Bill Franks - Jesuit

This was Wendy’s seventh lesson and she was beginning to really enjoy it. She had reached the stage where Mackay felt confident enough to let her take control and she revelled in completing new manoeuvres.

From the unit at Heathrow, they were now skimming over the Thames Valley area, the panoramic view bringing a lasting joy to both. The sun was just making it’s presence felt, at eight-fifteen in the morning, and the ground below was beginning to show increasing signs of life.

Automatically leaning to one side as she caused the craft to execute a wide turn, Wendy spotted something below. At first, she wasn’t sure of what she had seen, even if she had seen anything at all. She made another turn, throttling back a little and searching below, between glances at the complex instrument panel. MacKay remained silent but he, too, began to look at the ground, realising that his companion was looking for something.

“Ah! There!” she gasped. “Something in the middle of that patch. See it?” Mackay had to stretch his body upwards to look past Travilcock’s figure and then he spotted it. “That’s a body,” he said with unarguable certainty.

The WPC righted the helicopter and stole a quick glance at her instructor. “How can you be so sure?” she asked, surprised.

“Experience, Travilcock. Experience.” He smiled thinly. “I have been on so many searches and found so many bodies in the past, that I have come to recognise one when I see it.” MacKay was on the radio, contacting base as he spoke.

A little more than an hour later, Sampler, Miller and the pathologist, Doctor Sallie Dunning, were speeding their way to the scene, directed by the helicopter as it hovered over the spot. Sallie was half a mile behind the detectives and in front of the forensic team, who were just assembling back at New Scotland Yard.

Nearing the spot, Sampler parked his car and the two made their way through the bushes toward the clearing. Both men were thinking the same: the area was so similar to the others, apart from the first, where the young Kylie Johnson was found, that being an open field in plain view of any passer-by.

Great care was taken on the approach, every branch and every piece of ground being inspected before moving on. They did not want to spoil any evidence that may interest forensics. Minutes passed and then they were there. The clearing came upon them suddenly and both men stopped at the edge of the bushes through which they had come, surveying the scene. As almost expected, their gaze fell on a peaceful sight; a woman lying in repose, clothes more or less undisturbed, no signs of struggle and no signs of footmarks in the sturdy grass. They moved forward, again very carefully, with Sampler taking the lead.

He reached the body and studied the face, slightly contorted with the struggle against whatever poison, for he was sure it waspoison that had killed her. No doubt a large dosage. This appeared to be a woman in her early forties, still carrying a smoothness of skin and probably a bloom to her cheeks in life, neatly dressed. It occurred to Graham that she might have come out here on a date. The face bore signs of carefully applied makeup, but the lipstick had become smudged and faded around the mouth, giving the impression, correctly, that it had indulged in some amount of kissing prior to death. That would mean DNA being in evidence. As before, the DNA would need to be matched with that already found, and match, it would.

“Ah! There it is!” he muttered.

“What is?” asked his colleague, who was walking slowly around the victim, keeping a distance of three feet or so.

“The bunch of feathers.” Pointing. “There half hidden beneath her left thigh.” That was the clincher. The men exchanged knowing glances. It was the work of their man again.

At that moment, Dunning broke through, brushing away debris that had clung to her on her path to the scene. Walking up to Graham, she gave him a sweet smile, said hello to both men and announced that she would wait for forensics before carrying out her inspection.

The three came together and stood awaiting the arrival of the men in white polypropylene suits. Sallie chatted about her morning; how she had got up late, not oversleeping, simply too cosy to get up. She laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound, as she shook her hair away from her face. The small movement and sound inexplicably caused Graham’s heart to flutter. He looked at Sallie, his glance remaining that little bit too long.

She looked quickly at him and then she, too, lingered on the experienced face of the Detective Inspector. A tiny electrical impulse crackled silently between the pair, and Sallie’s eyes took on a darker hue. Their heads moved almost imperceptibly to each other, ready to make the inevitable kiss. Then, as one, they realised the point they had reached and both took a small step backwards as though recoiling from some unwanted experience. Even so, Graham’s eyes swept down the woman’s body appreciatively, his thoughts becoming instantly lustful. Sallie recognised the expression and accepted it with another warm smile.

Quick to react to the developing situation, one that had become clear to him, Clive stepped between the two as naturally as he could, mentioning the helicopter as a means of breaking the spell. “Look, Graham, the ‘copter’s on its way now.”

The move succeeded as the couple looked skywards and waved at the disappearing machine. A noise behind them heralded the team of forensic officers. They moved into the clearing suitably dressed for the work, little plastic bags, gloves and tweezers at the ready, expertly seeking any disturbance to the area, bending to pick some object up and seal it in the bag, at the same time marking the date, time, object and it’s location. The initials of the officer were then added. Without a word they carried out their task, gently easing the three onlookers aside as they moved to the corpse.

The whole inspection by the forensic team took up a full hour before they left the immediate area where the body lay and retraced their steps back to the undergrowth, checking again as they went.

Sallie, now becoming impatient, moved to the lifeless form of Mary Stewart and began her examination. Speaking in a low voice into the tiny recorder that she always carried on such missions, she recorded every detail: the position of the body, the surrounding area, the lack of signs of a struggle, every mark, scar and pimple on the body, as she carefully removed parts of clothing to afford a clearer view, gently replacing them as they originally were. It was clear that sex had taken place but to what extent would be a matter for the pathology room inspection later. Rising, she answered Sampler’s unasked question. “I would say that death was caused by some form of poisoning and that it occurred approximately twenty-four hours ago. I’ll know better when we get her to the lab.”

The woman once again bewitched Sampler as she turned to face him, the seriousness of the job showing on her face. His breath stopped for seconds as his heart tightened in his chest, his lips becoming dry.

Sallie recognised again the interest, and she broke into a smile, enjoying this unexpected command of the rugged detective. He was very attractive to her, she had always felt that, viewing him from an office environment but she had never allowed the feeling to develop, knowing him to be happily married man who had never shown any previous signs of interest in her. Indeed their paths had not previously crossed, she never being around on Graham’s visits to the laboratory.

Now, however, amidst the horror of a murder, with the body lying cold less than two feet from her, she warmed to the tingling that had begun. She moved past the two men, making sure that her body brushed against Sampler on the way. “I’ll see you at the laboratory later, if that’s okay,” she called over her shoulder.