Blood Line (19 page)

‘Yes, and I am sorry for you as I am for Edward, but he does need to be told,’ Anna insisted quietly.

‘Yes, I understand. Thank you for being so kind. I will tell him this afternoon when he gets home.’

As they entered the hall there was a shrill cry from the top of the stairs. Kathleen was standing holding onto the newel-post. She had on a fresh nightdress and looked frail and frightened.

‘Freda? Freda, is that you?’

‘Yes, dear. I’m coming right up to see you.’

‘I thought it was Alan – I’m expecting him. He’ll want something to eat. I know he’s coming to see me.’

‘I’ll look after him, dear. You go back to bed.’

Anna saw Kathleen’s helpless, pleading, beautiful blue eyes, so similar to those of her beloved son. Rose guided her away from the stairs back to her bedroom.

‘There is something else, Freda. I believe Alan had a bedroom here? I really need to look over it, if that would be possible. Mr Rawlins said it would be acceptable.’

‘I am sorry, but I couldn’t allow you to, not without Edward being here. But Alan did often stay with them.’

‘I understand. Please ask Mr Rawlins to contact me.’

Anna was more than ready to leave. It was all so wretchedly sad, not to mention a major hiccup for her case.

Liz was standing outside the block of flats having a smoke when she saw Anna drive up, and she gave her a thumbs-up. Stubbing out her cigarette as Anna got out of the car, she eagerly told her that they were ready to start the Luminol testing.

‘I’ve waited because as I’ve told you, using Luminol can destroy or degrade the DNA markers in the blood. We have made some progress though in the hallway.’

‘I have news for you too. The reason the genetic tests on Mr and Mrs Rawlins’s blood samples didn’t match is because Alan was an IVF baby – third-party donors, so no inherited DNA.’

‘Ahhh. I wondered what the problem was. Throws up a larger one, when you think of how many children are now born via IVF. Any hope of getting the records of the donors?’

‘No. It was nearly twenty-seven years ago and the clinic has closed down. The wretched part of it all is, neither Edward Rawlins nor Alan know the truth.’

‘Oh dear. That’s going to be a very sad revelation for the father.’

‘Yes. Nobody else knew but the mother’s best friend, and she kept the secret.’

‘Until now . . .’

‘Yes, until now, which is a real screw-up for us as we have no way of identifying whose blood it is. It might not even be Alan’s.’

‘That does pose a problem, for us as well. Anyway, shall we go inside?’

‘Talking of blood, can I ask why, if there was so much under the floorboards, there was no smell?’

‘Number of reasons really. The replaced bit of carpet, and the bleach, would suppress it; and then you have the air current under the floorboards which would have dried it out very quickly.’

Liz led the way into the flat across the stepping plates. She had two forensic assistants waiting, both suited up with goggles hanging round their necks and face masks on.

‘Okay, due to the fact we have found so little visible blood, apart from in the bedroom, we’re mixing a Luminol solution that will increase the intensity of the glow reaction with very minute traces of blood.’

Anna got dressed in the white forensic suit, complete with her own goggles and face mask. The assistants finished preparing the mixture in a plastic spray bottle and then proceeded to close all the curtains and turn off the lights while the photographer set up his digital camera on a tripod. Liz gave the go-ahead for them to spray the Luminol on a section of the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom.

‘At first I didn’t think we’d get anything from here because, as I said, I thought the body might have been wrapped in the bedsheet, but . . .’

As one of her assistants sprayed the Luminol, four clear marks began to emit a striking bright blue glow and the photographer started taking a long-exposure picture.

‘The iron present in any blood catalyzes the chemical reaction that leads to the blue glow, revealing the location of the blood. We have a smear on the door and another on the edge of the frame. There’s no sign of any finger- or palmmarks, and as you can see they are quite low down. Their direction is towards the bathroom and from the pattern I’d say the body was carried from the bedroom in a bloodstained sheet that brushed against the door and frame.’

‘My God, it’s like a child’s glow stick.’ Anna looked at the marks previously undetected by human eye.

‘The walls and doors have been cleaned, which is why these marks were unseen until now. The bleach briefly glows very bright but fades fast, whereas the blood glow lasts for about forty seconds. Now the bathroom . . .’

