Someone Has Just Been Murdered - Chapter 2

Two members of Dr. Amanda Grimes’ forensic team held their cameras correctly and took photograph after photograph through both passenger doors of the red car’s rear half. The cadaver was in a single fixed position, but those responsible for executing this aspect of the job wanted to get shots from various angles. Whenever DCI Andrews saw them in action, she likened their expertise to the camera-happy individuals in pursuit of celebrities. Inadvertently, she’d labelled them as the mortuary paparazzi. The comparison may have been a tad unfair, but Josephine couldn’t help harbouring this perception. In total, thirteen pictures were taken. When the pair of forensic photographers had finished, Dr. Grimes’ nodded to another two members of her staff, dressed in the same garb as the photographers. They reached in and lifted her up. Miss Williams was subsequently turned over so a good look at her face could be had. Amanda peered into the back of the vehicle and started to scrutinize the neck and the lower half of her face, in particular the position her mouth was set in after death. The lips were sufficiently parted, suggesting that she was gasping for air as her life slipped away. A little impatiently, DCI Andrews asked Dr. Grimes to share some of her thoughts on what had caused Miss Williams’ demise.

“My best guess here is strangulation. The way the mouth is open can be attributed to someone trying to breathe in a panicked manner”, began Amanda “but I don’t think bare hands were used. Hardly any redness, so I would say gloves were used. The way she was killed seems straight forward.”

“So no need for a full autopsy then, Amanda”

“One will still be required, Josephine.”

“How come”

“There is a slight protrusion of the neck, near the Adam’s Apple. That might’ve something to do with how she was killed but I would like to carry out a post-mortem anyway to see if another reason for the swelling exists.”

“Her you call by her first name?” whispered Suzanne.

“Different department – and she’s the head of it. You’re a grown woman: stop acting like a fourteen year-old!” Josephine whispered back.

“Alright, let’s get her back to the lab” Amanda ordered the two members of her team currently assisting her. Keeping their heads low, they began ferrying the deceased from the rear interior of the car. One of them had to move onto the back seat itself to get the corpse out without knocking of the cadaver’s limbs against either of the door frames. When clear of the car, Miss Williams was then slotted carefully into a mortuary sack. The sound of it being zipped up gave everyone nearby the impression of it being some organic electrical buzzing noise.

“What about the time of death?” Josephine asked.

“From what I can tell, she probably met her end within the past couple of hours.”

Amanda’s answer was largely speculative. Without possession of external facts she’d yet to be made aware of, she could merely make educated guesses as to when Miss Williams was murdered.

“A full autopsy it is” said DCI Andrews, mindful of how intricate and delay-making they could be.

“What about what Mr. Cullen said regarding Miss Williams’ activities before she was killed?” enquired Suzanne, just in case this detail had been overlooked.

“I’ll leave you to sort that out. I was texted by the Chief Constable to meet him at lunch time. I need to contact him to work out where this meeting is to take place. While you’re talking to Mr. Cullen, find out if the victim had any family. I didn’t see a wedding or engagement ring on her left hand, so she must’ve never had a proposal, but do some digging to see if she had any relatives.”

“Yes guv’!” said Suzanne, already half-turning to where Mr. Cullen was stood. Getting nearer to him, she saw that he was checking his watch. He was tapping his shoe heels together repetitively as well.

“This won’t take long, Mr. Cullen” said Suzanne, clearly aware that her promise was dependant on what kind of answers she received.

“I hope it won’t. I have a lot on my plate, Detective Inspector.”

“Did your late employee have a first name?”

“That will be in the personnel files back at the office. Also, Mrs Hendry will know what her first name is.”

“Why not save us the bother and tell me what it is, here and now.”

“I do not go around waving confidential documents in public.”

This was not a response Suzanne was keen to hear. However, she didn’t have time to argue and resigned herself to the probability of visiting the premises that housed the business he ran.

“I’ll be taking a look at them and speaking to this Mrs. Hendry when we get there.”

“You can’t possibly come in today. My schedule is full as are those of the people I employ. We’re far too busy!”

