Cavendish & Walker Box Set

by Sally Rigby

  She’d used her informant on several cases, and he’d always come up with the goods. Someone must have got to him. Knowing if all police efforts were directed in a certain place, they could receive the drugs in a different location. How much had they paid her informant to do the dirty on her?

  ‘Not yet. He’s disappeared.’

  They’d tried all his usual haunts. It was like he’d vanished off the face of the earth.

  ‘It gets better by the minute. I will not tolerate fuck ups of this nature. The Chief Constable’s breathing down my neck wanting answers. What am I to tell him?’

  ‘My team are on it. We’ll find the informant.’

  ‘You’d better, because if you don’t, you can forget being SIO on any case for the foreseeable future. Traffic duty will be your remit. And that’s on a good day.’

  Whitney bit back a retort. Okay, she accepted she’d fucked up, but that was the first time. As her boss, he should have her back. She knew his game. He didn’t want to be tarnished by the fallout; it could jeopardise his promotion prospects. Well, she had news for him. They’d all been tarnished by it. The operation had cost the department thousands of pounds to set up. Not to mention the damage it had caused her reputation and the jokes she’d had to endure.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He had his sights set on being a Detective Chief Superintendent as soon as possible. The trouble with fast track entrants into the force was they lacked the knowledge of real police work and thought everything should be done via the textbook. She’d like to know where in the texts you learn how to deal with double crossing informants who disappeared without a trace?

  Her mobile rang, and Jamieson nodded for her to answer.

  ‘Walker.’

  ‘I’m at the university campus. A body’s been found by the river,’ Matt Price, her Detective Sergeant, said.

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there shortly.’ She ended the call.

  ‘Problem?’ Jamieson asked.

  ‘We have a body at the university.’ She stood up to leave.

  ‘Walker.’

  ‘Sir?’ she replied, turning back to face him.

  ‘This is your last chance. Don’t fuck it up.’

  Chapter Three

  Whitney seethed as she drove to the crime scene. However hard she tried to be objective about Jamieson, he rubbed her up the wrong way. Even the way he breathed loudly through his mouth when concentrating drove her crazy. And she wasn’t even in his company often.

  She drove through the imposing university gates and headed towards the river. She rarely came onto the campus, unlike her daughter Tiffany. When Tiffany passed her A-levels and got accepted to study engineering here, Whitney had been so proud. Her daughter was the first person in their family to go to university. It would lead to so many opportunities for her.

  She pulled up beside the outer cordon and hopped out of her car.

  ‘Guv,’ Matt said, walking over as she opened the boot and took out a pair of disposable gloves.

  She liked Matt. He worked hard and relentlessly until getting a result. If she asked him to do something, it would be done. He had a bright future ahead of him.

  ‘Where’s the body?’

  ‘Under the tree.’ He pointed towards a clump of oaks, close to the river.

  ‘Who was the first officer attending?’ she asked.

  ‘PC Rogers. He’s by the rendezvous point.’

  ‘I see him,’ she replied, after scanning the area. There were six officers strategically placed around the cordon to prevent anyone from entering the crime scene.

  She headed over to Rogers and checked he’d taken the relevant steps to secure and protect the scene. They agreed he would continue in the role of keeping the scene log until someone else could take over.

  Happy everything was in order and nothing was going to be compromised, she signed the scene log. ‘Walk with me,’ she said, turning to Matt. ‘I’ve just left Jamieson. He wanted to talk about the Hodgson incident.’

  ‘Did he give you a bollocking?’ Matt asked as they navigated their way over the footplates which had been strategically placed so that those who needed could enter the cordon without worrying they were damaging evidence.

  ‘Nothing I couldn’t handle.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect anything else.’ He grinned.

  ‘I do my best,’ she replied, grinning back at him.

  They headed towards the trees. As they approached, she drew in a sharp breath. It didn’t matter how many times she confronted a dead body, it always got to her. It wasn’t that she’d throw up. She’d got over that years ago. It was more the loss of life that sickened her, even more so when it was someone young.

  ‘Who found the body?’ She hoped it wasn’t a group of students.

  ‘Doctor Georgina Cavendish, a lecturer at the university. She knows the victim and identified her as Millie Carter, a student here,’ Matt replied.

  ‘I’ll need to speak to her.’

  ‘I’ve already asked her to wait near the rendezvous point. She’s tall with short blonde hair. You can’t miss her.’

  ‘Good. Is the pathologist here yet?’

  ‘Yes. Dr Dexter arrived about ten minutes ago.’

  They were lucky the forensic pathologist was on duty. Without her there, who knew when they’d be able to move the body. And the longer it stayed out here, the likelier the press would get wind of it. ‘Witnesses?’

  ‘None at the moment, according to Rogers. The place was deserted when the doctor found her.’

  They reached the tent which was being erected near the body. Their victim would have to be photographed where she was before they could move her into the tent and start their full investigation. Killers never thought about the implications of their body dumps, Claire Dexter had once whispered to Whitney at a particularly difficult dump site she’d had to circumnavigate.

  ‘Hello, Claire,’ she said to the pathologist, who was staring at the body, camera in hand. She’d known her for years, and although they weren’t friends, they had a mutual respect for each other. ‘What have you got for me?’