One of the assistants went in followed by the photographer, with Liz and Anna standing behind them. Since the bathroom had no exterior window and the lights were off, it was very dark. The white tiles, white surrounds of the bath, white wash-basin and white toilet were unmarked.

‘As the mixture is water-based we use an aerosol solution on tiles to avoid runs. We’ll start on the far edge of the bath where I found a minute trace of blood.’ Liz briefly indicated the area with a torch.

Nobody spoke as the Luminol reacted to some blood-spatter patterns that went about twelve inches up the tiled wall beside the bath. Next they sprayed the bath itself, resulting in a blue glow around the taps, plughole and down the side of the bath onto the tiled floor and edge of the toilet pedestal. Smears, spatter and wipe-marks were now visible on these areas and the wall behind them.

‘Oh my God,’ Anna said quietly.

‘Bloodbath, isn’t it? Experience has taught me it’s not uncommon for a body to be cut up in a bath, and the Luminol results in here certainly go along with that theory. Now just back out slightly and remain on the stepping plates in the area just outside the bathroom door. I would say with this much distribution, and even though I have seen a lot worse, we might get some footprints.’

Anna, the photographer and the two assistants shuffled backwards and hovered in the hallway as Liz moved a stepping plate to one side and sprayed the Luminol on the area below it.

‘Yes, we have one. Not a lot of detail, just the heel, but keep backing out and we may get more from the hall area.’

There were no further footprints or any drag marks, which Liz again suggested was because the body could have been wrapped when carried. Only when the dismembering began would there be extensive blood spillage in and around the bath.

‘I’d say the victim was dead before the dismembering, otherwise the blood-spatter patterns would have been higher up. Nevertheless, you would still get a substantial leakage from the torso.’

Anna felt faint. ‘I’m going to have to go outside for a minute,’ she said.

‘I’ll come with you. I need another fag.’

Liz gave her assistants instructions to remove the plughole and u-bend and to check the exterior drains to see what they could find – perhaps some hairs or body tissue – then went out for some much-needed air.

Anna gasped. The thought of what had happened in the bathroom made her feel like throwing up. Liz took out her Marlboro Lights and lit one. She then passed over the pack to Anna.

‘I make the excuse that smoking disguises the stench, but nowadays we’re not allowed to light up anywhere. You want one, dear?’

‘Thank you.’ Anna didn’t usually smoke that much, but needed something to calm herself down. The nicotine made her feel light-headed.

‘Talking about stench, I know there is a strong smell of bleach and some awful flowery spray, but usually if a body’s left decomposing there would be a much stronger odour,’ Liz said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been wondering . . . You are thinking that the victim was bumped off just after the last sighting of the chap, correct?’

‘Yes.’ Anna exhaled and coughed.

‘Well, whoever did the tidying-up had to have taken some time. You don’t get it all cleaned so easily. Plus areas of the carpet have been washed as well and they are bone dry, excuse the pun.’

‘We are taking it from the day Alan Rawlins went missing as being the probable time of death. That was the day he was last seen, but he wasn’t reported missing for two weeks.’

‘Ah well, the body could have been in situ for that time and would smell a bit, but I haven’t got any whiff of decomposing flesh. That’s a very pungent smell.’

‘Yes.’ Anna nodded, still trying to stop herself feeling queasy.

Liz inhaled deeply. ‘You know, maybe the killer is someone with some kind of medical or forensic knowledge. There were no hairbrushes, toothbrush, razor or anything where we would have been able to test for a DNA match. Unless they watched a lot of
CSI
.’ She gave a short barking laugh.

Anna checked her watch, beginning to feel better.

‘I’m going back in there now. Are you joining me?’ Liz asked.

‘No. I think after what we have discovered here I should get back to the station,’ Anna said.

‘Righty-ho. I’ll send in my report sometime tomorrow.’

Anna returned to her car. She hated the lingering smell of the cigarette on her fingers, and even though feeling less sickly she sat for a while with the air conditioner on and the windows open, taking deep breaths.

