When a Killer Strikes, page 20
The kitchen, in contrast to the rest of the house, was spotlessly clean.
‘I’m a chef,’ said Alan, by way of an explanation. He pulled his T-shirt from his torso at the waist, ‘…hence these holes where I am permanently rubbing up against the counter. Ask Jamie Oliver – it happens to him all the time.’ He walked away and Ned followed. David opened the cupboard under the sink. Stuffed behind cleaning products he plucked out a wet, dirty, blood-stained cloth. David beckoned Dylan.
‘I think I have enough,’ Dylan said gravely as he stepped back into the hallway. Alan and Ned turned on hearing Dylan’s footsteps approach them from behind ‘We’ve found blood on the lounge floor and on the carpet runner. Underneath the runner there appears to have been an attempt to try to clean it up. A blood-stained cloth has been located under the kitchen sink. A check will be made to see if this is Julie’s blood. Tell me, did your argument with Julie result in her being injured enough to bleed?’
Alan’s face looked shocked. ‘No, no way!’ Dylan could see the whites of his eyes. ‘I’ve never hit a woman in my life.’ He held up his right hand, which was clenched in a tight fist for Dylan to see. ‘If I had she wouldn’t have lived to tell—’
‘Nobody else lives here?’ said Dylan.
Alan swayed and steadied himself with his hand flat to the wall. ‘I don’t believe this…’ His head bent forward, he made throaty gurgling noises and before falling to his knees. ‘This can’t be happening,’ he said, hand to his chest as he fought for his breath.
Dylan reached down and held Alan Sanderson by the scruff of the neck. ‘Alan Sanderson I am arresting you on suspicion of murder…’
‘What? You’ve got it wrong.’ Alan sobbed as he was handcuffed and removed from the flat to the police car, to be transported by a marked police car to Harrowfield Bridewell, to be detained.
‘The flat,’ said Dylan to David and Simon, ‘it needs going over with a fine tooth comb. Find me evidence to show she was murdered here.’ His head turned this way and that. ‘And I suppose telling you to find me the murder weapon too, is too much to ask?’
Simon gave Dylan a lopsided smile. ‘We’ll do our best.’
Dylan gave David a pat on his back before turning his attention to DS Raj. ‘Can I leave it with you to get the house-to-house team from Ops Support to visit the occupants of the other flats? Interview them, see what they can tell us, and circulate the details of her vehicle. If we can find that it’d be helpful.’
Raj nodded towards the door.
‘I’ll have to go. I should’ve been at the mortuary for her post-mortem ten minutes ago,’ Dylan said checking his watch. ‘We’ll meet after to exchange notes,’ were his parting words.
Dylan started the car, turned on the hands-free facility and dialled the incident room to ensure that there had been an exhibits officer nominated for the mortuary and another CSI other than David had been booked to attend.
Everyone was present at the mortuary when he arrived. DC Donna Frost was the first to greet him and as he stepped into his coveralls she tugged at his sleeve. ‘They’ve found a donor card at the flat, sir.’
‘Have you informed the coroner’s officer?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’ll speak to the coroner, but sadly I doubt very much with the length of time since her body was found, that her organs would be of any use. It’s also vital that this examination goes ahead to ascertain her cause of death… Not only that but she will have to be kept for a future defence examination, even if a suspect isn’t found within the next few weeks or so. Who’s her next of kin? Is it known?’
‘I’m told her mother, sir. We are trying to trace her.’
At that moment the thin, five-foot-nine, grey bearded, ex-police officer, now coroner’s officer walked into the room where Dylan was putting on his theatre gown. Geoff Painters looked gaunt. He slicked back his thick silver hair which drew more attention to his long, thin face. ‘The coroner will make reference to her wishes at the inquest. However, the post-mortem is to go ahead.’ He put on his head covering and pulled his mask up to rest on the bridge of his nose as he followed Dylan and Donna into the mortuary theatre.
