A Little Death Read online

  She came to a stop in front of it. ‘When did all this arrive?’

  ‘A month ago but this is the first time I’ve seen it. Like it?’

  Dropping her belongings on the big worktable she stared at it. ‘I don’t know what to say except that I want one for the psychology department. What does it do?’

  ‘It’s a Smartboard, so pretty much anything you ask.’

  Imagining Watts’s response to this, she watched as Julian put the laptop on the floor, stood and went to the board to raise both hands, moving basic details of the Williams case around using his index finger and thumb. He tapped one of the icons to one side of the board. A map of the Genners Lane area appeared and next to it the field where Elizabeth Williams’ body had been found. Hanson’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’.

  He grinned. ‘That’s nothing. Watch this.’

  On a single hand-gesture the field filled the board. Following another, she was seeing its surface detail, its hedges and trees in 3D. She watched his hand move again and the 3D image disappeared, replaced by two large, full colour reproductions of Elizabeth Williams’ photographs. She stared at them as Corrigan came and stood beside her.

  ‘Tragic,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes. It is.’

  The door opened and she turned, expecting to see Watts. Standing there was a shortish man who looked to be in his late fifties dressed in a brown three-piece suit. He looked at Hanson then at Corrigan.

  ‘Who’s this?’ he asked.

  Corrigan made introductions. ‘Dr Kate Hanson, Forensic Psychologist from the University of Birmingham. Dr Hanson, this is Inspector Nuttall, Thames Valley Police.’

  Nuttall came inside with a squeak of polished shoes, eyes on her. ‘I’ve heard about you from the chief.’ He looked back to Corrigan.

  ‘Where’s the pathologist?’

  ‘PM suite. We’re going down in a couple of minutes.’

  Nuttall glanced at Julian, gave the screen a dismissive look then back to Corrigan. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Chief Superintendent Gander so I’ll leave you to it. I don’t need to see the PM. You’ll learn that I operate with a light management hand but keep in mind that most murder cases are straightforward and obvious and that’s exactly how we work them.’

  Hanson watched him go through the door and out. ‘What was that about?’ she asked.

  Corrigan shook his head. ‘If he was in Thames Valley, he’d be an amusing irrelevance.’

  The door flew open and Watts leant into the room. ‘Chong’s ready for us.

  They followed him, Hanson thinking that the case file would have to wait. She’d get it copied and take the information home.

  Inside the post-mortem suite Hanson was feeling edgy. It made no difference that she’d already seen the remains. It didn’t help that she’d seen bad sights on other cases she’d worked on here and for other police forces. Each post-mortem produced that same mix of edginess and shocked recognition of the harm done purposely by one person to another: lover, relative, friend, stranger.

  The extract system hummed as Chong approached one end of the steel table and lifted the green sheet, quietly folding it back on itself until all of the remains were exposed. They stood in silence around the table, their clothes, heads and faces covered. The garb was mandatory. To Hanson it was a final rejection, distancing her and her colleagues from what had been a living, breathing individual. Months ago, she’d said as much to Watts. His response had been, ‘When you’re dead, you’re dead, doc, and when you’re alive in this game you don’t want to leave hairs or pick up something nasty and take it with you.’

  She looked down at all there was of Elizabeth Williams. It had been awful when viewed at its illicit burial site. It was no better under stark post-mortem lights although the odour was slightly less potent.

  ‘OK, UCU,’ said Chong quietly. ‘This won’t take long.’

  They watched her stretch her arms to encompass the remains. ‘Elizabeth Williams. Nineteen years old. Dental records confirm the DNA identification.’ She walked slowly towards the head then back to the feet to reach for a manila file on a nearby work surface.

  ‘I can tell you that she was not stabbed, not beaten and not shot. The X-rays I took rule out all three.’

  She removed a single A4 sheet from the file. ‘Toxicology indicates she wasn’t poisoned. There is no indication of ingestion of alcohol or other substance at around the time she died.’ Hanson picked up restlessness from Watts.

  ‘OK. Let’s have it,’ he said. ‘What did kill her?’

  She gave him a direct look. ‘I don’t know.’

  He stared at her. ‘We’ve got three weeks max on this and the one thing worse than investigating a MISPER is a murder without a cause of death.’

  Chong pointed to the remains. ‘Last June was warm and wet. Add to that the damage to the tarpaulin caused by animal predation which allowed moisture to seep inside and you’ll understand why the body is in such a poor state. That, plus insect and rodent activity and proliferation of her gut bacteria …’ She stopped.

  ‘I’ve spent eight hours on her and I’ve told you what didn’t happen. That’s useful, although I understand it’s not what you want. There’s no indication that she had consensual sex or was raped prior to death but given the state of the body I can’t rule them out. She wasn’t subjected to a severe beating which damaged her skeletal structure, but there’s little of her soft tissue in a good enough state of preservation to indicate what might have happened to her. Elizabeth Williams is a riddle wrapped in a mystery, or however the saying goes.’

  Hanson gazed over her mask at Watts, guessing he was choosing his words because he didn’t want to get on Chong’s wrong side.

