one piece at a time
WARNING THIS BOOK CONTAINS FICTIONAL SCENES OF A GRAPHIC NATURE
DO NOT READ IF OFFENDED
Mortui vivos docent - The dead teach the living. -Anonymous
Life is like an autopsy -- one piece at a time. -Anonymous
Chapter One
She knows if she stops moving she will die. That and fear is all the motivation she needs. The cuts on her arms, body and face are mixing with the sweat that is gushing from every pore. Her life fluids are draining away slowly and creating weakness when what she needs most now is strength. The torch light flits back in her direction allowing her to see her breath steaming as it is pushed from her lungs. She runs on, not caring in which direction, knowing only she has to stay away from the light. Her nakedness is not an issue anymore. She has been stripped of more than just her clothes over the previous ten days. Ten days of abuse and depravity that she did not think a human being could inflict upon another.
She is unable to get her bearings. The building she has been caged in is larger than she thought. Her bare feet slap against the bare concrete floor and she hears the echo of a huge room all around her. There is no natural light to see just how large the room is she is in. She must have come through a door to get into this room but she did not see one. It must be some kind of warehouse or old factory building. Hands thrust out in front her are the only reason she does not run full speed into a wall.
Still moving, but more slowly, cautiously, she turns left and with her right hand she starts to follow the walls path. It drops from smooth concrete to a ridged metal surface. A door!
Grasping desperately she finds a door handle. Expecting it not to yield she is unbelievable when it turns easily in her hands. Thinking of rusty hinges she slowly eases the door open. The opening reveals nothing but more blackness. With the door now fully open she pushes her hand through the gap only for it to crush painfully against a rough brick wall. It has been blocked.
She lets out an involuntary cry as she sees her chances drain away like her blood. It only attracts attention.
‘She’s in here!’
Torches streak through the darkness like laser beams in a science fiction movie. The light finds her.
‘There she is!’
She stops, frozen in the light like a rabbit. She drops her head, her shoulders slump and she starts to sob.
‘Get the bitch. Use the cuffs and leg irons this time.’ The voice she has learnt to fear.
She allows herself to be handcuffed and bound. A different voice now. Younger sounding.
‘She’s gone, she’s fucking out of it man. Look at her, she’s broken. Forget the leg irons. It’ll only slow us down.’ She knows this man as the one who is almost tender. He just uses her without the beatings.
She is still sobbing silently as they lead her, surprisingly gently, back through the factory complex to the windowless room where the other women are.
The dead women.
Chapter 2
‘How the hell do you manage to eat that stuff?’
I look up from my plate of snails, shallow fried with whole cloves of garlic. They have been fried in the finest olive oil I have ever tasted which is imported from a small town called Kolymbari in Crete, Greece. I know this because my brother Paul, who moved there last year after serving thirty years in the army, sends me the oil and I give it to the restaurant owner as part payment for his great food. That and I have a crush on his daughter and I am trying to keep him sweet. Julia and I have been dating for just over six months and things are looking good from my perspective. I’m not sure if the oil helps my case but as her father Nektarios is originally from a small town called Spilia just inland from Kolymbari, it can’t hinder it.
My partner is looking at me with the disgust clear on his face. I pull one of the snails from its shell, spear a clove of the garlic alongside it, and hold it out for him.
‘Try something new. You might like it.’
He pulls back as if I am holding a deadly snake out for him to kiss. I shrug and make a great show of my ecstasy as I chew on this small Greek delicacy.
‘Pete, I’m sorry. There’s been another one.’
He really knows how to spoil my appetite. Swallowing uncomfortably I push my plate away and wait for him to continue.
Jonathon Dawkins, or JD, has been my partner on the Homicide and Serious Crime Command (HSCC) for a little over two years. It is fair to say we work homicide well together even if we make a strange looking couple. He is a squat, wedge shaped figure from his love of pushing weights and I tower over his five and a half feet of pure muscle by almost a foot. And I don’t push weights.
‘She was found in the alley behind Valascos Bakery. Mutilated just like our last five victims and placed in three separate dumpsters.’
‘The hands?’
JD looks down at his own hands flexing and cracking the knuckles.
‘Yeah. Same as the rest. But this time we have a witness. A guy saw someone dumping the body.’
I stand and place a twenty on the table.
‘Let’s go.’
The uniforms are blocking the alleyway from curious onlookers and the less inquisitive press. Mobile phones and Ipads are flashing away as the tourists revel in taking in another unexpected London show. The press know it will just be another ‘No comment’ moment until the details are released in the full statement. But they try and look interested anyway.
‘DI Peter Carter…any news if this is related to the body found last week?’
I look around and see Anna Clarke of The Metro looking over at myself and JD.
‘Hi Anna, you pulling the late shift tonight?’
