man and a woman, were sweating in their white suits and overshoes as they lugged their cases with them to the taped-off area and pulled their hoods over their heads until they looked like aliens. Tailby was backing away, leaving the way clear for the photographer to set up his lights against the lengthening shadows that were now
51
falling across the scene. The exact position of the body had to be recorded with stills camera and video before the pathologist could cret close enough to examine her maggots. Fry turned awav. She
C o oo
knew that the next stage would involve the pathologist taking the girl’s rectal temperature.
She was in time to catch DI Ilitchcns taking a call on his cellphone.
‘Hitchens here. Yes?’
He listened for a minute, his face slipping from a frown into anger and frustration.
o
‘Get everyone on to it that you can. Yes, yes, I know. But this is a priority. We’re going to look complete idiots. Pull people in from wherever you need to.’
Hitchens looked round to see where Tailby was, and saw him walking back up the slope towards them.
‘Bastard!’ said Hitchens as he pushed the phone into his pocket.
‘Something wrong?’ asked shee.
o o
‘A team went to pick up Lee Sherratt, and he’s done a runner.’
Fry winced. It was bad luck to lose your prime suspect just when you were hoping that everything would click together easily, that the initial witness statements would tie your man into the scene and the results of forensic tests would sew the case up tight. It was bad luck she didn’t want to be drawn into, she thought, as they watched the DCI approach, peeling off his plastic gloves.
‘We need to get that time of death ascertained as close as we
o
can,’ said Tailby. ‘Then we need the enquiry teams allocated to doing the house-to-house again, Paul.’
o o ‘
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We need to locate a weapon. Organize the search teams to get started as soon as Scenes are happy.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What was the call? Have they picked up the youth yet? Sherratt?’
Hitchens hesitated for the first time.
‘No, sir.’
52
‘And why not?’
They can’t find him. He hasn t been at home since yesterday afternoon.’
‘I do hope you’re joking.’
Hitchens shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
Tailby scowled, his bushy eyebrows jutting down over cold grey eyes. ‘I don’t believe this. We interview the lad on Sunday when it’s a missing person enquiry, and as soon as a bodv turns up we’ve lost him.’
‘We had no reason —’
‘Well, we’ve got reason enough now. Reason enough down
‘ O O O
there, don’t you think?’ said Tailby angrily, gesturing at the spot where Laura Vernon lay.
‘We’ve got patrols trying all possible locations now. But so many men were taken up by the search down here —’
‘They’d damn well better turn the lad up soon. I want to wrap this one up quickly, Paul. Otherwise, people will be connecting it to the Edson case and we’ll have all the hysteria about a serial killer on the loose. We don’t want that — do we, Paul?’
Hitchens turned and looked appealingly at Fry. She kept her face impassive. If people chose to have bad luck, she wasn’t about to offer to share it with them.
‘Right,’ said Tailby. ‘What’s next? Let’s see — what’s his name? The finder?’
‘Dickinson,’ said Hitchens. ‘Harry Dickinson.’
Harry was in the kitchen. He had finally taken off his jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to show white, sinewy arms. At his wrists there was a clear line like a tidemark between the pale skin untouched by sun and his brown, weathered hands, sprinkled with liver spots and something dark and more ingrained. Harry was at the sink using a small blue plastic-handled mop to scrub out the teacups and polish the spoons. His face was as serious as if he were performing brain surgery.
‘He always does the washing-up,’ said Gwen when the detectives came to the door. ‘He says I don’t do it properly.’
‘We’d just like a few words, Mrs Dickinson,’ said Tailby. ‘Further to our enquiries.’
S3
Harry seemed to become aware of them slowly. He put down the mop and dried his hands carefully on a towel,