On the drive to the station Anna now had to move Tina Brooks back into number one position as the prime suspect. There was no way the young woman could not have known what had taken place in her flat. Anna also had a timeline now that made no sense. Perhaps Alan Rawlins had been murdered on the day he left his garage due to a migraine, which Tina had said was the last time she had seen him. Yet from what Liz Hawley had said, the victim could have been murdered any time in the two weeks before he was declared missing. Anna then had to consider the semen stains and hair on the linen removed from the bed. If there was a considerable time between the murder and the sex antics that went on in the bedroom, possibly two weeks after, where was the body? And now without any weapons or witnesses it was becoming more and more of a nightmare jigsaw puzzle.

In the incident room there had been little development. Paul had been trying to trace anyone who knew the drug dealer Sammy Marsh, but had come up against a brick wall. They were asking the local Cornwall police to help trace his last residence or anyone who could help with their enquiry. They had looked for any rental flats or houses linked to Alan Rawlins, but so far they had had no luck. Brian Stanley was also coming up against one false lead after another, and was still waiting for Michael Phillips’s mobile phone records. If he and Tina were in contact with each other, there was no proof of it.

Helen had been to Tina’s salon and had brought back three photographs of her. They were posed pictures of her that Tina used in the salon, and these were now pinned up on the board. By the time Anna had given the team the update from the flat, they were stunned. She also gave them the news that it was still not possible to get identification from the blood found at the flat.

‘He was not the biological son so we will not get any matching DNA from the Rawlinses’ blood samples.’

‘What about anything from his parents’ home? Did you check that out?’

‘Not yet.’

Stanley glanced at Helen and it irritated Anna.

‘It wasn’t convenient for me to do so this morning, Brian, so you can wipe that expression off your face. Anyone thought to get a DNA from Tina to see if it’s her hair found in the bed?’

Brian looked at Helen again. She shook her head.

‘Get it sorted, would you?’ Anna snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. ‘We really need to get more information on Alan. We’re back to square one, but what we do know now is that the place was a bloodbath.’

‘Do we move Tina Brooks up to prime suspect?’ Helen asked.

‘Yes, but until we get more evidence we leave her hanging.’

‘Well, if she cut him up she deserves to be.’

‘Thank you, Brian, but I am now very sure it would have taken two people to move and dismember the body, dispose of it, clean the flat, and so we place Michael Phillips back up alongside Tina.’

‘But we don’t have a shred of evidence linking him to her or to Alan Rawlins!’

‘Then let’s try and find it,’ she said crossly.

Helen signalled to her that she had a call. It was Edward Rawlins.

‘I’ll take it in my office, Helen. Thank you.’ She dreaded talking to him. By now she was sure he would have been told the truth.

‘Mr Rawlins, thank you for getting back to me.’

‘I am sorry for the wasted time. You have my sincere apologies, Detective Travis – that is all I can say.’

‘I understand, Mr Rawlins, and now I really need to come and talk to you again because I need to see the bedroom that Alan kept at your house.’

‘Yes, of course. I am at home now so whenever is convenient to you.’

‘Thank you. I will come over straight away if that is acceptable.’

‘Yes, of course it is.’

She replaced the receiver. Her heart went out to the dapper little man whose voice was so strained, and for him to apologise to her for what must have been the most devastating news touched her. It must have felt as if he had lost his son twice over.

Paul knocked and said they had made some headway; they’d traced a possible contact who knew Sammy Marsh. After a series of calls to Cornwall they had been given the address of the flat owned by Marsh that was still unoccupied. They also had the details of a contact of Marsh who was closer to home, serving time at Wandsworth Prison.

‘Good. Interview this guy. What’s he in for?’

‘Drug dealing. Got an eighteen-month sentence, small stuff, but he did at one time share the flat with Sammy. His name is Errol Dante. He’s got a record for previous drug and assault charges, but nothing major. The most major thing about him is he has fifteen illegitimate kids with a variety of women. He’s a Jamaican overstayer recommended for deportation on completion of his prison sentence. He travels around seaside towns with fairground workers.’

‘See what you get from him and ask if he can identify any of the guys in the surfing picture.’

‘Will do. I’ll go with Helen, is that okay?’