.
“Hey,” she replied, confused, “can you take the dogs up this path please?”
“No need, Guv.” The handler pushed his peaked hat up from his forehead. Water poured from the brim. “We’ve got a hit here.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked confused.
“The dogs were only out of the van for a minute when they indicated a hit. He’s sat down on the spot there.” He pointed to where one of the dogs was sat down wagging his tail excitedly. “They’ve indicated something dead, just inside the trees over here.”
“Are they sure?” Annie asked instantly regretting it.
“Dobson has never been wrong yet, Guv.” The handler smiled proudly patting his Spaniel. Sand clung to his brown fur making him look like he had beige boots on. “If he says there’s a body here then I’ll bet my house that he’s right.”
“I know he’s the best there is, sorry,” Annie frowned as she thought about the situation. “Let’s get the recovery team on it straight away.”
“I think we’re going to need more than one team, Guv,” the second handler said. He was ten yards further into the trees. The gathering turned to look at him. “Sally has found another one here.”
Chapter 3
Annie Jones sipped a cup of coffee and watched the CSI teams through the windscreen. Officers clad in white boiler suits and blue plastic overshoes worked painstakingly beneath the trees, protected from the elements by two gazebo style tents. The white canvas structures were ten yards apart, identical in appearance, yet all the activity was focused beneath just one of them. Annie was thinking that it was a bleak place to be buried, when the passenger door opened and a gust of wind whistled in from the sea.
“Kathy Brooks wants us, Guv.” Stirling’s gruff voice disturbed her thoughts. “She’s got that look on her face again.” He commented sarcastically. “You know the one,” he smiled.
“The ‘I know something that you don’t’ look?” Annie raised her eyebrows. “That means that she’s got something good.”
Annie opened her door and cursed when she spilt her coffee over her black boots. She tipped the rest onto the sand and dropped the plastic cup into a nearby bin. Stinging grains of sand threatened to blind her as the wind gusted around her. Having short hair was a bonus in the wind, but her ears were numbed in seconds. Stirling pretended not to notice her mishap and they wandered towards the trees in silence. As they neared the first tent, the familiar smell of human decay reached them. Annie took a tub of Vick’s from her pocket, smeared a blob onto her top lip and handed it to her partner. The powerful vapour rub masked the sickly sweet smell of the dead temporarily but only just. Two CSI officers ducked out of the tent to allow them access.
“Guv.” They acknowledged her rank as they passed.
Annie waved a hello and stepped inside. “Kathy,” she greeted. “What have we got?”
“I haven’t got a clue,” Kathy frowned. “Certainly not what I was looking for, that’s for sure.” She gestured to the well excavated trench before them. “This is macabre indeed. I have never seen anything like this before.”
“You always say that,” Annie joked but her smile disappeared as she digested the scene. “What the hell?” her voice trailed away and her jaw dropped open. “Is that Lacey Taylor?”
“She’s been buried standing up.” Kathy ignored Annie’s question. “We’ve exposed the body to the shoulders so far and there is no obvious cause of death jumping out at me.”
“What is sticking out of her face?”
“We found tubes which were inserted into her nostrils.”
“Tubes?”
“As we skimmed the surface, I initially thought they were drinking straws in the sand,” she explained, “but when we tried to remove them we realised that they went much deeper than a drinking straw and that they were attached to something below the surface.”
“Something being the body?”
“Exactly.”
“What is the significance of the tubes?”
“The sand is so embedded into the flesh that it’s difficult to be sure exactly what I’m dealing with here, but these tubes had a purpose.” She raised her finger to reinforce the point, “On further inspection I could see that they were fluoroplastic tubes.”
“What like a medical tube?”
“Exactly.”
“Your thoughts?” Annie frowned.
“Well, it’s used to probe, infuse, as catheters or for oxygen supply,” she paused.
“I’m not sure that I follow.”
“They are used primarily to vent or feed.” She looked at Annie and watched the colour drain from her face, “I can only assume they were used for their primary function.”
“Venting, feeding?”
“Both I think.”
“To keep her alive?”
“I can’t see any other reason for them at the moment.”
“Someone buried her and kept her alive in the sand after the burial?”
“Abhorrent isn’t it?” Kathy grimaced.
“What is around her eyes?” Annie asked quietly. The face was encrusted with salt and sand making it difficult to distinguish the facial features. “And the lips look the same.”
“The eyelids have been sewn together,” Kathy shook her head in disbelief. “So have the lips. The tubes appear to have been glued into the nostrils and then taped to the forehead so that they would protrude from the sand.”
