Tennison (7 page)

‘I’m glad I got you on this case, Paul. The Chief’s breathing down my neck and pressing for results, but right now we’ve still got bugger all,’ Bradfield said.

‘Who’s the wooden top?’ Paul asked, using a detective’s term for a uniform officer.

‘WPC Tennison, meet Detective Sergeant Lawrence, best lab liaison officer in the Met. Any suspicious death or murder scene, he’s the man you want working it,’ Bradfield said and patted him on the shoulder.

DS Lawrence gave him a suspicious glance. ‘You after a loan of money for the office card game or something?’

‘You can’t even take praise now?’

Jane realized this was the first time she had seen Bradfield smile: it made him appear quite boyish. She had been made aware of the highly respected role of a lab sergeant during training at Hendon, and Bradfield and Lawrence obviously rated each other highly. There were only twelve lab sergeants in London and they were all experienced detectives with twenty years-plus service. They worked alongside forensic scientists at crime scenes and at the Met’s laboratory in Lambeth. They didn’t make arrests as this could detract from their invaluable input.

‘You got any thoughts on the scene, Paul?’ Bradfield asked, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

‘It’s a bit of a minefield. There were lots of footprints but it is a kids’ adventure playground.’

Lawrence added that some were ‘plod-issue boots’, referring to the footprints of the uniform officers who trampled over the scene, but he had concentrated on the footprints near the body, and had taken some plaster-cast lifts to examine in the lab. It was hoped they might get a possible size and be able to compare them to any suspect’s shoes. DS Lawrence said he had been to the station and visited Eddie Phillips in the cell, but he was wearing Cuban-heel boots which didn’t appear to match any marks at the scene.

‘What about prints?’ Bradfield asked.

DS Lawrence shook his head. ‘We concentrated on anything metal, but due to the recent heavy rain we only managed to get a few lifts. I’ve had them sent to finger-print branch to look at.

The mortician finished on the old man, wrapped a shroud round the body and placed it on a metal trolley. As he picked up a shower hose Jane hadn’t noticed that Bradfield and DS Lawrence had stepped into the side corridor leading to the fridges. The mortician turned on the hose and started washing down the examination table and floor. The force of the spray sent dirty bloodstained water splashing onto Jane’s skirt, shoes and tights, causing her to squeal and jump back out of the way. The mortician then threw a bucket of water onto the floor, and gave it a quick once-over with a mop. From the smell the water contained a large measure of disinfectant. She didn’t say anything to him but strongly suspected it was an intentional initiation to the mortuary for probationers.

The assistant mortician wheeled a shrouded body into the room, and Jane could see from the blonde hair hanging loosely over the edge of the trolley that it was Julie Ann’s. The assistant handed DS Lawrence some paper bags containing the victim’s clothing and then wheeled the old man’s body out to the refrigerators. Lawrence had a quick look in the bag that contained Julie Ann’s white socks and her boots.

‘We got quite a few red fibres on the soles of these socks, probably from a carpet of some sort. I’ll get the scientist to check all the clothing for any similar or other foreign fibres. Her platform boots are blue cloth and patent leather so we might get a fingerprint off them if he dragged her.’

DS Lawrence then took out her underwear. ‘Looks like there might be some semen-staining on the gusset.’

‘She was a tom so there’s probably bucket loads of it,’ Bradfield replied sarcastically. He patted his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lit up a fresh one.

‘Look out, here comes the miserable munchkin,’ DS Lawrence said as the swing doors opened.

A small stumpy man entered the room carrying a clipboard and paper. He was in his fifties, with grey thinning hair and half-moon glasses perched unsteadily on the end of his bulbous red nose.

Jane observed that his green mortuary gown and black wellington boots were stained with blood and body tissue, and deduced that he must be the pathologist. The two morticians slid Julie Ann’s shrouded body from the trolley onto the table.

‘Try and keep your fag ash off my instruments today, DCI Bradfield. DS Lawrence, you’re doing exhibits and photographs, I take it?’ the po-faced Professor Martin said as he wrote their names in his notes. He turned towards Jane, lowered his head and peered over the top of his glasses. ‘And you, young lady, are . . .?’

‘Probationary WPC 517 Golf Hotel Tennison, on B Relief Hackney, sir.’

