Uncommon Cruelty (a DI Gus McGuire case Book 4)

by Liz Mistry

  REDEEMED

  He hadn’t expected that. The word printed so boldly on the wall smacked of glee. It was a taunt, no doubt about it. Whoever had done this was perverted. It made his skin crawl. When they’d got the call, he’d expected a tragic accident at a kid’s party gone wrong. This flagrant taunt above one of the victims lifted a senseless tragedy into the realms of malicious intent. This was sinister and he doubted this case would be an easy one to solve. The stakes had increased and Gus was determined to catch this fucker. It was just a damn shame that Sebastian Carlton had shot over to liaise with the FBI in Quantico. He had a feeling that he may need some insight into the mind of this killer before too long. Engrossed in his own thoughts, Gus studied the word. Was this a religious connotation? A moral judgement?

  The sound of someone clearing their throat distracted him. Followed by the word ‘Lipstick’ being uttered, his attention was diverted to the edge of the bed, where Sid was kneeling.

  ‘Lipstick?’ It took Gus a moment to realise that Sid referred to the word on the wall. Not blood, lipstick. That was a little better – not quite as much of a sadist as he’d first thought. He grimaced, as if he was talking in term of degrees of sadism.

  Hissing Sid stood up. ‘Yeah, whoever wrote it climbed onto the bed after she was dead. Look, you can see where they’ve stood in the pooled blood.’ He pointed to a stain, dull against the cream carpet. ‘Mind you, most of it’s soaked in now.’

  This was true, the carpet’s thick pile made the blood appear gritty and there was only a thin patina where it had landed in denser puddles. Gus tried to pretend it didn’t look like shreds of flesh, yet the image of offal was persistent. He held the hankie to his nose again and ignored Sid’s knowing smirk as he continued to explain what had happened.

  ‘The killer then stepped up onto the pillow and then here, look, back down to the carpet.’

  Eager to divert his mind to less gory thoughts, Gus knelt down and studied the print on the floor. ‘Got pictures, measurements, etc?’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll get them on the database as soon as we can.’

  Gus stood up and approaching the bed, looked down at the girl for the first time. All the time he’d been talking to Sid, he’d been conscious of her presence. He’d wanted to wait till Sid has explained about the writing on the wall before looking at her, though. She deserved his full attention and that’s what he would give her now.

  Her arms and legs, like skinny pipe cleaners, flung out from her naked body, made a star shape half on, half off the bed. The blood on her chest and abdomen almost concealed her teenage breasts and made it difficult to identify her wounds. Blood had coagulated in her hair making it appear dark and matted in places, though, judging by her pubic hair she was a natural blonde. The girl was barely older than Mo’s eldest girl, Zarqa. Gus quelled the comparison as soon as it had arisen. He had to retain objectivity if he was going to get the justice this girl deserved. Comparing this poor girl to his ‘niece’ would only make it harder. Christ, it was hard enough as it was! Aware that his dad was waiting next to him, giving him the time to process the scene, Gus continued his appraisal, then turned to Sid, ‘Any thoughts on the attack, Sid… Doc?’

  Sid scrunched up his face, ‘When the doc examined her, there was blood underneath her. I reckon she was either moved after she died or she put up a struggle.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Doc McGuire shook his head. ‘There’s nae defence marks and the way her hands are flung wide isn’t a natural position if ye’ve been stabbed. Yer instincts would be to curl up and cover yer head and chest, not offer a wider target.’

  ‘So, you think it’s been staged?’

  Sid pointed. ‘From the blood splatter, it looks like the girl was on her side when the first blow struck.’

  Dr McGuire gestured to a barely visible stab wound just under her left breast, ‘This was the first. You can see the spatter up the wall from when the killer pulled oot the knife from this first wound and retracted his hand ready tae deliver the rest. She rolled onto her back. That would have been instinct.’ He pursed his lips together, ‘Maybe he got in another stab before the wee soul went into self-protection mode. Probably this wound’. He pointed to an area between her breasts at the top of her abdomen. ‘What do you think, Sid?’

  ‘Yeah, doubt he’d have managed two, then again, he didn’t need to, did he?’

