‘Tramp,’ offered Noble. ‘Don’t be afraid to use correct vocabulary. Sir.’
Brook smiled at being admonished by his own words. ‘No one will worry about these
‘So he’s daring us to care.’
‘Care? John, you’re missing the point. If he didn’t dump the remains we wouldn’t even know they were missing.’
‘So he’s dumping the bodies to draw attention.’
‘To find an audience, yes.’
‘He’s succeeding.’
‘I know,’ said Brook, rubbing his chin. ‘But I don’t think it’s our attention he’s after.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because we don’t understand what he’s doing — but somebody out there does. And that’s who he’s doing this for.’
DS Gadd and DC Cooper walked over to join Brook and Noble. Cooper took a sip of his coffee and shook his head at Noble. ‘Nada. I’ve spoken to Nottingham University Medical School. He’s not theirs. And with a necrotic liver and chronic heart disease, Tommy McTiernan’s physical condition put him near the bottom of every wish-list. There’s very little demand for his body or his organs, even if they obtained consent — not for transplant, nor for research.’
‘Same here,’ said Gadd. ‘Unwanted in life. Unwanted in death.’
‘Somebody wanted him, Jane,’ said Noble. ‘And if we draw a blank on the phones it’s looking more likely that McTiernan’s body hasn’t been stolen and hasn’t been misplaced.’ Noble’s mobile phone began to croak and he moved away to answer it.
‘Then how did our doer find Tommy?’ asked Cooper.
‘How do you find all the Tommys?’ said Brook. ‘You look on the streets.’
‘You think someone’s roaming the city looking for victims and just took him,’ said Cooper.
‘It’s starting to look that way,’ said Brook.
‘Alive?’
‘That would be easier than finding and transporting corpses,’ replied Brook.
‘Unless someone’s tipping him off about fresh bodies. A doctor maybe,’ said Cooper.
‘What’s in it for a doctor?’ asked Gadd.
‘All right, an ambulanceman then,’ retorted Cooper.
‘Same question.’
‘I don’t know, Jane. Money?’
‘No chance,’ replied Gadd. ‘Besides, these tramps usually die in public, in a hostel, on the streets, in shop doorways, so we’d know about them first. Or they die in the back room of some squat and don’t get found for weeks, maybe even months. The Embalmer’s taking them alive. McTiernan was fresh.’
Cooper nodded. ‘I suppose just picking them up and offering them a bed and a meal would be the easiest thing in the world.’
‘And when he’s got them where he wants them, he feeds them as much drink as they want and waits for the inevitable,’ said Gadd.
‘Patient man.’
‘Maybe he’s helping things along,’ replied Brook. ‘It’s hard to say. But if he has all this privacy, once he’s got them, he can do what he likes and he can take his time. Who would miss Tommy — a homeless man with no family? And even if McTiernan has friends on the street, his disappearance wouldn’t be unusual. He’s invisible, even to them.’ Brook paused, deep in thought. ‘That’s the life.’
‘He’d need an awful lot of privacy — and space.’
‘Somewhere remote,’ said Brook, moving back to the map.
‘So how do we catch him, sir? And what do we charge him with? Littering?’
Brook smiled, then looked down at his misshapen sweater and shabby trousers. He turned to each member of his team in turn and looked at their smart casual clothes. ‘Maybe we need a presence on the streets.’
Noble finished speaking on his mobile but continued writing in his notebook. ‘That was Don Crump from the lab. The Forensics paperwork won’t be done until tomorrow but he’s given me the heads-up. The traffic cones are clean — no prints at all, not even legitimate workmen. Also, Tommy had been drinking whisky in industrial quantities.’
‘Blended or malt?’ asked Rob Morton.
‘I didn’t ask,’ replied Noble.
At that moment, the door to the Incident Room opened and Chief Superintendent Charlton walked in holding a polystyrene coffee cup. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a white shirt and dark blue tie. There was silence. Charlton was rarely to be seen on a Sunday. Like a naughty schoolboy, Rob Morton removed a cigarette from behind his ear and put it in his pocket.
‘Morning, everyone. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was on my way to church but as I didn’t get my paperwork I thought I’d better come and see what was going on. Pretend I’m not here.’ He shuffled towards the back of the room and on his way, the man who wasn’t there caught Brook’s eye for a few seconds. ‘Carry on,’ he beamed at Noble, sitting on a table to listen.
‘Yes, sir. I was just going through some forensics about our floaters,’ he explained to Charlton.
‘I heard the second body wasn’t exactly floating,’ retorted Charlton without expression.
‘No, sir.’ Noble looked back at his notes. ‘The cloth recovered from the Derwent looks like it was worn by McTiernan, probably as some kind of loincloth because the second body wore an identical piece of material. They’re running tests on the Shardlow cloth now. The Derwent cloth is made of Egyptian cotton, nothing unusual about it though it did carry traces of the same make-up used on Tommy’s face, as well as disinfectant, and we know the body was washed before being dumped. There were also minute traces of arsenic. No suggestion that McTiernan was poisoned though. It’s probably from some cream applied to the. . er, deceased.’
Noble looked at Brook then Charlton before continuing. ‘The stitching in the wound was a shoelace. Also Egyptian cotton. .’
‘Maybe the killer works at Dunelm Mill,’ said Charlton drily.
‘Sir?’ enquired Noble.
‘It’s a fabric warehouse,’ muttered Gadd, tight-lipped, aware that Charlton’s presence wasn’t a good sign.
‘Every time my wife goes to Dunelm she comes back with more cushions and another bloody duvet cover,’ added Morton, smiling. Gadd elbowed him discreetly in the side.
‘Any news on the murder weapon, Detective Sergeant?’ asked Charlton. Noble didn’t reply. Brook managed a private smile but also kept his eyes on the floor. ‘Oh, hang on. There isn’t one, is there? Because this isn’t a murder inquiry.’ Nobody spoke or looked in Charlton’s direction and the Chief Superintendent let the silence fester for a few moments. ‘Can you all leave the
Brook remained motionless as the rest of his team slowly gathered themselves and left in silence. Noble fired an enquiring glance at Brook as he closed the door, but Brook motioned him to leave.
‘What are you doing, Brook?’
‘Conducting an inquiry, sir.’
‘I see. You’ve tied up five detectives on a Sunday just to investigate the death of an indigent who drank himself to death, according to Dr Habib.’ Brook looked up at Charlton finally. ‘Yes, that’s right, Inspector — the post mortem results have come in. In fact, you knew the results when you spoke to me before.’ Charlton glared at Brook, certain of his ground. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did you see my email about the budget cuts?’
Brook paused. ‘I saw it.’
‘Then I’ll ask you again. What are you doing committing so many resources to this? God alone knows what the overtime bill will be.’
