The Labrador had been snuffling along a dusty skirting board when it suddenly came alert. It tracked back and forwards along one length, then looked towards its handler and barked.
Fussing it, the woman turned to Whelan. ‘Looks like he’s got something.’
Jessop had said virtually nothing all this time, his moody presence adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Now, beckoned forward by Whelan, he banged the wall above where the dog had reacted with his fist. It produced a hollow thump.
‘Plasterboard,’ he grunted.
Opening the plastic case, he took out a battery-operated drill and bored a small hole low down the wall. From his shoulder bag, he took out an inspection endoscope, a fibre-optic probe connected to a small hand-held screen. Inserting the probe through the hole he’d drilled, he rotated it this way and that. Light shone on his face as he studied the image on the screen. Then he stopped, minutely adjusting the controls to improve the picture.
‘What is it?’ Whelan asked.
Instead of answering, Jessop set down the endoscope. Reaching again into his bag, he pulled out a crowbar. Before anyone could do anything, he smashed it against the wall, knocking a hole in the flimsy plasterboard. Whelan leapt forward as the contractor thrust his arm inside.
‘Jesus, what the hell…!’
But Jessop was already withdrawing his arm from the hole. He had something dark and furry in his hand. He held it up by its thin tail.
‘Just a rat. Probably got through the skirting.’
Whelan said nothing as he went over to the hole in the wall. He peered through it, shining his torch to see inside. I got the impression it was as much to give himself a chance to calm down as to make sure there was nothing else in there. His eyes were cold as he turned to Jessop.
‘Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll charge you with interfering with evidence. You see anything in future, you let me decide what to do about it. Clear?’
‘Christ, it was only a bloody rat—’
‘Are we clear?’
The contractor looked away. ‘All right, calm down,’ he muttered.
He tossed the dead rat into a corner. The dog leapt after it excitedly, earning a rebuke from its trainer. It slunk back, looking hurt. Whelan took a deep breath.
‘OK, let’s call it lunchtime.’
The weather had eased to a light mizzle outside, a fine spray that hung in the air and clung to hair and clothing. I considered walking over to the church ruins in the woods behind the hospital, but with the ground wet and muddy I decided on a sandwich and mug of tea in my car instead.
I was staring blankly out of the window, chewing mechanically and wondering what Rachel was doing, when there was a rap on the passenger window. It was Ward.
‘Got a minute?’
I reached across and pushed open the door for her to get in. I hadn’t seen her since her press statement had been hijacked by Oduya, and I was struck now by how tired she looked. There were shadows under her eyes and lines on her face I couldn’t recall seeing before. She eased herself into the car seat with a sigh, awkward because of her stomach.
‘Nice to take the weight off my feet. I’m not staying long, just wanted to see how you were getting on.’
I gave a shrug. ‘So far, so good, I suppose. We haven’t found anything else yet.’
‘Please God. I’d like one day when we’re not making new headlines. How are you getting on with our resident demolition expert?’
‘Jessop? I can’t say we’ve spoken that much.’
‘Very diplomatically put. I hear he’s not the most enthusiastic member of the team.’
‘Let’s say I think he’d rather be knocking the place down than working in it.’
‘Can’t really blame him. All these delays must be costing him a fortune. If he wasn’t such an awkward sod I’d feel sorry for him.’ She shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. ‘Have you spoken to your friend Mears recently?’ She gave ‘your friend’ an ironic emphasis.
‘I saw him at the mortuary yesterday. He said he’d found burns on both victims.’
‘Oh, it’s a bit more than that now. He thinks they could be brands.’
‘Brands? As in cattle brands?’ That was news to me.
‘Or something similar. They’re only small and they were difficult to spot, given the state the bodies were in. But he says a naked flame would have left a lot more charring to the skin. He thinks someone used something like a soldering iron on the victims. Something hot enough to scorch the bone but only cause localized burns.’
‘Hang on, the burns penetrated to the bone?’
Ward nodded. ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? He hasn’t examined the larger victim yet, so for the moment we’re still assuming it’s probably male. But he’s confirmed the other victim was a woman in her late thirties or early forties. And he’s found marks on her skeleton that correspond to the scorching on her skin.’