  ‘The cases I’ve worked over the years where the victim was a young female, strangulation was often the cause of death.’

  He glanced at her to judge how she was taking this line of reasoning. ‘In that kind of situation the hyoid bone in the neck gets broken, plus there was a scarf.’

  She shook her head. ‘The scarf wasn’t a tool of strangulation. The hyoid is intact. Remember the X-rays? As I said there’s no indication of trauma to her skeletal structure but like I’ve also said, there’s no tissue in a condition which might provide evidence of bruising or petechial haemorrhage.’

  ‘What about the trace evidence?’ asked Hanson.

  Chong gave her a quick nod. ‘Thanks for moving us on to the good news. I’ve removed the fibres from under her fingernails. They look to me to be wool, pale in colour, possibly from domestic carpeting. Forensics will confirm or otherwise when they’ve tested them.’

  She walked to the head of the remains. ‘I’ve also given Forensics the fragments of tree bark caught in the head hair which appear to have come from a range of trees, plus slivers of wood, a very deceased stag beetle and a range of other insect remains. Forensics have it all. They’ve estimated an absolute minimum of several days for a report back.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going?’ Hanson asked Watts as they left headquarters and headed towards the High Street.

  She gazed out of the window. Out here, normal life was continuing. The Range Rover slowed and she watched two teenage girls cross in front of them in short skirts and sandals, their demeanour light and bubbly. She felt an urgent need to call to them: Please – stay aware. Never doubt that there are people capable of doing you harm.

  Lips pressed together, she shielded her eyes with her hand. Since having Maisie, every young person seemed to be vulnerable. Love for her daughter plus the kind of work she did made it unlikely that that view would change.

  ‘To that Sanctuary place Myers goes to. They’re expecting us,’ he said.

  She was surprised. Her initial assessment of Myers hadn’t suggested a need to see him again so soon. He was a fantasist, which in Watts’s terms made him appear odd, but there had been nothing in his general demeanour at the field which suggested to her that he might have had direct involvement in a murder
committed many months before. She doubted Watts was taking seriously what Myers had said about a voice he’d claimed to have heard. She wasn’t convinced about it herself if it came to it.

  ‘You’re interested in him?’

  ‘I am now.’ He gave her a quick glance. ‘I’ve done some checking. You were right. Michael Myers isn’t his real name. He changed it from Terry Higgins by deed poll three years back.’

  Seeing Hanson’s mouth open he said, ‘Want to know something else? He’s got form.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Disturbing the peace times two. He’s a peeping Tom.’

  ‘Voyeur,’ she corrected.

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘What do you know about his offences?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re the usual. Watching women who can’t be bothered to close their curtains.’

  She chose not to debate this. ‘When and where?’

  ‘Both offences date back to 1996 in the Bartley Green area. According to the file it was around the time his mother died, which was given as a mitigating factor in court. There were no aggravating factors so he got a non-custodial sentence.’

  She recalled what Myers had told them about himself. ‘Did you establish if he’s had any army experience?’

  ‘He’s got that all right but don’t get excited about all that SAS stuff he was on about. He managed to get accepted by the army back in 1987.’ He huffed. ‘They must have been desperate.’

  ‘So his references to being a soldier have some foundation?’

  ‘Yeah. Three weeks at Catterick before they twigged him and slung him out.’

  THREE

  ‘Miss Williams? Joy Williams?’

  The fiftyish woman nodded to the tall, dark-haired man with the American accent, then gazed at the identification he was holding towards her.

  ‘Lieutenant Corrigan, Unsolved Crime Unit, police headquarters, Rose Road. I rang earlier.’

  He hadn’t been specific on the phone but it was evident that she had an idea why he was here. The female victim support officer he’d requested should arrive in about an hour. Looking at the woman, thinking of the news he was about to give her, he wished that Hanson was here.

  Getting no response he said, ‘May I come inside, ma’am?’

  She let him into the small hallway and Corrigan closed the door behind him. He’d delivered bad news many times, here and back home. It never got easier but the focus was always the person about to get the bad news. He watched her walk into the room immediately ahead and followed. It was a pleasant room, all pale carpet and soft furnishings and he regretted having to bring the horror of violent death into it.

  Inside the sitting room she turned to him, waiting. He wanted her sitting.

  ‘How about we sit down?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry. I’m not thinking.’

  She waved him towards an armchair then sat on the edge of a sofa, hands fluttering at her hair, then at the collar of her cotton shirt like restless birds. She gripped them together and looked directly at him.

  ‘You’ve got news. About Elizabeth.’

  ‘I have, ma’am.’ A clock above the fireplace ticked on. ‘I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this. Elizabeth has been found.’

  Her knuckles showed white. ‘Found where? Where is she?’

  Suspecting that Joy Williams wasn’t yet equating ‘found’ with ‘dead’, he said, ‘A victim support officer is on her way but in the meantime is there someone you’d like to have with you? Someone nearby? A relative or a friend? Maybe a good neighbour?’

  He saw the shock of realisation reach her face. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she? Elizabeth is dead.’

  He met her gaze. ‘I’m truly sorry, ma’am. She is.’ He stood. ‘If you tell me where the kitchen is, I’ll make you a hot drink.’