She smiles and I remember how her face looked after we made love. We used to have a thing together but she couldn’t understand how I could keep secrets from her. Her job and mine were just not compatible.
‘You know how it is Peter, I got the boss on my back always after the next Ripper story. Exclusive this, exclusive that. He really grips my shit sometimes. Can you tell me, is this one of them?’
‘You of all people know I can’t discuss details of any ongoing investigations with the press Anna. As soon as we know any details of the incident here tonight we will issue a statement.’
‘But as you are the lead investigator on the new Ripper I am assuming this is his latest victim.’
‘You know what assumptions do to journalists careers Anna. Wait for the official statement.’
With that I follow JD into the alleyway and pull on a thin pair of surgical latex gloves that I always carry with me for occasions such as these.
The SOCO, or Scene Of Crime Officer, is standing to one side talking to the forensics lead investigator. In his white paper coveralls that look two sizes too big for him, Dr. Graham Young is a strange looking character next to the uniformed officer. I attended a seminar on ballistics and the effects on the human body he presented in Leeds where he was based at the time. I made a point of seeking him out afterwards and I spent an interesting evening picking the brains of one of the worlds foremost forensic scientists over a few pints of Guinness. I feel lucky to have him as part of our small team and it was not an accident that I persuaded him to consider a job with the London Metropolitan coroners office when his contract expired ‘up North’.
JD looks over to me, ‘Peter, I’ll check details with the SOCO. I know you and the Doc have a lot to catch up on.’
JD eases away the SOCO and I make my way towards my old friend. We don’t shake hands, even in our gloves, to try and stop any cross contamination.
‘Doc, how is it looking here?’
‘Good evening Peter, not a good one this. It looks at first sight to be another victim of our Ripper. I don’t want to go on record until we do the full post mortem but indications are definitely running in that direction. We have the same level of dismemberment.’
I follow him as he walks into the alley and he continues his commentary like a local tour guide. All he needs to complete the picture is to hold a brightly coloured umbrella in the air above his head. All around us are plastic cards bearing the sequential numbers of the forensics teams investigation. The largest number I notice is 47. Forty seven clues or items of interest as to who has violated another human being in the most violent way. Grahams commentary rolls on, ‘The arms and legs are together in one location here, minus the hands that is.’ He points to a green coloured dumpster which is being photographed by one of his men from the Evidence Recovery Unit.
‘The head has been removed and placed in a small cotton drawstring bag in that area there, just as we saw before, and the torso with hands inserted into the sexual organs is propped against the third bin here. She was found by a homeless man looking for scraps from the bakery. It didn’t phase him much, he says he saw worse in Afghanistan. He says he saw a man down here dumping stuff and he hoped it was food. He found more than he bargained for. He is down at the station awaiting further questioning. JD took him down before coming to get you and he probably gave him a decent meal and a few hot cups of coffee too knowing JD. Females age is anywhere from late teens to late twenties, bone structure and density will help with that, but that is the best guess for now. Decay of the body makes dating the time of death difficult, but anywhere over the last month is about all I can say for now. As with the other bodies I doubt we will be able to narrow it down. This guy likes to keep them around for a while after he has killed them.’
He looks me over, ‘How are you doing after...’
I break in quickly, ‘Fine Doc, just fine. Do we have a positive ID yet? Is it…?’ I let the question hang.
‘No. We are running a photo analysis, dental matching to follow and we are cross checking with missing persons, but, her features have been distorted due to decay and also being badly beaten. There are also what looks like some small teeth marks in the fleshy parts of her face and we will try and get a match through dental records on the perpetrator but I do not hold much hope on getting a match. This is much worse than the others and shows an escalation in the violence against these poor girls. The worst part is I cannot say if the violence was carried out whilst she was still alive or, I hope for her sake, post mortem.’
We both stand and watch as two of the forensic team lift the brutalised torso, place it into a body bag and respectfully lay it down on a medical trolley. Two other trolleys with empty body bags stand nearby waiting for their own chilling cargo to be placed upon them.
‘We have got to catch this bastard.’ I whisper softly to myself. Graham, overhearing my out loud thoughts murmurs his agreement.
JD comes striding over after getting the latest news from the SOCO. His width appears to almost fill the small space of the alleyway as he gets closer.
‘Not much else to report here Peter. Nobody at the bakery heard or saw anything and the security camera you see over the side door is a dummy one for deterrence only. Forensic are going to go over this place with the finest toothcomb they have in their inventory, the Doc here will be performing the autopsy tomorrow morning and the homeless guy who found the torso, an army veteran called Neal Stephens is at this moment having a snooze down at the station. I have him in an interview room as I know you will want to have a word with him sooner or later. Do you want to see him tonight?’
