Stephen Booth - Dying to Sin

‘And Victim … I mean, the second woman?’ said Fry.

‘We can’t be sure, Sergeant. Completely skeletalized remains, and the absence of a skull — well, I’m sorry, but …’

‘OK.’

‘Now, age. By the time a person reaches the age of twenty, most bone growth is complete, the epiphyses are united and most teeth are fully calcified. So we look at several different structures: skull sutures, clavicles, pelvis.’

Jamieson presented another series of photographs on the screen.

‘In Victim A, the bones of the pelvis were dense and smooth, with a marked absence of grain; the bones of a mature but young woman. Her clavicles had not fully matured, and the basilar structure in the skull was only partly fused, an indicator that she was not yet twenty-five. Factoring all the indicators together, I’m confident that Victim A was somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. Victim B is a little older, fully matured. Without the skull, it’s difficult, but I’d say between twenty-five and thirty.’

‘Height, Doctor?’

‘To estimate height, we turn to bone measurements and regression equations.’ He seemed to sense the shuffling and muttering. ‘Yes, I know it sounds like scientific jargon. What it means is that we can predict stature from the length of the femur, for example. Multiply by one number, add another, and bingo. For Victim A, length of the left femur is forty-four centimetres. Using the stature calculation formulas, we estimate she stood between five feet one and a half inches and five feet four and a half.’

A few officers were at least making notes, having detected some facts in the doctor’s presentation.

‘And the skeleton?’ someone asked.

‘Yes, Victim B. You’d think we could just lay a skeleton out and measure it to get the victim’s height. But cartilage decays and shrinks after death, sometimes by several inches. In Victim B’s case, the femur is forty-eight centimetres, giving a height of between five feet six and a half inches and five feet nine and a half inches.’

‘How accurate are these ages and measurements, Doctor?’

‘I’m confident the estimates are accurate, within the parameters I’ve given you. But I’d like to urge the police officers present to be careful with their missing person reports when trying to make a match. Don’t assume any degree of accuracy there.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, a lot of people don’t actually know how tall they are. Or they lie about it. Some would like to be a few inches taller, others a bit less tall. And of course, they don’t realize that their height changes when they age, so they can be giving the wrong height for themselves for years without knowing it. Besides, if you’re looking at a missing person report, ask yourself who provided the information? A spouse, a friend? Some of those figures could just be a wild guess.’

Jamieson took advantage of the silence he’d created to press on hurriedly with his final point.

‘And how long have the remains been buried, you’ll ask me. Well, an unembalmed adult body buried unprotected in ordinary soil will normally take ten to twelve years to decompose down to a skeleton. Burial depth and soil temperature might vary the decomposition rate. A body in air decomposes eight times faster than when buried.’ He looked up from his laptop. ‘Like Detective Constable Cooper’s dead sheep.’

Gavin Murfin laughed, but no one else seemed to understand the joke. The anthropologist moved on rapidly.

‘When bodies are exposed to cool, moist soil, the soft tissues can decay quite slowly and turn into adipocere. Adipocere is a soapy, greasy substance that forms when body fat decomposes in a damp environment. It’s sometimes called grave wax. Adipocere is the cheesy greyish-white mass you can see in this photograph.’

Yes, they could see it quite clearly on the photographs. Some of the officers looked away for a moment, but forced themselves to turn back. Jamieson left the most revolting photograph on screen while he finished off.

‘Adipocere inhibits putrefying bacteria, so when a body reaches this state of decomposition it might stay that way for several years before it decomposes any further. There was a large quantity of adipocere beneath the chest and abdominal regions in the case of Victim A. So I would say you have the cold, wet soil of Rakedale to thank for the relatively intact condition of this body. If I might offer a very non-scientific comment, it’s almost as though Victim A has been waiting in her half-decomposed state for someone to find her.’

Jamieson smiled as he diverged from his professional approach for a moment. He waited for comments, but none came.

‘Finally, then,’ he said. ‘There was no sign of trauma on either victim — no fractures, cut marks, or signs of perimortem damage on any of the bones we’ve recovered. But we don’t have every bone for Victim B. As we’ve already mentioned, there is no skull. And, before any of us run away with assumptions, I should mention that it’s very common for the head to come off when a body disarticulates. With the skull, we have one of the heaviest parts of the skeletal structure, supported by one of the most fragile.’

The anthropologist finished with a flourish, closing his laptop and waving his arms in a graphic gesture.

‘To put it plainly, ladies and gentlemen, if you left a body out on a slope to decompose — the head might just roll away.’

Cooper had been considering the anthropologist’s presentation as the rest of the team dispersed and went about their tasks for the day.

‘Diane, do you think we could analyse the chemical content of the bones to get an angle on her origins?’ he said. ‘I’ve heard that it’s possible.’

‘You know we don’t have facilities for anything like that, Ben.’

‘But the FSS might. Or a university somewhere.’

‘It would take months and months. And besides — ’

‘- it would cost a lot of money. I know.’

‘Think budgets, Ben. The fact is, this will probably remain an unsolved case.’

‘No. You’re joking.’

‘If there were any leads at all, any sure indication of a cause of death that suggested murder, or even a confirmed ID that we could work with … But, as it is, we have nothing. We could faff around here for months and still have nothing.’

‘We can’t just leave it, with these two women unidentified.’

‘We might have to,’ said Fry.

‘No.’

‘Look, how many cases have you got on your desk at the moment, Ben?’

‘Well …’

‘Five, six? A dozen? Wouldn’t you stand more chance of getting results if you spent your time on some of those? I bet there are people shouting for statements and case files.’

‘Yes, there are. There always are. You know that.’

‘Well, then.’

Cooper was silent. He could see that Fry thought she’d won the argument by sheer, unassailable logic. Budgets, and case loads. Who could argue with those? It wouldn’t be prudent to say what he was thinking right now.

Half an hour later, Gavin Murfin was able to spring a surprise on his colleagues in the CID room.

‘By the way,’ he said. ‘I see Derek Sutton had a criminal record. I found him on the PNC.’

Fry sat up with sudden interest. ‘Oh?’

‘Illegal fuel. He was using laundered red diesel.’

‘A typical rural crime.’

Cooper walked over to Murfin’s desk and looked at the file.

‘A prosecution was brought against Derek Sutton by HM Customs and Excise, following a spot check at the cattle market in Ashbourne. A hefty fine. That was an expensive day out for him.’

Red diesel was normally used in farm machinery, and it was illegal to use it in road vehicles, because it wasn’t taxed. To evade detection, the more enterprising removed the red dye, producing what was called laundered diesel. The Customs and Excise checks would show that up. But Sutton had only been charged with use, not with laundering. He must have known of a source somewhere. Probably everyone did.