Steven Dunne - Deity

Next Brook skimmed the forensic report on Kirk. His body had been in the water for eighteen to twenty days. But even with an approximate timeframe for the dumping of the body, they were struggling to identify any suspects at the site.

The few staff who worked at the sole security gate to the vast gravel pit road system had been interviewed. All were longtime employees and in the clear. Also, all the trucks and lorries captured on the only CCTV camera at the site over the last month had all been present on legitimate business, and although a couple of drivers had minor records, they too were beyond suspicion, according to their tachographs. The probe into ex-employees had also produced nothing thus far.

The list of anglers given to Noble by the man who reeled in Barry Kirk’s remains had not rung any alarm bells either. All were solid citizens with nothing more than parking tickets to their names.

Brook sent a text to Noble about the possible abduction of another vagrant and asked him to hunt up any possible CCTV around the Leopold Street squat then walked wearily out to the car park, tossing the bin bag in his boot. He cranked the heating up high and sped back to Hartington through the deserted roads.

After a hot bath and shave he staggered up to his bedroom and collapsed on to the soft bed, for once sleeping through until noon without moving a muscle.

The man switched off the headlights long before reaching the turn on to the overgrown drive and a few moments later glided to a halt near the black outline of the furthest building on the complex. He killed the engine and clambered out to unload his supply of jars and tools from the passenger seat.

Looking about the pitch-black site as he walked silently but purposefully towards the heavy timbered doors at one end of the building, the man smiled in contentment. The gods favoured him. Nut, the Goddess of the Sky, had sent a canopy of clouds to cover his arrival. With the nearest artificial light a quarter of a mile away on the estate, no one would know he was there. Kids would sometimes roam by in daylight, but without windows to smash, they rarely lingered long enough to discover his lair. Besides, the building was on the edge of the countryside, with only a ploughed field between the derelict buildings and the river. The off-licences, pubs and shops that kids loved to hang around were in the opposite direction.

The man put down his load in front of the boarded doorway and felt behind one of the large shrubs growing out of control off to one side. He pulled out a small aluminium stepladder, with its camouflage of green radiator paint, set it against the right-hand doorjamb and climbed level to the swallow’s nest wedged between the doorjamb and the wall. With a final look round, he put his hand inside an aperture behind the nest and pulled on a lever. A loud click sounded and the large timbered door on the right shifted slightly.

He jumped down from the ladder and returned to his vehicle to fetch his human cargo.

Brook reached his office just before two o’clock in the afternoon. With him he carried two bacon sandwiches and a polystyrene cup of tea. He finished the first sandwich while writing the report on his encounter with Phil Ward. He was unwrapping the second as Noble walked in.

‘Welcome back to the land of the living. How was it?’

Brook smiled without humour. ‘It was terrible. Don’t ever let anyone tell you the homeless are having it easy. I’m not one for soft living, but after one night. .’ He shook his head. ‘And if I ever suggest doing something similar in the future, John, I want you to have me sectioned.’

‘What, again?’

Brook eyed him in mock censure and bit down on his sandwich. ‘Forget I said anything. Where are we on McTiernan and Kirk?’

‘It’s going nowhere. Still no useful feedback from any funeral homes or medical schools. Same answer from local hospices. No missing bodies. No suspicious employees. Nothing.’

‘What about Jock?’

Noble shrugged. ‘I could put out an alert, but without a photo and even a real name. .’

‘Any film?’

‘There are no CCTV cameras on Leopold Street. Jane’s going to sift through any film for the Normanton area between two and three this morning.’

Brook took another bite. ‘We might have to take the inquiry up a notch if we want to shake something out.’

‘Charlton won’t buy into that.’

‘Probably not.’

‘So the tip about the squat panned out.’

‘I think so. The place is being used as a body farm, John. Tommy McTiernan and Barry Kirk were there. Somebody’s supplying lots of drink to keep a stock of vagrants in one place. There was a case of whisky. Barley wine too. I just missed Jock’s abduction.’

‘You didn’t actually see it happen then?’

Brook looked up. ‘No.’ Before Noble could comment, he held up a hand. ‘I know, I know. He’s a vagrant. He could’ve just wandered off. But somebody turned up to deliver alcohol in the early hours of the morning and I don’t see an alcoholic tramp wandering away from that.’

‘Maybe,’ said Noble. ‘You should brief Jane. She’s working The Embalmer solo for now.’

Brook paused over his next bite. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s your other case. It’s pretty labour intensive. Me, Rob and Dave have been-’

‘Other case? What are you talking about?’

‘The missing students from Derby College,’ explained Noble. Brook narrowed his eyes in confusion. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘I’ve been living rough for the best part of three days, John. How would I know?’

‘Well, you’re logged as the SIO.’

‘I’m what!’ exclaimed Brook.

‘You were there at initial contact with the parent. You even took charge of a piece of evidence, so Sergeant Grey put you down as Senior Officer.’

Brook stared into the distance and closed his eyes. ‘Deity.’ He opened them again and pulled out the leaflet left by Alice Kennedy. He handed it to Noble. ‘I just picked it up. I forgot all about it. Grey — that sneaky. .’ Brook omitted the noun he wanted to use. ‘That’s just great.’

‘Live Forever. Young. Beautiful. Immortal ,’ read Noble. ‘Nice idea. This was at the parents’ house, right?’

Brook nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. ‘The mother. .’ He looked up to Noble for a prompt.

‘Alice Kennedy.’

‘She found it in her son’s room — didn’t she?’

‘She did.’

‘That’ll teach me to take an interest.’

Noble typed the Deity web address into Brook’s computer. ‘Closed for refurbishment.’

‘Same as last time.’ Brooks sighed. ‘So The Embalmer. .’

‘Sir, the Chief Super was very clear. As it’s not a murder case, Jane’s flying it solo at the moment.’

Brook shook his head in frustration. ‘I read the Kirk Forensics note. No other developments?’

‘That’s it. It looks the same MO as McTiernan. There are traces of make-up on the loincloth. The fabric is Egyptian cotton — identical to the cloth we found in the Derwent.’

‘Egyptian cotton,’ repeated Brook.

‘It’s pretty common. You think it’s significant?’

‘Who knows? What else?’

‘The rest you know. The heart was chronically diseased — it was removed then put back; the rest of the organs and the large intestine were gone and the blood drained. There was the same stitching on the gash in his side. His remaining hair looked like it had been cut — it’s hard to tell. What fingernails Kirk had left were tidy and might have been clipped but they can’t tell if the body was cleaned after so long in the water.’ Noble shrugged.

‘And still no COD?’

‘The lab’s working on it. It’s tricky with an even longer immersion.’