‘This place is under control so why not. Doc, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Thanks for the run through. I’ll scratch a press statement together and await confirmation from you this is another Ripper killing, of which it bears all the bloody hallmarks of. You’ll let me know if you find the same objects in the body.’
‘Of course Peter, I will inform you straight away. I am almost hoping we do, otherwise we have two psychopaths running around out there.’
His words make the already cool night drop a few degrees more.
‘OK JD, let’s get back and see if we can get anything useful from your Mr. Stephens. I hope you got a receipt for his meal. You know Shirley in accounts will be all over you if haven’t.’
He smiles, ‘That’s the plan Peter…that’s the plan.’
Chapter 3
The Black Lion pub is fairly full. Young men and women with a days work behind them letting off steam amid the old timers who sit stoically watching the muted TV set that is showing horse racing. The only movement they manage is raising their half of Guinness to their lips and checking form in The Racing Post.
Zoe Temple is standing near the unused pool table and laughing heartily at another unfunny joke her boss is telling her. Richard is assistant manager at the Staples where Zoe works as his and the managers secretary. He has been trying to get into her knickers since she started the job six months ago and Zoe feels that tonight could be his lucky night. It all depends on Richards answer to her asking for a pay raise. He said they should discuss it over a drink and she definitely knew where it was heading. As long as his wife didn’t find out and cause trouble, as happened in her last post, it could be a mutually happy agreement but she can’t afford to lose another job. A boss and his secretary may be the oldest cliché in the book, but if it pays the rent and she gets to have a few meals and drinks thrown in, where’s the harm in that. At 26 Zoe feels she should be allowed to have some fun and bugger the long term consequences. She does not want to settle down and have kids like most of her friends. She like to party and she likes to stretch things to the limit.
She leans into him and places her hand on his arm. Her breasts push into his chest as she has to stand on tip toe for her mouth to reach his ear.
‘So what do you say we talk about that pay rise now?’
He doesn’t move away but rather pushes his body closer to hers.
‘I think now would be a good time. Do you want to do it here or somewhere a little quieter, like your place.’
‘Tell you what Richard, buy me another drink and bring it over to that booth there. I’ll be waiting for you and we can discuss your proposal in a little more privacy. Then we’ll talk about other things.’
She stares unashamedly into his eyes and sees the arousal there. Pulling slowly away from his body she lets her hand drop from his arm and brush his crotch almost as if by accident. Her eyes locked on to his show it wasn’t. She takes a small step backward and turns towards the booth.
‘Yeah. Ok. Drink coming right up.’
Richard turns away and heads for the bar with thoughts racing through his head. Jesus she’s a spicy one this Zoe, he thinks to himself. I mean I knew she was up for it with all that flirting but this is it, a few drinks, give her 50p an hour pay rise and then take her back to her place for some fun.
It doesn’t take him long to get served at the bar and he walks triumphantly back to the booth and Zoe with a pint for him and a gin and tonic for her.
‘There you go Zoe, I made it a double.’
He sits opposite her and smiles as he feels her leg caress his under the table. The touch sends small jolts of erotic electricity straight to his groin. He has to adjust his sitting position to avoid uncomfortable embarrassment.
‘So Richard, working for you the last six months has been fun but I really need to earn more money or I will have to move on. I have a job in mind that has offered me a position but I feel loyal to you, and I know you would like me to stay. What can you give me to make me even happier.’
The teasing of his leg does not stop.
‘Tell me Richard, what have you got that will make me come in your office everyday?’
The innuendo is so obvious even Zoe is surprised at her bluntness.
‘Zoe, I…uh…I can give you a pay rise of 50p an hour starting tomorrow.’
Zoes leg is pulled away sharply.
‘Fifty fucking pence an hour. You have got to be kidding me right. Fifty fucking pence!’
‘Zoe you have to understand that you have only been with us 6 months. Management will not allow any more than that. It’s even in your contract.’
Zoe snorts with derision and takes a long drink from her G&T.
‘Fuck management and fuck you. Or more accurately, fuck management and don’t fuck you. I am going to have you up on harassment charges, how do you think your wife will react to that?’
‘Zoe, don’t be overdramatic, there’s no harassment. I played along with you, you led me along. You have..’
‘Shut up Richard. If you can’t offer me a better deal, even if it comes out of your own pocket, well I will have no choice but to ruin you. I’m going to the loo and by the time I come back you had better have something else for me. Trust me Richard, I’m worth it and I’m not talking about my working skills here.’
Richard watches Zoe stride around the corner and off towards the toilets. I am in so much shit now, he thinks. One half of him wants her to stay no matter the cost, the other half wants to see the back of her. His problem is the harassment charge placed against him by one of his employees when he first started working for the company. Even though that incident occurred before he was married that would not matter to the bosses and HR and especially his wife if she found out about it. Richard rapidly realises that Zoe holds all the aces, he must do what she asks. He can explain to his wife a little of his wages being lost as cutbacks by the company due to the financial crisis.
