Bishop insisted that none of this was marked on the council plans, and he could not be held responsible. But that didn’t alter the fact that the cost of the delays to the demolition would be astronomical. And the fact that Detective Carter was arrogant and even abusive didn’t help. Bishop had been repeatedly questioned about what he had touched inside the shelter, even though he had made it clear that he had only entered, seen the horrendous sight of the corpse by torchlight, then left.
Three SOCOs were now down in the shelter and Emra Saddell, a forensic scientist, was examining the corpse. She looked up as DCI Carter, being over six feet tall and of athletic build, stooped to enter the second chamber. He was a snazzy dresser who prided himself on his designer jackets and was known to wear rather overpowering cologne. He also had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, but Emra did not exactly find her heart racing as he joined her.
When Carter had first met her, he had presumed she was a clerk and told her he needed a white coffee with two sugars, as it was obvious the pathologist was going to keep him waiting! And he hadn’t even apologised when she’d explained that she was, in fact, the pathologist.
As Carter approached, she pulled off her face mask — she had worn it into the bunker, having been tipped off that the stench in there was sickening.
‘I would estimate she has been down here maybe eight or nine years,’ she said, anticipating his first question. ‘But I won’t be able to confirm that until I have examined her more closely. As you can see, the ankle chain bolted to the ground would have become looser as she starved, but it was still tightly attached to her boot with her foot inside. I am not removing it here. Her clothes are modern, quite good quality, and I would estimate her age to be early twenties. She is wearing some gold bangles, which you can see from their position on the ground may have slipped from her wrist.’
Carter rubbed his nose. The stench was overpowering.
‘When is she going to be removed? I’ve got the foreman pestering me about how long this is going to take. You found anything to identify her?’ he said brusquely.
‘I will take dental imprints as soon as she’s in the lab and get onto a dental forensic odontologist, so that should help you. I would suggest you get on to missing persons. As I said, she’s wearing rather good fashionable clothes and when her hair was attached to her skull it was in reasonable condition and well cut. She’s been down here for a considerable time, so even though it must have been quite airtight, the decomposition is pretty advanced; I can only give you more specific details when I have her on my table. Hopefully that’ll be first thing tomorrow morning.’
Carter nodded and turned to the SOCO. ‘Found anything to tell us who she was, or why she was down here? A handbag or coat or anything?’
The SOCO shook his head. ‘No, nothing in either chamber.’
Carter frowned, while the photographer continued taking shots of the chamber as well as close-up pictures of the corpse, focusing on the ankle chain and bolts.
Carter checked his watch. It was already after seven and he was concerned the generator for the big lamps would soon be running out. But he was also keen to get home and remove the hideous stench from his usually immaculate clothes.
Jane was dressed in one of her best suits, over a clerical-collared shirt, with her camel overcoat. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and was wearing it in a fashionable pageboy style. She had even applied some makeup and lipstick.
She arrived at Stockwell station just before a quarter past eight, driving through the open station yard gates. She noted the number of spaces already allocated to officers, with the majority of the space for patrol cars. Parking as unobtrusively as possible, she went to the rear door of the station. There was a keypad for entry, but she had no idea what the code was, so she walked round to the front.
The façade was reminiscent of her days at Hackney, even down to the old blue lamp above the station door. There was a rather overweight, balding duty sergeant on reception, who seemed to take great pleasure in asking for her identification before giving her directions to the main incident room.
As she climbed the worn stone stairs, a girl with bouncing curly blonde hair appeared and looked at Jane with surprise.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m sure you can,’ Jane said, affably. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Jane Tennison.’
‘Oh, I’m Barbara. I’m the CID clerk. If you turn to the right, there is a ladies’ toilet which we have only just been allocated — before that any women working here had to go to the top floor. If you continue down that corridor you’ll see the double doors which lead into the main offices.’
Barbara turned to continue down the stairs and then looked back. ‘Are they expecting you?’
Jane found her tone rather over-familiar and replied curtly, ‘I certainly hope they are. I’m joining DCI Carter’s team.’
Barbara didn’t seem to react as Jane proceeded down the corridor and entered the main room where all the DCs’ and DSs’ desks were lined up. There didn’t appear to be anyone there expecting her, but just then the double doors banged open, almost hitting her, as people started streaming in. A couple of young officers muttered ‘Excuse me’, but otherwise they just ignored her. Jane was wondering what to do when a suave-looking man emerged from one of the doors leading off the main office and strode towards her. He was wearing a chequered jacket, pristine pressed trousers and highly polished shoes.
‘You must be Jane Tennison,’ he said, looking her over. ‘I’m DCI Carter. Glad you could join the team. We’ve had rather a night of it and haven’t yet had time to get the incident board up and rolling.’
She followed him as he made quick introductions to various officers, before gesturing towards a door next to his office. It had clearly once been the corner of the main room and was now partitioned off to make a very small office, but at least it had a window.
‘Park yourself in there, then come in and I’ll give you an update. Not that there’s much to tell, and it’s quite an unpleasant case.’
Jane didn’t even have time to thank him as she stepped into her ‘cubby hole’ of an office. She hung her coat on a hook on the back of the door and looked at the small worn desk. It had three drawers on either side, an empty in-tray, a telephone and a desk chair that had seen better days. The wall had faded markings where previously, pictures had hung. She placed her briefcase down on the desk, took out her notebook, then ran a brush through her hair and checked her watch. It was nine o’clock.
Her office door opened, and the bubbly blonde Barbara popped her head round. ‘Fancy a coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ Jane said.
Barbara shrugged. ‘The canteen’s two floors up if you change your mind.’ She turned without shutting the door. Jane was already finding her irritating.
She straightened her jacket and with her notepad and pencil ready went out into the main room and knocked on DCI Carter’s door. He was sitting behind a modern desk and his office was at least twice the size of hers, with a reasonable carpet and two armchairs. There were several rows of bookcases which were crammed with files and Met Police manuals.
‘Right, are you settled in, then?’ he asked, waving his hand for her to sit without looking at her. She was about to reply when he looked up.