“She looks like a big prawn,” Stirling thought aloud.
“Jim!” Annie snapped.
“Just an observation,” he mumbled. “The bastard buried her alive and fed her through a tube?” Stirling was incredulous.
“See here,” Kathy point
ed the end of the tubes. “The tape has deteriorated but the tips of the tubes are coloured, red and black. I’m guessing one for feeding, one for breathing.”
“Jesus Christ,” Stirling muttered. “Is it Lacey Taylor?”
“I don’t think that it is, Sergeant,” Kathy took a deep breath. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain until I get her back to the lab, but I’m ninety-five percent sure that it isn’t.”
“Run it by me.” Annie couldn’t take her eyes from the corpse. “Why do you think that?”
“I’ve found earrings, which are out of character for your missing person.” She pointed to a specimen packet. “Would you agree?”
“Yes,” Annie agreed looking at the thick gold hoops. “Her daughter told us that she wasn’t wearing any jewellery. In any case they’re too flamboyant for Lacey.” A sick feeling gripped her. “Anything else?”
“Even though our victim was kept alive,” Kathy shrugged, “she couldn’t have survived more than a couple of days after burial, a week at the most. The lack of oxygen in the sand would slow down decomposition but even with that in mind, the flesh is too far gone for it to fit the timescale of when your missing woman disappeared. Some of the flesh is putrefied in patches,” Kathy said almost disappointedly. “This poor soul has been here for a couple of months at least.”
“I can’t imagine what she was thinking when she was....” Annie thought out loud.
“Best not to try.” Kathy shook her head. “Like I said, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” They stood and stared at the head and shoulders of the victim. Annie agreed that she looked almost prawn-like with the tubing running vertically from her nostrils, above her matted hair but she didn’t voice it.
“What about the second site?” Stirling broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Oh that one is far less traumatic to explain.” Kathy smiled thinly. “Dead seagull. We’ve disposed of it in the ‘not relevant’ bin.”
“We need to get the K-9 unit back.” Annie looked at Stirling as she tried to compose herself. “This is a nightmare, but we need to remember that we’re almost certain that Lacey Taylor is buried here somewhere. We can’t lose sight of that. We’re going to need two investigations running in tandem, unless we can establish if they’re connected.”
“Can I give you some advice?” Kathy frowned, thoughtfully.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I need a day to extract our victim and get some preliminary results back at the lab,” she bit her top lip. “I could really do with all your resources focused on that until I’ve finished completely; I wouldn’t want another find diluting my efforts here.”
Annie thought for a second as they held a glance. They had worked together many times and Annie read between the lines. Her reasoning was rational and well thought out. “We’ll hold the dogs off until first light tomorrow morning?”
“Perfect, thanks,” Kathy said flatly as she turned back to the grim task of recovering the victim. “I need to press on.”
Annie ducked beneath the canvas and headed onto the car park. Stirling followed with a confused expression. Annie’s face was dark in thought so he waited for her to speak. She looked over at the burger van on the far side of the car park. A huddle of CSI officers were munching a variety of breakfast buns and guzzling hot tea while they had the chance. The aromas of bacon, sausage and black pudding mingled with the salty air. Seagulls soared in circles high above them waiting for the crusts to be thrown. One of the officers called over. “Do you want anything, Guv?”
“Normally my mouth would be watering at the smell of bacon but right now I don’t think I could stomach anything,” she replied, flatly. She waved the offer away.
“I’ve lost my appetite too.” Stirling wiped his nose with his sleeve but the smell of death refused to move. “Order me a bacon and sausage buttie, brown sauce,” he called back. He caught Annie rolling her eyes skyward. “What?”
“I thought you’d lost your appetite?”
“I have,” he shrugged, “normally I’d have two.”
“Of course you would, sorry.” She tried a smile which didn’t quite work.
“I think we’re going to be very busy, Guv,” he frowned, “what do you think?”
“This is going to blow up in our faces,” Annie muttered. “Let’s get uniform to scour the woods around the pond where Tibbs first spotted our suspects. If there are footprints or disturbed ground, then I want them found before the weather washes them away completely.”
“Okay, Guv,” Stirling nodded. “What are you thinking?” His huge shoulders shrugged again and he dug his spade-like hands deep into his leather jacket. Raindrops dripped from his broken nose. “Why aren’t we bringing the dogs in yet?”
“You heard what Kathy said.” Annie stamped her boots on the compacted sand to keep her feet warm. “I agree with her.”
“I’m not sure that I follow.”
“You saw the state of that victim.”