‘That decides it then.’ He says out loud, ‘I’m fucked.’
He takes a long pull on his pint and sits back to wait for Zoe to return. He is still there an hour later before he realises he has been stood up.
As he storms out of the pub his mind is in a whirl as he wonders what games Zoe is playing with him and what she has in store for him over the coming days, weeks even months. He hails a cab and worries all the way back home to his wife.
Chapter 4
‘So JD, you and Shirley. I have to say I never saw that coming.’
I don’t want to talk about the case and I definitely don’t want to talk about my personal life, so I railroad the conversation.
JD smiles at me with what he calls his movie star smile. All teeth and squinty eyes. He likes to think he has a close resemblance to Vin Diesel but in reality, even in the best light, he bears more than a passing likeness to Alfred Hitchcock. Albeit a buff Alfred Hitchcock.
‘We got talking at Paddy O’Hara’s retirement party and found we both have a passion for musicals.’ He gives me a sideways look, ‘Don’t give me that grin, she likes going to the West End and so do I. So I took her out last week to see a show.’
I raise an eyebrow, ‘Go on, what did you take her to see? Les Miserables, Cats, Miss Saigon…what?’
His hands flex on the steering wheel.
‘Mama Mia.’
I can’t help but burst out laughing and JD joins in with me.
‘But you hate ABBA. I believe I have even heard you say it is, what was it now, Aural Torture.’ I continue chuckling to myself, ‘So how did the date go?’
‘Apart from the music? Good. I get to pick the next show and I’m going to put her through the hits of Queen with We Will Rock You. Try and get my own back.’
‘A second date, I didn’t realise it was a serious relationship. I’d best dust off my morning suit and get a new hat.’
‘It will be the fifth actually.’ JD says quietly.
For JD this is something of a milestone. His relationships normally end pretty quickly as he seems to spend more time looking after his physique at the gym than in entertaining and looking after women. A fact that most women don’t seem to care for. I can count on the fingers of one hand the amount of relationships that he has had that have lasted more than three dates. Hell, I can count on the fingers of one finger the relationships that have lasted that long.
‘Good for you mate. Shirley’s a nice girl. Do you want me to set you up with a meal at Nektarios’ place. My treat.’
JD shakes his head like he’s listening to a child.
‘Look Peter, I can sit through a performance of Mama Mia, but Greek food with all that lambs heads, snails and garlic fried in olive oil. I like you Peter I really do, lets try and keep it that way. How about a nice Italian meal? Zafforellis or somewhere like that. I’ll keep the receipt and bill it to you.’
Now it’s my turn to shake my head, ‘If I could afford Zafforellis I would be investigated for being on the take. We’ll compromise on a nice bottle of Montelpuciano and a bargain bucket on a park bench of your choice.’
‘Sounds like a deal to me just so long as I get to choose the park bench.’
I smile and try and forget the reason we are driving through London on a cold night like this.
‘Peter…I haven’t said it before but..’
‘Then don’t.’ I snap back. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘Peter are you sure you can continue on this case?’
I know why he says this. This is why I tried desperately to steer the conversation from the beginning. People are seeing the pattern emerging in the murders. A woman, no, a girl goes missing. A month or two later she turns up having been abused, dismembered, decayed and rotten. I see people look at me and I can almost hear them think to themselves, ‘How long has his sister been missing? How long until she turns up in some alleyway, chopped to pieces by some lunatic?’
I turn and look out of the window hoping with less certainty each day that it won’t happen to Helen, my sister, missing now for three weeks.
‘JD, until Helen turns up safe and well people are going to talk. It’s not the first time she’s disappeared for a while, this is no different to those other times. I can’t believe she is mixed up in all this, I won’t believe it. So I will continue this investigation and I will do all I can to catch this bastard before any more girls are hurt. End of conversation.’
The hands flex again on the steering wheel and we continue the rest of the journey in silence.
Neal Stephens is sitting behind the metal table in interview room number one a cup of the cheap filter coffee from the machine outside in front of him. A flimsy and empty plastic plate and only slightly sturdier cutlery are pushed off to one side. At least he has been fed and watered, I think to myself. There are three of us in the observation room, myself, JD and the uniformed custody sergeant.
‘Has anyone spoken to him yet?’
‘Not yet sir,’ The custody sergeant replies, ‘apart from the few questions on the scene by Mr. Dawkins here. He was brought here about two hours ago, no complaints. At least he’s in the warmth and he has all the hot coffee he can handle. Nice chap actually sir, he..’
‘OK sergeant. Thanks for keeping an eye on him. JD, let’s go. I want you to talk to him as you’ve already got a rapport with the guy. I don’t want us getting complacent with the guy, he’s the only person so far who’s witnessed anything.’
