Buried Dreams, page 11
‘Yeah, but no use crying over spilled milk.’ Ash took a swig from his mug of tea. ‘Done me a favour. I’ve got more time to spend with my girls and you’ve got other big investigative cases to deal with.’
Billie chuckled. ‘If you only knew the half of it. Oh look what the cat dragged in.’ Billie nodded as Perry Gooch swung the door open, looking dishevelled and hard done by.
‘Full English with extra toast and jam and send over that whole vat of coffee,’ she called over to the staff behind the serving desk. ‘It’s on her tab.’ She nodded to Billie as she staggered over, hauled her bag onto the seat next to Ash and slumped down.
‘I did tell you I’ve won major awards for investigative journalism, didn’t I?’ Perry huffed as she took her jacket off and settled into her seat. Billie nodded, well aware that she was about to get an earbashing.
‘Been on a secret mission all night have you, cutting edge case?’ Ash finished off his huge sandwich.
‘The only edges I’ve been cutting are my bloody elbows and knees. I’ve lost count of the back garden fences I’ve climbed over. I also had a bucket of water chucked over me from an upstairs window, when Coco started with the love songs trying to woo some cool cutie at the far end of the neighbourhood. Then I lost my shoe in the dark, clambering through a hedge…’
‘Sounds like you were chasing a cat burglar. Job for our lot.’
‘Job for a nutter you mean. I was after a cat, not a burglar. The things I’ve had to do in order to keep my girls fed, clothed and educated…’
Ash pulled a puzzled face.
‘One of the big investigative cases you just mentioned we have to deal with.’ Billie filled him in, while Perry gladly accepted the hot cafetière of coffee put down on the table. She dug her hand in her bag and pulled out Coco’s GPS collar.
‘Little bugger went for me when I took it off.’ Perry showed them a large scratch on her hand. ‘Knows where its bread is buttered I’ll tell you that. He spent half the night with a bunch of mates going through the bins of a posh house at the edge of the estate, one of those with a kitchen-cum-open-living area or whatever they call those wide-open spaces that have all the walls knocked out and a long glass door across the back of the whole house.’
‘Like yours.’ Ash nodded to Billie. Perry blew her lips out.
‘Must have some dosh to go chucking all those leftovers out. The local cats are throwing parties in her back garden. M’laddo Coco was still feasting on a salmon fillet on the way back. Life of Riley he lives.’
‘He’s certainly got a devoted owner,’ Billie agreed.
‘Oh poor Coco is traumatised by that horrible collar.’ Perry mimed a sotto voice which was quite a good copy of Edith Cutler’s. ‘The only thing that calms him down is that special cat milk, but woe is me, I don’t have any left and my pension’s not until–’
‘Friday.’ Billie ended the sentence as she wiped her fingers on a paper serviette and finished off her cuppa.
‘Exactly,’ Perry agreed as her huge English breakfast was put down in front of her. ‘So like an idiot off I went to the corner shop to get her some.’ She took a large bite out of a fat sausage. ‘You’re getting the bill for that as well,’ she added, her words muffled thanks to the chunk of food she had rammed in her mouth. Ash laughed.
‘So are you off doing the same undercover operation tonight?’ he teased. Perry looked fit to kill as Billie’s mobile rang.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Billie joked, her demeanour changing to serious immediately as the voice started speaking. ‘Hello. Mr Kingsnorth.’ Billie turned away to face the window. ‘I understand. So you have had notification from the coroner that Ozzie’s body has been released. Of course. I’ll get a second post-mortem request underway immediately and get back to you.’ Billie pushed her chair back and stood up. Ash followed suit, draining his mug as he did so.
‘Thanks, Perry. You’ve made an old lady very happy. As soon as anything else comes up–’
‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you… if I’m really desperate,’ Perry answered. Billie grinned. She hoped her friend was joking.
‘What did you say the name of that new forensic centre was?’ Billie asked Ash as she headed over to pay the bill. Ozzie was about to come into her care, and she would be absolutely dedicated to finding out the truth of his desperately early demise. Her hunch was that the truth wouldn’t point to suicide.
