by Jack Probyn
‘Sir.’
‘Get your stuff. We’re going.’
As Liam started off, Jake called him back.
‘Sir? Sir – can I come?’
Liam shot him a glare.
‘For the experience?’
Liam pondered the request a moment, scratching the underside of his chin. ‘Why not? At least that way I’ll know you won’t be snitching on us.’
CHAPTER 4
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A TEENAGER
Jake slammed the door of Liam’s green Volvo C30 behind him. Rain lashed at his face, hammering his eyes and eyebrows, quickly soaking his hair. He pulled the collar of his blazer over his ears, but it made no difference.
‘Hurry up,’ Liam called back to him. Standing beside him was Drew, smirking at Jake’s discomfort.
They had parked up a hundred yards from the crime scene, behind a tailback of other emergency response vehicles. In the distance was a police officer standing behind a white tape. Dressed in a fluorescent waterproof coat, and with a plastic protector around his cap, rain slicked off his body and onto the ground. Jake, Liam and Drew approached the man. In his hands he held a clipboard, a pen and a sheet of paper that was rapidly becoming sodden. The three of them signed in on the attendance log and moved over to the back of the forensics van, where they donned their forensic suits. The suit consisted of a hood, gloves, face mask and overshoes, and it was one size fits all. Jake had to step into it fully clothed, tucking his tie into his shirt and making sure the metal clip was securely fastened. He pulled the suit’s zip to his neck and tucked little wisps of damp brown hair into the hood before letting the elastic snap against his forehead. The material was thin and coarse and, within a few seconds, began to chafe against his skin.
A few feet from the scene’s entrance was a figure, blending into the backdrop of the white walls and other scene of crime officers who were coming and going from the building.
The three of them approached her. Liam extended his hand and introduced himself.
‘Poojah Singh,’ the figure replied, shaking Liam’s hand. ‘Forensic pathologist. I’m in charge of this lot.’ She nodded to the two SOCOs who had just emerged from the building.
‘Aren’t we supposed to be here before you?’ Liam asked.
‘Not when you see what’s inside,’ Poojah replied.
‘Sounds interesting. What have you got for us?’
‘You’d best see it for yourself. It’s a messy one.’
Jake didn’t like the sound of that. This was the first time he’d been to a major crime scene since Luke Cipriano and his mother Candice had died in the middle of a small park while locked in one another’s grip almost a year ago. The images of that afternoon in Southampton were still heavily ingrained in his memory, sometimes giving him sleepless nights.
The four of them headed into the art gallery. Jake observed the artwork that hung on the wall. Magnificent. Intricate. Vibrant. Some of the pieces were as wide and tall as his bed at home. Jake didn’t know much – or indeed anything – about art and wasn’t the type to pretend he did either, but he could appreciate a good painting when he saw one. The most striking was a painting of a faceless figure holding a gun against his chin. Behind the figure was a halo of blood and brains scattered across a wall. The piece was titled: A Day in the Life of a Teenager.
‘We’ve got two victims,’ Poojah said, her voice disappearing further away from Jake. He hadn’t realised it, but they were walking in the opposite direction, venturing deeper into the gallery. ‘Both IC1. Recovered wallets and driving licences confirm their identities as Steven and Jessica Arnholt.’
‘Anything else?’ Liam asked.
‘Just searched his name online, guv,’ Drew added, holding his phone in his hand. ‘His website biography says he’s an artist and an art dealer.’
‘Makes sense. And Jessica Arnholt? Anything about her?’
Drew lowered his phone and shrugged.
They came to a stop at the end of the room in front of a pitch-black door. Jake observed an investigator to his left scoop up fractured pieces of glass and swab the floor with a cotton bud before placing it in a tube and then an evidence bag.
‘The bodies are down here. I’m warning you – I’ve been doing this job for a while now and this is the grimmest thing I’ve seen. Prepare yourself,’ Poojah said.
Jake didn’t think that he could. He didn’t want to let his imagination run away with itself. There was only so much training that could have prepared him for a dead body, and, as he stared blankly at Poojah, it all disappeared out of his mind.
