Читать книгу DCI Warren Jones - Paul Gitsham, Paul Gitsham - Страница 10

Warren stifled a yawn. He’d arrived home very late the night before, the adrenaline of the night’s activities soon giving way to a bone-weary exhaustion. He could have handed over the 8 a.m. briefing to DI Sutton, but his second-in-command had been up just as late as his DCI. And what would be the point? Despite his tiredness, sleep had proven elusive. The nightmares that had plagued him since the events of the summer had returned, and he’d eventually given up and driven into work, trying his best not to disturb Susan.

At the back of the room, he spied Moray Ruskin busy regaling another detective constable with a no-holds-barred description of the body from the previous night. He at least looked refreshed – a fact that had more to do with him going straight home than the resilience of youth, Warren told himself.

‘Dunno where the kid gets his energy,’ muttered Sutton. ‘He’s already been for a run and a session in the gym this morning. He’s helping train Mags Richardson for her first half-marathon.’

‘It’s just because he had a good night’s sleep.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, sir.’

Warren chose not to respond, instead bringing the room to order. After briefly summarising the events of the previous night, he projected a photograph of the body onto the briefing room screen.

‘We have yet to identify the victim, however preliminary indications are that the fire was self-inflicted. But until that is confirmed we’ll be treating the death as unexplained.’

Detective Sergeant Mags Richardson beat DS David Hutchinson to the first question.

‘Have we eliminated the kids who called it in? Some folks get a kick out of these things.’

‘That’s underway. Forensics are analysing their clothing and belongings for traces of accelerant and have finger-printed them and taken impressions of their shoes. The locked door is supposedly the only entrance into the undercroft large enough for a person to fit through, although we will be checking the state of the bars on the windows.’ Warren smiled. ‘Moray, they might respond better to someone closer to their own age. Can you do a follow-up interview with them later today?’

Ruskin acknowledged the thinly veiled reference to his own cheeky comments the night before with a grin.

‘Have English Heritage been contacted?’ asked Hutchinson.

‘We managed to get hold of them late last night, Hutch, and they referred us to St Cecil’s Home for Retired Clergy, who are actually responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the abbey,’ said Sutton, referring to his notebook. ‘The retirement home is actually situated within the abbey grounds, but at the far end from the chapel, and shielded by trees, so none of the residents were aware of what was happening until the fire engine turned up. A Deacon Gabriel Baines is in charge of the whole site, and he called the groundsman. The property was secured and I’ve arranged for a meeting with him first thing.’

‘I’ll take that,’ said Warren. ‘I want to get out there again.’

‘Any indications who the victim might be?’ asked DS Rachel Pymm.

‘All we have so far is that it’s an adult male,’ said Warren. ‘When we have a better description, we’ll contact missing persons and homeless shelters. I’m going to visit the abbey immediately after this briefing, and see if they can help. Any further questions?’

When none were forthcoming, Warren started assigning roles to the team.

‘Mags take charge of collecting CCTV; I’m sure they have cameras inside the grounds for security; our victim may have driven or walked, see what’s available from the surrounding area. Hutch, scope out any residential properties nearby and see if there are any witnesses. I’d also like you to arrange a team to interview any of the residents that live on site after I’ve visited.

‘Moray, bring the kids that called it in down to the station and sweat them a bit. At the moment it’s looking like a suicide, but I want us to keep an open mind. Rachel, I’d like you to set up an incident desk and get information inputted into HOLMES; if this does turn out to be something more sinister, I want us ready to react quickly.’ Warren suppressed a grimace as he remembered his early morning meeting with his superior, Detective Superintendent John Grayson. ‘Somebody burning to death in the crypt of Middlesbury’s number one tourist attraction is likely to generate headlines for all the wrong reasons. The sooner we deal with this the better.’