  Claire was the best forensic pathologist in Lenchester. Her looks belied her toughness. She was short, a little overweight, with red hair and freckles. She always wore the loudest, clashing colours imaginable, apart from when she had on her protective clothing. Anyone who tried to cross her would do so only once.

  ‘You know the drill,’ Claire said. ‘Can’t tell you much, except it doesn’t look like natural causes.’

  Whitney got closer to the body, noticing the bruising around the girl’s neck. ‘Strangulation?’

  ‘It looks like it. There are marks around the wrists, suggesting she’d been restrained. I’ll know more when I get her on the table. I’d say she’s been moved and placed in this position.’

  Whitney scrutinised the body’s position. She was leaning back against the tree trunk with her hands close to her chest. If the body had been moved and placed like that, it had to mean something. A relocated body was frustrating; it made their job harder as there would be less evidence to work with.

  ‘She’s fully clothed. Any indication of sexual assault?’

  ‘I can’t tell at the moment, though her clothes aren’t on correctly. Her jeans are pulled up and zipped, but the button is undone. Also, the buttons on her cardigan are done up incorrectly,’ Claire replied.

  ‘Guv,’ Matt said. ‘There’s a mobile phone on her lap.’

  ‘Don’t even think about touching it,’ Claire said, and then proceeded to take pictures of the wasted life in front of them.

  They waited until she finished photographing and allowed them to pick it up. Whitney was about to place it into the evidence bag when the wallpaper image came up.

  It was a photo of the dead girl wearing nothing but her underwear. Duct tape covered her mouth, and her hands were tied to a slatted bedhead with what appeared to be cable ties. Her legs were wide open. Although the photo didn’t show it, it looked like her ankles we
re tied, too.

  Bile caught in her throat and she turned away. The girl was barely older than Tiffany.

  She dragged in a breath, getting herself under control, determined her emotions wouldn’t get in the way. This case had to be dealt with efficiently and by the letter. She couldn’t afford it to go any other way.

  ‘Crap.’ She showed the image to Matt and Claire before dropping it into the evidence bag. ‘We’ll look closer when we’re back at the office.’

  As she paced the ground close to the body, she checked again for evidence. Nothing seemed to be disturbed; they’d know better once the scene of crime officers had scoured the area. She headed back to where Claire stood, dictating into her recorder.

  ‘If she’s been moved like you suggest, then where’s the evidence? There are no tyre tracks or drag marks. If she was carried, then the perp must be strong. She’s not exactly petite.’

  Even from down on the ground, it was obvious the victim was tall and solidly built. Whitney would’ve struggled to move her at all.

  ‘As I’ve already said, wait until we have her on the table. We’ll know more once I’ve checked the trace evidence.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll come and see you later in the lab.’

  ‘Fine. Now let me get back on with my work or I’ll be here all day.’ Claire dismissed her with a flick of her hand.

  Not wanting to annoy her, Whitney moved away and headed towards the rendezvous point, anxious to speak to the woman who found the body.

  Chapter Four

  George shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She was due in class soon, but the police officer had asked her to give her statement straight away.

  The emptiness of Millie’s eyes, devoid of any life, were etched in her mind. What had happened for her life to end so suddenly? She’d always liked Millie. She had an excellent attitude to work and a genuine interest in learning. And now she was dead.

  George, trying to view it from a forensic psychologist’s view point and not as someone personally invested, walked through the scene again in her mind. She’d been so stunned she hadn’t looked too closely at the body after realising who it was. But what she did remember was how Millie’s body had been positioned. Her hands held up to her chest resting on her breasts, elbows tucked in to her waist, and her fingers interlaced. It was the classic pleading pose. Almost religious. Like she was praying for her life.

  Why was she positioned that way? Was it a message from the killer?

  ‘Doctor Cavendish?’

  George started at the sound of her name and glanced at the woman who had called it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘DCI Whitney Walker.’ The officer, a short, attractive, dark-haired woman, who looked to be in her late thirties, held out her ID which George took a quick look at. ‘I’d like to run through the events of this morning.’

  Walker stood a few feet from her and looked George up and down. George’s hackles rose, not liking the scrutiny. What had she done wrong?

  ‘I’ve already told the other police officer,’ George replied, harsher than she’d intended.

  ‘I’d like you to tell me.’

  ‘I was on my way to work at the university, and I came across Millie Carter, under the tree.’

  ‘What time was this?’ Walker took a notebook and pen from her pocket and began writing notes.

  ‘Around eight. Maybe a few minutes earlier. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Do you usually walk to work at this time of day?’ Whitney asked, looking up.

  ‘No. Most days I have a lift. Today I decided to walk.’

  ‘Why?’

  She wasn’t about to discuss her run in with Stephen. It had nothing to do with finding the body.

  ‘I wanted the fresh air,’ George replied, immediately regretting it as Walker’s face showed disbelief.

  ‘It’s not even ten degrees.’ Walker shook her head.

  ‘I wrapped up warm.’ That sounded crazy and made her seem suspicious. ‘Okay. I walked this way so I could have a cigarette before class.’ Why did the admission make her feel guilty?

