Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller (3 page)

3

Simone’s phone rang; and when she
answered it she wasn’t surprised to find it was the station commander; her
boss, Carl Jackson. She could imagine how busy they would be.

‘You’ve seen the news I take it?’ he
spoke quickly without waiting for reply. ‘I need you to come into work, even if
it’s just to answer the phones. The media are going to be all over us on this
one. It’s all hands on deck.’

Simone got to the station and swiped in,
she headed straight upstairs to the main office and entered the room just as a meeting
ended and the crowd began to disperse. It seemed every member of staff had been
there and the room quickly filled with the rumbling of shoes and voices.

Simone made a beeline for Jackson’s
office but a tug on her arm stopped her.

‘Hey Simone?’ It was Lucy. ‘What are
you doing here?’ she said.

‘Jackson called, he wants me in.’

‘Can’t say I’m surprised,’ she said.
‘This is big.’

‘I know, it’s all over the news,’ said
Simone and as she spoke she saw that Jackson was outside his office, trying to
get her attention from across the room by waving at her over the crowd and the
noise.

Simone acknowledged him and said.
‘I’ve got to go Luce.’

‘Officer Connelly, have a seat,’ he said
as she entered and closed the door behind her, it blocked the sound coming from
the incident room like an airlock and his office suddenly seemed unnaturally
quiet.

She crossed the room and took a seat and
as she sat down, she couldn’t help but wince in pain from the blow to the
stomach her husband gave her. Jackson noticed and wrongly assumed it was from
the injuries sustained in the line of duty. ‘First things first, how are you?
You look sore.’

‘I hurt all over but I’ll live. Is
there any news on John’s condition?’

‘They stitched him up and he’s
stable. You should pay him a visit when you get chance.’

‘I was planning on seeing him tonight.’

‘I want to try and get there sometime
today, but with all that’s happened I don’t know if I’m going to get chance,’
he said. ‘Did you get here in time for the meeting?’

‘Just missed it, I take it I’m here
because of what’s on the news?’

‘How much do you know?’

‘The bare bones, which is basically
no more than the average Sky or Radio Two reporter.’

A knock on the door interrupted them
and Jackson shouted for the person to enter.

Simone turned as West entered.

‘Inspector West tells me you know
each other,’ said Jackson as West took the seat next to her.

She cleared her throat. ‘We do.’

‘He thinks his time will be used more
efficiently if a local officer with greater knowledge of the area accompanies
him while he provides assistance during the investigation of this case. And I
agree with him.’

She nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘DI West has requested that officer be
you Connelly. I’d rather see a more senior officer in the role, and one that
isn’t in obvious pain but I believe you’re up to the task.’

‘I appreciate the opportunity sir.’

‘Bishop’s Thorpe Wood. Get going
Connelly, West has been fully briefed and will update you on the way.’

They walked out into the blazing sun
and Simone followed him across the car park. West singled out his car, and
walked straight to the passenger side, he tossed his keys to her over the roof
of his silver Mondeo and she snatched them from the air and they got in.

As she reversed she said, ‘You know
your way around this area.’

‘I’m rusty at best, and besides I thought
I’d help raise your profile,’ he said and as he spoke he pulled something from
his inside jacket pocket. Simone saw it was a brass lighter, and realised it
was a Zippo just like the one he used to own.

West was right; being involved in a case
like this could really help her career prospects but she couldn’t help thinking
-

hoping

- that he had an ulterior motive and
wanted to spend time with her but she doubted that was the case, as far as he
was concerned she was happily married and he was just using his position to
give her career a boost by giving her the opportunity to be involved in a high
profile murder investigation.

She drove in silence while West
looked out of the window, preoccupied and deep in thought he idly caressed the
smooth metallic casing of the lighter, occasionally flicking the lid open with
his thumb and snapping it shut with the palm of his other hand. The sound was
distinctive and it took her back to her youth.

Click,
ting, snap.

It wasn’t an annoying sound; in fact
Simone found it reassuring.

Click,
ting, snap.

She glanced across at him and said,
‘Do you still smoke?’

‘Quit years ago.’

‘Me too,’ she said. ‘You still keep a
lighter though?’

‘Just a habit; it keeps my hands
occupied and helps me think.’

