Beautiful Death (6 page)

‘Oh, I’ll take you up on your invitation, I just don’t want a guided tour through history.’

‘That’s because you’re a philistine,’ he said. ‘Now, how’s your bile holding?’

She glared disdainfully at him. ‘I’ll be fine. Pay the driver.’ She opened the door and stepped out into the frenetic activity and noise of Whitechapel Road.

Joining her, Jack took her arm as they crossed the busy street. ‘This impressive façade hides the huge sprawl of the hospital, you know. This is only the entrance; the hospital spreads out well into the backstreets. It takes up most of Whitechapel.’

‘Respectfully, sir, shut up,’ Kate said.

He was undeterred as they climbed the steps, approaching the great arches. ‘Do you know whose skeleton they keep here in a private museum?’

‘Jack the Ripper?’ she tried, trying to sound bored.

‘Joseph Merrick, aka the Elephant Man.’

‘Good film,’ she admitted.

‘Except the public can’t see his remains. Only the select few.’

‘Please don’t tell me you have.’

He frowned and she liked the way he was immune to the general mockery of his historical interests. ‘No, damn it, but I’d love to.’

‘Insist it’s for police matters,’ she suggested and earned a grunt for her trouble.

‘Straight to the morgue for you, my girl,’ he said, but then became serious. ‘All right now, Kate. This is not going to be pretty. Are you quite sure you’re going to be okay?’

‘Sir,’ she growled, ‘I’ll be fine. Lead the way.’

He took her down the sweeping Victorian staircase, resisting the impulse to point out design details of this very beautiful feature of what had clearly become a busy, overcrowded public hospital. Everything looked tired, dirty . . . and the people they passed looked equally worn and battle weary.

Kate had not had occasion to enter a hospital as a patient since childhood, but she knew that if she needed to she’d be marching straight into a private one. This place made her shudder, although she tried to convince herself that these were simply inconsequential corridors beyond which, surely, were friendly airy wards. She’d want a private room, though, one that looked like it came out of an episode of
Grey’s Anatomy
, the TV show she’d seen previewed during her visit to the US and knew would be her new addiction. Her boss had been talking. ‘Sorry, Jack, didn’t quite catch that.’

‘I said we need to mask and gown up. Hospital rules.’

Kate took a last stab at levity. ‘Always fancied myself in scrubs,’ she said, as they approached the morgue’s double doors.

DI Cameron Brodie had mustered the troops in the absence of his boss and given them all a warm welcome. For some, like DS Sarah Jones, it was back into the familiar surroundings of Operation Danube, while for others, like DS Angela Karim, the view still had them mesmerised. Right before them, the London Eye reared up and, beneath its carriages, which glowed blue at night, Southbank and the city of Westminster sprawled.

Angela Karim gave a silent
wow
. ‘Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament look so different from up here,’ she commented. ‘And look at Big Ben!’

A soft Scottish brogue spoke behind her. ‘You’ll get so used to it you won’t even look out the window soon,’ Cam said, winking at the darkly attractive young detective as she turned to regard him. He suddenly wished he worked out.

‘It’s amazing,’ she replied, her deep chocolate eyes sparkling with wonder.

‘Even better at night.’ It was Sarah. ‘Hi, I’m DS Sarah Jones,’ she said, smiling warmly and removing her anorak.

‘DS Angela Karim. Good to meet you. So you worked on Danube?’

Sarah smoothed her short hair and nodded. ‘Yeah. This feels darker, though.’

Brodie had already briefed the group on what he could glean from the files on Jack’s desk and Joan’s expert summary. ‘So, Sarah, where would you begin?’

She frowned over her glasses. ‘HOLMES, of course. The database has to be our first port of call because it can cross-reference so much detail,’ she replied softly. ‘I’ll see if I can work up a list of any similarly macabre killings, although this sounds unique.’

Cam nodded. ‘We’ve got a translator being sourced from NRPSI,’ he told the group, ‘so make good use of this resource.’

‘Do we need one?’ Angela queried. ‘Between Mal and myself we can handle Urdu or Gujarati.’

‘I know, and that will be very handy, but the boss has asked for this and I think it’s probably a requirement. Call this Sarju guy and see if he’s available to join the operation immediately. If not, we’ll get some more advice from NRPSI.’

‘Okay, no problem.’

‘Malik?’ Cam began.

A tall Indian man with an open face and easy smile looked over. ‘Call me Mal, sir.’