  ‘So, walking here is unusual for you?’

  ‘Yes. Even if I don’t get a lift and do decide to walk to work, there’s a shortcut which takes me along the side of my building.’

  ‘What was different about today?’

  She now had no other choice than to explain. ‘I had an argument with my partner and wanted some time to relax before work.’

  ‘I can relate to that.’ Walker’s expression softened. ‘Was there anyone else around when you found the body?’

  ‘No. Yes. Well, a colleague was walking fairly close, so I ducked behind the tree. She turned off and headed towards the psychology building over there.’ George pointed in the direction of the old Victorian building where she worked. ‘That’s when I noticed Millie’s legs sticking out. I went to investigate and found her body. If I hadn’t come off the path, I would never have seen her.’

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘I phoned 999 and reported it. It appeared to be a suspicious death. Is it?’

  Despite being a forensic psychologist, she’d never been to a murder scene. She’d sat in on autopsies, and worked alongside other forensic psychologists doing profiling, but this was different.

  ‘It’s too early to say. The pathologist is over there.’

  She glanced across at the crime scene and saw a familiar figure exiting the screen they’d put around Millie’s body.

  ‘Claire Dexter.’

  ‘You know her?’ Walker asked, frowning.

  ‘Yes, she guest lectures for me.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘I run the forensic psychology programme. We look into criminal behaviour and try to establish patterns, motives, and mindsets.’ Was she trying to impress the woman? Why?

  Judging by Walker’s flat stare, it hadn’t worked, anyway.

  ‘Tell me about the victim.’

  ‘Millie Carter was a third-year student in my department. She was also in my personal tutorial group.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Students are all allocated a tutor to look after their academic needs. Millie’s one of mine. We have a personal tutorial once a month to discuss her progress.’

  ‘And how was she doing?’ Walker asked, once again scribbling copious notes.

  ‘Millie was an above-average student. Her assignments were usually submitted on time, and she did reasonably well in her examinations last year.’ Her impersonal words made Millie seem like a number and not a person.

  ‘Did she confide in you about anything?’

  When had she last spoken to Millie? She hated to admit it, but tutorials seemed to blend into one another. When you had over thirty personal tutees, it was impossible to remember every encounter. But she would’ve remembered if there was anything which stood out as troublesome. She was sure of it.

  ‘Occasionally, students talk about their personal lives. Millie was no different. She didn’t tell me anything indicating she was in trouble.’ George cringed. It sounded like a fob off.

  ‘Did she have a boyfriend?’

  George wracked her brain but couldn’t remember. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t recall her mentioning anyone.’

  ‘What about friends?’ Walker’s tone was impatient.

  ‘I don’t know her friends, but I can give you the names of others in her tutorial group. They might be able to help,’ George offered, glad she could at least do something.

  ‘I thought you saw them individually?’

  ‘The tutorial group meets fortnightly, and there are also individual tutorials. It’s standard practice,’ she explained.

  ‘Well, I didn’t go to university, so wouldn’t know.’

  George stepped back. Had she touched a nerve? ‘Sorry. The way the body was posed, have you considered that yet?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘We haven’t established whether it was posed. That’s for the pathologist to decide.’

  ‘Of cours
e, I understand you have to wait for Claire’s findings. But if Millie was murdered, which it certainly looks like, then the position of the body can tell us a lot about the person who did it. Let me help you with that.’

  She didn’t want to sit back and do nothing when she had the skills to assist.

  ‘Dr Cavendish, I’m sure you mean well, but why don’t you leave the investigation to the experts? I’m fully aware murderers leave signatures. But you’re jumping the gun here. Dr Dexter will do her analysis, and we’ll do the investigative work from there.’ Walker closed her notebook and replaced it in the back pocket of the navy trousers she was wearing.

  ‘I appreciate I’m not a police officer, but my skills could help.’ George stared down at her. She wasn’t used to having her knowledge brushed aside and didn’t like it.

  ‘I’ll remember that, thank you. You can help by letting me have a list of the others in your tutorial group.’

  ‘The list is in my office. I’ll bring it down to the station later.’

  ‘No need. Here’s my card. Just email it to me.’ Walker held out her card which George took.

  ‘I’ll do it as soon as I get into my office.’ She glanced at her watch. She was already late for her first class and should’ve thought to text the departmental administrator. Unless the Head of Department had cancelled all classes for the day, under the circumstances.

  ‘Thank you. I’d also like details of your movements over the weekend, leading up to when you found the body.’

  ‘Why?’ Surely Walker wasn’t implying she had anything to do with Millie’s murder.

  ‘Standard procedure. I’d also like you to think carefully about anyone else you saw on your walk to work.’

  That was easy because there was only the one colleague.

  ‘We don’t know how long Millie was there for. I couldn’t tell whether rigor had set in or not, so I doubt the murderer would be hanging around for me to pin point.’

  ‘I wasn’t asking for your professional opinion,’ Walker said.

  ‘I’m a forensic psychologist. It’s what I do.’

  ‘I appreciate that, but I’m a detective, and it’s my job to investigate. The name of the colleague, please.’