Kill Them Cold

by J M Dalgliesh

  The advice didn't seem to hit the right note. At least, the visible weight of concern contained within Eric's expression hadn't lifted at all. The barman returned with Tom's change and the two men shared a knowing look as Tom took the coins and put them in his pocket. Eric glanced towards Becca and the table, checking that no one was looking, and produced a ring box from his pocket.

  "I've been carrying this around for days, in case I got spontaneous."

  "In that case, why not do it tonight?"

  "Really? You think?" Eric said, his expression lightening.

  Tom shrugged. "As good a time as any. It's still warm; a clear night at the end of summer. If you fancy taking a little boat out in September, you're a braver man then me. And this weather won't hold forever. Unless you have some annual leave to take? You could go away somewhere nice."

  Eric shook his head. "Nah… used all of it when Mum fell ill, remember?"

  "It's just my opinion," Tom said, picking up the tray. "And as I said, my track record in proposals is a bit of a car crash."

  "Plural?" Eric asked. "I thought you'd only be married the once."

  "Yes, plural, Eric," Tom said with a sigh as he made to walk off. He stopped. "And as of now, I've only had a fifty percent success rate… and that ended in divorce, so take my advice with a pinch of salt."

  Eric frowned and Tom moved off. He heard Eric mutter something under his breath and the tone suggested he hadn't helped much.

  Tom set the tray down on the table and Alice helped him pass out the drinks. Meanwhile, Eric brought over a couple more unoccupied chairs from the neighbouring table for himself and Tom. The others shifted their seats to make room. As they sat down, Cassie pointed to Eric's half pint of beer.

  "I see you're still using the children's glasses."

  Eric smiled sarcastically, scrunching up his nose. It was a long-running joke between himself and DS Knight regarding his height: she was taller than him even though she was not considered particularly tall for a woman. Lauren slapped Cassie's arm by way of a telling-off and everyone smiled.

  "I just want to keep a clear head, that's all," Eric said defensively. "Besides," he glanced at Tom, "we've got something on later, so we can't stay late."

  "Have we?" Becca asked, looking confused. "What have I missed?"

  Eric flushed, his lips moving but seemingly not able to form words.

  Cassie laughed, casting a sideways glance at Becca. "Well, if you don't know then he's probably about to propose!"

  Eric's mouth fell open and the skin of his neck flushed to match that deepening in his face. Cassie read his face, her eyes flitting to Becca whose smile faded as she registered Eric's horrified expression. Eric stumbled through an incoherent arrangement of sounds. Nobody spoke.

  "Anyway!" Tom said loudly, drawing everyone's eyes to him and breaking the awkward silence. He raised a glass, angling it in Lauren and then Becca's direction, "a toast to new friends."

  They all raised their drinks in salutation, knocking one another's glasses together and the moment passed. Alice leaned in close to Tom and whispered in his ear. "Nice save."

  Chapter Two

  Tom Janssen pulled the car up onto the verge at the edge of the police cordon at the entrance to the field. He waved a greeting to the uniformed constable who was coming across to meet him. Eric's car was parked next to the liveried vehicle and with a quick glance through the gate, he could see several figures at the far side of the part-ploughed field where the hedgerow marked the boundary. A tractor was parked up nearby; another uniform speaking to who he guessed was the driver.

  "Morning, sir," the constable said. Tom reached back into the car and retrieved his coffee cup, acknowledging the greeting as he shut the door. He stifled a yawn. The sun may have risen in a clear sky, but it wasn't yet seven in the morning on a Sunday. Ever grateful for being virtually teetotal, Tom allowed the constable to guide him to the gate, the line where no members of the public would be allowed to cross. Not that there were many people around at this time. Brancaster was a little village situated on the Norfolk coast between the Brancaster Manor marshland and Scolt Head Island nature reserve, roughly three miles west of Burnham Market. Aside from the early risers walking their dogs, there was precious little movement here, unsurprising with this village and the two others making up the parish registering fewer than eight hundred residents in total.