Christ. I was still trying to think of anything that could burn so deep without causing much more visible damage to the epidermis. Small or not, I hadn’t noticed any burns when I’d seen the remains in the concealed chamber. I could tell myself that it had been dark and I’d only had the chance to take a brief look, and even then only from a couple of yards away.
But still.
‘It gets better,’ Ward went on grimly. ‘The post-mortem X-rays showed fractures on the arms and legs of both victims. Only hairline, but it looks like someone gave them a real working over. Mears is speculating it might be gang or drug related.’
‘Is he an expert on that as well?’
She smiled. ‘No, but it’s a reasonable theory. We know drugs were being dealt from St Jude’s, and this has all the hallmarks of either a punishment or a revenge killing. Both victims strapped down and tortured and then bricked up while they were still alive. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like someone had a grudge.’
‘Would a gang go to all that trouble?’ Torture I could believe, but I couldn’t imagine gang members taking the time and trouble to wall up their victims, even if they’d had the skills.
Ward rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. ‘I said it was a theory, I didn’t say it was perfect. But it doesn’t make much sense to me either. If somebody wanted to make an example of them they’d have left the bodies somewhere obvious. And if they didn’t, why take the risk of them being found when the building was pulled down?’
I’d had a similar conversation with Parekh. I didn’t have an answer then either. ‘Have you had any luck with the fingerprints from the paint tins?’
‘No, we drew a blank on those, and the one left in the mortar. They’re from the same person and probably male from their size, but nothing’s come up on the database. So we could be looking at someone without a criminal record, which isn’t much help.’ She sounded flat, but then brightened. ‘One bit of good news is that Mears managed to lift the victims’ fingerprints.’
‘You’ve identified them?’
‘Not yet, but with the skin sloughed off I wasn’t holding out much hope of getting any prints off the bodies at all. Mears might look like an undergraduate, but he knows his stuff. Get this — he soaked the skin from the hands in water to soften it and then used it like gloves.’ She shook her head, impressed. ‘Never heard of that one before.’
I had. It only worked in certain circumstances but I’d used the same technique myself on several occasions. Still, I had to concede it took skill when the body was as old and decomposed as this.
‘Pity you couldn’t do the same for Christine Gorski,’ Ward went on, stifling a yawn. ‘Might have saved us some embarrassment if we’d identified her sooner.’
‘Her finger ends had been chewed by rats. She didn’t have any viable fingerprints left,’ I said, smarting at the comparison.
‘I know, I’m not criticizing.’ She paused. ‘And there were definitely no burns on her? Nothing to suggest she might have been tortured as well?’
‘I’d have told you if I’d found anything.’
‘You’re certain?’
I bit back the retort I’d been about to make and just gave her a look. Ward knew me well enough not to ask, and must have realized it herself. She nodded, acknowledging as much.
‘OK, I was just making sure.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go, but the reason I came over was to warn you there’ll be visitors later. Christine Gorski’s family want to see where their daughter was found.’
‘Is that a good idea?’ I asked, surprised.
‘It’s happening, whether it’s a good idea or not,’ Ward retorted, then sighed. ‘Look, we were caught out by them turning up like that. It didn’t exactly paint us in a good light, and now the body’s been identified as their daughter we don’t want to seem unsympathetic. They’ll just be brought here to see what we’re doing to find the people responsible for her death. We won’t be taking them inside the hospital building, so there’s no reason you should even see them. I’m just giving you prior warning so you know what to expect.’
She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself, and I could see why. Letting Christine Gorski’s family visit St Jude’s was a bad idea. They might not be under any illusions about the sordid nature of their daughter’s death, but seeing the squalor of where she’d died for themselves wouldn’t help them understand. Or bring them any comfort.
The whole thing smacked of a PR exercise. I knew Ward well enough to know she was unhappy herself, and guessed Ainsley was probably behind it. After the public debacle of her press statement, the commander would be keen to have something that would play well on TV.
It was only after Ward had left the car that I realized I’d missed the chance to tell her about Lola.