  ‘Hmph, no you’re right. He didnae need to. This was probably the wound that killed the wee lassie. It would have been mere seconds. Yet, we have multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and chest. Possible serrated edge. The post-mortem will give us a better idea. I’d say they look quite deep and forcefully driven. Most will have been delivered post mortem, I suspect. We’ll ken mair later.’

  Sid pointed to a drag stain on the duvet. ‘He’s pulled her round and to the left so her legs dangled off the bed. He’s pulled them apart, just like he did with her arms.’

  For a second there was silence as the three men looked at the girl. The positioning of the body indicated that the killer had tried to have sex with her, either as she was dying, or after she was dead. This took things to a whole new level of depravity. Either way the killer would have been soaked in this girl’s blood.

  Gus wanted to back out of the room and down the stairs and away from this fucked-up crime scene. Their very presence there, looking at this anonymous girl at her most vulnerable, made Gus want to rage at the world. It was as if she was being violated in death as much as she had in life and she was only a child with her entire life snuffed out by some pervert.

  Gus heard his dad swallow as if trying to dislodge something from his throat. The sound was deep and resonant and Gus was all too familiar with it; it was one of his old man’s ‘tells’. A murder so soon on the back of Gus’ mum’s ordeal was bound to have a profound effect on his old man. This sort of case wasn’t easy for any of the people involved in investigating it. The fact was, when it became routine for any of them then it was time for them to retire. It was their humanity, their empathy with the victim that distanced themselves from the monsters they encountered and made them good at their jobs.

  Dr McGuire rolled first one shoulder and then the other before speaking. ‘There are signs of recent sexual activity. Lubricant, no semen.’

  Gus’ scowl deepened. He could feel the tension across his forehead and shoulders. He mimicked his dad’s earlier movements. The kid looks like she should be eating ice cream and watching Frozen, not bloody shagging in a friend’s parents’ bedroom.

  ‘Yeah, I get that, consensual or forced?’

  Dr McGuire’s shrug was non-committal. ‘Hard to tell. The PM will tell us.’ Gus lifted his gloved fingers to run them through his hair, and tutted when they encountered the hood of his bunny suit. ‘He used a condom, so no DNA?’

  ‘Not so far, but we’ll comb the body and sheets. We may get lucky.’

  Sid waved a baggie in front of Gus’ face. ‘Or… we may already be lucky.’

  Whilst Gus and his dad had been chatting, Sid had moved away to collect trace evidence from around the bed area. Gus looked at the clear evidence bag that Sid was dangling. If the CSI was bringing it to his attention with his eyes sparkling like that, then it must be good.

  ‘Found it jammed down the back of the bed between the pillow and the headboard. It’s a tissue covered in…’

  In a move that made Gus’ stomach roil, he pushed his nose towards the open bag and sniffed, ‘…semen by the smell of it. Maybe our boy took off his condom, wiped his dick with the tissue and pushed it down the back of the bed. Mucky bugger! I’ll try and get the sample expedited – fingers crossed.’

  Gus slapped him on the back. ‘Good find, Sid. Did you find her clothes? Any ID or anything there?’

  Sid shook his head, ‘Yes, to the first, no to the second.’ He pointed to a pile of brown paper bags that were used for dry clothes, ‘I’m assuming these were hers. They were bundled up on that chair; black suede ankle boots à la Primark, size five, skinny jea
ns (red), size ten, tight T-shirt and a baggy overshirt again, size ten, black thong, no bra, however she didn’t really need one, did she? I went through the pockets and we’ve looked on the floor, alas, no bag or ID. Nothing, so far.’

  ‘Phone?’

  ‘Nah, just her clothes.’

  Where was her phone? Had her killer taken it with him? Maybe they’d come across it later. He hoped so. He wanted this girl identified as soon as possible. Surely someone had noticed her disappearance by now? As Alice walked back into the room, he turned to her. ‘No young girls reported missing since yesterday?’

  ‘No, I’ve put an alert out, so if any are reported, we’ll be notified.’

  Gus looked at his dad. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Not a lot. Very young. I’d say between twelve and fifteen at most. I’ll get her processed. I’ve been told I’ve got another visit to make before I’m done. This job just keeps on damn well giving!’ Give me twenty minutes and then I’ll let you know what number two has revealed.’

