Lynda La Plante - Above Suspicion

As Henson probed Melissa’s eyes, Anna’s view was obliterated. Without looking back, Henson addressed the room. ‘Well, she’d had severe haemorrhaging, which is usual for strangulation and we still have a veritable feeding frenzy in her eye-sockets. Nasty little sods.’

Anna focused her mind on trying to assimilate what he was saying, rather than looking down at the sliced-open body. Though the stomach contents had almost brought her to her knees, somehow she was still standing. Henson began the incision to lift the scalp. He sliced from behind the head, then peeled the scalp forwards over the face to expose the skull. At that point an assistant handed him a high-powered, high-speed, oscillating saw to open the skull. Next he was handed a chisel to prise off the skullcap.

So far Anna had managed to stay upright. It had seemingly become easier; the stench had mingled with antiseptic which helped. The sound of the chisel finished her off. Unable to control her retching, she only just made it to the ladies’ toilet in time. Banging past the cubicle door, she gasped for breath. She knelt over the toilet bowl and heaved. After several minutes, when she attempted to stand, her whole body was still shaking.

At the basin she ran cold water and kept splashing and dabbing her face with a paper towel, but every time she stood straight, she felt her stomach heave. The stench seemed to cling to her clothes, her hair and her hands, even though she washed and rewashed them using soap from the dispenser.

Still feeling dizzy, Anna leaned against the corridor wall and waited.

Langton eventually strode out of the morgue. ‘Dead approximately four weeks,’ he muttered to Anna and pulled off his green tunic. ‘She’d been lying there all that time.’ His mask hung by its thread. ‘It’s bloody unbelievable.’

Not waiting for her response, he continued towards the gents and disappeared inside. A moment later he emerged and gestured for her to follow him along the corridor.

‘You ever done synchronized swimming?’ he asked, still zipping up his trousers.

Anna was unsure if she had heard him correctly. ‘Sorry?’

‘They have these nose clips so they can stay underwater. They’re very useful. You clip one on and it forces you to breathe in and out with your mouth.’

‘You can also suck Mint Imperials.’ Langton turned round towards Anna once they were in the patrol car. ‘Those little round mints.’ He rested his arm along the back of the seat. ‘You get used to it; when you know what to expect, it’s easier.’ He returned his gaze to the front again.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, embarrassed. She was at a loss what to say next, or whether there were questions she should have been asking.

The smell of the soap dispenser’s liquid, an odour like pinewood forests, was making her feel car sick. As if she didn’t have enough to contend with already. She closed her eyes, praying that she wouldn’t start retching again.

‘Sorry,’ Langton murmured as she opened a window. She noticed he had a lit cigarette in his hand. ‘Can’t smoke in the station. Well, not supposed to, anyway. Can’t smoke in most places now, so …’ He shrugged, then, inhaling deeply, leaned back on the headrest. A few moments later, somewhat out of the blue, he asked her, ‘Your mother still alive?’

‘No, she died two years before my father.’

‘Right. I remember, now. What was her name?’

‘Isabelle,’ she said, bemused.

‘Isabelle? Yes. She was very beautiful, I remember.’

She watched him flick the cigarette butt out of the window. The cool air from the open window was making her feel less nauseous. To her surprise, she found herself saying, ‘I take after my father.’

He chuckled, ‘I guess you do.’

Her father had been a heavy-set man: square-shouldered, with thick red curls. Her mother on the other hand had had olive skin and deep-black hair. She had been a stunning woman, tall and slender and very artistic; a designer. Anna had her dad’s hair, which sprouted all over rather than growing in a specific direction. She wore hers cropped short. For a redhead, she was unusually dark-skinned, unlike her pale freckly dad, and had inherited her mother’s dark eyes. She was short, also rather square, but she carried no fat; it was all muscle.

Anna had ridden horses since she was a toddler. She had won so many rosettes that she could cover herself from top to toe in red and blue ribbons. Once her dad had pinned them all over her and taken a photograph; she had only been eleven years old.

Anna’s thoughts turned towards Melissa. What had her young life been like, before she was reduced to her present state? She thought of herself at that age, then younger. She realized Langton was talking to her and she leaned forwards. ‘Sorry, sir, I missed that.’

‘The reason I force myself to go through the post mortem, to see that little soul cut to shreds, disembowelled, dehumanized, is because, somehow, it makes it easier. It steadies the anger. That prick Hedges couldn’t take it, of course. Wimp!’

He closed his eyes; conversation seemed at an end for now.

Anna followed Langton to the incident room, where he threw off his coat, took a marker and headed towards the board. He began listing the information he’d received from Henson. Without turning, he called out, ‘Jean, can you get me a chicken and bacon sandwich, no tomatoes, and a coffee.’

Jean, a thin-faced constable in uniform, was working at one of the computers. She stood up as soon as he called her name: ‘You want a Kit-Kat, or anything else?’ She didn’t look as if she suffered fools gladly.

‘No, thank you. Bacon and chicken sandwich, no tomatoes.’

Mike Lewis walked in as Langton continued to mark the board: ‘Mike, it looks like our tip-off was right.’

‘OK! We got a time of death?’

‘Not yet, but she’s been dead four weeks at least. Strangled and sexually abused. Get on to the super, tell him we have a critical incident. We’ll need a Gold Group set up; we’re in danger of losing the public’s confidence. Contact the murder review team, let them know that we are now handling the enquiry. Is Barolli back yet?’

‘Nope, but he shouldn’t be long. He went over to forensics.’

‘Gather the team together, we’ll have an update at…’ Langton glanced at his watch, then checked on the wall clock. ‘It’s already three o’clock. Fuck. Say half four?’

Everyone in the incident room, apart from Anna herself, was getting ready for the meeting. None of her training had prepared her to join an up-and-running team like this one.

‘Excuse me, sir. Is there anything you want me to concentrate on?’

Langton sighed. ‘Familiarize yourself with the case histories. Find a desk, Travis, and get started.’

He pointed to the noticeboards, then waved his hand towards a section of filing cabinets which lined one wall.

‘Right, sir.’

She tried her best to look as if she knew what she was doing, but she was at a loss as to where to start and she could not figure out the filing system. Many of the cabinets had stacks of loose files balanced on top of them.

A uniformed PC passed, carrying a tray of teacups

‘Excuse me, which is the first case file?’

‘One nearest the wall,’ answered the PC, without looking back.

When Anna opened the top drawer, she found it fully stacked with rows of files. Removing an armful, she turned to survey the room. The same PC passed by with the empty tray.

‘Erm … is there a desk I could use?’

The desk in the rear of the room was cluttered with cartons of takeaway food. The wastepaper bin beside it was overflowing with empty hamburger cartons and cold chips. Anna tidied a space for herself.