  "Is that who found it?" Tom said, gesturing with his coffee cup.

  "Yes, sir," the officer said, glancing in the direction of the man standing with his arms folded across his chest as the constable he was talking to made notes. From leaning against the tractor, he lifted himself upright and looked in Tom's direction. Perhaps it was the man's sixth sense alerting him to Tom's attention, because his gaze lingered on Tom and they stared at one another. As far as he knew, Tom couldn't recall having met him before.

  "Farmer?" Tom asked. The constable nodded. "Working overnight."

  "Apparently so. Trying to get ahead before the forecasted rain comes later in the week."

  "Right."

  Tom was surprised. He knew farmers would work through the night if under time pressure but usually that was to bring in the harvest before the weather changed rather than preparing the soil. Although he was hardly knowledgeable on the subject. He slipped through the five-bar gate, leaving the constable to close it behind him, and headed across to where Eric stood. The detective constable looked like he hadn't slept; dark patches hanging beneath the point where his eyes met the bridge of his nose.

  "Good morning, Eric. What have you got for me?"

  "Morning, Tom," Eric said, his tone was light but he sounded as tired as he looked. "Farmer turned this up overnight." Eric beckoned Tom over to an area of the field close to the boundary which was separated by a drainage ditch with a thick hedge beyond. The soil, despite having been recently turned over, was still fairly solid underfoot; a result of the clement spell they'd experienced at the tail end of what had already been a dry, hot spring and summer. It was a shame it was all supposed to come to a violent end in the coming days. Tom stepped over the deep furrows before dropping to his haunches. A bone was sticking out of the soil. To an untrained eye, it could easily be considered an animal bone but the joint immediately struck Tom as belonging to a human femur. Part way along the length of the bone it was crudely broken ensuring the lower part connecting to the knee was missing. What was in no doubt was the left side of a cheek bone and lower section of an eye socket visibly protruding from the soil less than a foot away. Tom's brow creased. "Obviously, the driver didn't see it from the cab at the time, even with his running lights on."

  Tom looked up over his shoulder towards the tractor and then scanned the field. It was probably two-thirds turned over. "When did he see it?"

  "His dog found it," Eric said, grimacing.

  Tom's eye rolled to the cab of the tractor seeing a dog with its snout pressed against the glass, watching events. He couldn't be sure but it looked like a Hungarian Vizsla. "Nice." Tom stood, looking around and once again catching the eye of the driver. He turned to Eric. "The medical examiner?"

  "Fiona is on her way," Eric said. "I spoke to her this morning. I think she was about as happy to get the call as you were."

  "That's okay. I was up anyway," Tom said.

  "Were you?"

  Tom smiled and shook his head. "No, Eric." He lowered his voice. "How did it go last night, after you left?"

  Eric couldn't refrain from displaying his obvious delight as his face split a broad grin. "She said yes!"

  "I'm pleased for you, Eric. Congratulations." Tom stepped away, clapping Eric on the upper arm as he passed, heading for the man who discovered the bones. "When did you say Fiona will arrive?"

  "Any minute."

  On cue, another car pulled up in front of the gate. Tom recognised Dr Fiona Williams' silver Discovery. Leaving Eric to fill her in, he crossed to where the constable was taking down the farmer's statement. She broke off as he approached,
introducing Tom.

  "DI Janssen, this is James Green. He was working the field overnight and it was his dog who alerted him to the whereabouts of the remains."

  Tom acknowledged the man and looked up at the dog who registered his interest by barking at them.

  "Calm down, Cogey!” Green shouted and the dog was silenced but still pressed its nose against the glass. "Sorry about that, Inspector. You can't get him out of the cab when I'm in it but he doesn't do well cooped up."

  "Is this your field?" Tom asked.

  "Tenanted, but yes. It's been mainly used for livestock these past years but we're rotating things a bit which will see us planting this year. A lot of rain is forecast for the end of the week and I was getting ahead."

  "When will you plant seed?"