Life is like an autopsy -- one piece at a time. -Anonymous
Chapter One
She knows if she stops moving she will die. That and fear is all the motivation she needs. The cuts on her arms, body and face are mixing with the sweat that is gushing from every pore. Her life fluids are draining away slowly and creating weakness when what she needs most now is strength. The torch light flits back in her direction allowing her to see her breath steaming as it is pushed from her lungs. She runs on, not caring in which direction, knowing only she has to stay away from the light. Her nakedness is not an issue anymore. She has been stripped of more than just her clothes over the previous ten days. Ten days of abuse and depravity that she did not think a human being could inflict upon another.
She is unable to get her bearings. The building she has been caged in is larger than she thought. Her bare feet slap against the bare concrete floor and she hears the echo of a huge room all around her. There is no natural light to see just how large the room is she is in. She must have come through a door to get into this room but she did not see one. It must be some kind of warehouse or old factory building. Hands thrust out in front her are the only reason she does not run full speed into a wall.
Still moving, but more slowly, cautiously, she turns left and with her right hand she starts to follow the walls path. It drops from smooth concrete to a ridged metal surface. A door!
Grasping desperately she finds a door handle. Expecting it not to yield she is unbelievable when it turns easily in her hands. Thinking of rusty hinges she slowly eases the door open. The opening reveals nothing but more blackness. With the door now fully open she pushes her hand through the gap only for it to crush painfully against a rough brick wall. It has been blocked.
She lets out an involuntary cry as she sees her chances drain away like her blood. It only attracts attention.
‘She’s in here!’
Torches streak through the darkness like laser beams in a science fiction movie. The light finds her.
‘There she is!’
She stops, frozen in the light like a rabbit. She drops her head, her shoulders slump and she starts to sob.
‘Get the bitch. Use the cuffs and leg irons this time.’ The voice she has learnt to fear.
She allows herself to be handcuffed and bound. A different voice now. Younger sounding.
‘She’s gone, she’s fucking out of it man. Look at her, she’s broken. Forget the leg irons. It’ll only slow us down.’ She knows this man as the one who is almost tender. He just uses her without the beatings.
She is still sobbing silently as they lead her, surprisingly gently, back through the factory complex to the windowless room where the other women are.
The dead women.
Chapter 2
‘How the hell do you manage to eat that stuff?’
I look up from my plate of snails, shallow fried with whole cloves of garlic. They have been fried in the finest olive oil I have ever tasted which is imported from a small town called Kolymbari in Crete, Greece. I know this because my brother Paul, who moved there last year after serving thirty years in the army, sends me the oil and I give it to the restaurant owner as part payment for his great food. That and I have a crush on his daughter and I am trying to keep him sweet. Julia and I have been dating for just over six months and things are looking good from my perspective. I’m not sure if the oil helps my case but as her father Nektarios is originally from a small town called Spilia just inland from Kolymbari, it can’t hinder it.
My partner is looking at me with the disgust clear on his face. I pull one of the snails from its shell, spear a clove of the garlic alongside it, and hold it out for him.
‘Try something new. You might like it.’
He pulls back as if I am holding a deadly snake out for him to kiss. I shrug and make a great show of my ecstasy as I chew on this small Greek delicacy.
‘Pete, I’m sorry. There’s been another one.’
He really knows how to spoil my appetite. Swallowing uncomfortably I push my plate away and wait for him to continue.
Jonathon Dawkins, or JD, has been my partner on the Homicide and Serious Crime Command (HSCC) for a little over two years. It is fair to say we work homicide well together even if we make a strange looking couple. He is a squat, wedge shaped figure from his love of pushing weights and I tower over his five and a half feet of pure muscle by almost a foot. And I don’t push weights.
‘She was found in the alley behind Valascos Bakery. Mutilated just like our last five victims and placed in three separate dumpsters.’
‘The hands?’
JD looks down at his own hands flexing and cracking the knuckles.
‘Yeah. Same as the rest. But this time we have a witness. A guy saw someone dumping the body.’
I stand and place a twenty on the table.
‘Let’s go.’
The uniforms are blocking the alleyway from curious onlookers and the less inquisitive press. Mobile phones and Ipads are flashing away as the tourists revel in taking in another unexpected London show. The press know it will just be another ‘No comment’ moment until the details are released in the full statement. But they try and look interested anyway.
‘DI Peter Carter…any news if this is related to the body found last week?’
I look around and see Anna Clarke of The Metro looking over at myself and JD.
‘Hi Anna, you pulling the late shift tonight?’
She smiles and I remember how her face looked after we made love. We used to have a thing together but she couldn’t understand how I could keep secrets from her. Her job and mine were just not compatible.