‘Mal, it is. You’re coming with me down to Bethnal Green police station, but first we’ll go down and speak to the SOCO team, see what they have.’

He looked over at a young DS, newly promoted, who had also worked on Danube. ‘Dermot?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Congratulations on your promotion by the way; you get onto Sainsbury’s. I want a list of their security people, anyone who was rostered on yesterday and last night.’

Dermot blushed and nodded.

‘And Derm, then I’ll need you to help out our new PCs, okay?’

‘Fine, sir.’

Cam walked over to where two young police
constables stood by nervously. ‘Caught in the headlights?’ Cam asked, but either they weren’t sure what he meant or didn’t want to assume he was making a joke. ‘Don’t worry. Okay, so you are PC Jenny Hughes?’

‘Er, yes, sir.’

‘And PC Doug Feltham?’

‘Sir.’

‘Good, okay, I’m just assigning everyone some tasks so we can make a brisk start in gathering up everything we know. That’s how any operation begins. The more information we gather, the better our leads will be and we won’t be wasting anyone’s time.’

They stared at him, saying nothing, so he continued. ‘All right, then, I want both of you to put a ring around Sainsbury’s and to canvass the storeowners especially — there’s little residential in the immediate vicinity of that supermarket. Also ask all the restaurants, pubs, cafés, hospital staff, whoever about whether they saw the van being left or know anything about it. Joan will give you the details of the van’s make, year, rego and a photo.’ Cam eyeballed them both firmly. ‘Someone must have seen something. It’s our job to find that someone. Now DS Dermot McGloughlan and DC Angela Karim will join you later on that and you’re to keep them appraised of everything, okay?’

‘Yes, sir,’ they said crisply together.

‘Good luck,’ Cam said, finding a smile, remembering his first major operation that now felt like a million years ago. ‘Right,’ he said, turning to face the team, ‘any last questions because Mal and I are headed down to the scene now. Joan can reach me if you need me or just call the mobile. Have a
productive morning. We’ll re-group this afternoon, hopefully with the DCI. By the way, take the interpreter with you. He or she will be helpful when you’re canvassing around Whitechapel.’

The post-mortem had already begun when Jack and Kate were shown into the viewing gallery. The doctor had just finished dictating details of the case, assigning it a number, date, time and other file details.

There was dim lighting in the gallery but the lab was fluoro bright, the woman on the steel table appearing almost bleached beneath the harsh lighting. Where her face had once been was a bloodied pulp. Jack nodded at the doctor, who’d looked up at their arrival, but he didn’t want to even glance at Kate. It was so much more horrific than he had imagined and he was having trouble keeping his gaze fixed on Dr Kent. He guessed Kate wouldn’t be able to speak so he did the introductions for all of them via the microphone. ‘Rob, this is DC Kate Carter. I guess it’s pretty clear this body has a similar disfiguration to the previous three corpses?’ He avoided looking at the bloodied mess where the woman’s face had been.

Getting straight down to business didn’t work. Rob Kent, a ladies’ man and excellent forensic pathologist, grinned widely at Jack before his gaze shifted. ‘Hello Kate,’ he said, conversationally. ‘Haven’t seen you before.’

Jack was surprised when she replied evenly. ‘Never done this before, although my boss suggested I didn’t admit that to you.’

Jack looked at her now, impressed by her composure, very little of which he seemed capable of exercising himself. He almost hoped the victim was
another illegal immigrant and no parents would ever have to come and claim this body.

‘A virgin?’ Rob mouthed silently at Jack, delight in his eyes.

Jack had to admire Kate’s honesty. He nodded, keen to keep this meeting appropriately sombre out of respect for the victim, who looked so small and inconsequential beneath the green sheet that allowed her some dignity. A matching green cap covered her scalp.

Rob sensed Jack’s wishes and proceeded professionally, which Jack was sure meant he’d now owe the pathologist one.

‘Well, as this is your first time, Kate, I’ll explain everything as I go along. If you’re wondering why we have her hair covered, it’s because we’re yet to comb through it for forensic material.’

Jack saw Kate nod from the corner of his eye. ‘Holding up?’ he murmured, not really needing to ask.

‘Better than I thought I would,’ she answered. ‘You?’

‘I want to be sick,’ he admitted, knowing she’d appreciate his honesty.

Kent flicked off his recorder. ‘No whispering, please, when the great Dr Kent is performing.’ He gave them a mock glare.

