Looking through the forensic file on Jennings, she was desperate to locate a link or connection other than the possibility of a match with the soil sample found on the shoe he was wearing. ‘Someone doesn’t go to this trouble disposing of bodies.’ She stopped talking to herself as a thought came to her. As a wrestler, Skeeter was very much aware of body weight and the need for technique to lift anyone off the floor. Since she had been old enough, she had trained with the leather wrestling dummies in the gym. They were full adult size and weight mannequins that had a certain sadomasochistic appearance and she had acquired the necessary technique. This training had taught her that to move a dead weight was very difficult. The average male could not lift a dead and flaccid body off the ground, never mind transport an adult body, without strenuous pulling and dragging. Studying the images taken at the crime scenes, neither showed signs of a struggle, nor did they appear to show that the body was dragged. To get Carla onto the cross-like frame would not have been easy without extensive disturbance of the soil around the post. Although the ground had been disturbed, it did not suggest a struggle of any kind. She brought up onto screen the photographs taken at Carla’s crime scene. Pathology would identify grip and drag marks if that had been the case. She was convinced they would find none.
Tony ambled in to the room, whistling an unidentifiable tune, a can of lemonade in hand.
‘Want one?’ He held up the can. ‘Best lemonade to whet your whistle. Have them in my desk.’
‘Thanks! Love one. By the way, your whistle is sharp enough to crack glass.’
‘How kind of you to say,’ he mumbled as he crossed to his desk and took out another can.
‘I’d also like to hear your wise words, you being a man who knows all about soil. You carry much of the stuff beneath your finger nails! My mother would say you could plant spuds under those.’ She leaned from behind the screen to see a middle finger retracting.
‘Ha, bloody, ha. Witch.’ He threw over a can. ‘Let’s hope that blows your head off when you open it.’
She positioned it towards the waste bin before angling and pulling the ring. The hiss and the sudden ejection of some of the froth hit the bin’s metal side. She smiled at Tony. ‘More ways of killing a pig than stuffing it full of cherries.’ Taking a sip, she pointed to her screen. ‘Just been to the site where Carla Sharpe’s body was discovered. Look.’
She flicked through the images of her scarecrow posture as Tony watched. ‘Bloody hell! We’ve a warped one here. How the fuck did he get her into that position?’
‘That’s my point. He didn’t have to. Why not?’
Tony slurped the dregs from the can allowing a belch to erupt, loud and long. ‘Better out than in. Let me guess. There was more than one person involved in committing this crime? Maybe Jennings was involved?’
‘Nope. Let me tell you my thoughts. She walked there voluntarily. She believed that he wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe something he’d said or promised. Maybe she believed it to be a hoax.’
‘Hoax? Strapped to a pole in the middle of a bloody field. Fucking strange friends she must have.’
‘Ever heard of sadomasochism?’
Tony frowned and Skeeter could see he had suddenly taken the thought seriously. He tossed the empty can into the bin.
‘She was fully clothed from these images. Do we know if she’d been raped or subjected to some strange act of perversion? I know this shit goes on but …’
‘Not as yet. Just like Jennings went to the isolated spot voluntarily, maybe so too did Carla here. What were they promised, I wonder?’ Skeeter tapped the screen.
‘Have we checked the IT equipment at their homes? If they’re into this kind of stuff it should be all over their internet search history.’
‘It’s in hand as we speak.’
‘Phone records with us yet?’ Tony quizzed.
‘Time, it always takes time. Had it been a child who’d gone AWOL then it would have been done within twenty-four hours but these two only reached high risk status and fast track and all that it entailed once their bodies were found.’
‘May we turn our attention to Cameron Jennings now? How well did you know him?’ questioned Lucy.
‘We’ve been mates for years. Occasionally went to the football together but he sometimes worked away so we’d only get together when he returned. We’d meet up at the weekend with a group, Carla was one and Debbie.’
‘Others?’
‘It depended on circumstances. If it was a birthday or a beach barbecue then it could be quite a few.’
‘We’ll need a list of the people within this group. Those who met regularly and then we will look at your contacts more broadly. Do you have your phone with you, Mr Rodgers?’
He removed it from his pocket. Fred raised a hand and an officer appeared at the door. ‘Do a phone read and extract the contacts’ list, Facebook contacts and messages, usual stuff, please and then return it as soon as. Photographs too. Looking specifically around this date.’ He handed him a slip of paper.
‘You can’t do that! Bloody hell that’s my personal property. You need a warrant or something. I have rights, don’t I? I want to see a solicitor and I want one before that phone leaves this room.’
‘Sorry, but we don’t need a warrant, and yes, you do have rights. It is a perfectly acceptable procedure and unless you’ve something to hide, I really can’t understand your protestations. If it happened as you say
