Simon Beckett - The Scent of Death

‘Perhaps whoever built it didn’t think that far ahead. Or they might have assumed the remains wouldn’t survive the demolition.’ I said. They probably wouldn’t have. Even the bones would have been pulverized, and the chances of anything being spotted among tons of debris were remote.

‘True,’ Parekh conceded. ‘But why bother building the wall in the first place? A place as big as this, there’s no shortage of hiding places. It’d have been much easier to bury them somewhere in the grounds. Or conceal them in the loft like the other victim.’

I’d been thinking the same thing. The woods behind the hospital would have made a convenient burial ground.

‘Perhaps whoever killed them didn’t want to risk being picked up by CCTV,’ I suggested. The cameras were dummies but they wouldn’t have known that. ‘And it’s still possible these two victims aren’t connected to the woman’s body in the loft.’

Parekh gave me an admonishing smile. ‘Now you’re playing devil’s advocate. They were all interred. Two people walled up, quite possibly while they were still alive, and I understand the woman had been locked in the loft. And then there was that empty third bed. That looked to me as though it was meant for somebody.’

I thought about the splashes on the wooden stairs leading up to the loft, the possibility that the pregnant woman had fled in there to hide from some pursuer. But that was still just speculation at this stage.

‘Dr Hunter.’

I looked round. Whelan had been talking to a police officer who’d arrived a few moments ago. He glanced in my direction as they spoke, then came over.

‘DCI Ward’s waiting for you downstairs.’

‘She wants to talk now?’ I looked back through the hole in the breezeblock wall. Light now came from inside, and SOCOs were busy videoing and taking photographs while the ceiling props were put in place. It wouldn’t be much longer before we could go back inside.

‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

Whelan’s face gave nothing away, but I was starting to have a bad feeling about this.

‘Don’t be long,’ Parekh instructed as I left. ‘I don’t like being kept waiting.’

The floodlit corridor seemed a longer walk than usual as I made my way downstairs. After the perpetual night inside the hospital, the bright sunlight outside came as a surprise. Blinking, I looked around for Ward. She was standing by one of the trailers, talking to the Crime Scene Manager. As I headed over I noticed several dark grey vans parked at the bottom of the steps. They were sleek and new, with a discreet logo on their sides showing a stylized DNA molecule’s double helix with the name BioGen . Underneath, in smaller lettering, it read Biological and Forensic Services .

‘Dr Hunter?’

A smartly dressed man in a navy suit and tie was coming towards me. He looked familiar, and then I remembered seeing him at St Jude’s with his entourage on the night Conrad had fallen through the loft. He wasn’t so grim-faced now, fit-looking and in his late forties, with the easy walk and confidence of a natural athlete. The fair hair was impeccably cut and his face was so closely shaved it looked chiselled. A strong smell of cologne came off him. Not excessive, just pungent.

‘We’ve not met, but I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Commander Ainsley,’ he said, extending his hand.

He had a firm grip that stopped barely the right side of a challenge. As we shook I wondered what had brought such rarefied company all the way out to St Jude’s. In the Metropolitan Police’s unique structure, Commander came between Chief Superintendent and Deputy Assistant Commissioner. That put him several ranks above Ward’s DCI. The investigation was evidently attracting the Met’s big guns.

‘I wanted to thank you personally for helping Professor Conrad,’ he said with a brisk, professional smile. His teeth were straight and white, and he had disconcertingly blue eyes. ‘It was a bad situation that could easily have been a lot worse. Well done.’

I nodded, a little bemused. I wasn’t used to being thanked by high-ranking police officers. ‘How is he?’

‘As well as can be expected.’ The blandness of the answer made me wonder if he knew. From the corner of my eye I saw Ward look across and hurriedly detach herself from her conversation with the CSM. ‘I’m surprised to find you still here rather than at the mortuary. When’s the post-mortem scheduled for the loft victim?’

‘Not till tomorrow morning.’ I was about to add that I still had two more victims to help recover, but some instinct stopped me.

‘Well, I’m glad of the opportunity to say hello. I hope you understand why we decided to bring in a private forensic service provider, by the way,’ he said glancing over at the vans. ‘BioGen have an excellent reputation, and first-class people, by all accounts.’

I was still wondering how to respond when Ward reached us. She was out of breath from hurrying and I saw her cheeks colour as she overheard her superior.

‘Ah, Sharon. I was just saying how much we’ve appreciated Dr Hunter’s contribution.’ Ainsley turned to me. I realized that it wasn’t just the colour of his eyes that was disconcerting. Until he blinked, his eyelids left the whole of his iris visible, like bright blue marbles. It gave his stare a doll-like, slightly manic quality. ‘Perhaps you should consider a move into the private sector yourself. I’m sure there’d be plenty of openings for someone of your experience.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I said, looking at Ward.

‘Good man. I’m sure Sharon can arrange an introduction to BioGen’s CEO?’

He raised his eyebrows, making it a question. Ward kept her face studiedly neutral. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Excellent. Well, good to meet you, Dr Hunter. I’ll look forward to reading your report. I’m going to be taking a personal interest in this inquiry. Back seat, of course,’ he added with a brief nod at Ward.

He shook my hand again before he left. I watched him go, striding confidently across the car park towards the grey vans.

‘I was going to tell you,’ Ward said quickly, as soon as he was out of earshot.

‘You’re bringing in a private forensic company?’ It was only now starting to sink in. No wonder Whelan had wanted me out of the way.

‘Only for the victims we found walled up. You aren’t being fired, we still want you to work on the original inquiry. But until we know whether or not there’s a connection between the woman in the loft and these new victims, it makes sense to treat them separately.’

I looked at the vans with the BioGen logo. ‘What if they aren’t separate?’

‘Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ She sighed. ‘Look, for the record, it wasn’t my idea. The decision was made above my pay grade, but I don’t disagree with it. The investigation’s literally tripled in size and we’re faced with an entire hospital as a potential crime scene. And after Conrad’s accident there’s a lot of nervousness. Using a company that can handle all the lab work as well as providing technical and forensic support means there’s one less thing to worry about.’

I was beginning to understand what a Met Commander like Ainsley was doing at St Jude’s. Although Ward’s first outing as Senior Investigating Officer had started out as a routine inquiry, it was now something very different. Her superiors were understandably nervous, but having a high-ranking police officer looking over her shoulder was hardly going to help her confidence. Or ease the pressure.

‘I haven’t heard of BioGen,’ I said. I still wasn’t happy, but I knew the argument was already lost.

‘They’d heard of you. Said all sorts of nice things, but they still weren’t happy about keeping you on.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I didn’t see why they should have it all their own way, though.’