‘You know how it is Peter, I got the boss on my back always after the next Ripper story. Exclusive this, exclusive that. He really grips my shit sometimes. Can you tell me, is this one of them?’
‘You of all people know I can’t discuss details of any ongoing investigations with the press Anna. As soon as we know any details of the incident here tonight we will issue a statement.’
‘But as you are the lead investigator on the new Ripper I am assuming this is his latest victim.’
‘You know what assumptions do to journalists careers Anna. Wait for the official statement.’
With that I follow JD into the alleyway and pull on a thin pair of surgical latex gloves that I always carry with me for occasions such as these.
The SOCO, or Scene Of Crime Officer, is standing to one side talking to the forensics lead investigator. In his white paper coveralls that look two sizes too big for him, Dr. Graham Young is a strange looking character next to the uniformed officer. I attended a seminar on ballistics and the effects on the human body he presented in Leeds where he was based at the time. I made a point of seeking him out afterwards and I spent an interesting evening picking the brains of one of the worlds foremost forensic scientists over a few pints of Guinness. I feel lucky to have him as part of our small team and it was not an accident that I persuaded him to consider a job with the London Metropolitan coroners office when his contract expired ‘up North’.
JD looks over to me, ‘Peter, I’ll check details with the SOCO. I know you and the Doc have a lot to catch up on.’
JD eases away the SOCO and I make my way towards my old friend. We don’t shake hands, even in our gloves, to try and stop any cross contamination.
‘Doc, how is it looking here?’
‘Good evening Peter, not a good one this. It looks at first sight to be another victim of our Ripper. I don’t want to go on record until we do the full post mortem but indications are definitely running in that direction. We have the same level of dismemberment.’
I follow him as he walks into the alley and he continues his commentary like a local tour guide. All he needs to complete the picture is to hold a brightly coloured umbrella in the air above his head. All around us are plastic cards bearing the sequential numbers of the forensics teams investigation. The largest number I notice is 47. Forty seven clues or items of interest as to who has violated another human being in the most violent way. Grahams commentary rolls on, ‘The arms and legs are together in one location here, minus the hands that is.’ He points to a green coloured dumpster which is being photographed by one of his men from the Evidence Recovery Unit.
‘The head has been removed and placed in a small cotton drawstring bag in that area there, just as we saw before, and the torso with hands inserted into the sexual organs is propped against the third bin here. She was found by a homeless man looking for scraps from the bakery. It didn’t phase him much, he says he saw worse in Afghanistan. He says he saw a man down here dumping stuff and he hoped it was food. He found more than he bargained for. He is down at the station awaiting further questioning. JD took him down before coming to get you and he probably gave him a decent meal and a few hot cups of coffee too knowing JD. Females age is anywhere from late teens to late twenties, bone structure and density will help with that, but that is the best guess for now. Decay of the body makes dating the time of death difficult, but anywhere over the last month is about all I can say for now. As with the other bodies I doubt we will be able to narrow it down. This guy likes to keep them around for a while after he has killed them.’
He looks me over, ‘How are you doing after...’
I break in quickly, ‘Fine Doc, just fine. Do we have a positive ID yet? Is it…?’ I let the question hang.
‘No. We are running a photo analysis, dental matching to follow and we are cross checking with missing persons, but, her features have been distorted due to decay and also being badly beaten. There are also what looks like some small teeth marks in the fleshy parts of her face and we will try and get a match through dental records on the perpetrator but I do not hold much hope on getting a match. This is much worse than the others and shows an escalation in the violence against these poor girls. The worst part is I cannot say if the violence was carried out whilst she was still alive or, I hope for her sake, post mortem.’
We both stand and watch as two of the forensic team lift the brutalised torso, place it into a body bag and respectfully lay it down on a medical trolley. Two other trolleys with empty body bags stand nearby waiting for their own chilling cargo to be placed upon them.
‘We have got to catch this bastard.’ I whisper softly to myself. Graham, overhearing my out loud thoughts murmurs his agreement.
JD comes striding over after getting the latest news from the SOCO. His width appears to almost fill the small space of the alleyway as he gets closer.
‘Not much else to report here Peter. Nobody at the bakery heard or saw anything and the security camera you see over the side door is a dummy one for deterrence only. Forensic are going to go over this place with the finest toothcomb they have in their inventory, the Doc here will be performing the autopsy tomorrow morning and the homeless guy who found the torso, an army veteran called Neal Stephens is at this moment having a snooze down at the station. I have him in an interview room as I know you will want to have a word with him sooner or later. Do you want to see him tonight?’
‘This place is under control so why not. Doc, I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Thanks for the run through. I’ll scratch a press statement together and await confirmation from you this is another Ripper killing, of which it bears all the bloody hallmarks of. You’ll let me know if you find the same objects in the body.’
