Michael Fowler - Secret of the Dead

Hunter showed Dawn Leggate Jodie’s post-mortem photos, selecting those which focused on her arms. “I’d looked at them a couple of times and there was something I wasn’t happy with, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Since learning everything this morning, especially her stance on drug abuse, I gave them the once-over again and I’ve realised that there are no track-marks on her arms, or anywhere else on her body. The self-harm scars completely threw me.”

Then he flicked back to the sequence of images SOCO had taken of the premises. “Also there was something else bugging me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Twenty minutes ago that came to me as well when I looked back over the scene photos again.” He pointed out the shot depicting the long stretch of corridor which led towards the cellar. He gave her enough time to study it and then flipped to the next photograph, a close-up shot of the door to the cellar with its broken panel. “The foreman told me that they had to kick this in to get access. This door was fitted with a mortise lock. And I remembered that they told me that it was locked.” He scrutinised his boss’s face. She was hanging on to his every word. “The only key we found on Jodie was for this flat, and that’s a Yale make. While I’ve been waiting, I’ve managed to get hold of Duncan Wroe, he’s our Scenes of Crime manager, who went to the scene. He’s on his way here as we speak. He’s told me that they didn’t find any other key during their search. Also, the cellar where she was found was too clean to be a shooting den. Just look at the photograph which shows her slumped along the floor.” He thumbed to the next shot in the album. “All that’s around her is a couple of syringes, a couple of spoons and a few silver wraps. That’s it. I’ve been to a few of these dens in the past and there’s usually discarded drugs paraphernalia all over the place. That’s not all, there was no cigarette lighter or matches, either on her possession, or in the cellar. This was staged for our benefit.” He closed the evidence album. “She was never alone in that cellar. Someone else was there to heat up the heroin on the spoon before it was injected. And with that in mind, I’ve got back onto the builders at the site and spoken to the foreman. I’ve told them to stop what they’re doing so we can do a thorough forensics job and extend the search area. Thankfully, he says they’ve not touched the cellar since Jodie’s body was found.”

“Well, you seem to have got most bases covered. What about witnesses here?”

Hunter told her what Grace and Mike Sampson were doing.

“As I said, you seem to have got everything covered.” She checked her watch. “It’s just gone one o’clock. My guess is it will take SOCO a good hour or so to get sorted and a good few hours for Grace and Mike to get round the residents here to see if any of them witnessed anything, so I’m going to leave everything in your capable hands while I sort us out an incident suite. I’ll need to get onto the Coroner as well and fix up a second PM. I also need to bring in more resources. We’ve got a couple of detectives joining us from the Cold Case Team to help out with the Howson enquiry, so I’ll leave Grace and Mike with you doing the door-to-door, and I’ll get back and speak with Mr Robshaw and see who else I can purloin.” She glanced down at Jodie’s file and said. “Can I take this back with me so I’m up-to-date with everything and can get the incident board set-up?”

Sliding it from his grasp, she slapped the folder shut and tapped his chest with it. Then fixing him with her hazel eyes, she smiled and said, “Good job, Hunter,” before setting off back down the stairs.

Hunter was leaning over the balcony with his eyes glued to the front door. He was cold. He had been here almost two hours and the single radiator below him, in the hallway, appeared not to be working. It certainly wasn’t throwing out enough heat to reach him up here on the second floor. He cursed to himself as he shivered uncontrollably.

Then the front door opened with a jerk and Hunter jumped. He was confronted by the sight of Duncan Wroe, Scene of Crime Manager, struggling to get through the gap in the door. Using the side of one hip, he was doing his best to force the opening wider, while trying to squeeze through. He dragged through an aluminium equipment case, clipboard and his forensic clothing in laden hands and arms.

Stumbling into the hallway, he called out, “Where is everyone?”

“Up here Duncan,” Hunter responded, checking his watch, noting the time for his log: it was 1:55pm.

By the time Duncan had reached Hunter he was out of breath. He dropped his aluminium case onto the landing and pushed his free hand through his unruly mop of straw coloured hair.

Hunter greeted him. “You ought to exercise more.”

“I would if I got time. Some of us have real work to do, Detective Sergeant Kerr.”

Hunter laughed. “The same old Duncan. Never beaten for words.”

Duncan straightened his back. “What have you got for me then?”

Hunter reminded the SOCO Manager about his attendance and examination of the scene where Jodie Marie Jenkinson’s body had been discovered. Then he repeated what he had already told Detective Superintendent Dawn Leggate. “This is JJ’s bed-sit, Duncan. The only person I’m aware of who’s visited the place since her death is that guy who socked me one. No one’s stepped a foot inside the place since that happened.”

“Good.” The SOCO manager climbed into his white suit and picked up his case. “I noticed you’ve kept a sterile area down to the first landing. That’s good as well. Did you notice if the guy was wearing gloves or not?”

Hunter shook his head. “It all happened so fast. He was wearing a woollen hat and padded jacket. That’s all I had time to clock.”

“No problem. We’ll soon see once we start sprinkling the magic dust around.”

Duncan Wroe made towards Jodie’s door. Hunter fell in behind.

The SOCO Manager halted the landing side of the bed-sit and scanned the splintered lock area. “That wouldn’t have offered much resistance.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Who’s the exhibits officer?”

“Everything’s down to you and me at the moment Duncan. We’re a bit thin on the ground, what with the retired detective murder case that’s running, and we’ve also re-opened a cold case murder from nineteen-eighty-three that’s linked.”

“Yeah, I heard that.” Thrusting his case before him and using its front edge as leverage Duncan pushed the door open wider.

On tip-toes, Hunter looked over the Scenes of Crime Manager’s shoulder. It was his first opportunity to get a proper view inside Jodie’s room. It didn’t take him long — the space where Jodie had lived prior to her death was no bigger than ten-feet square.

It was a mess.

Not the type of mess one would associate with untidiness, Hunter thought, as he scanned the space. No, this place looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. The mattress from the single bed had been flipped over onto the floor, its duvet and pillow shredded. A set of double cupboards above a small sink and draining board were open, and judging by the debris over the floor its contents had been emptied. A single wardrobe had its doors wide open and various items of clothing littered the floor. A portable TV had been upended, and a large number of photographs, DVDs and CDs covered the threadbare carpet.

Duncan glanced back. “I think you’re onto something here Hunter. I would say this is no ordinary burglary. Someone was looking for something in particular.”

“Well I hope he didn’t find it.”

“We shall see, we shall see.” He turned and handed Hunter his clipboard. “I’m going to make a call back to the office. I’m going to need a hand here.”