“So am I!” said Suzanne sharply. “Someone has just been murdered, Mr. Cullen – full cooperation would be appreciated!”

 

A cafe in the Printworks arcade was not a common location for Chief Constable Maitland to meet up with the new DCI under his command, but when he read Josephine’s personnel file, he learned of her fondness for coffee houses as ideal places to discuss enquiries and procedures. He didn’t particularly like them, but he was prepared to put that aside for a while to make her feel more at ease in one of her favoured social environments. The different types of coffees confused Maitland and Josephine had to step in to choose them on his behalf. The only trouble she had was with using conventional terms for the fancy names of the caffeine drinks. Although straightforward for her, those serving were more used to referring to them by their continental titles, and her words were therefore incomprehensible to them: the minds of the staff taking Josephine’s order compensated by using the hot beverages’ more popular names. DCI Andrews carried the tray containing the drinks and the two rolls with identical fillings over to their table, nearly bumping into a few people on the way. The close proximity to the main entrance from where they were seated reflected Maitland’s desire for his exit to go unnoticed by other customers. He felt a hint of shame at spending time in a location he would never normally be seen in.

“So, three days into being a DCI and you get landed with a murder enquiry”

“Well, it was actually DI Andrews who brought it to my attention.”

“I must say, I’ve never come across a mother and daughter working in the same CID division.”

“Probably isn’t that strange, sir. Lots of family members do work in the same profession.”

“I admire your attitude about it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I believe you brought her up by yourself. That, I must say, is quite an achievement for a woman in that line of work.”

“You’re too kind, sir. Of course, it would have been an easier task had Frank stayed married to me. He only hung around for the first three years of Suzanne’s life. The rest fell on my shoulders.”

“It must have been tough on you.”

Maitland’s question betrayed more interest in her private life than she believed he was capable of. There had to be a genuine reason for him requesting to meet her face to face.

“Why do you really want to see me, sir?”

Knowing that she had seen through him, he replied “For evaluation and to break some bad news.”

Josephine’s eyes darted towards the interior of her coffee cup. Thanks to the graver tone of voice he was exhibiting, she was swiftly understood that he was about to reveal something he knew wouldn’t go down well with the members of her CID team.

“It’s to do with the Fiona Bright murder case isn’t it!”

“I’m afraid so – it’s being shut down.”

“I see”

“It’s not a decision that’s been taken lightly.”

“May I ask why, sir?”

“No fresh leads for over a year, happens to be one of the reasons why. We don’t have the resources to keep a failing enquiry going on indefinitely; the lack of results have made it impossible for me to put forward the argument of preventing it from becoming a cold case”

“Isn’t there any hope of continuing it?”

“Maybe in the future”

“So, the Bright family are denied justice.”

“This is the case, yes. If it makes you feel any better, I’m the one who let them down by agreeing to this decision, but pressure from above has dictated the steps I am forced to take.”

His attempt at acknowledging blame didn’t improve the situation she was in. She now had the unenviable task of telling Fiona’s parents and relatives that they are unlikely to get closure as to the identity of the killer of Miss Bright for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, she had only recently taken control of Greater Manchester Constabulary’s CID division, and she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with her new superior.

“I understand and respect the choice you had to make.”

Maitland was surprised. He had expected some indignation from her, but her mood was far from being fierce.

“You believe in adhering to the protocols, I see.”

“Rule-breaking and risk-taking belong in US cop movies and TV shows – not advisable for those involved in real police work.”

“I can see why you got the job of DCI. I can always spot an excellent team-leader.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, what can you tell me about this new case?”

“Not much at the moment, sir. The victim is a Miss Williams. We haven’t yet found out her Christian name.”

DCI Andrews really hated using a phrase like that. She wasn’t at all fond of using descriptions that originated from biblical references. This aside, she continued on.

“She was found by my daughter in the back of a red car parked in one of the multi-stories. The time of death has been approximated at having occurred within the past few hours, and the cause was suggested as strangulation. These are all the details we have.”

The Chief Constable mulled over what he’d been told so far. He digested these details with the help of the saucer under his coffee cup, which he kept turning round and round.

