Peter Turnbull: Aftermath

George Hennessey slowed as he approached the police patrol car, and as he did so the officer standing beside the vehicle drew himself up and stiffened into a near ‘at attention’ position and pointed to the driveway that was the approach to Bromyards. Hennessey turned into the drive-way and nodded in response to the officer’s salute. The driveway, Hennessey found, was long, probably a mile he guessed from the road to the house, and was being severely encroached upon by the vegetation at either side, so much so that he felt he was driving his car down a narrow tunnel of endless shrubbery. At the top, or the end of the driveway, the foliage gave way to an open gravel-covered courtyard within which police vehicles, a red Vauxhall, and two black, windowless mortuary department vans were parked. Also in the courtyard was a second unmarked car and a van belonging to the Scene of Crime Unit. Hennessey parked his car beside the mortuary vans and scowled at the drivers and drivers’ assistants of the vans who stood irreverently smoking cigarettes, and were chatting idly, commenting it seemed on articles printed in the day’s tabloid press. One of the men responded to Hennessey’s scowl by flicking his cigarette defiantly on to the ground and crushing it beneath his foot, all the while holding eye contact with Hennessey. Hennessey, not having any authority over the mortuary van crewmen, could only look away from them as he got out of his car, putting his jacket and panama hat on as he did so. He enquired of a white-shirted constable the whereabouts of DC Webster and, following the constable’s directions, walked slowly but with quiet confidence to the kitchen garden wherein he found Webster talking to a scene of crime officer, and as he approached he thought that both men appeared distinctly shaken. Webster smiled briefly at Hennessey as Hennessey approached him.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly, sir.’ Webster spoke quietly, calmly. ‘This is bad. It’s big and bad and one for you, sir.’

‘What do we have?’

‘So far. . so far we have five skeletons. Seem to my untrained eye to be exhibiting different rates of decomposition. One is completely skeletal; one still has tissue in evidence.’

‘Five?’ Hennessey raised an eyebrow. ‘So far?’

‘Yes, sir, so far.’ Webster glanced at the garden where three white-shirted constables were carefully probing the vegetation. ‘As you see, sir, the garden is badly overgrown. . a few more skeletons, or corpses may still be concealed but we’re moving carefully. . don’t want to damage the evidence.’

‘Yes. . a large area search. You don’t need more men?’

‘I think not, sir.’ Webster brushed a fly from his face. ‘Many hands might well make light work but in this case I think it is more true that too many cooks will spoil the broth.’

‘I see.’

‘It’s also the apparent case that all the bodies are localized within this area. . within these walls, eventually we’ll locate them and do so quite rapidly.’

‘So in this. . remnant of the kitchen garden? Not within the house or the grounds?’

‘They’ll be searched, of course, sir, but the gentleman who found them mentioned that the hinges of the garden door have been lubricated, uniquely in the house and grounds.’

‘I see,’ Hennessey watched a constable part the branches of a laurel bush, ‘that is a fair point.’ He turned again to Webster. ‘You look shaken, Webster. It’s not like you.’

‘I am, sir. It’s not just the skeletons; it’s the way that they were restrained.’

‘They were restrained?’

‘Yes, sir. . wrists chained together behind their backs and one of their ankles was attached to a long, heavy chain which ran the length of the garden, anchored certainly at this end in a block of concrete. They also seem to have remnants of some type of gag in their mouths.’

‘A gag,’ Hennessey gasped, ‘so suggesting they were alive when left here. . attached to a chain. .?’

‘Yes, sir. . in full view of the previous skeletons. . and left to succumb to thirst or cold. If left in the summer thirst would have taken them, if in winter hypothermia.’

‘Better show me.’ Hennessey followed Webster who led him to the skeleton which was closest to the door of the garden. ‘I’ve asked the pathologist to attend, sir,’ Webster explained, ‘no need for the police surgeon to confirm life extinct in the matter of corpses, as per regulations.’

‘Yes. . good.’

‘This is what I mean, sir.’ Webster stood over the skeleton of the human being. ‘The SOCO have taken all photographs.’

Hennessey looked at the corpse and as he did so, he noticed a silence about the scene, even the birds were silent. Hennessey saw instantly that the scene was exactly as Webster had described. The skeleton lay on its side with what appeared to be a length of rope fastened in its mouth tied behind the neck. The rope had largely rotted to the point of disintegration but it was a clear illustration of a simple but efficient gag. It was all that was needed to prevent the victim screaming or shouting for assistance. The wrists, as Webster had further indicated, were fastened closely together by a small length of lightweight chain and fastened with two small brass padlocks, and the left ankle had been fastened with a similar length of lightweight chain to a long length of heavy chain. The heavy chain would, by itself, be difficult to pull or drag along the ground but it was, as Webster had indicated, buried at one end and doubtless at the other end also, into large blocks of concrete. ‘Premeditated,’ he said.

‘Sir?’

‘The way the chain is embedded into the concrete. . it seems that the chain was covered with concrete powder when it was in a large plastic bucket and the concrete moistened and allowed to harden, but that amount of concrete would take weeks to harden. . or “cure” as I believe is the correct term.’

‘I see what you mean, sir, and it would seem like that was done here. .’

‘Yes, that’s what I was thinking. It would be much easier to transport two plastic buckets, some bags of cement, a length of chain and an amount of water and assemble the thing here. . bring a little at a time and take a few days over the operation. That is premeditation.’

‘It is, isn’t it, sir?’ Webster looked at the length of chain to where it disappeared into undergrowth, by then being probed by the three constables. ‘So the chain and the blocks of concrete were in place before the first victim was brought here?’

‘It seems likely. . and the skeletons are of different ages, you say?’ Hennessey considered the crime scene.

‘It appears so, sir. As you see it’s badly run down. The owner. . the last owner. . died recently.’

‘I see. Well, dead or not he is going to be our number one suspect.’

‘It would seem likely, sir, but frankly I doubt that will be the case, not after what Mr Seers told me.’

‘Mr Seers? Who is he?’

‘The member of the public who found the skeletons. . he saw three. . and raised the alarm. We subsequently discovered two further skeletons and at which point you arrived, sir.’

‘Very well,’ Hennessey brushed another fly away from his face. ‘Is he still here?’

‘Yes, sir, he is the owner of the red Vauxhall parked in front of the house.’

‘Yes, I noticed it. I’ll go and talk to him. If you would carry on here, please?’

‘Yes, sir.’

George Hennessey walked slowly from the kitchen garden to the front of the house where the motor vehicles were parked and where, as the day had matured, some element of shade was by then afforded. He identified the red Vauxhall and approached it calmly, smiling gently at the composed looking man who sat in the driver’s seat. ‘Mr Seers?’