  "Next couple of weeks. All this grass will get turned over, put it below the surface and give it a chance to decompose before sowing." He looked beyond Tom to where Eric was watching Dr Williams begin her inspection. "I guess that won't be happening anytime soon, will it?"

  Tom followed his gaze. "Once we know what we're dealing with we'll have a better idea of how long it will be roped off."

  "Do you think it's more likely than not to be Roman?"

  Tom found his curiosity piqued, looking around. "Roman?"

  "Yeah, this field is the site of the old Branodunum Fort," Green said. Tom was surprised he'd not realised this was where they were. Green looked around. "Not that you'd know to look at it."

  Tom recalled there was just a metal sign at the entrance to the field, precious little to denote the archaeological interest in the site.

  "Do you think it might be then, ancient I mean?"

  "Too early to say," Tom replied. The last thing he wanted was to initiate a rumour mill.

  "They say weird things go on around here."

  "Such as?"

  Green shrugged. "Well, there's been sightings and the like… apparitions… that type of thing. Strange goings-on."

  "You've seen them?" Tom tried very hard to keep the incredulity out of his tone.

  "Well, no. Not me personally… but people talk."

  "We'll bear it in mind."

  Tom headed back over to stand beside Eric. Dr Williams looked up from where she was knelt examining the femur.

  "Good morning, Tom."

  "Hi, Fiona. Early thoughts?"

  "Well, it's human."

  "Medical school served you well."

  She winked at him.

  "Can you date it with the eye?" Tom asked. "We're on an archaeological site here."

  "Roman?" she asked and Tom nodded.

  "You know your local history."

  She laughed. "I saw the sign when I parked the car, it reminded me. Fifteen-hundred years old? I doubt it very much, just from the depth of the remains alone." She thought about it momentarily, her brow furrowing in concentration. "It would be interesting to know how close to the surface the Roman layer was when previously excavated. I wouldn't rule it out but there's no real way of telling with the naked eye. We will have to have the lab analysis of the bone and the surrounding organic matter to be sure. Speaking of which, I do hope there's more than a skull and a partial femur to work with?"

  "Male or female, Fiona? Any idea of the age?"

  Fiona Williams tutted at him and he smiled. "I'm a forensic medical examiner not Mystic Meg. I might be able to hazard a guess once your CSI team clear away most of the surrounding material. Judging from what's already visible I would expect to see further significant damage to the crown of the skull, possibly down to your man's plough blades," she said, pointing towards the tractor. She cast an eye along the furrow. "The rest of the skeleton might take some finding if it's equally been chewed up and distributed nearby."

  "Forensics are on their way," Eric said.

  Dr Williams scanned the earth at her feet, taking in the partially revealed skull. "If we aren't looking to bring Time Team onto site, I would say the skeleton has been in the ground for quite some time. It is fully skeletonised, there's no organic tissue on show which indicates it's been underground for a number of years."

  "That's what I was thinking," Tom said, drawing a deep breath.

  "Better dust off your missing persons' files, Thomas."

  He nodded slowly, glancing at Eric. "Once CSI have the site squared away, you can make a start gathering those files together. Start with locals who were reported missing from three years ago and work backwards. There won't be too many. I doubt this case will be recent, probably from much further back, but let's be diligent. Once we know more about the remains then we can start to narrow the time frame down."

  "Will do," Eric said, making a note in his pocketbook.

  "I'm confident we can already narrow it down with regard to the victim's age," Dr Williams said. "I'm just looking at the wear on the head of the femur and the overall condition of the greater and lesser trochanter. I'm not seeing any evidence of osteo or rheumatoid arthritis. I reckon you can rule out anyone in the older age bracket. This person was much, much younger."

  "What about the break in the body of the bone, Fiona?"

  She cast another eye over the scene, her expression a picture of concentration. "Looks later to me. I doubt they went into the ground like this. There's every chance this isn't the first time the remains have been disturbed by a plough. Only this time something has come to the surface. Purely speculative on my part, mind you."