‘Of course Peter, I will inform you straight away. I am almost hoping we do, otherwise we have two psychopaths running around out there.’
His words make the already cool night drop a few degrees more.
‘OK JD, let’s get back and see if we can get anything useful from your Mr. Stephens. I hope you got a receipt for his meal. You know Shirley in accounts will be all over you if haven’t.’
He smiles, ‘That’s the plan Peter…that’s the plan.’
Chapter 3
The Black Lion pub is fairly full. Young men and women with a days work behind them letting off steam amid the old timers who sit stoically watching the muted TV set that is showing horse racing. The only movement they manage is raising their half of Guinness to their lips and checking form in The Racing Post.
Zoe Temple is standing near the unused pool table and laughing heartily at another unfunny joke her boss is telling her. Richard is assistant manager at the Staples where Zoe works as his and the managers secretary. He has been trying to get into her knickers since she started the job six months ago and Zoe feels that tonight could be his lucky night. It all depends on Richards answer to her asking for a pay raise. He said they should discuss it over a drink and she definitely knew where it was heading. As long as his wife didn’t find out and cause trouble, as happened in her last post, it could be a mutually happy agreement but she can’t afford to lose another job. A boss and his secretary may be the oldest cliché in the book, but if it pays the rent and she gets to have a few meals and drinks thrown in, where’s the harm in that. At 26 Zoe feels she should be allowed to have some fun and bugger the long term consequences. She does not want to settle down and have kids like most of her friends. She like to party and she likes to stretch things to the limit.
She leans into him and places her hand on his arm. Her breasts push into his chest as she has to stand on tip toe for her mouth to reach his ear.
‘So what do you say we talk about that pay rise now?’
He doesn’t move away but rather pushes his body closer to hers.
‘I think now would be a good time. Do you want to do it here or somewhere a little quieter, like your place.’
‘Tell you what Richard, buy me another drink and bring it over to that booth there. I’ll be waiting for you and we can discuss your proposal in a little more privacy. Then we’ll talk about other things.’
She stares unashamedly into his eyes and sees the arousal there. Pulling slowly away from his body she lets her hand drop from his arm and brush his crotch almost as if by accident. Her eyes locked on to his show it wasn’t. She takes a small step backward and turns towards the booth.
‘Yeah. Ok. Drink coming right up.’
Richard turns away and heads for the bar with thoughts racing through his head. Jesus she’s a spicy one this Zoe, he thinks to himself. I mean I knew she was up for it with all that flirting but this is it, a few drinks, give her 50p an hour pay rise and then take her back to her place for some fun.
It doesn’t take him long to get served at the bar and he walks triumphantly back to the booth and Zoe with a pint for him and a gin and tonic for her.
‘There you go Zoe, I made it a double.’
He sits opposite her and smiles as he feels her leg caress his under the table. The touch sends small jolts of erotic electricity straight to his groin. He has to adjust his sitting position to avoid uncomfortable embarrassment.
‘So Richard, working for you the last six months has been fun but I really need to earn more money or I will have to move on. I have a job in mind that has offered me a position but I feel loyal to you, and I know you would like me to stay. What can you give me to make me even happier.’
The teasing of his leg does not stop.
‘Tell me Richard, what have you got that will make me come in your office everyday?’
The innuendo is so obvious even Zoe is surprised at her bluntness.
‘Zoe, I…uh…I can give you a pay rise of 50p an hour starting tomorrow.’
Zoes leg is pulled away sharply.
‘Fifty fucking pence an hour. You have got to be kidding me right. Fifty fucking pence!’
‘Zoe you have to understand that you have only been with us 6 months. Management will not allow any more than that. It’s even in your contract.’
Zoe snorts with derision and takes a long drink from her G&T.
‘Fuck management and fuck you. Or more accurately, fuck management and don’t fuck you. I am going to have you up on harassment charges, how do you think your wife will react to that?’
‘Zoe, don’t be overdramatic, there’s no harassment. I played along with you, you led me along. You have..’
‘Shut up Richard. If you can’t offer me a better deal, even if it comes out of your own pocket, well I will have no choice but to ruin you. I’m going to the loo and by the time I come back you had better have something else for me. Trust me Richard, I’m worth it and I’m not talking about my working skills here.’
Richard watches Zoe stride around the corner and off towards the toilets. I am in so much shit now, he thinks. One half of him wants her to stay no matter the cost, the other half wants to see the back of her. His problem is the harassment charge placed against him by one of his employees when he first started working for the company. Even though that incident occurred before he was married that would not matter to the bosses and HR and especially his wife if she found out about it. Richard rapidly realises that Zoe holds all the aces, he must do what she asks. He can explain to his wife a little of his wages being lost as cutbacks by the company due to the financial crisis.