‘It reminds me of before.’

‘The more things change…’ he said and
flicked the lid of the lighter again.

Click,
ting, snap.

‘…the more they stay the same.
I suppose I’d better tell
you what to expect when we get there.

4

West’s Ford crunched to a stop on the
gravel of the small parking area at the edge of the wood. They climbed out of
the air-conditioned car and into the oppressive heat of the afternoon and
Simone felt her shirt immediately cling to her back as they walked towards the
police officer on duty.

Simone spotted a nearby information
board and large colourful map for dog walkers and bird watchers and studied it
while West produced his ID and spoke to the officer. She read that Bishop’s
Thorpe Wood was over a thousand years old and was a protected conservation site
with ancient species of tree. At over three hundred acres and with a diameter
of over forty miles it was so big and dense a series of colour-coded tracks had
been marked throughout the woods in an attempt to prevent even the most
seasoned walker from getting lost.

The officer pointed them in the
direction of the yellow route and they set off, trudging over dry vegetation,
pine needles, leaves and the gnarled roots of towering trees. The track ahead
of them twisted and turned and although the route they followed could be
identified by the plastic yellow markers that had been tied around alternate
tree trunks Simone realised how easy it would be to get lost. One wrong turn
and anyone could be missing for days.

They passed two more police officers
as they continued into the seemingly impenetrable wood and although it was
cooler in the shade of the trees, the officers that aided their direction
looked sweltering hot in their uniforms. Simone had done her share of sentry
duty and knew how they felt.

It was heavy going once they had
abandoned the trail and Simone wondered how anyone could find their way here,
surely it would be close to impossible without good knowledge of the routes. West
went ahead of Simone, pushing branches away and made sure they didn’t fly back
into her face as they pressed ahead.

They eventually came across another
officer who was leaning against a tree and quickly straightened herself up when
she saw West and Simone fighting their way through the thicket. Simone knew the
officer and nodded an acknowledgement when they flashed their badges and lifted
the blue and white tape that cordoned the perimeter of the crime scene.

West had told Simone the details of
the murder in the car and her heart was pounding at the frightening
anticipation of what she was about to see. She knew it would be grizzly but nothing
could have really prepared her for what was waiting for them when they entered
the clearing.

Uniformed police protected the
perimeter of the crime scene, while various specialists went about their work
collecting evidence and taking photographs. West and Simone moved into the
small natural clearing and could see the death immediately.

They approached what from a distance looked
like a piece of meat hanging from one of the trees but Simone already knew what
it was; a face; stretched out and nailed to the trunk with crude buckled nails
and beneath it rested the naked mannequin of a corpse.

Simone had seen and dealt with some
nasty things in the line of duty; car accidents, dead children, stab victims, a
week old corpse in a bathtub, but this was so hideous and calculated the other
horrors faded into insignificance and she struggled to resist the temptation to
put her hand over her mouth as they walked into the centre of the clearing and
surveyed the scene.

The corpse was female, and for the most
part her skin was black with dried blood but where it was clean it was
alabaster white in contrast. She was on her back, laid out at the bottom of the
tree with her head against the trunk, her legs straight and her arms neatly by
her sides. On pale flesh flies crawled in
the afternoon heat, crusts of red and black were all that remained of her face,
and her lidless, blooded eyes stared blankly into the canopy of leaves above.

Two Scene of Crime officers were
examining the face and West initiated introductions. When the two SOCO’s
introduced themselves as Dan and Ollie Simone nearly burst out laughing; their
names were so close to the forenames of the comic duo Laurel and Hardy and her
mind was so begrimed from the scene before her, an uncontrollable bout of
hysteria nearly possessed her, as if her soul needed a way of cleansing the
negative emotions that where choking every atom of her being. She held it back
and couldn’t help but feel disgusted with herself.

‘First impressions?’ said West.

Dan took the lead and pointed to the
edge of the flesh with his pen.

‘The cuts are ragged and tattered,’
he said. ‘Whoever did it is lucky he got the face off in one piece, it would
have been difficult to remove without razor sharp surgical equipment; the skin
would be bloody and slippery and difficult to get hold of.’