As soon as Ash had read out the name after a quick search on his mobile, Billie had realised that she was about to come face to face with past events that she had struggled hard to deal with. Her stomach tied into a knot as she entered the smart reception area of King & Beech Forensics – a huge space created with glass and clean white walls dotted with exotic plants and beautiful artwork. An equally attractive receptionist, glossy and slick, smiled as Billie approached. Josta always did have an eye for a pretty face.
‘Ms Wilde?’ she asked, before Billie had even had a chance to speak. ‘Dr King will be with you in a moment.’
Billie took a deep breath, turning to look at the decorations. She had to keep focused on Ozzie Kingsnorth, not the past, when her last investigation as a police detective had been so explosive for both herself and Josta that they had needed time away from one another, out of respect for the overwhelming losses both had suffered.
But there was no turning back time and Billie was determined to move forward with her own life and make a success of Wilde & Darque, proving to anyone who cared that her outstanding achievements truthfully weren’t built on nepotism. Unlike Slug Harris, she had been devoted to her job, as had Josta, with a reputation as the best forensic pathologist in the business. It looked like she still was.
As Billie turned, she saw Josta standing at the top of a staircase leading from the side of the reception space to a wide bright mezzanine area. It looked like her old friend was ready to let the sunshine in again.
‘Billie, my dear girl…’ She trailed off, stopping for a moment, smiling hesitantly as Billie strode across the reception area and up the staircase, joining her at the top.
‘Lovely to see you again, Josta,’ Billie said and she meant it, suddenly unable to resist opening her arms wide to give Josta a hug. They held each other tight for a moment, their eyes brimming with tears, but no words were needed.
‘Great place you’ve got here.’ Billie waved her arm around in appreciation of the impressive premises.
‘I put that down to my business partner. You well know that my great passion is for food rather than interior design.’ Josta smiled. It was true. In the past Billie had often gone around to dinner at Josta’s and been served a steak or other piece of meat with stab marks in it as Josta had finished work and then continued at home throughout the night using her store of knives to identify a sharp murder weapon. Josta looked smaller now, her intelligent eyes not shining quite so brightly, but she was still in one piece, Billie was relieved to see. They were both survivors.
‘Oh, speak of the devil.’ Josta smiled impishly as a tall, elegant, dark-haired woman wearing a white coat, approached. ‘Billie, let me introduce you to Dr Lizbeth-Ann Beech. If there’s a finer forensic anthropologist in the world, I have yet to meet them. She also insists on a healthy life/work balance, which is good for me. Lizbeth-Ann, this is Billie Wilde.’ The woman smiled as she held out her hand to greet Billie.
‘Josta’s trying to tell you that I like to whisk her off on regular holidays. So pleased to meet you, Ms Wilde. I have heard so much about you already and your formidable reputation.’ She glanced at Josta. Billie felt her body relax. It was clear that her old friend had chosen to move on with not only her professional but also her personal life, rather than wallow in the past.
‘So very pleased to meet you, Dr Beech.’ Billie knew that she was going to immediately like this woman. Not only because of her warm smile and obvious care for her old friend’s welfare, but the fact that Josta had just announced that her specialism was bones and if there was one thing needed around the place right now it was a skeletal expert. She hoped Ellis had been released, though he hadn’t called in yet, but if not, this woman could definitely be his get-out-of-jail card.
‘Please, Lizbeth will do. Cecile, have the arrivals come in from the South Lane investigation yet?’
Bingo, Billie’s inner voice called. South Lane was Ellis’s address. It looked like even Slug had finally wised up to the fact that he couldn’t get much mileage out of banging people in police cells without some proper scientific facts to back up his case.
‘Just arrived and been admitted to examination suites two and three,’ the elegant receptionist confirmed.
‘Whilst Lizbeth picks over bones, I will be taking care of your boy. I’ve already looked over the notes from the first autopsy conducted at the hospital and I’m convinced that we can tell more of the poor lad’s story. I believe they’ve had interns working like dogs over there due to staff shortages, so they can be forgiven for making one or two basic errors.’ Billie’s ears pricked up.