“What was your daughter doing in the car park?”

“Returning from a meeting with Miss Hedley”

“Who is Miss Hedley?”

“She was one of those who gave a statement to the police in the Fiona Bright case. Unfortunately, as I suspected, it turned out to have a number of discrepancies. Still, it doesn’t matter now. Her version of events won’t be needed in the wake of this decision. Procedure is procedure.”

“Can I give you some advice that will help you to stay at the top of your game, DCI Andrews?”

“Sure.”

“Focus on your principles, not those within the constraints of police work.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“The law can be manipulated, Josephine. Forget whether you think it’s a Hollywood cliché – take some risks now and again!”

 

The whole of the office space in Mr. Cullen’s business premises was partitioned off into various sections. Most of the clerical workers in the cubicle-sized areas were female. Suzanne only glimpsed two or three men engaged in the same profession as the ladies present. She wondered whether he had ever heard of the Equal Opportunities Act. DI Andrews was walked through by him towards the main office. Suzanne noted one visual detail about him more than any other – Mr. Cullen never seemed to be glancing at any of his employees. It brought one word into her mind – standoffish. He closed the door, but she was stunned to see him lock it firmly too.

“Frightened of being robbed?” Suzanne asked, not really hoping for a reply.

“Now, DI Andrews, I believe you wanted to establish Miss Williams’ Christian name.”

“Yes. You said that the name is in her personnel file, and you added that Mrs Hendry will know what it is as well.”

Mr. Cullen walked to a filing cabinet to the right of his desk. He opened the top drawer and rifled through the contents of it with meticulous efficiency. His fingers, being rather nimble, were able to separate the top edges of the files and the papers inside them, individually. Halfway through the search he was undertaking, he stopped at one of the documents, withdrew it and passed it over to Suzanne.

“I believe this should clarify some of her personal details, Detective Inspector.”

She flipped through each page as she cherry-picked the most relevant pieces of data, thereby speeding up this process. Suzanne had learned the first name of the victim, together with four specific facts she’d honed in on as a result of perusing the document.

“Samantha Williams. At last we can call her something other than her surname.”

The remark was not intended for Edward’s ears. Learning her identity had prompted her to think aloud. This tendency extended to the details she felt were crucial, which she filtered into her mind.

“It says here that she lived in a small flat above a pizza parlour in Cheadle, has a god-daughter, Laura Blackwell, and there doesn’t appear to be any mention of her having any close relatives.”

Suzanne consciously decided to remain silent about the final fact she’d acquired. The file’s contents didn’t pretend to fill in all of the blanks, though. This didn’t really surprise her; work records usually contained information that was solely pertinent to the job. Mr. Cullen held out his left hand, gesturing for the file to be given back to him without delay.

“Sorry Mr. Cullen, but this is a murder investigation, and I’ll need to make some photocopies of this file back at headquarters.”

“I run a tight ship, DI Andrews. All paperwork must be accounted for. That is a clerical procedure I do not want disrupted.”

“We have procedures too – one of them is getting people who are being less than cooperative and try to make them be more helpful during a police enquiry. Now I’m borrowing this, sir! I guarantee it’ll be returned to you ASAP.”

“This is really detrimental to how I run my business.”

“Your commented is noted, sir. I have a couple more questions relating to Samantha Williams’ movements before her demise.”

“Can you ask them quickly, Detective Inspector? I have to make an important phone call in a few minutes.”

She deliberately ignored the request he’d made. It was utterly self-serving and was the kind of thing liable to chip away at her temperament, which was currently placid. It was vital to get through the next few minutes without giving into her feelings and whacking him one.

“What kind of errand was Samantha running for you on the morning she was killed?”

“Ensuring my vehicle maintains its usual standard of hygiene.”

“If only I had a fucking translator handy”, DI Andrews thought to herself.

“So she was taking the car to be washed.”

“That is what I said.”

“Where was she taking your vehicle to be cleaned?”

“Forrester’s in Oldham.”

“Yeah I know it. One more question before I talk to Mrs. Hendry about Samantha. Her employment record puts her age at thirty-two, but her date of birth contradicts this – stating that she is actually a good ten years older. Have you any idea why this should be?”