‘What did he use to cut it away?’ Simone
asked, now fully in control of her faculties and at one with the sobering
scene.

‘A knife, the blade would have to be
sharp but he didn’t use a scalpel, that’s for sure. Look here, he’s just hacked
away at the flesh.’ He pointed at a particularly tattered piece that hung
limply and curled away from the bark of the tree. ‘It’s possible that two
different blades were used but I can’t tell for sure until we get her back to
the lab.’

‘Maybe he needed to be quick,’ Simone suggested.

‘No, he wasn’t rushed,’
said West. ‘He had time to dispose of her just how he wanted. She wasn’t just
dumped here beneath a random tree; she’s been laid out with purpose. This is
how he wanted it, how he imagined it. Hell, he even brought his hammer and
nails.’

West took a step forward
to inspect the face more closely and Simone followed he gaze, the edges of the
flesh were dark and curled, the lips, nose and eyelids intact, the eyelashes
too; they added a surreal element to the already macabre scene. ‘If her face
was removed quickly and without care it was because he wanted to see her
without skin,’ he said, ‘and if he lost control at any point, he lost it when
he was taking her face.’

Simone addressed the SOCO’s, ‘Was she
killed here?’

‘No, there’s not enough blood,’ said
Ollie. ‘When we finish up in this area we’ll spread out to see if we can find
where she was killed.’

‘He knows the woods,’ said West, more
to himself than anyone else.

‘Who found her?’ asked Simone. ‘This
area is well off the designated track.’

‘Dog walker,’ said Dan. ‘Says his
mutt went mental and ran off, he followed it and found this.’

West sighed and said, ‘Jesus fucking
Christ, can you believe this?’

5

‘Where to?’ said Simone.

‘I want to see the dog walker,’ said West. Simone nodded and
made a call to get the information she needed.

They rang the doorbell and a middle-aged woman answered, took
one look at West’s ID and said, ‘Oh. You’d better come in.’

‘Is your husband home Mrs James?’ West asked as they entered
the house.

‘Call me June. Rupert is in the garden; I’ll let him know
you’re here.’ She showed them into the lounge. ‘Would you like anything to
drink?’

‘Some water would be lovely.’

‘Okay, Rupert will be through in a minute.’

Mrs James went to get her husband and as they waited a black
Labrador came bounding into the room, its big pink tongue lolled out of one
side of its drooling mouth, it frantically sniffed both West and Simone in turn
and then bounded out again when a man’s voice called it away. ‘Chester, come
here boy.’ A few seconds later a middle aged man with a potbelly and thinning
hair entered the room, he had a pink face and he dabbed sweat from his forehead
with a handkerchief.

‘Mr James?’

‘Yes. Hello.’

West made the introductions and commented on the temperature
of the afternoon.

‘I was just doing a bit of gardening, trying to go back to
normal, you know? I thought keeping busy would help get this morning out of my
mind.’

‘It must have been quite a shock,’ said Simone.

‘That’s the understatement of the century.’

They sat down. ‘I know you’ve already given a statement but I
was hoping you could run through it again,’ said West.

Mrs James came back into the room with glasses and a jug of
iced water. She rearranged the coasters on the coffee table and started to fill
the glasses. ‘Stop fussing woman,’ Mr James said. ‘I’ll do it.’ She looked a
bit dejected but immediately relented.

‘Do you want me to stay?’ she asked.

Mr James shrugged at her and looked at West who said, ‘We
would rather chat to your husband in private if that’s okay with you Mrs
James.’ He smiled at her and she nodded and smiled back.

‘Of course it is,’ she said. She looked small as she left the
room.

They watched the door close and West turned to Mr James.
‘What do you do for a living Mr James?’

‘I sell insurance.’

‘In town?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Were you due to work today?’

‘Yeah. I rang in this morning after I found the, um, you
know,’ he muttered.

‘Tell me about your morning Mr James?’

He sighed quietly and started to pour three glasses of water
from the jug. ‘There’s nothing to tell really. I went to the woods to take
Chester for a walk and stumbled across it.’ He sighed quietly and looked
guilty. ‘Sorry, I meant, her. I stumbled across her.’

‘It’s okay Mr James, it’s hard to see something like that and
associate it with a living person,’ said West.