Without saying anything else, she disappeared down the first step. Startled, Jake followed at the back of the queue and entered into the stairwell. A dark red hue swathed the walls, and as Jake walked down, he brushed his fingers along the bricks for support. He looked down at his feet, watching his every step, lest he slip and fall.
‘The stairs have been wiped clean,’ Poojah said. ‘There’s no trace of anyone ever setting foot on them. The team are still making their way around the rest of the crime scene, so we won’t be able to intervene too much.’
‘Anything we can do to help,’ Drew said. As he reached the final step, he stopped abruptly. ‘Jesus fucking Christ!’
Jake froze behind him. His eyes widened and his pulse stopped.
Before him, spread on a large table, was a dead body, illuminated by a demonic light hovering over the torso. The head had been removed and placed a few inches above the figure’s chest, standing upright so that it peered down the length of the body. The hands and feet had been amputated and positioned either side of the head, pointing outwards, away from the body. Dark purple patches the size of watermelons dotted the victim’s thighs and back. Incisions, three inches wide, had been made up and down the stomach, and two circular holes had been punched in the chest where a pair of breasts had once been. The word LIAR had been inscribed on the woman’s stomach, a small bead of blood dotting the I. A pool of thick blood, now congealed from the exposure to the air, covered the entire table, and small puddles had formed at the foot of the four corners where the excess of blood had fallen over the edge.
Jake’s eyes moved around the room. To his left, on a wall, was an array of sexual instruments all crusted with blood. Each and every item looked as if it had been used during the killings in one way or another. To the right of the room, dangling from two chains, was another body. It was taller, longer and skinnier. The head had also been removed, and there was a small red hole in the crotch where his penis had been sliced off. Scene of crime officers surrounded the body, moving it slightly as they set to work.
The sight made Jake retch. The massacre was the worst thing he’d ever seen. Bile rushed from his stomach and pained his throat. He threw his hands over his mouth, vomited a little, then sprinted up the stairs and out of the gallery. By the time he reached the building’s entrance, the vomit was already spewing over his fingers. It landed hard on the concrete outside and splashed on his suit and onto his face. The acid burned the back of his throat and his body ached. He vomited again. This time he wiped the excess on his sleeve, then changed into a brand-new suit and returned.
Jake composed himself when he returned to the massacre a minute later.
‘You good?’ Drew asked him, slapping him jovially on the shoulder. ‘This your first time?’
‘Experiencing something as morbid as this, yeah,’ Jake said.
‘The first time’s always the worst.’
‘Always,’ Liam echoed. ‘You’ll get used to it sooner or later. And if you don’t… well, perhaps you’re in the wrong place.’
Jake looked at Liam sternly. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Just a couple more months to go and then I complete the training.’
‘We’ll see.’ Liam turned to Poojah. ‘What do we think happened here?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Poojah replied. ‘Jessica and Steven were either interrupted during some alone time by happenstance, or this was some s
ort of threesome gone wrong.’
‘I’d say this is about as far wrong as you can go,’ Drew added.
‘Who found them?’ Liam asked.
‘A woman named Elisa Talbet. She found them this morning when she came to speak with Steven about a painting she wanted to buy.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘With one of the uniform, answering some preliminary questions in the car. I think she wanted to get away from the rain for a bit.’
‘OK.’ Liam faced Drew. ‘When we’re done here, I want you to speak to her. And then get one of the team to take a statement.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Anything else you need to tell us?’ Liam asked Poojah.
‘We’ve seized Steven’s laptop, mobile phone and a digital camera upstairs. They’ll be sent away to IT forensics later.’ Poojah paused and pointed to a camera stand beside the table. ‘This one doesn’t have a memory card in it, and we’ve not been able to recover it. So potentially whatever was on that one is now missing.’
‘Whatever kinky things these guys were into, perhaps they weren’t afraid of documenting it. I wish I could get my wife to do that,’ Drew said, but nobody listened.