  "Duly noted," Tom said moving closer to examine the skull. The call of crows circling overhead made him look up. Attracted to the freshly ploughed soil they were still wary of the human presence. They came down in the outer reaches of the field, well away from where they were. A white van pulled up at the gate signalling the arrival of the forensic technicians. Tom was hopeful they would soon have more to work with.

  Chapter Three

  It took the bulk of the day for the team to painstakingly excavate the soil from around the exposed remains and uncover more of the skeleton. By early evening, a four-metre square section of the south-eastern area of the field had been roped off, and the heat of the day replaced with a warm, sticky humidity. The team, clad head to toe in their white coveralls were looking forward to some respite. They'd worked methodically, carefully removing thin layers at a time and gradually revealing the secrets long hidden from prying eyes. Tom Janssen remained present throughout the day, only sending Eric back to the station to begin compiling a list of potential names.

  A small group of onlookers waited patiently at the edge of the field, curious as to what was going on. The numbers had risen and fallen periodically throughout the day as word spread locally. A local journalist had already been on the phone requesting details, details that were still scant at best. Tom was about to call Tamara, his DCI, and give her an update when Fiona Williams beckoned him over. Slipping the mobile into his pocket, he crossed to join her.

  "Have you made progress?"

  "We have," she said, inviting him to step within the cordon. Initially they had set up a tent to cover them whilst they worked but by early afternoon, they knew this would no longer be sufficient. "We needed to widen the search area in order to find the rest of the skeleton," Fiona said, stepping down due to the sheer volume of earth they had shifted. Tom followed. "But we're confident we've done so."

  "Is it complete?" Tom asked, taking in the scene. Up until now he'd been content to stay out of the way and allow the team to do their work, conscious that his presence may only hamper proceedings.

  "I should say so," Fiona replied, frowning. "It's always possible that we are missing something but as near as possible, I am confident."

  "What can you tell me?"

  Tom scanned the ground. There were numerous numbered crime scene markers denoting where parts of the remains were found, each was made from moulded plastic, yellow and with black type. Aside from the skull and the femur, that were visible from the surface, the remainder of the skeleton was broadly together. However, it was not laid out in the form of
a burial, Roman, medieval or even modern. The bones were assembled awkwardly. Fiona read Tom's expression as he assessed the finds.

  "I would say the body was dropped into a hole, head or legs first I couldn't say for certain, but she was unceremoniously deposited."

  "She?" Tom asked. "You're sure it's female?"

  Fiona tilted her head off to one side. "Not for certain, no, not until the bones can be reassembled in the lab but that's my initial reaction to what we can see. Look here," she said, stepping forward and lowering herself to her haunches. Tom did likewise. She indicated to what was clearly, even to a lay man, the bones of the pelvic area. "You can see the flared ilium."

  Tom raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  "Sorry, the hip bone." Tom nodded. "In the female it is more rounded. Couple that with the wider angle of the pubic arch," she said, charting the angle with the tip of her pen, "and I think it is likely to be female. Running an eye over the vertebral column – just a cursory measurement, so please don't quote me just yet – I think your victim is probably not much taller than five-foot-four or five at the most. I know we grow our men, those born and bred in Norfolk for generations, on the shorter side, but even so…"

  "Likely to be a woman," Tom said, finishing the thought.

  Dr Williams agreed. "And I would speculate that she wasn't very old. Matured, certainly, so we are not talking about a child but a young woman, perhaps late teens to late twenties. I'm not seeing any of the shotgun pellet-sized pockmarks lining the inside of the pelvic bone caused by the tearing of the ligaments indicating—"

  "That she has given birth," Tom said. Fiona nodded. The thought of her age perturbed him. A child disappearing provokes substantial interest but once a missing person reaches adulthood it becomes far easier for them to drop off the radar without raising many questions, depending on the circumstances. Those people who have careers, expanded contacts in the area, spouses or children of their own are noticeably missed whereas people without those ties can easily vanish, and sometimes people barely bat an eye.