Читать книгу The Murder House - Michael Wood - Страница 9

‘According to Rory, it’s the worst crime scene he’s ever seen.’

‘Bloody hell.’

DS Sian Mills was driving; DCI Matilda Darke was in the front passenger seat. They had been informed of a triple murder in an affluent part of Sheffield. Uniformed officers were on the scene and forensics were en route.

‘Do we know who the victims are?’

‘We think so. Ranjeet is looking them up for me back at the station.’

Sian’s mobile beeped an incoming text message. It was in a cradle attached to the dashboard. She opened it. ‘It’s from Rory. He says, “I hope you haven’t had your breakfast yet”.’

‘Jesus,’ Matilda muttered as she looked out of the window.

It was another cold morning. Winter had started early in Sheffield with the first snowfall way back in mid-November, and despite there being no white Christmas (again), snow had returned in the new year. The days were cold and the nights were colder. As Sheffield passed by in a blur, Matilda looked at the bare trees. The branches were white with a thick layer of frost. Grass looked beautiful as each white blade sparkled in the glint of the cold sun. Pavements were tricky to walk on and pedestrians took their time over the patches of black ice. Despite the heating being on in the car, Matilda shivered just watching people as they braved the elements.

‘Are you all settled in to your new house, now?’ Sian asked, filling the silence with a safe topic of conversation so neither of them had to think about the horror that awaited them.

‘More or less,’ Matilda said with a smile. ‘Just one more room to sort out.’

‘I bet you’re glad. There’s nothing like your own home, is there?’

‘No,’ Matilda replied. She returned to looking out of the window. She had only officially moved in a week ago. It was a bit early to be calling it her home. When she thought of home, she thought of the house her husband built; the one they both agonized over the plans of: how big the kitchen should be, where the downstairs toilet should go, the colour of the tiles in the bathroom. James had put his blood, sweat, and tears into that house. That was her home – their home. This new house was … at the moment she didn’t know what it was; somewhere to lay her head.

They pulled up as close as they could to the police cordon. From here, they couldn’t see the house but the faces on the uniformed officers who were milling around were grim. It was not a good sign.

Matilda looked around at the nosy neighbours as they stood on the side of the road gossiping among themselves. ‘You know those cases that you always go back to, that you can’t shake off? I get the feeling this is going to be one of them.’

‘Haven’t we had enough of those, lately?’ Sian quipped, pulling her coat tight against the cold.

Pathologist, Adele Kean, parked behind them. Her assistant, Lucy Dauman hesitantly got out of the front passenger seat, flicking back her blonde hair, a habit she was well known for.

‘Rory told me to imagine the worst crime scene I can, then times it by a hundred,’ Adele said, her face pale with worry. ‘Please tell me he was exaggerating.’

‘I haven’t been in yet,’ Matilda said. ‘I’ve been told it’s bad.’

‘Oh my God,’ Lucy muttered.

‘Lucy, get a couple of suits out of the back and we’ll probably need to double up. We’ll need extra gloves and overshoes too.’

Lucy remained where she was. She was relatively new to this job and only in her mid-twenties. She was fine assisting in post mortems, but crime scenes always seemed to upset her. Adele, however, was a seasoned professional, yet even she looked green. This was going to be a nightmare for Lucy. She slowly walked to the boot of the car to get what they needed.

All four women made their way down the driveway to the beautiful stone-built double-fronted house with its sash windows, side breast chimney, and a cast iron shoe scraper by the door. Neither of them spoke. A uniformed police officer was standing on the doorstep. He knew who they all were and began writing their names down on his clipboard. His hand was shaking.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t recall your name,’ he said to Lucy in a quivering voice. She told him and spelled her surname. He gave her a smile of thanks, but it wasn’t genuine. He looked too frightened to smile.

An ambulance was parked close to the house, its back doors open, but nobody was inside.

The front door was opened from the inside and Rory greeted them. He was wearing a white forensic suit which was covered in bloodstains. To the untrained eye, Rory looked like the murderer and had been caught in the act. Usually, DC Fleming was the life and soul of the team, always ready with a joke or a sarcastic comment to lighten even the most difficult of moods. However, he was looking down at the floor, his expression ashen.

‘Rory?’ Matilda asked.

‘Ma’am, nobody needs to see this if they don’t have to,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh God,’ Lucy said.

‘Where am I heading for, Rory?’ Adele asked.

‘Forensics are on the top floor in the attic bedroom. There’s a body on the stairs, be careful. And … prepare yourself for what you see on the first-floor landing.’

