Unnatural Wastage (24 page)

It lay between the middle-class area close to Sycamore Park and a working-class estate with a handful of shops including a small general store, a greengrocer, a takeaway fish shop, a pharmacy and a post office. There was also a bus stop. A well-trodden footpath, obviously used as a short cut by local residents, led directly across it. According to PC Jenks, while most of the people on the estate were good citizens, law-abiding, hard-working folk who kept their properties in good order and their children under control, a few families were generally regarded by the majority as ‘neighbours from hell' and were the subject of regular complaints about antisocial behaviour. ‘Quite a few have form and there's a lot of fly-tipping goes on – mostly old tyres, unwanted mattresses and other stuff they can't be bothered to take to the tip,' Jenks went on, ‘but as far as I know none of them's been done for GBH.'

‘Speaking for myself, I wouldn't fancy walking over there after dark,' Vicky observed. ‘I take it she's the one who found the body.' She nodded in the direction of a middle-aged woman clutching a shopping bag, who was apparently being comforted by a woman constable.

‘That's right. She's pretty shocked, which is natural enough. She keeps on saying “nothing like that's ever happened round here before”. I can confirm that; we've never been asked to patrol here at night and we've had no reports of muggings. Quite a few people living on this side use it in the daytime to walk across to the shops or catch the bus.'

Two CSIs were already in attendance and had laid out stepping boards from the road and along the side of the footpath to a tangle of bramble bushes. A short distance away Rathbone was conferring with the pathologist, Doctor Handley; DC Penny Osborne stood a little apart from them with a handkerchief to her mouth. ‘Are you OK?' Sukey asked her, concerned at the young DC's pallor.

Penny swallowed hard and pushed the handkerchief into her pocket, looking faintly embarrassed. ‘It's . . . she looks sort of greenish . . . and there's a nasty smell when you get close. And the flies . . . they've laid their eggs in her eyes . . . it's just horrible! The Sarge says that means she's been there some time . . . she's begun to decompose.' She gave herself a little shake and squared her shoulders. ‘Don't worry, I'll be fine. Thanks for asking.'

Seeing Sukey and Vicky, Rathbone beckoned them over. ‘You've come at the right moment,' he said. He too had been holding a handkerchief to his face and the pathologist had put on a mask. ‘The CSIs have just finished taking their shots and Doc Handley's about to have a closer look at her. I should warn you, she's in a pretty poor condition.'

The dead woman lay face upwards, almost hidden behind the brambles. Her eyes were closed and her features appeared relaxed, the lips slightly parted. ‘You might think she'd just fallen asleep,' said Sukey softly, ‘except for the pong and . . .' There was no need to say more; the ugly bruises round the slender throat told how the woman had died.

‘I reckon you're right about her origins, Sukey,' said Vicky.

Sukey nodded. ‘Her colouring and cast of feature could be Middle Eastern or possibly Indian. She looks quite young; she can't be much more than twenty.'

Meanwhile, Handley had finished his examination and was peeling off his protective gloves. ‘What can you tell us, Doc?' asked Rathbone.

‘First impressions are that the cause of death was manual strangulation, but I can't be sure till I get her on the slab. From the state of decomposition I'd say she's been dead three or four days. I'm surprised it's taken so long for anyone to find her – I'd have thought a dog walker would have spotted her long before this. The smell's enough to attract any dog.'

‘According to the local copper it's not an area much used by dog walkers,' said Rathbone. ‘It's not safe to let them off the lead; there's too much litter lying around, especially broken glass. The woman who found her is interested in wildlife; she thought she saw a rare butterfly flitting around the brambles and went over to investigate.' He gave a wry grin. ‘The poor dear staggered back and threw up on the spot, as you may have noticed.'

Handley grinned. ‘I'm not surprised. I noticed your young DC nearly did the same.' He closed his bag. ‘I'll be off now. I'll let you know when I'm ready to do the PM.' He made his way back to his car, ducking under the blue and white tape barrier with which uniformed officers were enclosing the area, despite the protests of a few women with shopping bags. ‘Sorry, ladies,' Jenks apologized, ‘I'm afraid this is a crime scene so you'll have to go the long way round to the shops.' One or two hurried away, grumbling and complaining that they were going to miss their bus, but the rest remained behind to watch what was going on and were soon joined by others.