Martin sighed. ‘This is a mortuary, not a courtroom – I can see you are a WPC and an unusually pretty one . . . name and number is all I require. I’m Professor Dean Martin, and not to be confused with the crooner.’

Seeing Jane staring at the red spider-web marks on the Professor’s face, DS Lawrence leant towards her and whispered, ‘He drinks like Dean Martin though . . . that’s what too much whisky does to your skin.’

Professor Martin put a black-rubber apron over his gown and pulled on some green-rubber gauntlet gloves. The apron had two metal link-chains at the neck and waist to hold it in place.

‘I wasn’t needed in court this morning so I’ve already done my external examination of the body. Gather round, please,’ Martin said as he moved towards the body and then, like a magician, pulled off the shroud in a theatrical flurry to display the naked girl.

Jane gave a sharp intake of breath. Julie Ann’s body was alabaster white, stretched out with her hands placed at her sides. DS Lawrence got a camera out of his kit bag and took some photographs.

Martin looked at Jane as he spoke. ‘Time of death is the question most consistently asked by detectives in murder investigations. However, due to many variables, it is extremely difficult to determine, and can never be one hundred per cent accurate.’ He flicked over a page on his clipboard.

‘He’s showboating for her benefit,’ Jane heard Bradfield mutter to DS Lawrence.

‘So, as to time of death for little missy here: the body was found at 9 a.m. in the open. Livor mortis, which is due to the settling of the blood after death, was well developed, thus indicating the victim had been in the same position for six to twelve hours. At the scene at 10.30 a.m., I took vaginal swabs and a rectal temperature. I have considered the overnight external air temperature, which in turn influences the rate of heat loss from the body and affects the onset of rigor—’

Bradfield sighed. ‘Can we just have it in layman’s terms, Prof?’

Martin puffed out his chest indignantly. ‘By my calculations she was killed on Sunday the 13th of May sometime between 6 p.m. and midnight.’

‘It didn’t get dark until just after eight and it’s unlikely she was killed outside in broad daylight,’ DS Lawrence remarked.

‘Do you think she was killed at the playground, or elsewhere?’ Bradfield asked Martin.

‘I don’t know, it’s impossible for me to say.’

‘She could have been murdered indoors somewhere nearby, carried on foot in the early hours and dumped,’ DS Lawrence speculated.

‘OK, Sherlock, how’s that explain her bra still being round her neck?’

Martin spoke before Lawrence could answer. ‘It was tied in a double knot and so tightly neither I nor DS Lawrence could unpick it at the scene. In the end I had to cut it free with some scissors.’

DS Lawrence removed the bra from the paper bag and showed it to DCI Bradfield so he could see the knot for himself. He then removed the blouse and laid it on top of the bag.

‘The two upper buttons on the blouse are missing and they weren’t found at the scene.’

‘They could have come off at any time, even accidentally,’ Bradfield said.

Lawrence pointed to the chest area of the blouse. ‘There’s tear damage where the buttons were, which suggests a struggle.’

Jane stepped forward so she could get a better look at the bra.

‘Excuse me, sir, but the bra’s strapless, so he could have removed it at the scene while she still had the shirt on during a bit of foreplay.’

There was a sudden silence in the room as all three men looked at each other and Jane thought she was about to get a dressing down.

DS Lawrence glanced at Bradfield, nodded at him and whispered, ‘It’s a good point.’

Professor Martin tapped his clipboard with his pen to get their attention.

‘We’re going round in circles and the fact is I have to consider both possibilities: was she murdered at the scene, or dumped there? Now can we get on with the postmortem, please?’

Professor Martin peered down at his clipboard as he walked round the table to Julie Ann’s left side. ‘I have had a close look using a magnifying glass and cannot find any hypodermic needle marks that appear to be recent.’

He lifted up her left arm and pointed to the black and blue track marks around her inner elbow joint, which Lawrence photographed.

‘As you can see there is bruising around all these injection sites, which indicates they are old. It’s difficult to determine the exact age of the bruising as veins in junkies start to collapse after repeated heroin injections. However, I would estimate the most recent to be anywhere between one to two weeks old.’

‘So that suggests she was off heroin just before she was murdered?’ Bradfield remarked.