‘Thanks. Let’s suit up then, Lucy.’ Adele tried to sound professional, but there was a definite tinge of fear in her voice.

Matilda angled her head to look past Rory into the kitchen. A uniformed officer was comforting a fellow officer who was bent over, in tears.

‘Who’s that?’

‘PC Tranter, ma’am. She’s not handling it very well. I told her to have a break.’

Matilda and Adele exchanged glances. Both looked worried.

‘There’ll be nothing we can do until forensics say it’s OK for us to go in. Rory, is there anywhere we can go for you to talk us through it?’

‘The living room is free,’ he said.

The lounge was a huge space, expensively decorated in neutral colours, though the feature wall with a real fireplace was painted in a warm deep blue. The carpet smelled new, the curtains were rich and expensive. The whole room oozed class and taste.

Rory headed for the sofa and slumped down in the middle. ‘I have never seen anything like this before in my life. It’s like a horror film up there.’

‘Are you all right?’ Sian asked, sitting next to him.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I will be. I just need a minute.’

Matilda sat on the edge of an armchair. She looked at a gorgeous grandfather clock in the corner of the room and listened to the heavy ticking. It would look great in her new hallway. There was a photograph on the mantelpiece of a couple raising a glass of champagne to the camera. They looked happy.

‘Rory, what have we got here?’

He swallowed hard then looked up at his boss. ‘There’s a young guy on the stairs, about my age, I’d say. He’s been stabbed a fair few times.’ He blew out his cheeks and took a deep breath. ‘On the first-floor landing there’s an old-ish bloke who’s practically been decapitated.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just … there’s so much blood. I’ve never seen so much blood. Every time I close my eyes, I’m just seeing red.’ He ran his fingers through his short dark hair and took a deep breath. ‘On the top floor there’s a woman. You can’t make out her face at all.’ He took another breath which shook with fear. ‘In the small bedroom at the top of the stairs there was a young girl. She was tied to a chair.’ His voice quivered with emotion. ‘She was drenched in blood.’

‘Is she dead?’

‘No. She hasn’t got a mark on her. I think the blood must belong to the other victims. God only knows what she must have seen. There was a dog with her too; a Dalmatian, only a puppy. He was covered in blood as well.’

‘Where are they now?’ Matilda asked.

‘The girl is at the hospital. I think she’s in shock. She didn’t say anything. A PC is with her. The dog is in the back of the forensics van.’

‘OK. The dog is a crime scene. He’ll need checking out. Maybe the killer touched him. Or maybe the dog bit him.’

Rory nodded. ‘I carried her to the ambulance,’ he said, a tear rolling down his face. ‘You should have seen how she was looking at me. She couldn’t take her eyes off me. I didn’t know what to say to her.’

‘Rory, do you want to go outside, get some air?’

‘I think I will, thanks,’ he said, standing up. ‘Scott’s upstairs in the bedroom the girl was found in. He’ll be able to give you more information.’ He left the room while he was still talking.

‘I don’t think I want to go up there,’ Sian said.

‘If only we had that option.’

Dressed in white forensic suits, Matilda and Sian stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked at the young face of Jeremy Mercer.

‘Poor bloke,’ Sian said.

Matilda looked up the stairs, at the bloody footprints and paw prints on the carpet, the sprays and smeared stains on the wall. ‘Come on.’

She led the way, taking the stairs slowly. She didn’t touch the bannister, despite wearing gloves, in case she smudged any fingerprints. Sian was close behind. Matilda could hear her breathing heavily. The metallic smell of blood was heavy in the air. She could already taste it. Something caught her eye. She turned right and looked through the spindles at the landing.

‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath, quickly looking away.

‘How bad is it?’ Sian asked from behind. Her voice was quivering with nerves. Her eyes remained fixed on the back of Matilda’s head.

Matilda composed herself, still with her eyes closed. She took a deep breath and eventually opened them. ‘Don’t look until you’re on the landing.’

She held out a hand and Sian took it, gripping it hard. Matilda pulled her up. As she turned around, she gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. On the floor in front of them was a grey-haired man. His face was deathly white from having bled out. The carpet was saturated. The walls were dripping in blood. The man’s head was barely attached to his body. This was a scene of pure carnage. As much as they wanted to, neither was able to take their eyes off the destruction at their feet.

The door to a room on the left was slightly ajar. Inside, muffled voices were heard, and a brilliant yellow light was coming out from the gap.

