Steven Dunne - Deity

‘Actually, not so good.’ Brook groped for a chair and lowered himself gingerly into it.

Charlton narrowed his eyes. ‘You took a heavy blow. Maybe it’s concussion.’

‘I’ll be okay.’

‘You’d better sit this one out. That bandage would be a distraction. Get some rest. DS Noble, fancy a bit of the lime-light?’ Noble’s ashen face told its own story but he managed to smile weakly. ‘Good.’ Charlton made to leave.

‘Sir?’ said Brook. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘I’m listening.’

‘In private.’

Charlton looked at his watch. ‘My office in half an hour,’ he said as he left.

‘Are you well enough to hear about Yvette Thomson, sir?’ said Noble sarcastically, brandishing a wad of papers.

Brook smiled. ‘I’ll try to stay conscious.’

‘Bad news, sir. She’s Welsh.’ Brook raised a disapproving eyebrow at Noble. ‘Born 1978 so she’s thirty-three years old, originally from St Asaph in North Wales. It’s near Rhyl, if that helps at all. She was an orphan from the age of nine, when her mother died of an overdose of painkillers in 1987.’

Brook nodded. ‘An orphan. Of course.’ Noble looked bemused. ‘She seems. . needy,’ Brook explained. ‘How long did she spend there?’

‘The next seven years — St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls — an orphanage in all but name. In 1993 Yvette had a baby — Russell. Her only child. No record of the father. Mother and child stayed at the orphanage until she left in 1994 to move to Chester.’

‘She was only fifteen when she gave birth?’

‘Older than many,’ said Noble.

‘And they didn’t take the baby from her?’

‘And do what?’ asked Noble. ‘Put it in an orphanage?’

Brook conceded with a shrug. ‘It’s still odd. Social Services would normally intervene; maybe put the child up for adoption. Ever married?’

‘No. And she seems to have survived on benefits for most of her life. There’s no record of any employment until she’s twenty when she moves and becomes a teaching assistant at a primary school in Whitchurch, in 1998, just over the border in Shropshire. The following year, she moves to Uttoxeter. She’s jobless and again surviving on benefits. In 2003, when Russell was ten, she returned to North Wales where she moved around at regular intervals — hardly a settled life. Six months ago, she and Russell turn up in Derby where Russell was enrolled at Derby College.’

‘What about the rumours of bullying?’

‘I’m still waiting to hear from some of the schools, but two that responded say Russell wasn’t with them long but he was very impressionable and he was bullied. They stopped short of saying that’s why Russell was taken out of their schools. But reading between the lines. .’

Brook nodded. ‘No wonder it was hard to hold down a job. Any other employment?’

‘Nothing. But she might have done casual work,’ said Noble.

‘She mentioned bar work.’

‘I spoke to Rifkind. He didn’t know the details about the last move but he’d heard there’d been some kind of cyberbullying.’

‘Cyber-bullying?’

‘It’s using social network-’

‘I know what it is, John. But didn’t Cooper say Russell and the others unsubscribed from Facebook on the day of the party?’

‘So?’

‘So why would Russell even have a Facebook account if he’d been bullied online?’

Noble shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

Brook sighed. ‘Okay. I’m meeting Terri in the car park in forty minutes. Text me Jake McKenzie’s address, John. I’ll meet you there at eight tomorrow morning. He and this Wilson Woodrow are overdue a visit.’

Noble picked up a clear plastic bag from the floor. ‘You said you wanted these books of Adele’s. They’ve been processed.’

‘Anything?’

‘A few handwritten notes in the texts. Nothing jumped out.’

‘Okay. What’s that?’ asked Brook, nodding at a second bag.

‘Russell Thomson’s computer. We’re so stretched we haven’t assigned a FLO to return it to Miss Thomson yet.’

Brook picked up the bag. ‘It’s on my way. I’ll take it. Speaking of liaison, you’d better get someone round to Fred Blake’s house in case they don’t know about Becky’s striptease yet. They ought to hear about it from us before they see it on the news.’

Brook’s mobile vibrated. It was Dr Petty. Noble pointed towards the door and left the office.

‘Inspector, I hope you don’t mind me ringing, but you didn’t reply to my email.’

‘Your email?’ Brook set down the various bags on a desk and quickly logged on to his internal email account. ‘I’ve not had a lot of time to reply,’ he said, trying to stall. When the screen filled with unopened emails, Brook scanned down the list. He found a day-old reply from Dr Petty to his enquiry about Egypt and opened it.

Dear Damen,

Egypt does indeed come under ancient anatomy. And they were one of the first civilisations to embalm their dead. I was on a similar wavelength so I’d already done some digging — no pun intended. There was a tradition of removing the brain through the nostrils when preparing the dead for the afterlife. I can’t find a name for the tool though.

AnnP

Her mobile phone number was prominent. ‘Ye-es,’ he said. ‘I’ve read it. Very helpful.’

‘It gets better. I’ve looked through three or four websites. Egyptian burial rites changed many times over the centuries but they all agree that to aid preservation of the bodies, all the organs were removed and placed in a large earthenware jar with a lid, called a canopic jar, and placed at the foot of the embalmed body. The interesting thing is the organs were removed via an incision in the left side, just like McTiernan and Kirk. But here’s the best part. The priests in charge of the procedure would then put the heart back because they believed it contained the soul, which the deceased would need for the afterlife.’

‘That is interesting,’ said Brook. ‘Anything else?’

‘That’s it for now.’

Brook put down his pencil, not sure how to end the conversation. ‘I owe you one.’

‘Really? I hear Darley’s does good food.’

‘I’d like to be put back in charge of The Embalmer case, sir. DS Noble can handle the missing students.’

‘Think DS Gadd’s out of her depth?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then why?’

‘I should’ve thought that was obvious, sir. We’ve got two mutilated bodies and two more missing, probably facing the same fate.’

‘Two vagrants who died of alcohol poisoning, Inspector. Occupational hazard.’

‘Sir, Phil Ward was taken last night. I saw it happen. He’s the first definite abduction and it’s likely the other three were the same. It’s unlikely these men are just dying around The Embalmer and it’s not a huge stretch to assume he’s hastening their deaths before he cuts them open.’

‘There’s still no evidence of that,’ retorted Charlton.

‘I’m also worried about escalation. Leopold Street is compromised. If he thinks his supply is being cut off. .’

‘You mean he might turn his attention to real people,’ nodded Charlton. ‘It did occur to me.’ His expression softened. ‘You’re right. Assault and abduction is a step up from stealing cadavers.’

‘So I’m back on the case?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Sir, these missing students. .’

‘. . are no longer just an internet sensation.’ Charlton picked up a pile of newspapers and dropped them on Brook’s lap. ‘ The Times , the Telegraph , the Guardian and, needless to say, all the tabloids have picked up the story. I’ve had BBC and ITN reporters ringing the Press Office about this afternoon’s Deity broadcast and likely they’ll be running with it tonight. So you see, it doesn’t matter if these kids are sunbathing in Wembley Stadium, Inspector. Until we find them and put this to bed, this is your priority.’