Once, early in his career when he’d been a PC, he had sat through four in a row, one after the other. He’d not been remotely affected by any of them, despite the fact that one had been a road accident victim and another a child.
All he hated was that damned smell.
Today’s PMs were not even as bad as some he’d had to attend, of people who’d been dead for weeks, gone bloated and bad. Today’s victims had bellies that had been slit open and thus all the gases which normally accumulate had been able to disperse. Even so, they reeked strongly.
It took Baines four hours of hard toil to complete the task. He was sweating heavily when he finished.
Once he’d scrubbed himself down, he and Henry adjourned to a nearby public house for a confab.
The doctor was a troubled man.
‘ The bullets killed them both, as you saw. Massive brain damage. No doubt in a couple of days’ time you’ll have the exact calibre of weapon and other information from ballistics.’
‘ Couple of months, more like,’ said Henry.
‘ Both were mutilated after they were shot, and very skilfully too. Sharp instruments, good technique. You’ll never get a match on dental records and you’ll never be able to build up models of their facial features. The only leads you’ve got are the bullets that I recovered from the woman and the man’s tattoos. I think that’s where the killer made his mistake — by wrapping them in polythene and dumping them where he did. The circumstances have acted to preserve the outer skin, which is fortunate for you.’
‘ And the missing hands suggest they might have criminal records,’ said Henry. ‘LCRO are checking files re the tattoos. We might get lucky, but I think it could be a long slog. Smacks of a London gang killing, this. Could be a real ball-acher.’
‘ Yeah,’ said Baines. He took a sip from his glass. He was drinking bitter. ‘I reckon they were murdered and then passed on for someone else to chop up. Someone who is good at it. It’s relatively easy to pull a trigger, but to dismember a body takes certain skills. Know what I mean?’
‘ Like a sicko?’
‘ Or a doctor.’
‘ Or a pathologist. You’re pretty sick.’
‘ Yeah,’ laughed Baines. ‘I am.’ He sighed and dredged his brain. ‘Something rings a bell, but I’m not sure what.’ He thought, but came up with nothing. ‘Nope… it won’t come, Henry.’
He drank the last of his pint. ‘I’ll let you have a full report on the PMs, probably late tomorrow.’
Henry nodded. ‘If you do recall anything at all, will you let me know personally?’
‘ Sure, Henry.’
The detective stretched and yawned.
‘ Henry, can I say something?’
‘ Fire away.’
‘ Don’t let this thing overburden you. You look pretty worn out to start with and I know what you’ve been through recently. I’m not preaching or anything like that, but watch yourself, OK? And that’s from a friend and a doctor.’
Henry said, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m as tough as old boots.’
The funeral was a miserable affair, made worse by the incessant drizzle which rolled in from the Irish Sea like a fine cloud. There were just a handful of people in attendance and the ceremony only lasted as long as it had to. The coffin, bearing the murdered body of Pepe Paglia, was lowered into the ground with a thud as it touched the bottom of the sodden grave. Within moments of the soil being scattered on it — earth to earth — the mourners began to move away, relieved it was over.
Two men strolled to a Rolls-Royce parked nearby. A chauffeur rushed out of it, opened the rear doors for them and when they were settled, the big car pulled sedately away.
Another man stood by the cemetery gates. He was not a mourner. He was a watcher. His hands were thrust deep into his raincoat pockets. The collar was pulled up. His hair was plastered to his head. He’d watched the arrival and departure of everyone, but his interest centred on the Rolls-Royce and its occupants.
The big car lumbered towards him down the narrow cemetery road.
He stepped out into its path.
The chauffeur said, ‘Trouble, I think, Mr Corelli. What do you want me to do?’
Corelli and Stanton leaned forwards.
Jamie Stanton recognised the man quickly. It was his job to do so. ‘It’s that fibbie, Donaldson.’
Corelli laughed. ‘Pull over next to him.’
‘ He might be armed,’ Stanton warned. ‘He might do something stupid.’
‘ No, he won’t. He’s in England. He can’t afford to,’ said Corelli with certainty.
The car rolled to a halt by Donaldson, its brakes exhaling a soft sigh. Corelli’s electric window opened and he looked up at the agent in the rain.
Neither man spoke for a moment.
Donaldson merely stared impassively down his nose at Corelli through half-closed eyes. He was chewing gum which he masticated like a cow chewing the cud. He blew a bubble which burst with a crack.
Corelli smiled.
Eventually Stanton shouted, ‘What do you want, dickbrain?’
Donaldson leaned forwards, keeping his hands in his pockets, and looked into the car, his grey eyes level with Corelli’s.
‘ I want you, Mr Corelli — and I shall get you. There’s nothing more certain. I’m gonna get you for all the pain, misery and suffering you’ve caused.’ His voice was level, emotionless, frightening. He felt very in control.
Corelli blinked, but was not daunted.
Stanton leaned over his boss. ‘Let me take the fucker. There’s a grave back there and it’s big enough for two.’
Corelli wagged a lazy finger at Stanton. ‘No need for violence.’ He then addressed Donaldson. ‘Pass my best wishes to Mr Kovaks’ ladyfriend. I believe she met with an unfortunate accident. Perhaps you should take note of it, Mr Donaldson… and be wary yourself. Accidents are always happening.’
‘ You don’t even begin to intimidate me, you son of a bitch,’ said Donaldson, feeling his composure evaporating. It took a great deal of effort not to reach in and rip the Italian’s head off. He’d made a conscious decision to keep his hands firmly in his pockets for just such a reason.
‘ Who’s trying to intimidate whom here?’ said Corelli calmly. ‘You seem to be intent on frightening me for some reason I fail to comprehend. Me — a man with no criminal convictions who has just attended the funeral of a close relative. All I was doing was simply offering advice from one human being to another. Let’s just leave it at that.’
‘ I’m gonna have you. One day you’ll walk into a courtroom and never walk out again, I promise you that. From one human being to a sack of shit.’
‘ We’ll see,’ laughed Corelli.
He pressed the button on his electric window. It rose slowly and the car moved away.
‘ Who the fuck does he think he is?’ growled Stanton, frustration boiling up in him.
‘ An FBI agent — one of the Untouchables. But he’s wrong. I’m the one who’s untouchable.’
Henry sat down in the room which had been commandeered as the incident room at Rawtenstall police station, which was the only decent-sized station within reasonable travelling distance of the murder scene. The room was normally used for lectures but even so it wasn’t really large enough to house a full-scale murder enquiry. But it would have to do. After all, this wasn’t a full-scale murder enquiry.
One HOLMES terminal had been installed in the corner of the room. All being well there would be someone to operate the damned thing tomorrow.
It was 9 p.m. Henry had dismissed his team, with the exception of the two who’d travelled with him from Blackpool, and told them to be ready for a briefing at 8 a.m. the next day. He wanted the show to be on the road for 8.30.
The question of overtime had been raised, as always. Cops are very money-minded. Henry had told them that