Matilda walked over to it and pushed the door open. Sian followed close behind. DC Scott Andrews saw them enter and went over. His white forensic suit was stained with dried blood.

‘Ma’am,’ Scott said quietly, nodding at his boss.

‘Scott, I thought the girl was unharmed?’ Matilda frowned at the scene laid out before her.

‘That’s right.’

‘So where did all this blood come from?’ Matilda looked down at the white carpet. A trail of blood ran from the door to the bed. The pink duvet was smeared with blood.

‘Well, there was a puppy. He was on the floor next to the girl when the first officer on the scene arrived. It was as if he was looking after her. If you look, there are paw prints all over the carpet. I’m guessing the dog kept going out onto the landing and coming back in, not wanting to leave her.’

‘Poor thing,’ Matilda said.

‘The dog or the girl?’ Scott asked.

‘Both.’

Sian, gloved hand slapped to her mouth, looked down at the floor. She couldn’t take her eyes from the horror. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t hurt in any way?’

‘Not physically.’

‘She wasn’t … you know … interfered with?’

‘We don’t know that yet. I’m sure they’ll check her out at the hospital.’

‘How was she tied to the chair?’ Matilda asked. The chair was a small pine children’s chair. It was painted cream and the name ‘Rachel’ was written in pink copperplate on the back with a picture of a Dalmatian drawn on the seat.

‘She was tied around the waist, which held her arms in too. Her legs were tied together. She was also gagged but she’d managed to work that loose somehow.’

‘Why tie her up and not hurt her yet go on to kill like he did?’ Matilda asked, more to herself than her colleagues.

‘I don’t know. Have you seen the other victims?’ Scott asked.

‘We’ve seen two,’ Matilda replied.

‘Prepare yourselves. This is horrific.’

Matilda turned to Scott. He was looking at the ground, but she could see him struggling to keep hold of his emotions. ‘Are you all right?’ Matilda placed a comforting hand on the young DC’s arm. She could feel the tension.

‘No, I’m not. You don’t expect anything like this, ever.’

‘I’ve sent Rory outside for a break. Do you want to go?’

‘No. I’m fine.’

‘Right. Well, I need a team to go door to door. I want to know who these people are and if anyone saw anything. Sian, can you sort that?’

‘Sure.’

‘Obviously, don’t go into any details on what’s happened here. Not yet.’

‘There’s a marquee in the back garden,’ Scott said. ‘According to the woman who found them, there was a wedding reception here from yesterday evening onwards.’

‘We’re going to need a list of all the guests. Sian, give Christian a ring. Get him to bring a team out. I want everyone questioned.’

Sian left the room, dialling as she went.

‘Where’s the woman who found them, now?’

‘She’s been taken to hospital. She was hysterical when we got here. Oh, there’s a wet patch on the carpet on the landing. It’s where she wet herself.’

‘OK. I’ll let forensics know.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ Scott asked.

‘Go to the hospital and keep me informed of the girl’s condition. Take a uniform with you to keep guard.’

‘Do you think the killer will come back?’

‘I’ve no idea, but it’s a possibility.’

Matilda made her way carefully around the butchered man at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the attic. She felt her mobile phone vibrate in her pocket but ignored it. She couldn’t take her eyes from the man. Despite the horror of his final minutes, he looked at peace. Who would do something so violent, so shocking to another person?

The stairs leading up to the second floor were drenched in blood; smeared footprints and the odd paw print. Matilda looked down at her feet. The protective overshoes were covered in blood. When she got to the landing, she pulled another pair out of her pocket and replaced the saturated ones.

The attic was a hive of activity as Adele worked with the crime scene investigators. Arc lights had been erected and lit up the scene in an intruding bright white. Matilda entered the room and saw Lucy to one side, tears streaming down her face.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll be all right in a minute,’ she said.

Matilda felt sorry for her. She tried to remember when she was new to the job and the first crime scenes she had attended. In her whole twenty plus years on the force, she had never seen anything as horrific as this. If she had entered the scene as a twenty-something, she would have fainted and probably handed in her notice.

‘Why don’t you go outside for some air?’

‘I can’t. I’m needed here,’ she said between sobs.

‘I’m sure they can spare you for five minutes.’

‘I don’t think I can go down. I don’t want to see that man. Did you see his head? Oh God.’

Matilda didn’t know what else to say. She placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder then moved away towards the bloodshed.