“Someone took a lot of time on her.”
“The thought that went into it is sickening.” Annie shivered. “There’s no way that was his first victim. He’s built up to that.”
“Kathy thinks that there are more victims buried here, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does.” Annie took out her mobile.
“I agree with her. I want every available detective drafted into MIT today. I’ll call the governor, you organise uniform backup.”
“I’m on it, Guv.”
“Go and eat your sandwich first,” Annie added, as an afterthought, “once this kicks off, we’ll be lucky if we get a proper meal for a while.”
Chapter 4
Janice Nixon sheltered in the doorway of an abandoned newsagent on Sheil St. The windows on the entire block were boarded up with corrugated iron sheets. Over the years, they had been plastered in layers of fly posters advertising concerts, albums and exhibitions. The once bright posters were now peeling and faded. The entire area screamed to be demolished but the city’s property developers had taken a massive hit in the recession. The promised rebuilding of the inner city had ground to a halt, leaving acres of rundown Victorian slums half occupied. It was bedsit land gone tragically wrong. Students lived in close proximity to the long-term unemployed, the unemployable, drug addicts and street walkers. You can smell the abject poverty in the air. Every city has their crumbling embarrassing areas, but the Kensington area of Liverpool is down there with the country’s worst.
It hadn’t stopped raining for three nights consecutively, narrowing down her customer base. Most of the punters available were in cars. Passing foot trade was down to the bare minimum. The winter nights had pros and cons for the street girls. They could start as soon as it went dark and begin earning money earlier in the day, which was a pro, but the rain and the cold were the cons. She’d worked the streets long enough to know what clothing worked. Her leather miniskirt and knee length boots attracted the most punters but some nights her exposed thighs were numbed by the cold. Ten minutes in a nice warm car was sometimes a blessed relief, no matter how depraved the punter’s request was or how badly they stank.
“Alright, Janet?” A pretty black face appeared around the corner. Her tartan miniskirt did little to hide her modesty. She had a wiggle to her walk befitting of the catwalk. “Fucking freezing again, innit?”
“Hey, Tasha, when you can get my name right, you can stand in my doorway,” she said sourly. “My name is Janice, this is my pitch and you need to fuck off somewhere else. It’s dead enough tonight without you poaching my punters.”
“Take a chill pill,” Tasha moaned. She was much younger and had a fragility about her. She thought that she was streetwise but her tough veneer was nothing more than a glass front. Janice could see through it and it was breakable. She was new and she thought that she was bulletproof. They all did in the beginning. “I was bored down standing down there. There’s not many girls out tonight. I just came for a chat, innit? Have you got a spare smoke?�
��
“You walked past the only two shops in the area which are still open, to get here?” Janice laughed. “They both sell smokes so why haven’t you got any?”
“I’ve just come out. I’m skint, innit?” A van slowed and neared the kerb. Both woman instantly smiled and pouted. The driver looked like a weirdo to Janice but then most of them did. “Fuck off, Tasha, I’m warning you!” She muttered behind her best sultry grin. The driver didn’t seem to be impressed and he picked up speed, tyres sloshing spray across the pavement. Fifty yards on, the brake lights illuminated and the vehicle slowed. “Probably another time waster but you’re not helping. Punters get nervous when there’s more than one of us here. You need to get back down the road so that I can earn some money.”
“You need to chill out,” Tasha said patronisingly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, girl, I’m black.” She twirled around and wiggled her hips with her arms in the air. “Some like white chocolate and some like it dark. Not many like both, girl. You know what I mean?” A wide smile softened her tired features. “We could be a team.”
“You’re away with the fairies,” Janice laughed. It was hard not to like Tasha. She had a carefree way about her. Youth gave her the ability to hope. Janice had lost all hope years ago. “You don’t take this shit seriously enough.”
“Why would I?”
“Because you should,” Janice said, reaching into her fake Gucci handbag. She took out her Lamberts and offered one. “How long have you been out here?”
“Six months,” Tasha quipped taking the cigarette. “It’s just until I can find a proper job and get myself a place of my own, so that I can go back to university, you know.”
“Oh, I know, alright.” Janice lit both of their smokes. “I said the same thing eight years ago. Not the university bit, of course,” she frowned. “I’m thick as pig shit.” They both laughed loudly. Janice took another deep drag, “I had ambitions too but they never came to anything,” she said, with a sad smile. “Eight years, God knows how many doses of the clap and good hidings I’ve had. I’m still out here. It’s no place for an intelligent young girl like you. You should get out now before it’s too late.”