  Now that his dad was gone, Gus took the time to look round the Proctors’ bedroom. Despite the disarray, it was clear the family was well off. However, everything that had been matching and tasteful was now tainted by the presence of the dead girl. He doubted they’d ever live here again. Most victims of violent crime in the home moved within twelve months and it was hardly surprising. Who’d want to live with the constant reminder of the most traumatic time in your life? Like the other rooms, it had been trashed. Ornaments and make-up scattered the floor. The wardrobes were open and clothes had been dragged from hangers and tossed around the room. Mr Proctor’s suits and shirts soaked up beer in one pile, whilst Mrs Proctor’s dresses and underwear dotted the floor and bedside tables. Who knew whether this was the result of a drunken rampage by teenage kids or something far worse. Had the killer done this? Or had it been done earlier? Whichever it was, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

  He looked at the girl for a last time before leaving the room. Someone somewhere was missing a daughter and they didn’t even know it yet. Did they even care? Well, even if they didn’t, he did.

  9

  22:40 Heaton/Cottingley

  Matty: You hear the sirens?

  Jake: Yeah, might be nowt.

  Matty: It’s gotta be that, Jake.

  Jake: Calm down. We done nowt wrong. Stop being a wuss.

  Matty: Where the hell is Si?

  Jake: Go to fucking bed, Matty

  10

  23:10 Cottingley Ridge

  By the time he came back downstairs, Gus was sticky, hot and bad tempered. His nostrils were clogged with the stench of alcohol, vomit and weed. He was sure the latter was having a mild effect on him as his head was full of sludge. Maybe he needed a caffeine hit. When they’d exchanged their bunny suits for fresh ones to avoid cross contamination between the two scenes, Gus glanced at Alice. ‘Ready?’

  She shrugged. ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  Pushing open the door, Gus poked his head through. ‘Hi Suse, you ready for us, now?’

  Suse broke off her conversation with Gus’ dad and beckoned them in. ‘Yeah, stick to the blocks and make your way over.’

  In single file, Gus and Alice made their way towards the massive leather couch, where Suse and the Doc stood. Before speaking to them, Gus looked round the room. It was open plan with an archway leading into the dining room which, in turn, had double doors going into the kitchen. The room was bigger than Gus’ kitchen and living room put together. Apart from the oversize couch, two matching chairs and a coffee table, the only other item that stood intact in the room was a wall-mounted, widescreen TV. The carpet was covered with up-ended plant pots, broken photo frames and shattered ornaments. It was hard to get a feel for the room; nevertheless, the magnolia and white colour scheme had Gus veering towards a minimalist look.

  In here, despite having become accustomed to the mixed smells throughout the rest of the house, Gus became aware of a heightened awareness of acrid filth and before speaking, he swallowed hard and took several slow shallow breaths.

  ‘Fuck! The stink’s worse in here.’

  Suse looked at him with a puzzled frown. ‘Is it?’

  Alice snorted, ‘Just a bit, Suse, just a bit.’

  ‘Oh, okay, if you say so.’ Suse gestured for them to follow her. ‘She’s here if you want to see her in situ, Gus.’

  Gus walked round to the front of the settee. The girl lay with her head wedged into the corner of the couch. Her feet were sprawled at an angle as if she’d slouched down to rest her head, barely skimming the floor. She looked like a ragdoll in a giant’s castle. Her short hair was dyed black and her T-shirt, jeans and knee-length boots were also black. Each finger and both thumbs were adorned with heavy silver-coloured rings. Her wrist was circled by a single, wide bangle which only partly concealed the serpentine tattoo which snaked from beneath the bracelet around her arm and undulated upwards till it disappeared beneath her jacket sleeve.

  Gus bent down to see the girl’s face. Her eyes stared at him, making him recoil. He steadied himself before looking back. Slathered over her chin and down the front of her T-shirt was a stream of alcohol-tinged vomit that had pooled in her lap, making Gus glad he still had his Vicks hankie at the ready. Underneath her intricate black liner and eye shadow, the whites of her eyes, red with petechiae, looked demonic. Her lips were blue-tinged except where her piercings glinted like snake fangs from her mouth.

