“Jack will do fine, Sam. Look, about those marks. He obviously grabbed her from behind to leave marks in that position, right?” he asked, pausing to check that the other man was following.
“That sounds about right. Go on,” Calvin encouraged.
“Well, the point is that he touched her. If he wasn’t wearing gloves then he’ll have left prints. Have you fingerprinted her skin yet, Sam?”
Calvin shook his head emphatically. He had a developed logical and very methodical routine which had taken years to perfect. He saw no reason to break with that tradition now.
“I know where you’re coming from Jack. They bang on about this on the SIO course but there’s no point in dusting her face.” Calvin’s tone was too dispassionate for Jack’s liking, as if the girl lying before them was merely a lab specimen on which they were about to conduct an academic test.
“We should at least try,” Jack said, forcefully.
“I’m not being awkward,” Calvin explained, “but even in optimum conditions prints on skin only usually last about an hour or so. She’s obviously been here a lot longer than that, you can tell from the livor mortis markings on the bottom of the body.”
Livor mortis, or hypostasis, usually sets in about five or six hours after death. When the heart stops beating gravity takes effect and the blood, about eight pints of it, gradually settles in the lowest areas of the body, causing a distinctive dark reddening to appear there. However, if the body is moved soon after hypostasis has set in – up until about ten hours after death – the blood, which has not yet fully congealed, will relocate itself to the part of the body now nearest the ground. This results in a white blotching effect appearing amongst the lividity markings. When this telltale blotching is present it provides investigators with early evidence that the body has been moved since death and that there is at least one other crime scene that they should be searching for.
There were no such marks on this victim.
“Just humour me, okay,” Tyler said.
“Well, you’re the man running the show,” Calvin said grudgingly. He could tell from the look on Tyler’s face that there was no point in arguing. “I’ll need my kit. Back in a jiffy,” he said to no one in particular. Dillon watched his white-suited form as he marched back along the sterile path.
“Bit of a wet blanket, isn’t he?” he said, wondering why Tyler had been so pleased to hear that Calvin was working the scene. So far, he hadn’t said or done anything to impress Dillon.
Jack smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t go out socialising with him, but I’ll tell you this: there aren’t many who can recover physical or forensic evidence at a crime scene like Sam Calvin.”
“Really?” Dillon’s voice was thick with doubt.
When Calvin reappeared, he was carrying a large metal case. Holland had tagged on behind, intrigued by the sudden flurry of activity around the victim.
“Sir,” Tyler nodded respectfully.
Calvin knelt down and opened the case. He donned a pair of white fabric gloves, followed by two pairs of latex gloves before removing a brown envelope. It contained a stack of cards, similar in texture to standard photographic paper. He removed one and pressed it, glossy side down, against the side of the victim’s face. He held it in place for three seconds exactly, looking stoically from Tyler to Dillon while he counted out loud. Then he lightly dusted the five-inch by seven-inch card with aluminium powder, which he applied with a thick brush.
“Well?” Tyler asked eagerly.
“I’m sorry Jack, it’s not good news. Like I told you, it’s been too long.” He held up the card for them to see.
“I’ve got the shape of two fingers but none of the actual swirls or ridges that make up a print.” Calvin bagged the card and slipped it into a pocket inside the case.
“Well, thanks for trying, Sam. We’ll be out of your way soon. I’ll speak to you later when you know exactly what you’ve got,” Tyler said, making no attempt to conceal the disappointment in his voice.
“Sure thing,” Calvin replied, pulling off the latex gloves. “Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll send the pathologist over.” He shook their hands before retiring to his growing pile of evidence bags, all of which required indexing.
Tyler returned his attention to the victim, aware of Dillon beside him. Tell me your secrets, he implored her. Holland and Speed remained a step or two behind. No one spoke for a while.
When he had assimilated as much as he could, Tyler signalled for Calvin to send the pathologist over. Jack watched in silence as the boffin went through his usual routine. A chemical thermometer was inserted into the victim’s rectum to take the internal body temperature. Next, the ambient temperature was taken. A corpse tends to lose body heat at one and a half degrees Fahrenheit an hour for the first twelve hours following death.
The pathologist then checked to see how advanced rigor and livor mortis was. Rigor is hastened by muscle mass, loss of blood and the prevailing temperature of the environment in which the body is found. Tracey, in her semi-naked condition, would have cooled faster and stiffened slower out here then she would have done had she been discovered laying in her bed inside a warm room.
An external examination was made of the body to note the injuries and state of her clothing. A search was then made of the body, the immediate area surrounding it, and underneath it. Photographs were taken and any obvious trace evidence was collected to prevent it being lost during transit.
Dillon turned to address Speed. “Just out of interest, where are her knickers?” he asked. The pathologist, who was just about to call the morticians over, hesitated.
“As far as we know she wasn’t wearing any,” Speed answered calmly.
“Either that or our ghoulish friend likes to keep souvenirs,”