  Miss Williams gazed up at him ‘No, no. I’m … fine.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Joy Williams nodded then bowed her head.

  A couple of minutes passed until he spoke again, his voice low. ‘I’m sorry we have to give you such bad news.’

  She straightened, hands clasped tight. ‘Every day since she went I’ve waited for somebody like you to come here.’ She looked up at him. He saw hope in her eyes.

  ‘There was nothing on the news this morning. If you’ve found her, why wasn’t it reported?’

  ‘We delayed confirmation until you were informed. It will be reported on later today.’

  ‘There’s no mistake?’ The question sounded like a plea.

  He shook his head. ‘No. DNA taken by the previous investigation confirms it is Elizabeth.’

  She sat in silence for some seconds then gave him a direct look. ‘Tell me where she’s been these last twelve months.’

  Editing out words like ‘body’ and ‘remains’, he kept to the meagre facts. ‘She was concealed in a field not far from her college.’

  Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘So close. She’s been there all this time?’

  He wouldn’t get into more details. It was unlikely that she was capable of absorbing them right now. ‘Possibly.’

  She looked him in the eye. ‘I can’t see her, can I?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. No.’

  She gazed towards the window. ‘This is what I’ve been dreading since she went but I can tell you, Lieutenant Corrigan, I’ve learned in this last year that there’s something much, much worse and that’s not knowing what happened to her. You’ve found her and there’s something I can do for her now. When do you think her … she’ll be released?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t confirm that but I promise we’ll keep you informed as to when that’s likely.’

  Her eyes still on Corrigan, she said, ‘I’m sorry but I have another question.’

  ‘That’s not a problem, ma’am. Please ask whatever you want. If I can give you an answer, I will.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  It was the question he’d hoped wouldn’t arise, the one to which he had no definite answer. ‘That’s uncertain right now.’

  He leant towards her. ‘The victim support officer I mentioned earlier will be available for as long as you need her. She can give you practical help and advice but also listen when you want to talk. If you have questions she’ll relay them to us. I promise we’ll get back to you.’

  She looked down at her hands, tears falling unchecked onto the cotton shirt.

  He waited. Right now there was no way he could put this woman through any more trauma. ‘Miss Williams, I’ll stay with you until that officer arrives but I’ll come back another day to ask you some questions about Elizabeth if you’re OK with that?’

  ‘Ask them now.’

  He paused. ‘You’re sure about that, ma’am?’

  She squared her shoulders, her mouth trembling. ‘Yes. I’ll feel I’m doing something for her. Something useful.’

  He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. ‘The police came here when you reported Elizabeth missing?’

  ‘Yes. I answered all their questions, gave them photographs …’ She pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘I explained to them that I was Elizabeth’s paternal aunt. My brother and Elizabeth’s mother divorced when Elizabeth was very small. He died a couple of years later and I had very little contact with Elizabeth or her mother. I was living in Dorset. I was a teacher. But when I heard that her mother had died and there weren’t any other relatives I knew Elizabeth faced being taken into care. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I had to give her a home. Not in Dorset, of course. Birmingham was where Elizabeth’s life was, her friends, her school. She was barely fifteen and I wanted to keep everything the same for her as much as possible. So I sold my house and moved up here. Bought this house for us.’

  ‘When did you last see Elizabeth, ma’am?’

  ‘The weekend she vanished. She came here on the Sunday for tea.’

  Corrigan had seen this information in the file. ‘Is there anything you recall of that visit, anything you’ve thou
ght about since that you think might help us in our search for whoever harmed her?’

  She thought for some seconds then shook her head. ‘Nothing comes to mind.’

  Corrigan asked, ‘Elizabeth moved into her own accommodation when she went to college?’

  ‘Yes, but not straight away.’ She looked at him. ‘After a while I could see that she needed to spread her wings. She shared a tiny house with another student. I was a bit worried when she went but I thought I must have done something right to get her to that point.’

  ‘Elizabeth visited with you often after that?’

  ‘Yes. She came a couple of times a week. I’d make dinner for her and sometimes for the friend she shared the house with.’

  ‘Can you confirm that friend’s full name?’ he asked, with his pen poised.

  ‘Jess –’ she put a hand to her forehead, flustered – ‘how stupid. I can’t think of her second name.’ Her lips trembled. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s OK, ma’am. It’s not a problem. What about other friends? One’s that maybe Elizabeth talked about to you?’

  ‘I think Jess was the main one. Elizabeth was a friendly, outgoing girl but she was also very private. She mentioned some other names in passing but none that stuck in my head. You know she had a boyfriend?’

  Corrigan nodded. ‘Can you confirm his name?’

  ‘Chris Turner.’

  ‘Did you ever meet him?’

  ‘A couple of times. She seemed to become more independent of me once she and Chris got together. I suppose it was inevitable. When she first came to live with me she soaked up the care I gave her like blotting paper. It was a real pleasure to do things for her.’ Miss Williams struggled for control. ‘She hadn’t had that for a long time, you see. Not since her mother became ill.’ She looked directly at Corrigan.