The pathologist was an accomplished middle-aged man by the name of William Townsend, whose demand of military-like discipline, and haughty manner preceded him from those previously under his command in the Army health care team. It was said that the doctor had survived a severe leg wound in Afghanistan, and indeed he walked with a stiff knee.
Stood by his side was one of his students from the university where he taught. The student had just failed the spelling of Syphilis and Dr Townsend had rewarded her with one of his withering glares. A bead of sweat slid from the student’s forehead and down the side of her pretty face. He stood at the far side of the aesthetically pleasing, slim pedestal, stainless steel autopsy table and continued his brutal questioning with what looked like savage glee. Embarrassing the young student was unnecessary in Dylan’s eyes and he tried to distract the doctor’s attention by announcing his presence and introducing his staff. He outlined the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the dead body of the young woman laid out on the table before them. The student threw Dylan a grateful look for his chivalrous attempt to save her further torture. Townsend hobbled around the table. The dead girl’s clothing was removed item by item, each being bagged and tagged by the exhibits officer. Each exhibit numbered and a police exhibit label attached for future reference. Transfer of fibres were likely from outer garments so tapings were taken.
‘We believe the body to be that of a Julie Dixon, although a positive identification has yet to be made,’ Dylan said. Townsend snuggled alongside the table. As he did so he spoke into a handheld voice recorder externally examining the naked body with a general description, ethnicity, sex, age, hair colour and length, whilst looking for distinguishing features such as birthmarks, old scar tissue, moles. Bending slightly he could see that the body block had been correctly situated enabling the dead young woman’s arms and neck to fall backwards, whilst stretching and pushing the chest upwards to make it easier for him to cut it open. Photographs of bruising noticed to the left side of her face and arms were taken.
‘We think that we also might have found the murder scene. Within the last hour the boyfriend has been arrested on suspicion of her murder. Although, he strenuously denies it and any knowledge of the blood found in their flat,’ said the senior police officer.
He turned to the student. ‘Miss Case, what would I be looking for now?’ he said, collecting several insects, bugs and leaves and placing them in containers. There was no evidence of animals scavenging on the body, although Dylan was aware that smaller animals may have got to some of the soft tissue.
Kate Case’s voice wobbled. ‘Evidence such as residue, flakes of paint, or any other material that could be collected from the external surfaces of the body, sir.’
Dr Townsend pursed his lips and nodded his head. ‘If I was to use an ultraviolet light in a post-mortem when would I use it?’ Again his question was directed at his student.
‘Now, sir.’
His eyes narrowed and there was a sense he was waiting for more. His nostrils widened on a deep breath.
Kate’s gloved hand went to her chest, and her eye lashes flickered. ‘To search the body surface for any evidence not easily visible to the naked eye. If it was believed that there may be any significant residue on the hands, for instance gunpowder, a separate bag would have been put around each hand and taped around the wrist.’
‘What samples should I take at this time?’
‘Fingernail and undernail scrapings, hair, foreign and pubic in cases of suspected sexual assault.’
‘Good,’ Dr Townsend said. His shoulders visibly relaxed and on turning his head he nodded to the mortuary assistant indicating that he was about to start the internal examination.
Dylan sucked hard on the strong mint that had been resting on the roof of his mouth. As his sinuses cleared he smelt the aroma of a menthol vapour rub and he knew that it was a practice others used around the entrance of their nostrils, as a shield against the stench of death.
The pathologist made a large, deep Y-shaped incision, starting at the top of each shoulder, meeting at the lower part of the sternum and continued down to the pelvic bone making the mandatory diversion to the left side of the naval.
He stopped, once more he spoke directly to Kate Case. ‘Why would I choose this method over a T-shaped incision or a single vertical cut?’
Kate stood straight and spoke with more confidence. ‘Essential in cases of suspected strangulation, sir.’
His eyes opened wide and he continued without comment, peeling back the slab of skin, unveiling the mustard-coloured layer of fat and the pink and purplish viscera underneath. He opened the chest cavity and removed the organs in one block. ‘When would I adopt this method as the norm?’ Dr Townsend asked Kate.