‘Are you saying it might not have been suicide?’ Billie remembered Richard Kingsnorth’s utter heartbreak at the thought. She hoped that at least Josta could prove that Ozzie hadn’t intended to take his life, that his death had in truth been some sort of accident.
‘Indeed.’ The pathologist led Billie down the staircase and then turned left, escorting her along a wide corridor with doors on either side. Josta stopped outside of a door marked Examination Suite 1 with Josta’s name printed on a tag below.
‘Interpretation of findings from bodies recovered from a liquid environment prove to be a challenge even for those of us so long in the tooth that we’re almost woolly mammoths. A few years ago, I had to correct the finding of drowning by a year one student, when in fact the body was already dead and in a coffin when it had entered water. This area is one of only three in the UK that allows burials at sea. I’ve occasionally had the pleasure of welcoming the odd drifter into my autopsy suite.’
‘Really?’ Billie was astonished.
‘The official burial at sea sites are off the Needles Spoil Ground near the Isle of Wight, Hastings and near here in Tynemouth. I’d recommend the scattering of ashes instead, alleviating the risk of the deceased washing up next to an unsuspecting sunbather tucking into an ice cream on the beach. Such events do rather put a damper on one’s holidays.’ It was the sort of fact that only Josta could throw into the most mundane of conversations. Billie had missed her dear friend more than she would ever know.
‘I must warn you that he’s not a pretty sight. Your new vocation may have allowed your memories of the criminally deceased to have faded somewhat.’
Billie wanted to say that all of the deceased that she had ever accompanied through their autopsies stayed in her memory forever. In truth they were never laid to rest, and some still continued to haunt her in the dead of night, but she didn’t want to dwell on that fact right now.
‘Criminally deceased? Are you saying that Ozzie’s death wasn’t accidental?’ Billie followed Josta through the door where the unique smell of the autopsy suite hit her. She nodded to the technician, before taking a deep breath and looking in the direction of poor dead Ozzie Kingsnorth. It would be true to say that the body on the mortuary table bore no resemblance at all to the handsome and smiling young man that Billie had seen in the poster on display at Silver Darlings. Josta approached the body.
‘Ozzie Kingsnorth, meet DSI Billie Wilde. If she can’t get to the bottom of your early demise then no one can.’ Billie smiled to herself, despite the sad sight. Josta had always had a way of talking to the dead with utter respect whilst she was working with them. It was as if they hadn’t truly departed until their stories were finally told.
‘Just plain Billie now,’ Billie corrected, her heart full of sadness for the sorry state of the once vibrant young soul lying cold and utterly damaged before her now.
‘You’re still his best bet, my girl. DS Harris hasn’t the stomach or aptitude for the job and someone has to bring the culprit to justice for this sad affair.’ Billie realised that it was true that both she and Josta had always had a better understanding of the dead than the living.
‘What can you tell me?’ Billie scanned the bloated and bruised body. She could see horrific lacerations across his lower torso that she recognised as having been inflicted by a boat propellor.
‘Luckily those lacerations that you are looking at were inflicted post mortem, by a small craft. Probably didn’t spot the boy floating by.’ Billie shuddered at the thought. ‘But first things first. Ozzie was found about half a mile upriver, so it has been assumed according to the notes here on his first autopsy, that he drowned there. But my hypothesis is that he died out at sea and a fair way out at that, if our initial microbial findings are correct. The body then made the final part of its journey upriver via tidal surges at the mouth of the estuary where it meets the sea.
‘He was certainly alive when he hit the water, although he had a nasty injury to the back of his head…’ Josta trailed off momentarily as she showed Billie photographs taken before Ozzie’s initial autopsy. ‘This injury no doubt contributed to his demise. The initial examination wrongly deducted that it occurred when he was dead in the water, possibly by coming into contact with a rock in the river. Easy mistake for a student to make.’ Billie loved the fact that Josta was forgiving with those who no doubt looked up to her as the ultimate figure in her field of forensic pathology. She also loved that Josta seemed absolutely sure of her own findings.