‘Amazing how word gets around,' commented Rathbone. ‘I didn't think it'd be long before
they
got wind of it,' he added resignedly as a van with
Bristol Echo – Your Favourite Newspaper
painted on its side slid into the gap left by Handley's car. The driver got out and began plying Jenks with questions. A second man with a camcorder hovered at his elbow.

Rathbone took out his mobile. ‘Now Handley's finished I'll call for a hearse,' he said. ‘While we're waiting for them to come and take her to the morgue you can bring me up to date.' He listened in silence to their report and then said, ‘It certainly begins to look as if that's Aggie's body and from what you say we may have a problem finding her next of kin. If it is her it means Ellerman's well and truly back in the frame. Yes?' he said as one of the CSIs approached holding out his camera.

‘Found this in some soft earth just under the brambles, Sarge,' he said. ‘We thought you'd like to see it before we take a cast.'

Rathbone inspected the picture. ‘Looks promising,' he said. ‘We'll come and have a look.' Together with the two DCs he studied the impression of a man's shoe, clearly visible in the soft earth. ‘It's a good, clear print – size ten or thereabouts so it's almost certainly a man's and from the depth of the impression he was carrying a heavy weight. At a guess, I'd say he'd left his car over there, where our lot are parked.' He handed the camera back. ‘Nice work, Andy. Anything else?'

‘Nothing along the path itself; the grass has worn away and the ground has been trodden too hard to show prints. The grass and stuff has been trodden down between the path and the place where the body was found, but we didn't find anything useful.'

‘Well, the shoe print is pretty distinctive, so let's hope that'll be enough to nail the bastard,' said Rathbone with considerable feeling. ‘Here's the hearse . . . now the ghouls are in for a treat.'

The four detectives waited in a respectful silence as the body was lifted on to a stretcher, covered and taken away. The moment they had gone Rathbone and his team returned to the road to face the reporters, who plied them with questions. ‘All I can tell you at this stage is that the body of a woman has been recovered from the area known as Fiddler's Patch,' he said. ‘She has not yet been identified and a statement will be issued in due course.' To the knot of curious onlookers he said, ‘I advise all you good people to return home and leave us to get on with our enquiries.' Followed by the three DCs he returned to the rendezvous point, ignoring the barrage of further questions. ‘See you back at HQ,' he said to Sukey and Vicky as he and Penny got into their car.

‘I've got a feeling this is going to be a long day,' said Sukey as she and Vicky prepared to follow them.

Rathbone had evidently alerted DCI Leach on the way back to HQ and as soon as the team reassembled they went straight to his office.

‘OK, Greg, what have you been able to find out about the dead woman?' Leach began.

‘So far, not a great deal I'm afraid, sir,' said Rathbone. ‘We think she's probably a woman known as Aggie, possibly of Middle Eastern or Indian origins, who works as a cleaner for an outfit called Clean as a Whistle and hasn't been seen for several days with no explanation. Tim and Mike have interviewed her employer and we hope she'll be willing to go to the morgue to see if she can identify the dead woman, but I gather they haven't yet been able to contact her again. It was pure chance she was in her office earlier today – she isn't normally there on a Saturday but she had some admin jobs to catch up on. Mike will give you the latest.'

‘We tried her number about an hour ago, as soon as we'd seen the body,' said Mike. ‘There was no reply – just a recorded message to say the office was closed till Monday morning. We checked in the personal directory under Shilling, but the only one turned out to be a reverend gentleman who was most affronted at the notion that his wife might run a domestic agency. Our Mrs Shilling must have a landline, so we assume she's ex-directory.'

‘So no hope in that direction until Monday,' said Leach resignedly. He turned to Sukey. ‘I gather you and Vicky have been to Aggie's flat. What did you find there?' He listened attentively while Sukey gave their report. ‘Do you think there's reason to think the dead woman is Aggie?' he said when she had finished.

‘Yes we do, sir, and we think it's significant that she hasn't been seen since she cleaned for Marcus Ellerman on Wednesday.'