‘During the autopsies of infants this method is used most of the time, sir.’
Townsend nodded. ‘Generally, in an adult where the cause of death is unknown I would remove the organs one by one checking for…?’
‘Abnormalities or disease, sir,’ said Kate.
A series of cuts were made along the vertebral column and the organs were detached and pulled out in one piece. They were weighed and sliced for examination, the pathologist looking all the while for clues suggesting foul play, discolouration of tissue, other bruising and wounds. Tissue samples were collected and retained as the clicking of the CSI’s camera continued to record every action.
The examination of the head injury Julie Dixon had sustained was thorough and included the taking of numerous photographs. Her head was shaved and revealed a large, depressed wound, almost twenty-five centimetres square. It was apparent that this injury had shattered her skull.
Townsend stood with his blooded, gloved hands aloft whilst the body block that was previously used to elevate the chest was moved, to elevate the head and enable the brain to be examined. An incision was made from behind ear to ear, over the crown of the head.
‘You won’t notice that when it’s sewn up and the head is rested on a pillow for the viewing of her body by family,’ said Townsend. He pulled the scalp away from the skull in two flaps. The front flap going over the face, remaining secured by the tip of the nose. The final act of cutting into the top of the skull with a circular bladed saw created a cap that was pulled off, exposing the brain to be observed in situ. It was covered in blood.
At the end of the post-mortem Dr Townsend’s lowered his mask to reveal his eyes were red rimmed. Dylan noticed his voice and manner had changed towards Kate Case as his respect for her grew.
‘What makes a good pathologist, Case?’ William Townsend said.
‘I think a crucial attribute of a good pathologist is a strong visual memory and a talent for pattern recognition.’
‘Mmm… And, your favourite Pathology textbook?’
‘Robbins, sir, Kaplan sucks, it focuses too much on detail.’
A smile escaped his lips. ‘Well done!’ he said. ‘Well done indeed.’
Kate Case’s eyes were wide. Townsend turned to face Dylan. ‘I’ve taken all the relevant samples you will require. Cause of death: blunt instrument trauma to the skull causing massive damage. She would have been rendered unconscious immediately and died shortly after. Something the size of a lump hammer would be of the right size and weight, in my opinion.’
‘Not an injury she could have sustained from a fall?’ said Dylan.
‘Certainly not.’
‘Then I thank you. Once her mum has been traced then we can go ahead with a formal identification.’
William Townsend walked down the corridor. Kate Case hurriedly followed him. ‘Sir, sir, sir,’ Dylan heard her say. Eventually he stopped at the office door and turned. ‘The mark on her right breast, do you think that it could have possibly been a bite?’ Townsend dismissed her question with a wave of his hand as he turned and walked through the office door, letting it shut in on his student. She took a step backwards, squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyelids. Dylan shrugged his shoulders and smiled at her tight-lipped face that looked skywards. When she sought Dylan’s face down the corridor at his tittering she saw him point in the direction Townsend had gone.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You don’t seem to be the type to give up that easy.’
The searches and examination at Julie Dixon’s flat that she had shared with her boyfriend Alan Sanderson continued, Dylan was told on his return to Harrowfield police station, as were the examinations in and around the wheelie bins where her body had been found. The location of her vehicle was still outstanding.
DSs Raj and Andy Wormald had completed the first interview with Alan Sanderson for the murder of his girlfriend on his arrival at the station. Dylan was told Sanderson’s solicitor was Janet Munroe who had listened intently to what the officers had to say and made notes throughout the interview. Not once did she interrupt them. To allow Ms Munroe further consultation with her client the officers joined Dylan in his office. The Detective Inspector’s stern face greeted the two rather grim and pensive-faced detectives.
‘The results of the post-mortem confirmed to us that Julie Dixon had died from a blow to her head. We are looking for some object the size and weight of a lump hammer,’ Dylan said. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘He tells us that he last saw his girlfriend around six o’clock on the morning she went missing. He admits they argued. He thought she’d been seeing someone behind his back and was fearful she was about to leave him,’ said Raj.
