Читать книгу At Your Door - J. P. Carter - Страница 10

Anna was back up at the wood when the on-call pathologist arrived. She was pleased to see that it was Gayle Western. The pair had been friends for some years and had a lot in common. They were both divorced and wedded to their jobs. They were also the same height at just over five and a half feet, and they each had long dark hair that was usually pinned up.

Anna was actually a year younger than Gayle but she looked at least five years older thanks to the stress that had left its mark as lines around her eyes and mouth.

‘I see I’m the last to arrive as usual,’ Gayle said, a little breathless from dashing to the scene. ‘You can blame the traffic. I had to come from Mitcham and the roads are virtually gridlocked.’

Gayle had already donned her white suit and was carrying a small black case in each hand.

‘You and I have got to stop only meeting like this,’ Anna said. ‘Do you realise that it’s been four months since we last had a drink together?’

Gayle grinned. ‘And do you realise that we have this same conversation every time we turn up at the scene of a crime?’

It was Anna’s turn to smile. ‘Well, after this one is sorted we should make a point of arranging something.’

‘Most definitely. I’m keen to catch up on all your news, and I know there’s an awful lot of it. In the last couple of weeks it seems you’ve become the most high-profile copper in the Met.’

‘You always were prone to exaggeration, Gayle.’

‘Not this time, my friend. You were all over the media during the kidnap case, and I’ve read that article in the Evening Standard about your ex-husband. Wow. What happened to him must have shaken you to the core.’

Anna nodded. ‘You can say that again. But you’ll have to wait for me to fill you in on the gory details. Right now there’s a young lady over there who needs your full attention.’

Gayle got straight down to business. She walked over to the body, placed her cases on the ground, and then looked at what lay before her with a studied expression. After about thirty seconds she knelt down to examine the body and the area around it.

Anna looked on from a distance, knowing that Gayle did not like to be distracted during the initial assessment. As with all good forensic pathologists she was methodical in her approach and would never express an opinion or answer a question until she was good and ready.

Eventually, Gayle spoke without looking up.

‘Well, the level of decomposition and other factors relating to the state of the body suggest to me that this poor lass has been dead for three or four days. And there’s little doubt in my mind that the cause of death was a stab wound to the left side of the throat. It looks as though the blade probably severed a carotid artery and penetrated the trachea. I’ll know for sure when I carry out the post-mortem. Death would have been fairly quick and there would have been a lot of blood.’

‘It’s now Friday so we’re talking Tuesday or Wednesday,’ Anna said.

Gayle nodded. ‘My guess would be Tuesday or Tuesday night. It’s rained only once this week and that was on Wednesday morning. There are streaks on her flesh where it washed away the detritus that had accumulated. The body was clearly dumped here and that would have happened a short time after she was killed, probably a matter of hours. I reckon she was stripped to remove all trace evidence. And it’s likely she was wrapped in a blanket or plastic sheeting while being transported here.’

A cold chill crept over Anna’s shoulders and down her neck. As always she found it a struggle to remain emotionally detached from the distressing sight that she was being forced to bear witness to.

‘Is there any evidence of defence wounds?’ she asked.

‘None that I can see,’ Gayle said. ‘But I’ll know for sure after she’s cleaned up.’

‘What about signs of sexual assault?’

‘Nothing that’s obvious. There’s definitely no bruising on her inner thighs which is usually a tell-tale sign.’

As Anna made notes, Gayle asked a forensics officer to help her turn the body over. As they did so Anna saw that the flattened undergrowth beneath it was swarming with insects.

‘She’s got a tattoo,’ Gayle said, and Anna had to step forward and lean over to see it.

The tattoo was at the top of her back between her shoulder blades. It was a simple three-word design in sinuous Gothic script.

BELIEVE IN YOURSELF

‘Hopefully that will help you to identify her,’ Gayle said.

Anna took a photo of the tattoo with her phone. She then attached it to a text that she sent back to headquarters.

Gayle drew her attention to the fact that the dead woman was wearing a silver ring on the middle finger of her left hand.

‘That looks like an expensive piece of bling to me,’ she said as Anna photographed it. ‘You’ll notice also that her nails are painted and her teeth are in good shape. She seems well nourished and there are no needle marks on her arms. So I don’t think she was a homeless person or a druggy.’

Anna looked up as a plane roared overhead, probably on its way to Heathrow airport. She also noticed that the light was fading from the sky. At the same time forensics officers were preparing for nightfall by setting up portable lamps.

Anna knew that the search for clues, even in this small section of the wood, was going to be long and laborious. The person or persons who had left the victim here would have taken care to clear their tracks. And any evidence that had been left behind had probably been contaminated or destroyed by the weather and wildlife.

There was no point her hanging around so she decided to leave the scene to the experts. Gayle told her she would arrange for the body to be removed and said she’d phone if she discovered anything significant.

‘I’ll give the post-mortem priority,’ Gayle added. ‘That means I should have her on the table by late tomorrow morning.’

‘Terrific,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll try to make a point of being there.’

Back at the roadside, Walker informed her that he’d arranged for the road to be closed at either end for the rest of the night. And Sweeny told her that she’d found out the common was owned by the Dean and Chapter of St Paul’s Cathedral.

‘It’s managed by the London Borough of Richmond-upon-Thames,’ she said. ‘An official is on his way here to open the gate so we can move vehicles onto the field.’

Anna looked out across the common, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the sun vanished below the horizon. But it was still warm and she could feel a tear of sweat trickling down her back.

She was about to fill Walker and Sweeny in on what Gayle had told her when her phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was DC Fellows, calling from headquarters with some unexpected news.

‘We’ve got a probable ID on the victim, ma’am,’ he said. ‘And I guarantee you’re not going to like it.’