“I don’t have a clue, Detective Inspector. I seldom concern myself with those kinds of details about my employees.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Cullen.”

Suzanne’s tone was barely civil. Any more time in his company was certain to bring out the worst in her.

Almost robotically, Mr. Cullen unlocked the door. DI Andrews didn’t exchange a single glance with him as she left the office. She was over anxious to chat to his employees; people whom she suspected could be more animated than him. Walking out of the room felt remarkably like early parole. That may not have been a feeling she had experience of, but that was the only sensation she could attribute to her relief. Re-entering the administration section, Suzanne waited until one of Mr. Cullen’s clerical workers was walking in her direction.

“Excuse me I’m looking for a Mrs. Hendry. Can you tell me which one of the staff members goes by that name?”

The man she’d stopped pointed to a woman in her late thirties stood against a tall Yucca plant nestled up against one of the photocopiers. She was in the midst of talking to a female colleague when the Detective Inspector started making her way over to Samantha’s workmate.

 

The time on the display screen of the mobile phone belonging to the DCI was eleven minutes to two in the afternoon when Josephine strolled back into her office. Her return had anticipated by DS Pickford, and he was waiting for her, holding one of the reports attached to the police operation to apprehend Fiona’s killer. Josephine announced without hesitation “You might as well send that document to the archives: the hunt for Fiona’s murderer is being put on ice indefinitely”.

“I thought the televised appeals were meant to be helping.”

“My superiors do not see it that way.”

“By superiors, you really mean Chief Constable Maitland.”

“He was being pushed into making this decision too.”

“I’ll bet!”

“That’s enough! I’m not somebody who takes kindly to insubordination. The enquiry is being shut down. There’s nothing I, nor he, can do about it! We have a new murder investigation, as of this morning. Try putting some of your energies into that! These things happen, Pickford, and we have to deal with them when they do.”

The chain of command was the decisive factor in Pickford understanding he could do nothing about it. The reality of earning a decent wage to support his wife and kids financially made it imperative to tow this particular line. The only thing he could do to dull the anger he was feeling was to drown his sorrows with the help of a few pints this evening at his local. What he hadn’t figured out was that Josephine was wrapping her own righteous fury about letting down the Bright family in the worst way possible, in a thick, impervious layer of acceptance. She added to this a displacement activity (namely rearranging the objects on her desk) to stop this emotion showing. The “Midsomer Murders” theme tune sounding on her mobile phone alerted her that she was receiving a call. She was unnervingly brisk in answering, almost as if she had expected it to ring before it sprang into life.

“Hello? Dr. Grimes? What? Say that again? I’ll be right over!”

Dead skin and chlorine created the odour that shot up her nostrils with the same intensity as a whiff of cocaine as she entered the mortuary. On the surrounding work surfaces were plastic containers with the organs that had to be removed as part of the post-mortem process. DCI Andrews had to endure the revolting spectacle of a person’s lower intestines piled up in a set of weighing scales; like sausages on display in a butcher’s shop. However, she knew that there would be more gruesome sights ready to greet her whilst she was conversing with Amanda. It still disturbed the DCI that Dr. Grimes never exhibited any expressions of disgust while she was dissecting corpses for a living. In spite of the revolting nature of what she did, Amanda was exceedingly casual, to the point of appearing to find some morbid enjoyment in her profession.

“Welcome to the pit-stop before heaven” she said to Josephine, without looking up.

“That would’ve sounded wittier if I believed in heaven.”

“Atheism is a state of mind, Josephine.”

“So is religion, Amanda. Your tone sounded urgent when you called me.”

“It did. I’ve solved the riddle about the protruding area of Miss Williams’ neck.”

“Is it to do with her being strangled?”

“Yes, but not in the way you were probably thinking of.”

“You really need to explain that, Amanda.”

“I think showing you would be a better way.”