Poojah folded her arms across her chest. ‘We’ve also found multiple semen and saliva deposits all over the bodies, as well as fingerprints about the place. I think whoever is responsible for this tried to clean up after themselves but didn’t manage as thorough a job as they’d liked.’
Liam and Drew nodded. Liam was the first to speak. ‘Estimated time of death?’
Poojah hesitated. ‘Erm…’
‘No rush.’
‘It’s difficult to say…’
‘Want me to start doing your job for you?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You need me to spell it out for you?’
Poojah huffed and placed her hands on her hips. ‘My estimate is at least eight hours. Given the stage of decomposition the body is at – the purple blotches on the thighs and back, and the final stages of rigor – I’d say you’re looking between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. last night. But don’t take that as gospel until I know more.’
‘Maybe the killer decided to have some fun with them while they were dead,’ Drew remarked.
Again, nobody paid him any heed. It was usually the way whenever Drew said something or even offered his opinion. It wasn’t because people didn’t like him – although Jake was sure there were people in the office that felt that way – it was because the things he said were generally inappropriate and unprofessional.
‘Any eyewitnesses come forward other than Elisa?’ Liam asked.
Poojah shook her head. ‘That’s your job,’ she said, with a smirk.
Liam chuckled. In the months that Jake had been with Major Investigation, he’d learnt something important about Liam: that the man was charming and had the power to disarm anyone he was speaking to. Jake didn’t know how he did it, but he had seen Liam get out of a handful of sticky situations in the past. Perhaps it was because he gave whoever he was talking to the chance to act superior, just as he’d done with Poojah now, acting as if she were in charge of the investigation, as if she was the one with all the answers and the burden of trying to find the killer. Perhaps it was that disarmament that enabled him to speak to people any way he wanted.
‘Thanks for your help, Poojah. You’ve been great,’ he said.
‘If there’s anything else you need, you know where to find—’
‘What’s in the bag over there?’ Jake asked, pointing to a gym bag on the floor by Steven’s body. His outburst took all of them by surprise, and he looked at them apologetically, realising that he’d spoken out of turn.
‘I’ll give you a few guesses,’ Poojah said. ‘One of the items in there is Steven Arnholt’s head. Another is his severed penis. Any other questions?’ Poojah asked, and when there was no answer from either of them, she continued, ‘If we find anything new, I’ll be sure to keep you updated.’
Poojah gave them a small wave and then resumed her work by Jessica’s dead body. Jake gave it one final look, the image scarring his memory, before he climbed back up the stairs.
‘What you thinking, guv?’ Drew asked Liam as they returned to the gallery floor.
‘I think some fucked-up stuff went on in there, Drew. That much I’m certain of. And I can’t afford to lose another tie.’
Drew chuckled. ‘You not got any loose change anymore?’
As soon as he’d said it, Liam’s eyes bulged and then he quickly turned his attention to Jake.
‘Tanner,’ Liam continued, ‘you’re in charge of the house-to-house enquiries. Get yourself some experience doing that. See if anyone noticed anything, or if anyone has anything they want to talk to us about. OK? I’m trusting you.’
Jake nodded.
‘I won’t let you down, sir.’
CHAPTER 5
TENACITY
The doorbell sounded almost as loudly on the inside as it did on the outside. Jake held his pen and notebook at the ready, clutching it against his chest to protect it from the rain. He had already been to five other properties along the road and none of them had witnessed anything, none of them had heard anything, none of them were any the wiser that a murder had taken place a short distance from their house. And now that he was at the house furthest away from Steven Arnholt’s gallery, it was looking less likely that he would return to Liam and Drew with anything at all.
The front door opened and he was greeted by a man wearing a grey Adidas tracksuit. Stains soiled the front of his trousers and the top of his hoodie. Whiffs of tobacco laced with a thin hint of marijuana stroked Jake’s face. The man’s lips were lined with a thin layer of black hair – the only sign of facial hair he had – and there was a large mole next to his left eye. His face was red and he looked flustered, as if Jake had just woken him up.