Adele, crouched over the bed, stood up when she caught Matilda approaching out of the corner of her eye. Her blue forensic suit was stained red. She looked like the killer in a slasher film.

‘Late-fifties, early-sixties, at a guess,’ she said. ‘I’ve no idea how many times she’s been stabbed. Once we get her to the mortuary and cleaned up I’ll give you a better idea. Most of the wounds are to her face, chest and stomach. Look around you, the length of the sprays, this was savage.’

Matilda looked up at the ceiling and took in the sight of red lines, flicked up as the knife was pulled out of the body.

‘Lucy, I need your help here to turn her over,’ Adele called out.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Matilda said.

Matilda backed away and watched as Adele and Lucy gently turned the woman over. She tried to get a look at her face, see if she recognized her from somewhere, but there were no definable features. This woman had been destroyed.

Lucy turned away and made a gagging noise as if she was about to be sick. Matilda looked back at the body.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ she asked.

‘Her intestines? Yes.’ Adele nodded.

‘What the hell has he done? Removed her organs?’

‘I won’t know until I conduct a full PM. It’s not unusual, though, for someone to stab so frenzied that they dislodge the intestines.’ Adele sounded so calm, so professional. How was that possible?

‘You’ve seen something like this before?’ Matilda asked.

‘Only in text books.’

More photographs were taken by the forensic team. Matilda couldn’t take her eyes from the butchered woman. She was reminded of one of Jack the Ripper’s victims. The carnage, the sense of anger and hatred the killer must have had to perform an act of pure evil. Matilda uttered a goodbye to Adele, but she was wrapped up in her work so didn’t hear. She turned to the staircase, and headed back down, frowning at the position of the bloody footprints. A flash of something entered her head, then disappeared just as quickly.

As she reached the landing, she stepped over the man again, looking him directly in the eyes. There was nothing there. She was staring death in the face and it was looking right back at her.

‘Matilda.’ She heard her name being called from the hallway downstairs. Glad of the distraction, she turned away.

Walking downstairs, she saw how her white forensic suit and gloves were smeared with blood, even though she hadn’t touched anything. It was everywhere. Her plastic overshoes were slippery on the wood flooring of the hallway. She closed her eyes as she carefully stepped around the body at the bottom of the stairs.

‘I’ve got an ID on our victims,’ Sian said, heading into the living room.

‘Go on.’

‘Clive and Serena Mercer live here alone. They have two children: Jeremy and Leah. Now, according to neighbours, Leah got married yesterday and she and her new hubby left for their honeymoon early evening. Jeremy came home from Liverpool for the wedding with his daughter, Rachel, and stayed the night.’

‘So he’s our other victim?’

‘It looks like it.’

‘And the little girl is his daughter.’

‘It would appear so.’

‘Where’s her mother?’

‘Apparently, she died a few years ago.’

‘We need a contact number for Leah. I don’t want her hearing about this on the news. Do we know where she’s gone for her honeymoon?’

‘Paris,’ Sian replied, looking down at her pad.

‘OK. Have a look around, try and find something that tells us whereabouts she’s gone and we’ll arrange for the local police to go around and tell her. Where is everyone?’ Matilda asked, looking around and seeing no police officers.

‘I’ve just seen Scott drive off. Rory is in the back garden. He looked dreadful. I haven’t seen anyone else.’

‘Give Christian another ring. We need more people here. I need to go and see Valerie. This is going to go international once the press gets to know about it.’

Matilda left the house and peeled off the forensic suit. She passed a police car with its back door open. Behind a grill was a puppy Dalmatian caked in blood. Laying down, his head between his front paws, he looked up at Matilda with large sad eyes as she approached.

‘Hello sweetheart.’ She put a few fingers through the grill and scratched the top of his head. His tail wagged, but he didn’t stand up. ‘You’re missing Rachel?’ His ears pricked at the sound of a familiar name. ‘Poor thing. What did you see in that house?’ She tore herself away from the dog and headed to her car.

At the top of the drive she turned back to look at the house. It was a beautiful family home. Yesterday, there was a wedding. Everyone would have been so happy to watch two young people begin their new life together. They will have laughed, danced, and drank well into the night. Within hours it was a scene of horror.

It reminded Matilda how fragile life was. She knew that only too well. She took her phone out of her pocket, ignored the missed calls from Sally Meagan and looked at the photo she had as her wallpaper. It was her husband, James, smiling back at her. She loved that smile. She missed him so much. She walked away with tears stinging her eyes.