‘Sorry,’ Jack said. ‘Proceed.’

‘All right, so just to recap before we go merrily cutting into this sad, beautiful victim, this is what we know. Her hair tells us she is of oriental ethnicity. Age . . . well, we’ll have something more accurate later today but at a guess I’d say late twenties. She has no outward injuries like cuts or bruises, other than the obvious.’

‘How did she die?’ Jack asked, repulsed all over again as he helplessly looked at the ‘obvious’ injury.

‘I’ll confirm this for you but I think it’s going to be an overdose of anaesthetic. We’ve found needle wounds and bruising on the top of her hand’ — he held it up — ‘and in her right arm. All consistent with intravenous attention.’

‘Was that the same for the others?’ Kate wondered.

Kent nodded at her. ‘Okay, my assistant, Sandy, is going to start combing through her hair. I’ll begin the internal examination. This is the nasty bit, Kate. Are you up to it?’

‘DCI Hawksworth will catch me if I fall, I’m sure.’

‘Why do you always get to be the knight in shining armour, Hawksworth?’

Jack wasn’t enjoying the banter. He was watching the victim’s dark hair heavily unfolding, reminding him of Lily. A sharp tug of fear passed through him. He hated listening to this with Lily’s whereabouts unknown. He needed to make that call and set things straight with the team in charge of her missing-persons case. He hoped this post-mortem — his part in it at least — could be concluded quickly.

‘Right, your boss is clearly not interested in conversation with us, Kate, so I’ll just quietly go about my business.’

Kate must have smiled or nodded, Jack didn’t know, because now he was staring at a mark on the corpse, just near her shoulder. He felt his breath catch.

‘What’s that mark at the top of her right arm?’ he asked. His voice sounded tight.

Kent frowned, stepped around to look at the
victim’s right side. ‘Er, this? No, that’s not a bruise, Jack, just a birthmark . . . looks a bit like a tiny heart.’

Jack froze. He must have let out a sound of some sort because Kent looked up quizzically, and he couldn’t be sure but Kate might have been squeezing his arm.

‘Sir?’ It was Kate. ‘Everything all right?’

‘What’s happening, Jack?’ Kent called out.

Jack shook his head, numbing disbelief mingling with chilling despair. His mouth couldn’t form words.

‘Kate?’ Kent pressed.

‘Just give us a minute, Rob. Not sure what’s happening. DCI Hawksworth looks unwell.’

‘Then get him out of here,’ he replied, ‘although he’s done this enough times not to be squeamish. I suspect he’s been on the turps.’

Jack looked at Kate bleakly. He saw all the confusion written across her face.

‘You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong,’ she urged.

He heard a buzzer sound and Kent irritably answer. ‘Yes?’

A disconnected voice replied. ‘The homicide team handling this has just given us details on the van. We’ve traced it. We’ve got a likely name and address for the victim, Dr Kent. It’s a Lily Wu. She’s twenty-nine.’

‘Thank you. I don’t need those details right now but have the file ready for when I do. Now, Jack? Are you —’

Jack fled the gallery, mercifully knowing where the closest bathrooms were, and was heaving up breakfast in one of the cubicles, disinfectant fumes stinging his eyes.

Lily? Surely this was a mistake. Or a nightmare. He was going to wake up and she would be at his
side and he would kiss the heart-shaped birthmark he’d kissed every morning they’d shared.

‘Jack!’ Kate was banging on the men’s bathroom door. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she took the chamber by storm. Kate had few sensibilities in that respect. He was right. Her fist had moved to the cubicle door that he had closed, but not locked.

‘Answer me. What is going on?’

‘Pretty obvious,’ he croaked.

‘Okay, okay,’ she said, easing the door open. ‘But why?’

He sucked in a big breath of unpleasant air and wiped his mouth with toilet paper. He flushed. ‘Let me out, will you?’ He pulled open the door and took in the frightened concern in his colleague’s expressive face. He said nothing, proceeded to wash his face, clean out his mouth. He gargled long and loudly. Kate said nothing until he was drying his face with paper towels.

‘Now apart from the fact that I know you wouldn’t have tied one on last night, I also would have smelled it on you if you had. So that’s booze out of the equation,’ she said.

‘Does food poisoning work for you?’ Jack replied absently, his mind churning with fear and anger.

‘I’m not the bad guy here. If you’re sick, just say so. No need to be embarrassed.’