‘Yes… Yes? How can… I help you?’ the man stuttered, chewing on his fingernails.
Jake flashed his warrant card. ‘I’m with the Major Investigation Team at Bow Green station, sir. We’re investigating an incident concerning two individuals down at Arnholt Galleries.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes, sir. Might I ask you a few questions?’
‘Bad, bad, bad,’ the man replied. ‘Don’t like questions. Not supposed to answer questions.’
Jake pressed the pen to paper. ‘That’s fine, sir.’ He scribbled the property number at the top of the page. ‘They’re nice and easy. And they won’t take too long.’ There was no response. ‘How about we start with an easy one… What’s your name?’
‘Archie. Archie Arnold. Archie is my first name, and Arnold is my second name.’
Jake scribbled as he asked the next question. ‘And do you live alone, sir?’
‘Yes,’ Archie said, glancing over his shoulder and into the house.
As Archie finished answering the question, a figure in the background moved from one room to another.
‘Are you sure?’ Jake asked, pointing towards the figure in the distance.
‘Yes. Friend. She’s a… a friend. Friend. Friend.’
The figure in the distance came into view. She wore a full face of make-up, a miniskirt, high heels and a blouse that was opened halfway down her chest, revealing her cleavage. A thick streak of red flashed through her hair. She grabbed a handbag from the floor and hurried out of the door, keeping her head low and her hair over her face. Jake stepped aside to allow her through. As she scurried past him, he caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the underside of her wrist. It looked like a barcode, and underneath it was a number inscribed on her skin. Nine.
‘A fond friend, is she?’ Jake asked, finding some amusement in the situation. He struggled to suppress a wayward smirk.
‘I found her at a phone box!’ Archie said, his demeanour immediately becoming defensive and afraid. Jake noticed his eyes widening slightly.
‘Excuse me?’ Jake asked.
‘I’m sorry. Don’t tell anyone. Please do
n’t tell anyone. I met her at a phone box. Diamond Geezers. Friend. On the corner of High Street and Carpenters Road. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell Diamond Geezers.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘Sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry.’ Archie scratched the side of his head and continued chewing his nails. ‘What did you… Why are you… Bad. Arnholt Galleries? Steven… Jessica…’
‘Ah! Yes,’ Jake said, readying his pen on paper, forgetting everything Archie had just told him. ‘Are you friends, or familiar, with either Steven or Jessica Arnholt from Arnholt Galleries, sir?’
‘Are they OK?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say yet, sir.’ Jake chided himself. ‘How long have you lived in the area?’
‘Years. Many years. Lots of years. Nice house.’
‘Did you ever have any interaction with either of them?’
Archie shook his head.
‘Speak to them in the street? Say hello? Wave at them?’
Archie shook his head again.
‘Did you see anything suspicious last night? Any sounds that might have disturbed you after 10 p.m.?’
Archie nodded. ‘Yes. Something. Loud. Very loud. Really loud.’
‘What?’ Jake said, a glimmer of hope flowing through him.
Archie hesitated before responding. ‘Man. Little girl. He was black. She was white. Looked bad. Don’t like bad things.’
Jake sighed silently. He was running headfirst into a dead end.
‘Thank you for your time, sir,’ Jake said, underlining Archie’s name on his rain-splattered notebook.
‘Friend.’
Jake reached into his pocket and produced a business card. ‘If you remember anything, give me a call. Or email. I’m available all the time.’
‘Weekends?’ Archie said.
‘Including weekends,’ Jake replied with a forced smile.
‘Good. Friend.’ Archie sniffed Jake’s business card and closed the door.
For a while, Jake stood there, unsure how to make sense of what had just happened. He had given five business cards out already, and out of all of them, Archie had been the most unusual recipient. There was something so perplexing about the man that Jake couldn’t quite place his finger on. His appearance? No. His attitude? No. His mannerisms? Perhaps. Jake didn’t know, but he knew it was a lost cause trying to figure it out.