  Gus, his limbs leaden, stood up and sighed. Another fucking waste. Two dead girls in the confines of one family home. Did they know each other? Judging by their dress sense the two girls belonged to different ‘clubs’. Maybe they went to school together, though. He turned to Dr McGuire, who looked more stooped than he had an hour earlier. This must be getting to the old man, too. The sparkle in his eyes had faded and they looked dull and determined. ‘Asphyxiation?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Did you spot the petechiae?’

  Gus gave an abrupt nod. Hell, even his dad’s voice was flat. ‘Suffocated on her own vomit, did she?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Doc McGuire lifted the girl’s head. ‘That’s what I’m not so sure about. See those few faint marks on her neck? They could indicate a third party. She certainly wasn’t here on her own. Suse and I found traces of what could be semen, here… and here.’ He pointed to her trousers and the couch between her legs. ‘And also, at the other end of the couch. Suse is on the case with that.’

  ‘Any ID on this one, Suse?’

  ‘Yeah, school bus pass.’ She held out a clear cellophane bag containing a bus pass with a photo of an innocent-looking girl. ‘It’s her alright – prior to piercing, haircut and death. Jade Simmonds, no address. Metro will be able to supply that.’

  Crouching before the girl, Alice tutted. ‘What the fuck went on here last night?’

  Fergus McGuire patted Alice gently on the shoulder. ‘Ye’ll get there in the end, Alice, hen. You always do. Noo, I’m done here, so I’ll away off noo.’ He straightened his huge lumbering frame, clicking his shoulder joints as he moved and turned to Gus. ‘See ye the morra at the post-mortems?’

  Gus gave an abrupt nod. Not that he was looking forward to it. The very thought of seeing these two young girls subjected to further indignities turned his stomach.

  Packing his accoutrements into his bag, Dr McGuire continued, ‘I’ll start early, since we’ve two tae get tae grips wi’. Seven-thirty suit you?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, appreciate it.’

  Robin Hood’s Bay seemed a lifetime away. He sighed. At least the break appeared to have done his dad good. Despite the circumstances that had brought him down in February, over all, he was a little more like his usual jaunty self again.

  Doc McGuire raised his hand in salute to the CSIs who still worked around the room and headed for the door. ‘I’ll see ye then, Angus. Must get off; lots tae do and I fancy a wee dram afore I retire for the night.’

  Gus, relieved to see his dad finally departing, turned as S
use approached.

  ‘Thought you’d want to see this. Loads of them were strewn around in the kitchen, hallway and living room.’

  Gus reached out and took a rectangular business card from her. On one side there was a psychedelic image of a long lens camera and on the other the photographer’s details:

  Tayyub Images

  Personalised photography for any occasion

  Video Imaging

  Personalised stationery.

  Accompanied by contact details including home address, mobile and home phone numbers and email.

  ‘Interesting. Wonder if he was at the party and decided to do a bit of self-promotion while he was here.’

  Alice read the card. ‘Looks like it, we’ll follow up on that tomorrow.’

  A CSI approached carrying a clear evidence bag with a phone inside. ‘Found this in the shed, behind an old deck chair. Battery’s dead. It fits the description of Simon Proctor’s phone, given by his parents.’ They began to move towards the kitchen until, hearing his name called, Gus stopped and turned impatiently to find his dad’s head poking round the living room door like a floating pumpkin.

  ‘Oh, one mair thing, Angus, I nearly forgot.’

  Gus tapped his foot on the floor and sighed. ‘Yes, what is it, Dad?’

  ‘Your mother says you’ve to come for Sunday lunch. She’s got a surprise for you.’

  Gus’ heart sank. He was all too familiar with the sort of surprises his mum produced. Ignoring Alice’s chuckle, Gus glowered. ‘Dad! I’m working. How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t mix work and family?’ And trying to ignore the sniggers from the others, he turned on his heel and moved into the kitchen. Why the hell did his dad always have to make him the laughing stock? It was getting beyond a damn joke. At least he’d had the sense to change out of his kilt this time. Gus’ mouth quirked. Bloody ‘dancing shoes’ indeed. Who the hell does he think he is? Bloody Cinderella?