‘That poor girl,’ he said and used the back of his hand to
wipe a film of sweat from his top lip. ‘Who could do such a thing?’

‘That’s what we are going to find out,’ said West. ‘How often
do you take Chester for a walk?’

‘Every day.’

‘Always in the morning?’

‘Um. No usually in the evening.’

‘Why did you take the dog for a walk this morning and not
last night?’

‘I did go last night but I went this morning as well.’

‘Why?’

‘I just felt like it. I like the walk as much as he does.’

‘Man’s best friend eh?’ said West.

Mr James laughed uncomfortably; he didn’t know what to say
and was now distracted by Simone who had stood up and started to wander around
the lounge.

Simone could feel him watching her while she calmly sipped
her glass of water and looked at the photographs placed around the room. She
wanted him to feel uneasy, to believe that she had the right to go anywhere she
wanted and riffle through his belongings. She wanted him to believe that he had
no privacy and nothing was sacred, that any secrets he held would be exposed.

She bent to look at one of the family photographs on the
mantelpiece; it portrayed a younger Mr and Mrs James and a boy, presumably
their son, on holiday somewhere hot. It was a nice picture and reminded her of pre-teen
family holidays with her own parents in the late seventies and early eighties. She
stood upright and as she did so, she caught a glance from West that clearly
meant:
talk to the wife.
She got the message and said, ‘I’ll see if
Mrs James needs a hand in the kitchen.’

West nodded and said, ‘Good idea,’ and then directed his
attention back to an increasingly flustered and evermore guilty looking Mr
James.

Simone left the lounge and followed the sound of Radio Four
into the kitchen. Part of Simone expected Mrs James to be listening at the door
but another part of her suspected that Mrs James preferred to remain in the
dark. Life was easier when all you had to do was slice vegetables and listen to
The Archers. She had her back to Simone when she entered the kitchen so Simone
cleared her throat and said, ‘Mrs James?’

‘Oh hello,’ she said, spinning around with salad tongs in
hand, she peered over Simone’s shoulder, no doubt to see if West was there too
and to see if her husband’s interrogation was over.

‘I thought I’d see how you’re getting on.’

‘Me? I’m fine. I just hope Rupert’s all right.’

‘Nobody should have to see that. We have people he can talk
to if he wants to discuss it with anyone.’

‘Do you really?’

‘It’s part of our procedure. Someone will be in touch soon,
probably in the next few days to see if he’s interested in booking an
appointment and having a chat.’

‘Oh, okay, I’ll let him know.’

Simone walked towards the patio; the doors were wide open and
a breeze poured gently into the kitchen. The large garden swept back in neat
green slopes to a tree lined perimeter and Chester the dog lay sprawled and exhausted
in the shade of the house. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth in a
puddle of drool and his chest quickly rose and fell. ‘Beautiful garden,’ said
Simone.

‘Thank you; days like this do it justice.’

‘Chester looks tired.’

‘It’s the heat. Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with
himself.’

‘Is that why your husband walked him this morning, because of
the heat in the evening?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Does he normally take Chester for a walk in the morning?’

‘Not usually.’

‘When was the last time he did?’

‘I…’ she hesitated. ‘Um, I can’t remember. A couple of weeks
ago I suppose.’

Simone spotted the lie. ‘What time does your husband start
work?’

‘Eight thirty.’

‘He must have had to get up early this morning if he took the
dog for a walk before work.’

She started to toss the salad with the tongs. ‘He’s a light
sleeper. He was probably awake.’

‘Did you get up too?’

‘No, I didn’t even hear him get up. He was just gone when I
did.’

‘Did you wonder where he was?’

‘He left a note for me, said he’d be back for breakfast.’

‘But he wasn’t.’

‘No, he rang me on his mobile, said he’d found something
terrible in the woods and called the police. He had to wait for them to arrive
before he could show them what he’d found.’ She unscrewed the cap on a bottle
of expensive olive oil and poured a thin stream onto the salad and started to
toss again.

‘What did you do last night?’

She shrugged. ‘Not much, we had something to eat, watched
television and went to bed.’ Simone watched her as she went to the fridge and
took out a fresh lime.

‘Your husband didn’t take Chester for a walk?’