‘But, he denied that he knew about the blood in the flat or any knowledge of the bloodied cloth that was found under the sink,’ said Andy firmly.
‘When she didn’t come home that night, he says, he thought she might have gone to stay at her mother’s,’ said Raj.
Dylan leaned a little forward. ‘Had she done that before?’
Raj frowned. She shook her head slightly. ‘No, he said not.’
‘When he watched the news, he said he just knew instinctively it was his girlfriend who had been found dead.’
‘Which is when he came to the police station.’
‘Yes, the last thing he expected was to be locked up.’
‘Any previous convictions?’
‘No, he’s of good character, works twelve-hour shifts, seven till seven at the dye works.’
‘So, what’s your initial thoughts now you’ve spoken to him?’
Raj raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, there’s no doubt he’s genuinely very upset.’ She stopped and grimaced. ‘But, we’ve seen it all before and they could be crocodile tears. It’s too soon to tell.’
‘What do you think, Andy?’
‘We haven’t got under his ribs yet. Once we start asking searching questions, who knows? We might see another side of him.’
Dylan sighed. ‘You’re going into a second interview shortly and I’m considering the storage of the exhibits.’ He raised a pointed finger. ‘One, we have to consider the items seized from the area where she was found as the dump site and two, other items seized from the flat. We must avoid any chance of contamination, thereby negating the inference at a future court case.’
The phone was ringing in the outside office, as if someone was refusing to accept that there was nobody there to take the call. Raj stood, opened the office door and headed towards it. ‘I’ll put whoever it is out of their misery, shall I?’ she said to Ned who removed his headphones at her hurried appearance from the boss’s office and threw his arms in the air.
‘What?’ he cried.
Raj scowled at him as she proceeded to pick up. ‘Make yourself useful and put the kettle on,’ she snapped.
Ned slid off his chair and dragged his feet across the floor, hoisting his baggy trousers up by the belt. He mumbled through his teeth. ‘I’m supposed to be listening to the transcript… Put a broom up my arse and I’ll sweep up on my way…’
Raj was sat back in Dylan’s office when Ned brought in the coffee. ‘Julie Dixon’s car has been located at Ogden, I’ve just been told,’ she said. ‘To all intents and purposes it appears to have been driven nose first into the reservoir. But, as luck would have it, it’s only two-thirds submerged and the rear end of the car, I am told, is visible and facing skywards. If it was someone’s intention to sink it fully, they’ve failed miserably.’
Dylan stood and whipped a cup from the tray Ned was holding. He took a mouthful of the hot beverage and grimaced at its bitterness. ‘Ned, get your coat,’ he said, swallowing hard. ‘We’re off fishing.’
Ned pulled a face but unquestioningly he put the tray down on Dylan’s desk and left the room.
Dylan turned to Raj and Andy. ‘At least the vehicle isn’t a burnt-out shell. Are uniform in attendance?’
Raj nodded. ‘Stoneywood Motors have been called to recover it, and officers from the Marine Unit are on en route.’
Dylan put on his suit jacket and shrugged an arm into his all-weather overcoat. ‘Ned,’ he shouted, seeing him talking to the typist. ‘Get a move on!’ Dylan scowled as he walked past Ned’s desk in the CID office, where the DC was now exchanging arrangements for a drink after work.
‘You’ll need your weatherproofs,’ Dylan said, his face like stone. ‘I’ll see you at the car.’
As Ned leaned in to whisper in the typist’s ear he turned towards Dylan and lifted his chin by way of acknowledgement. A few minutes later the DC emerged from the CID office door smiling broadly and carrying a lightweight jacket stuffed under his arm. Dylan shook his head, started the car engine and rolled the vehicle alongside Ned who had stopped apparently to answer his mobile phone. ‘Get in,’ he said abruptly. The detective constable did as he was told and pocketed his phone. With a nod of his head Dylan pointed at his cotton jacket. ‘What the hell’s that, and where’s your boots?’