‘Stomach contents show that he swallowed some seawater, in which we have found traces of heavy-duty epoxy coating, normally found in the water ballast tanks of large ships. He also had traces of partly corroded zinc deposits under his nails. These are possibly from sacrificial anodes, which are secured to the side of the hull of such ships to offer protection. Again this points to the big ship scenario.’
‘But wouldn’t he have been sucked under the huge propellor on a big ship and been utterly cut into pieces?’ Billie was having trouble focusing on the lacerations, which made Ozzie’s torso present rather like a slab of pork with mincemeat spilling out of the long, wide-open cuts. Josta nodded.
‘Precisely. The muscles on his left shoulder were torn and I found bruising on the left-hand side of his spine, localised, so suffered shortly before death, probably caused by a sudden jerk when his hand reached out and grabbed the square sacrificial anode structure. I’m guessing that the resulting pain and lack of grip area on these anodes forced him to let go, but he was still able to swim away at a right angle or similar from the ship and avoid death by propellor. However, the hefty thump to the head would soon have taken its toll.’
‘Could he have hit his head on the side of the hull when he fell?’ Billie wanted to be sure of the answer before jumping to conclusions. She didn’t want to break the news of an even worse scenario than suicide to Ozzie’s grieving dad. Josta shook her head.
‘You don’t get this sort of injury by falling from a ship. It appears to have been inflicted by a blunt instrument. My hypothesis is that he suffered exhaustion as a consequence of shock and loss of blood from the head injury and died because he was so far out he couldn’t make it to the shore. There is a different process of osmosis between saltwater and freshwater drowning. It is clear that the boy suffered the former – basically one suffers death by drowning in one’s own fluids. It’s usually a slower death than that of freshwater.’
Billie shuddered as she absorbed the information.
‘So, he was attacked, before being thrown or having fallen off the side of a ship, tried desperately to hang on and then fought to survive by swimming away…’ Billie closed her eyes tightly at the thought. It was as if the body lying alongside her was showing the last stages of his life via Josta’s work. ‘Died at sea, was cut up by a passing pleasure boat propellor and then was swept upriver to his final resting place.’
‘That’s about the sum of it, my dear. Go to the top of the class.’
‘I can’t bear the thought.’ Billie’s voice was hushed. She couldn’t imagine the thought of telling Ozzie Kingsnorth’s father either.
‘Death by criminal means has always been hard for us to deal with.’ Josta touched Billie’s arm, knowing that their sorrow was shared and not only in connection with the sad ending to Ozzie Kingsnorth’s life. ‘But you and I have always been driven by the need to tell the truth, no matter what pain that might bring our way. I will inform the coroner of my findings and of course, the police. However, I think you will have to accept that your successor has little chance of getting to the bottom of this mystery. You might be the only hope of unearthing the full story of this poor young man’s demise.’
Billie ran her fingers through her hair. Without the access she was used to as a police officer, the task was going to be fraught with difficulties and Ellis would probably quite reasonably argue that by passing on Josta’s report to Ozzie’s dad, Wilde & Darque’s work was done, but she was determined to get to the truth of this sad scenario, even if it proved to be the death of her.
Chapter 17
Making Movies
‘Is she alive?’ Maya had woken only moments ago, shivering and shaken into consciousness by a rocking motion. She looked around her. There were lots of girls staring out of the darkness at her, all with the same wide-eyed shocked look on their pinched faces, scruffy blankets pulled around them. She only recognised one.
‘Otilia, is she okay?’ She reached out and grabbed the arm of the girl, who shook it away.
‘Shush, you are already in enough trouble. If you don’t keep quiet we’ll all be killed by the border guards.’ It was the girl with the blue-painted toenails talking.
‘What’s your name?’ Maya whispered in anger.
‘Bluey.’ She wiggled her bare feet, the cheap blue nail polish already scuffed at the edges. ‘My lover boy gave it to me when he took me away.’