‘What about the other woman – the one called Minnie who told the handyman about Aggie getting het up over having seen the knife? Have you spoken to her?'

‘Not yet, sir,' said Vicky. ‘We have her address and we planned to call on her after leaving Aggie's place, but then DS Rathbone told us about the body on Fiddler's Patch and instructed us to go straight over there.'

‘I see.' Leach doodled on his pad for a few moments. ‘You think Aggie's a Catholic; maybe Minnie can tell you what church she goes to. If so, go and see the priest and ask if he knows her well enough to identify her. And if all else fails, maybe Minnie would be willing to help with the ID if Mrs Shilling refuses.'

‘Well, you were right about it being a long day,' said Vicky as, the meeting over, she and Sukey went back to their car. ‘Let's hope Minnie isn't quite as fierce as Aggie's neighbour.'

Minnie's address was a bungalow in a development of retirement dwellings about a mile from Holmwood, set in pleasant gardens with a small lake in the centre of a circular lawn. The name beside the bell push was Jackson and the door was opened by a man of about seventy, with white hair, clear hazel eyes and an upright bearing that to Sukey suggested a military background. ‘Yes?' he said enquiringly.

‘We apologize for troubling you,' said Sukey, ‘but we're from Avon and Somerset CID and we need to speak to Mrs Minnie Jackson.'

‘Police eh?' he said as he inspected their IDs. ‘You'd better come in.' He closed the door behind them and led them into a cosy combined sitting and dining room where a table was laid for a meal. ‘I hope this won't take long – we're just about to have our supper. The wife's in the kitchen. Min!' he called, ‘you're wanted by the police. What've you been up to?' he added, winking at the two detectives.

‘Police?' A pleasant-looking woman of a similar age to her husband emerged, holding a tea towel. She looked enquiringly at the two detectives. ‘Why do you want to speak to me?'

‘We think you may be able to help us with some enquiries and we'd like to ask you a few questions,' said Sukey. ‘It will only take a few minutes. Perhaps you'd like to sit down.'

‘I'll help if I can.' She handed the tea towel to her husband and sat down on the sofa. ‘Go and turn the gas down under the potatoes, Vic.' He disappeared for a moment and then returned and sat beside her. They exchanged slightly anxious glances before looking back at the detectives. ‘All right, I'm ready,' she said.

‘We understand you're employed by Clean as a Whistle cleaning agency and that you do a regular cleaning job at Holmwood Care Centre,' Sukey began.

‘That's right. Three mornings a week for a couple of hours – Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I've been doing it for several years.'

‘I've been on at her several times lately to give it up,' her husband interposed. ‘It isn't as if we need the money.'

‘I enjoy chatting to the people there . . . and it gives me something to do while you're playing golf,' she retorted. She turned back to Sukey. ‘What do you want to know?'

‘We're enquiring into the death of a young woman whose body was found today on a piece of wasteland known as Fiddler's Patch. We have reason to believe it may be that of a woman employed by the same agency who hasn't been seen for several days. We understand that her name is Aggie, and that she has at some time spoken to you about the knife used to kill Fenella Tremaine.'

Minnie turned pale and clutched her husband's hand. ‘Oh, no! I told her . . . I begged her to tell you about it,' she said shakily, ‘but for some reason she was too scared. She wouldn't say why.' She took a paper tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. ‘Do you really think this dead woman might be Aggie?'

‘We can't be sure,' said Vicky. ‘We need formal identification, but we have no idea how to contact her next of kin. As the two of you have been seen speaking together several times we're wondering if you can help us.'

Minnie shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, I've no idea. She's always been quite cagey about her family. I know she's a Catholic – I've an idea she goes to the Sacred Heart church in Westover. Maybe the priest there could help you.'

‘Thank you, that's very useful; we'll certainly go and see him after we've spoken to you,' said Sukey. ‘Now, about the knife, did Aggie give you any idea where she saw it?'

‘None at all,' said Minnie. ‘Actually, it wasn't the knife itself, but the sheath. She saw a picture of it in the
Echo
with the report that it had been found and got very agitated; she said she'd seen it, but when I asked her where or when that was she clammed up. I told her she should report it at once, but the mention of the police seemed to scare the pants off her.'