Roz Watkins - Cut to the Bone

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s get started. Yes, it’s a little warm and it would be nice if we had air-con, but we don’t, so let’s consider all the moaning about that done. We have a high-risk misper, Violet Armstrong, aged eighteen, disappeared from the abattoir at Gritton village yesterday evening. The last person to see her was a neighbour, when Violet went out at around eight.’

All eyes were on the over-sized image of Violet’s face – dark eyes bright with expectation, confident straight-toothed smile, peachy skin.

‘The actual Violet Armstrong?’ Craig said. ‘Bikini-strutting Violet?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The actual Violet Armstrong.’

‘Wow.’ Craig licked his lips in an unpleasant manner. ‘Her videos are—’

‘Yes, thank you, Craig,’ I said. ‘We’re all familiar with her videos.’

Craig smiled. ‘Oh, are you? There’s a thought.’

‘A more pleasant one than picturing you leering over them,’ Jai said.

‘Enough of the videos,’ I snapped. ‘She’s a high-risk missing person. Treat her like anyone else.’

Fiona gave Craig a look of contempt before turning back to me. ‘Why was she at the abattoir at night?’

‘Works there. Why she would have chosen to work in an abattoir in an obscure Derbyshire village is one of the things we need to find out. This morning, her car was there, but no sign of her. No note. The CCTV was smashed. And her watch was by one of the pig pens, with the strap broken. There was blood on it, which has gone to be tested.’

‘By the pig pens?’ Fiona said. ‘Was that where she’d been cleaning?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘She shouldn’t have been in that area. We don’t know why she went there.’

‘I don’t suppose she was petting the pigs,’ Fiona said. ‘Given her views.’

‘CSI are there,’ I said. We were supposed to call them CSI now, just like on the TV show. I felt for the general public when our lot turned up sweating profusely inside their protective gear, instead of a bunch of Hollywood-polished Americans. ‘We have her laptop, which was in her locker with her bag and keys. Her purse was there, with her credit cards, and her passport was at home.’

‘She didn’t leave of her own accord then,’ Fiona said.

‘There are definitely some worrying signs. Violet had been receiving threats from animal rights activists. Social media comments saying she was asking to have her throat slit, and one this morning from a member of the Animal Vigilantes, suggesting she’d got what she deserved. We don’t know how the commenter knew Violet was missing.’

‘Shite,’ Craig said. ‘I always said those animal rights people were nuts. They’re the ones that wear those meat suits, aren’t they? What do you think, Meg? You hang around with those sorts.’

I sighed. ‘Just because I’m vegetarian doesn’t make me an animal rights activist, although I wouldn’t rule it out for the future.’

‘I can’t believe you even respond to him,’ Fiona said. She’d been short with Craig recently, and she had a point. Ignoring him was usually the soundest strategy, but I had an enduring sense that deep inside (very deep indeed) there was a decent guy trying to get out.

‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘I don’t want us to assume Violet’s disappearance is anything to do with animal rights. It’s much more likely it’s a family member or boyfriend.’

‘Is she in a relationship?’ Fiona said.

‘Not that we know of – yet. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t. Her best friend’s coming in.’

‘What about family?’

‘Her parents are on holiday in New Zealand – of all the inconvenient spots. They’re on their way back. No siblings.’ I fanned my face and took a swig of water. ‘Christ, this weather.’

‘Not going to break for a week or more now,’ Jai said. ‘And the abattoir’s not far from the wildfire, so if she has wandered off for any reason, let’s hope she hasn’t got too close to that. It’s not under control yet.’

‘It’s been a nightmare for the poor firefighters,’ Craig said. ‘They’ve been missing their afternoon naps.’

‘Well, I’m sure the weather will break soon, and they can get back to posing for calendars and naked kitten-rescuing.’ I wiped my forehead. I’d never sweated so much in my life. I was even repulsing myself. ‘If it carries on much longer, I might have to dig out my dress.’

Jai fanned himself. ‘If it carries on much longer, I might have to dig out mine.’

Craig snorted.

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘It’s ludicrous that it’s not seen as okay for men to wear dresses. It says all sorts of things about society’s attitudes that you really don’t want me to go into right now.’

‘No, we really don’t,’ Craig said. ‘And we also don’t want to see Jai in a dress.’

‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘The people who have easy access to the abattoir are: Anna Finchley, who owns it; Gary Finchley, who’s Anna’s brother and works there; and Daniel Twigg, who also works there. They all hate each other. Gary said Anna can’t stand Violet. He reckons Daniel’s a junkie, but he appears to be functioning. I think it’s drugs for pain relief – he has a bad back.’

‘Gary sounds like a nice chap,’ Jai said.

‘Yes, God love the bitter ones. Anyway, there’s that lot, and others could have got into the abattoir if they were loaned gate-clickers and keys. Or Violet could have let someone in. But if she wasn’t due at the abattoir till ten, why did she leave home at eight? It’s only a five-minute drive. Did she arrive at the abattoir early, maybe to meet someone? Or did she go somewhere else?’

‘Then there’s the abattoir waste,’ Jai added. ‘The Category 2 waste had been taken away before we arrived this morning, and we’re having trouble tracking down the company that disposed of it.’

‘Make no assumptions,’ I said. ‘We don’t have a body. We’re treating this as a high-risk missing person. Okay? We think she was wearing white overalls and DM-type boots. Witnesses say she always wears a brooch on a chain around her neck: a pelican. Never takes it off. There are lead mines in the area – the dogs should find a scent if she’s wandered off and fallen into one. There aren’t many houses nearby, but in the main Gritton village there’s loads of CCTV, so that should help us.’

‘Have we got her phone?’ Fiona said.

‘Unfortunately not.’

‘We’re on to the service provider to get call records and tower data,’ Jai added. ‘But if she didn’t make any calls, we’re screwed. And even if she did, the data doesn’t always help – there aren’t many towers in that area. But the techies are doing what they can. And before you ask, there was no sat-nav in her car.’

I was conscious of a general shuffling of feet, as if they were keen to dash off. To catch the golden hour.

‘Without veering into the realms of the very unlikely, I reckon there are four basic scenarios,’ I said. ‘One – she’s alive and she left the abattoir on her own; two – she’s alive and she left the abattoir with someone, possibly against her will; three – she’s dead and someone disposed of her body at the abattoir, possibly with the missing waste; four – she’s dead and someone took her body away from the abattoir. If she’s alive and left with someone, or if she’s dead and someone took her away, that would most likely have involved a car. Which somebody may have seen. Do you agree?’

They all nodded earnestly – except Craig, who was looking at me with the expression of a dog eyeing up a lamp post.

‘Anything else?’ I asked. ‘No matter how unlikely.’ I tried to soften my tone. I did my best to make the briefings non-scary, so people could talk without fear of having the piss taken, although it could be challenging with Craig and Jai around. I was well aware that if I wasn’t careful, I could end up with a queue of introverts at my door straight after the briefing, jostling for space with the folk from intelligence strategy, CSI, forensics, and family and media liaison. That I did not need.