Picking up a pair of tweezers that were opposite a jar holding a freshly-dissected brain, Dr. Grimes moved over to Samantha Williams’ body and held them above the open mouth. With upmost diligence, she lowered the tweezers down into the space in between the lips, moving them in diagonal directions through the throat. She felt it stop at something. A few gentle tugs later, and the specific tool for intricate extraction gradually pulled out what looked like, on first inspection, a small lump of raw, red meat. DCI Andrews didn’t get a good enough glance at it as Amanda transferred the fleshy object into a clear plastic container.

“Talk about a symbolic gesture!”

“What did you get out of Samantha’s throat, Amanda?”

“One half of her tongue: come take a look!”

Hesitantly, Josephine walked a little nearer. Her stomach wasn’t that strong. There happened to be a limit of how much gruesomeness she could stand, before the necessity to rush to the toilet engulfed her.

“The cut is clean, Amanda” observed DCI Andrews.

“Ruling out it being done in the heat of the moment”

“Shit! Please don’t tell me this is another of these killers leaving physical messages. I’ve already dealt with two – I don’t want there to be a hat-trick!”

“I’m no detective, but I wouldn’t have thought that it’s a message for us. It might be something to do with what the victim might have done in the past.”

“You mean a revenge killing?”

“I can’t answer that, Josephine. I simply analyse the clues dead people inadvertently leave behind. Searching for reasons is your department.”

“Let’s get back to the neatness of the incision – any thoughts?”

“Not yet. I’ll need to examine the whole of the mouth’s interior.”

Amanda didn’t speak for two minutes. This paved the way for the DCI to picture the scene of some unknown individual actually subject Samantha’s neck to a level of pressure that was fatal. The answers she was after were regarding why this crime hadn’t been reported by a member of the public.

“Because it was carried out away from prying eyes” Josephine clumsily yelled out.

Dr. Grimes didn’t show any sign that she’d been interrupted by this. Instead she said, “Next on my list is removing the stomach. The contents may shed a little more light on the exact time someone helped her move onto the next world.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Breakfast and snacks”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Well, what she’s eaten may tell us if she had breakfast on the hop or whether she stopped off somewhere for a snack during the morning.”

“Ah, the digestive system...”

“...will narrow down when she died.”

Josephine was disappointed that she hadn’t personally seen where Dr. Grimes had been going with this train of thought. She made up for this oversight by chaining together the facts which had led to the conclusion Amanda has steered her to. It was hardly regular but Josephine was visited by a strong tide of envy, similar to teenage jealousy, which she thought she’d outgrown. It stemmed from how quicker and sharper Amanda’s mind was in comparison to her own. She didn’t see herself as thick, but neither did regard herself as possessing a really high IQ.

On the floor where all desk-bound detection duties occurred, DI Andrews sat down in a flustered manner and exclaimed “It’s like talking to C3PO!”

Suzanne’s outburst invaded and interrupted what DS Pickford was doing at his desk. All of a sudden, his curiosity over what had triggered it was peaked.

“What did you mean by that?”

“Samantha Williams’ boss; he was unenthusiastic about answering my questions – it was interfering his precious schedule. That was all he seemed to care about!”

“Sounds like he wound you up good and proper”

“I can’t help that. His attitude needs a serious overhaul! I did get some information from him about what his employee’s last movements, but Mrs. Hendry was more helpful in that respect. Now all I have to do is to tell my mum what I unearthed. Do you know where she is, by any chance?”

“In the corpse hotel” said DS Pickford far too knowingly.

Samantha’s stomach gave up its secrets as DI Andrews walked in, wearing the regulation uniform for mortuary visits. As if the smell surrounding her wasn’t enough to make her feel nauseous, Suzanne was subjected to the vision of Amanda unemotionally touching some of the shapeless, well-digested types of food that had been in the gut. Picturing drinking a fizzy cherry-flavoured drink, the Detective Inspector was able to curb any need to race to the toilet.

“Morsels of toast are all I can make out” said Dr Grimes “I can’t see anything else that wasn’t properly digested.”

Hearing Suzanne breathe a little heavier, DCI Andrews looked up. She subsequently enquired whether her daughter had eaten a heavy lunch.

“I haven’t had any. I haven’t been able to find the time.”