‘Um, no.’ She cut the lime in half and squeezed it onto the
salad.

Simone smiled. ‘That’s fine Mrs James. We just have to cover
all the bases. We need to get to the bottom of this, I’m sure you understand.’

‘Of course, of course. It’s a terrible thing.’ She shook her
head. ‘Terrible.’

‘The salad looks lovely.’

She looked distracted and then confused; finally a look of
recognition crossed her face and she smiled. ‘Oh, uh, thank you.’

Simone walked back into the lounge and sat down. Mr James
looked even more flustered than he did before Simone left the room.

‘Okay I think that’s it from us Mr James.’ West stood and
James followed suit. ‘If you think of anything else please just give us a
call.’

‘I’m sure I’ve told you everything.’

‘Okay then. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

Mr James showed them to the front door, said goodbye again
and closed it behind them. They walked to the car and Simone started the engine
so she could sit in the glorious air conditioning. ‘What do you think?’ she
said.

‘They’re lying about something. I think he found the body
last night but waited until this morning to report it.’

‘He could have been getting up to something behind her back
and he’s hiding something.’

They stared out of the window in silence. Simone said, ‘She’s
hiding something too.’

‘You think she suspects him of playing around?’

‘I think she knows exactly what he gets up to in the evenings
while he’s walking the dog.’

‘The area was always renowned for deviant activities, the car
park especially,’ said West.

‘It still is. The clearing where the body was found is away
from the guide tracks, do you think he knew about it or did he really stumble
on it by accident?’

‘That’s the question.’

West noticed a missed call from the station on his mobile. He
called back and when he got through to Jackson he put the call on loudspeaker
so Simone could hear.

‘Just returning your call Sir,’ said West. ‘You’re on
speaker, Simone is here too.’

‘We’ve got the identity of the victim; Victoria Redman, a
local girl, nothing but a youngster; eighteen years old. She lived with her
father
about
ten miles from where she was found. He’s been informed of the loss.’

‘Okay. Do we know any more about her abduction?’

‘He couldn’t give us much at all. He didn’t even realise she
had been missing all weekend.’

‘Did she like to party?’

‘Quite the opposite, she didn’t have much of a social life.
It’s her old man that likes a drink; he’d been on a bender all weekend and was
too drunk to notice that he hadn’t seen her since Thursday evening. He rang the
school when he’d sobered up and they told him they hadn’t seen her since
Thursday either. Then he called us.’

‘Nice.’

Simone said, ‘We need to find out as much about her life as
we can.’

‘He’s expecting you at some
point today.’

‘Then I guess we’d better get round there before he hits the
bottle,’ said West.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Jackson.

West got the address and hung up the phone.

Simone said, ‘I know where that is, it’s on the way to
Newmarket. We’ll be there in about half an hour.’ She put the car in gear and
gunned it to Redman’s place.

They sat in silence nursing their dark thoughts until Simone saw
something she couldn’t help mentioning. She pointed out a couple of longhaired
kids waiting at a bus stop. ‘Did you see that?’ she said. ‘That kid was wearing
a Napalm Death T-Shirt.’

‘Didn’t notice.’

‘You used to have that shirt twenty years ago.’

‘They’re still popular;’ he said. ‘If any band’s going to
piss your parents off, it’s Napalm Death. I haven’t listened to them for years
have you?’

‘No, I guess my tastes have mellowed with age.’

‘They used to be your favourite band.’

‘Not just mine; you loved them too. I can’t even remember the
last time I listened to anything that heavy. I’ve still got all my old CDs but
Martin hates them,’ she said and when Martin’s name left her lips she instantly
regretted bringing him into the conversation. She paused for a second and
regretted that too. She said, ‘Do you remember when we all went to see them?’

‘Supporting White Zombie at the Marquee? That was years ago.’

‘Must have been what, around eighty-nine, ninety?’

‘It was nineteen-ninety; early nineteen-ninety.’

‘It was easily one of the best gigs we ever went to.’

‘Remember how much he hated it?’ said West meaning Martin but
not using his name. It seemed unusual to hear West even acknowledge Martin’s
existence.

‘He was never going to enjoy it; even to this day I don’t
know why he bothered going.’