‘Possibly, but I believe your victim was attending a treatment centre for help, so she may well have been prescribed methadone as an opiate substitute.’

Bradfield made a note in his pocket book to ask the treatment centre about the methadone. Martin lifted Julie Ann’s right arm and they could see that the whole of the inside of the lower arm was badly bruised.

‘You can see there is blue and yellow coloured bruising to the inside length of the lower arm caused by severe blunt-force injury, which has ruptured blood vessels in her skin.’ Martin asked the morticians to turn the body over.

The extensive bruising and welt marks to Julie Ann’s back and buttocks were quite horrifying, even Bradfield and DS Lawrence were visibly shocked. Jane shuddered at the thought of the pain the poor girl must have suffered during the beating. Professor Martin explained that initially the injuries would have appeared dull red to blue, but over time the red blood cells would have been broken down, releasing the yellow-brown hue seen on the edges of the blue-bruised areas on her back.

‘So the bruising’s old?’ DS Lawrence asked.

‘Yes, the yellow colour does not appear until a few days after the initial injury and you can see the clear differences from the red marks round her neck caused by the strangulation. In this poor girl’s case I’d estimate the beating injuries are at least six to ten days old. The type of surface and force that impacts on the body will have an effect on the intensity, size, shape and pattern of the bruising as well.’

‘Any idea what caused them?’ Bradfield asked, brushing cigarette ash off his jacket.

Martin said that due to the time lapse since the injuries were inflicted, it was hard to tell. However, it was clear that whoever had inflicted them must have been in a rage, and some of the welt marks still had a faint curved pattern that could have been caused by something like a walking stick.

Martin looked at Jane. ‘WPC Tennison, would you mind crouching down in a side-on foetal position and raising your right arm, palm outwards, as if you were cowering and trying to protect your head?’

Hesitantly Jane did as requested so Martin could act out his theory.

‘The assailant stood in front of the victim’s right side and raised the weapon. This in turn caused the victim to hold up her right arm to protect herself from the beating,’ Martin said as he swung his arm in a backwards and forwards motion. ‘She was hit three or four times on the lower arm before falling over and being repeatedly struck across the back and buttocks.’

Jane followed Martin’s cue and fell to the cold wet floor. There was silence in the room as she peered up and saw the three men staring down at her with a look of bewilderment.

Bradfield shook his head in disbelief. ‘The Prof didn’t mean for you to actually do that bit, Tennison, so get up.’

She felt embarrassed, yet relieved, as the floor smelt of disinfectant and the tiles were not that clean.

Bradfield looked at her impatiently as she stood up and raised her hand as if in a classroom.

‘Excuse me, Professor Martin, is it possible to tell if the attack occurred when she was fully clothed or naked?’

‘Very good question. We have a bright little probationer amongst us, and one not keeling over for a change. But then again we’ve not got to the fainting part yet.’ Martin chortled and then cocked his head to one side, looking at Jane.

‘I may have been able to give you a clearer answer had the beating taken place up to seventy-eight hours before death, as marks from the clothing are sometimes visible on the surface of the skin.’

‘Was she raped?’ Bradfield asked, becoming even more impatient.

‘There’s some old bruising on the inner thighs, but nothing recent or unusual for someone who worked in the sex trade.’

Professor Martin said he would now start the internal examination. Jane knew she had to keep calm, and decided that the best thing to do was to try to think of it as a biology lesson in human anatomy. Bradfield then took her by surprise as he gently patted Julie Ann’s right foot: it was a gesture a father might give to his sleeping child.

As Martin stood over the body a mortician handed him a scalpel from the instrument tray. He proceeded to make a deep incision in the shape of a Y from the front of each shoulder to the bottom end of the breastbone, and then down from the sternum to the pubic bone. The skin and muscle from the cut was peeled back, with the top flap pulled over the face of the body. A mortician then sawed the ribs off exposing the internal organs. Jane noticed the smell, but it was not as pungent as the smell of the elderly man’s body. DCI Bradfield got out his packet of Woodbine non-tipped cigarettes and lit one up from the butt of his previous one, handing another to DS Lawrence. He hesitated and proffered the pack to Jane. She declined, but she did find that the smell of the cigarette smoke helped mask the stench from the body.