As they drew up to the Clapham Common parking area, she noticed the presence of the forensic van, and numerous unmarked cars. Although police cordons allowed no one but officers entry, an exception was made for the catering van which was already in place and serving pies and sandwiches to the teams setting up the base.
What surprised her was the lack of a sense of urgency. Lewis and Barolli went straight from the car to ‘Teapot One’ to get some coffee. Unsure of the procedure, Anna just hovered nearby. When she looked further across the common towards the yellow ribbons cordoning off the car park, she could see white-suited forensic officers moving around.
‘Is this the murder site?’ she asked Lewis.
‘Pretty obvious. Yeah.’
‘Shouldn’t we go and sort of make our presence known to DCI Langton?’ she said hesitantly.
‘You had your breakfast, then?’ Lewis asked.
‘Yes, before I got the callout.’ Actually, she’d had just a cup of black coffee; she had been too nervous to eat. Anna waited while Lewis and Barolli queued up for their bacon sandwiches. They made short work of them, after which the three began to make their way to the murder site. Anna let them lead, deliberately falling behind. After eight hundred yards, they slithered down a sloping bank. She noticed both officers tense up. Lewis removed a handkerchief from his pocket and shook it out; Barolli unwrapped chewing gum.
They approached a group which stood by a clump of trees in a small hollow. There the forensic officers were kneeling or moving deliberately around the area. Anna stepped onto the duckboards placed strategically along the muddy incline. Though the two detectives nodded towards various people, no one spoke. The quiet was unsettling. Then it hit her. The smell was like dead flowers left too long to rot in water, when their stems become soggy and discoloured. Soon it was overpowering.
‘You took your time,’ DCI Langton barked at the two detectives. He turned to light a cigarette and she saw a tall rangy man in a forensic-issue white paper suit, five o’clock shadow already breaking the surface of his angular chin. Langton had a hawk nose and hard piercing eyes which made it difficult to meet his gaze. Neither detective answered him now, both turning to look instead towards the white tent which had just been erected. Langton inhaled deeply, then the smoke streamed from his nostrils.
‘Is it a possible?’ she overheard Lewis ask his superior quietly.
‘Yeah. But you watch. The dickhead in charge is going to hang on to the case if we can’t prove it ? and fast.’
Now Langton’s gaze fell on Anna. He stared un-apologetically at her.
‘You the new DS?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I knew your father. Good man.’
‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
Detective Chief Superintendent Jack Travis had retired two years ago, only to die from cancer six months later. Anna still missed him terribly. She had adored her generous, loving and supportive father, and it was a source of grief for her that he was gone before she made it in plain clothes. She felt that grief even more keenly now that she was on the Murder Squad which had become such a prominent part of his adult life. His nickname had been ‘Jack the Knife’, for his ability to cut through the dross. More than anything, Anna wanted to be as successful as Jack Travis.
The smoke trailed from Langton’s cigarette as he pointed to the tent. ‘I think it might be our angel, the missing girl.’ He headed towards the open tent flap. ‘Want to take a look?’ he asked Anna over his shoulder.
Lewis and Barolli were given white paper suits and overshoes so as not to contaminate the area. ‘They’re short of masks,’ Langton explained as he delved into a cardboard box and handed Anna her suit packet. ‘Gown up, then keep to the duckboards.’ He squeezed the butt of his cigarette, placing it in his pocket.
Anna hastily opened the packet and removed her paper suit. She hauled it up over her skirt and jacket, then closed the Velcro, which stuck to her tweed jacket. As she balanced on one foot and then the other to fit the overshoes over her low-heeled court shoes, she kept taking deep breaths to ward off the strong stench, breathing through her mouth in short sharp intakes, then hissing out the air.
Behind her, she was aware of one officer grumbling to another.
‘What’s he doing here; this isn’t his turf, is it?’
‘No, but he wanted to take a look. He’s handling that dead-end case over at Queen’s Park. Cheeky sod; I’d like to know how he got here so fucking fast. Plus he’s got those two goons with him. Don’t know who he thinks he is. DCI Hedges is going apeshit.’
When Anna stepped into the tent, she remembered what she’d been told: no training ever prepares you. They can show you mortuary shots, you can discuss post mortems (she’d even been present at one), but not until you confront your first real corpse does the impact hit you. They always say it’s the first one that stays with you for the rest of your career.
‘You think it’s her?’ she heard Lewis whisper.
‘Maybe,’ Langton said. ‘Right age, right colouring.’
‘She’s been here for a while.’ Barolli was sniffing with disgust. ‘In pretty good shape, though. No decomposition. It’s the bad weather. She’s been covered in snow, but yesterday was a freak day, almost seventy degrees.’
While Langton chatted with his two detectives, Anna edged across the duckboards to move closer.
‘We think she’s maybe a student, reported missing six weeks ago,’ Langton broke off mid-conversation to explain to Anna, ‘but we won’t know for sure until they’ve done the post mortem.’ He turned back to address his detectives. Langton became a blur; she could see his lips moving, hear him faintly, but as those in front parted ranks to give her a clear view of the corpse, Anna wanted to vomit. Now she was close up, the stench was thick and heavy, worsened by the confines of the tent.
The victim lay on her back, her long, blonde hair splayed around her head. Her face was swollen, her eyes sunken and crawling with maggots, which explored her nostrils and fed in her mouth, squirming and wriggling: a sickening, seething mass. Around the girl’s neck was what looked like a black scarf. It had been knotted so tightly her neck was ballooning. The victim’s skin tone was bluish and puffy. Her arms were behind her back, her body slightly arched. Her T-shirt had been drawn up over her breasts, her skirt pushed up around her belly. Both legs were spread-eagled, one shoe on, the other close to her side. The knees were scraped and the bloody scratches were covered in flies and maggots, which clustered all around the body. Rising above it was the buzzing sound of bluebottles. Bloated by their feeding frenzy, they clung to the detectives’ white suits.
‘This weather’s got them out early,’ Langton said, swatting a fly off his suit.
Anna could feel her legs start to buckle. She breathed deeply, trying hard not to faint.
‘Let’s go.’
Langton watched Anna stumble ahead of him, desperate to get out of the tent. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. She made it as far as a tree and stood there retching. Her stomach heaved while her eyes streamed tears.
The other two detectives were stripping off their white suits and dumping them in a waste disposal bin provided.
‘See you back at the car park,’ Langton called out, but Anna couldn’t lift her head.
When she finally joined them, they were sitting on a picnic bench. Langton was eating a sandwich and the others were drinking coffee. Anna’s face was almost as blue as the dead girl’s as she perched on the edge of the bench.
Langton passed her a paper napkin.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured, wiping her face.
‘We’ll get over to the station. Nothing much we can do here; right now, she doesn’t belong to us.’
‘Sorry?’ she said.
Langton gave a sigh. ‘The little girl isn’t ours. The local police called in the murder team for this area, so by rights it’s their case, not mine. We’re not allowed to take it unless we prove a connection. Fucking red tape! The arsehole in charge is a right little prick.’
‘You still think it’s the same bloke?’ Lewis asked.
‘Looks like it, but let’s not jump to conclusions,’ Langton said. She noticed Langton could smoke and eat at the same time. He was chewing his sandwich while smoke drifted from his nose.
