M. Arlidge - Pop Goes the Weasel

‘The day or my welcome back?’

‘Both.’

‘Ok actually. I made some decent progress on a case and the gang were pleased to see me. Helen was pretty much how I expected, but there’s nothing I can do about that, so…’

Charlie was relieved to see that Steve looked genuinely pleased for her. He had been so against the idea of returning to work that she was grateful now that he was trying his best to be positive and supportive.

‘Well done you. I told you you’d be great,’ he said, slipping his arm round her waist and giving her a congratulatory kiss.

‘First day back,’ Charlie replied, shrugging. ‘Long way to go yet.’

‘One step at a time, eh?’

Charlie nodded and they kissed again, a little deeper this time.

‘How much have you had?’ Steve continued, a little glint in his eye now.

‘Enough,’ replied Charlie, smiling. ‘You?’

‘Definitely enough,’ said Steve, suddenly sweeping her off the floor and into his arms. ‘Keep your head up. That banister’s a bastard.’

Smiling, Charlie let Steve carry her upstairs to the bedroom. They had always been a loving couple, but recently genuine intimacy had been absent from their relationship. Charlie was both exhilarated and relieved that they seemed to be recovering their old spontaneity and desire.

Perhaps everything was going to be all right after all.

‘You’re looking at a DIY thoracotomy.’

Jim Grieves savoured the last word, aware that it would mean little to Helen. It was 7 a.m. and they were alone in the police mortuary. Alan Matthews lay naked on the slab before them. They had already established that he had bled to death and they had now moved on to the removal of his heart.

‘This particular operation is not exactly textbook, but then again he or she was operating in less than optimum conditions. Their adrenalin would have been pumping, they would have been fearful of discovery and we shouldn’t forget that the victim was still alive when they started. Not exactly standard practice so, given that, it’s not a bad job.’

There was almost a note of admiration in his voice. Many would have chided him for this, but Helen let it go. Too much time in a mortuary does strange things to you and Jim was saner than most. He was also fiercely bright so Helen always paid attention to what he had to say.

‘First incision was made just below the sternum. A big blade, perhaps twenty centimetres in length. Then they cut through the ribs and breastbone. After that you’d usually use muscle retractors – rib-spreaders – to peel open the chest. But our killer used something more interesting. See those two puncture holes there?’

Helen craned over the body to look inside the chest cavity. There were two holes about fifty centimetres apart in the right flap of what had once been his chest.

‘They were made by some sort of hook. A butcher’s hook maybe? Two hooks embedded to the side of the main incision, then you just use brute force. They ripped open the right half first, then did the same again with the left side. Once the chest is open and the heart revealed, it’s simply a matter of cutting around the surrounding tissue and lifting it out. Bit of a hatchet job, but effective.’

Helen digested these macabre details.

‘So what are we talking? A butcher’s knife and a meat hook?’

‘Could be,’ Grieves replied, shrugging.

‘How long would it take?’

‘Ten to fifteen minutes depending on how experienced you are and how much care you take.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Your victim was immobilized with chloroform – found it in his nostrils and his mouth. Forensics are doing their work on it now, but I’d hazard that it was home-made. Any fool can make it with bleach, acetone and internet access.’

‘Any traces of our killer?’

Jim shook his head.

‘Looks like there was minimal contact between them. That said, your man has had a good deal of contact with others over the years.’

Jim paused as he always did when he had something good up his sleeve. Helen tensed slightly, eager to be put out of her misery.

‘There is plenty of evidence of STDs. Mr Matthews certainly suffered from gonorrhoea – recently, I would suggest. There’s also evidence of Mycoplasma genitalium, which sounds weird but actually is very common, and possibly pubic lice too. I wish I’d been a member of his church – sounds like a riot.’

He walked off to clean up. Helen let this latest development settle – the first little steer in an otherwise bewildering murder.

Back at Southampton Central, Helen continued her dissection of Alan Matthews. The team had assembled in the incident room and were pooling what they’d learned.

‘Forensics have pretty much come up with a complete blank,’ Tony Bridges announced bleakly. ‘They’ve been all over the car, but it hadn’t been moved or touched – only DNA there was of the Matthews family. As to the house, there are so many DNA traces at the murder scene, it’s easier to pinpoint who hasn’t been there. Semen, saliva, blood, skin cells, we’ve got the lot. This house was used regularly by sex workers and their clients, as well as by drug users. We’ll check them all out, see if there’s any interesting matches, but there’s nothing there that would be useful in court.’

‘Why use a house with such heavy footfall? Wouldn’t they have been scared of being discovered?’ interjected DC Sanderson.

‘It’s possible they weren’t aware of how frequently it was used,’ countered Tony, ‘though given the level of care and planning that went into this murder, that seems unlikely. In many ways it was a perfect location to choose – the back door was solid and bolted from the inside and the windows were barred, meaning the front door was the only easy means of access. The latch broke long ago, but there was still a solid bolt on the inside. Easy enough for the killer to secure the place once the victim was incapacitated.’

‘It still seems risky to me…’ Sanderson responded, not keen to let her point go.

‘It was,’ said Helen, taking the baton. ‘Which suggests what? That he or she expected the body to be found quickly perhaps? Or maybe the location was chosen simply to put the victim at his ease. There are no signs that Alan Matthews was dragged into that house against his will. Meaning this was an ambush. He had to be lured there. He suffered from STDs of a type indicating widespread sexual activity, so perhaps he spotted a hooker he liked or a pimp he knew, then followed them inside and bam! Maybe the house was chosen because they knew he’d feel at ease -’

‘We’ve had a good look at his computer,’ DC McAndrew broke in, ‘and there is plenty of evidence that Matthews had an unhealthy interest in pornography and prostitutes. He hasn’t been particularly careful at concealing his internet history, so we can see that he regularly visited porn sites – a lot of the free ones, but also some more extreme pay-per-view set-ups. He was also active in chat rooms and on message boards. We’re still looking into this but it’s basically a lot of sad bastards exchanging anecdotes about their experiences with various prostitutes, marking them out of ten for size of their boobs, what they’d do and so forth -’

‘They’re reviewing their hookers?’ Helen queried, mildly incredulous.

‘Basically. It’s a bit like TripAdvisor but for prostitutes. He also visited a lot of escort sites,’ McAndrew continued. ‘Though there’s no evidence yet that he actually used their services. Which might suggest that his tastes were a little more… earthy -’