‘That decides it then.’ He says out loud, ‘I’m fucked.’
He takes a long pull on his pint and sits back to wait for Zoe to return. He is still there an hour later before he realises he has been stood up.
As he storms out of the pub his mind is in a whirl as he wonders what games Zoe is playing with him and what she has in store for him over the coming days, weeks even months. He hails a cab and worries all the way back home to his wife.
Chapter 4
‘So JD, you and Shirley. I have to say I never saw that coming.’
I don’t want to talk about the case and I definitely don’t want to talk about my personal life, so I railroad the conversation.
JD smiles at me with what he calls his movie star smile. All teeth and squinty eyes. He likes to think he has a close resemblance to Vin Diesel but in reality, even in the best light, he bears more than a passing likeness to Alfred Hitchcock. Albeit a buff Alfred Hitchcock.
‘We got talking at Paddy O’Hara’s retirement party and found we both have a passion for musicals.’ He gives me a sideways look, ‘Don’t give me that grin, she likes going to the West End and so do I. So I took her out last week to see a show.’
I raise an eyebrow, ‘Go on, what did you take her to see? Les Miserables, Cats, Miss Saigon…what?’
His hands flex on the steering wheel.
‘Mama Mia.’
I can’t help but burst out laughing and JD joins in with me.
‘But you hate ABBA. I believe I have even heard you say it is, what was it now, Aural Torture.’ I continue chuckling to myself, ‘So how did the date go?’
‘Apart from the music? Good. I get to pick the next show and I’m going to put her through the hits of Queen with We Will Rock You. Try and get my own back.’
‘A second date, I didn’t realise it was a serious relationship. I’d best dust off my morning suit and get a new hat.’
‘It will be the fifth actually.’ JD says quietly.
For JD this is something of a milestone. His relationships normally end pretty quickly as he seems to spend more time looking after his physique at the gym than in entertaining and looking after women. A fact that most women don’t seem to care for. I can count on the fingers of one hand the amount of relationships that he has had that have lasted more than three dates. Hell, I can count on the fingers of one finger the relationships that have lasted that long.
‘Good for you mate. Shirley’s a nice girl. Do you want me to set you up with a meal at Nektarios’ place. My treat.’
JD shakes his head like he’s listening to a child.
‘Look Peter, I can sit through a performance of Mama Mia, but Greek food with all that lambs heads, snails and garlic fried in olive oil. I like you Peter I really do, lets try and keep it that way. How about a nice Italian meal? Zafforellis or somewhere like that. I’ll keep the receipt and bill it to you.’
Now it’s my turn to shake my head, ‘If I could afford Zafforellis I would be investigated for being on the take. We’ll compromise on a nice bottle of Montelpuciano and a bargain bucket on a park bench of your choice.’
‘Sounds like a deal to me just so long as I get to choose the park bench.’
I smile and try and forget the reason we are driving through London on a cold night like this.
‘Peter…I haven’t said it before but..’
‘Then don’t.’ I snap back. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘Peter are you sure you can continue on this case?’
I know why he says this. This is why I tried desperately to steer the conversation from the beginning. People are seeing the pattern emerging in the murders. A woman, no, a girl goes missing. A month or two later she turns up having been abused, dismembered, decayed and rotten. I see people look at me and I can almost hear them think to themselves, ‘How long has his sister been missing? How long until she turns up in some alleyway, chopped to pieces by some lunatic?’
I turn and look out of the window hoping with less certainty each day that it won’t happen to Helen, my sister, missing now for three weeks.
‘JD, until Helen turns up safe and well people are going to talk. It’s not the first time she’s disappeared for a while, this is no different to those other times. I can’t believe she is mixed up in all this, I won’t believe it. So I will continue this investigation and I will do all I can to catch this bastard before any more girls are hurt. End of conversation.’
The hands flex again on the steering wheel and we continue the rest of the journey in silence.
Neal Stephens is sitting behind the metal table in interview room number one a cup of the cheap filter coffee from the machine outside in front of him. A flimsy and empty plastic plate and only slightly sturdier cutlery are pushed off to one side. At least he has been fed and watered, I think to myself. There are three of us in the observation room, myself, JD and the uniformed custody sergeant.
‘Has anyone spoken to him yet?’
‘Not yet sir,’ The custody sergeant replies, ‘apart from the few questions on the scene by Mr. Dawkins here. He was brought here about two hours ago, no complaints. At least he’s in the warmth and he has all the hot coffee he can handle. Nice chap actually sir, he..’
‘OK sergeant. Thanks for keeping an eye on him. JD, let’s go. I want you to talk to him as you’ve already got a rapport with the guy. I don’t want us getting complacent with the guy, he’s the only person so far who’s witnessed anything.’
‘No problem. Are we treating him as a suspect or as a potential witness?’
‘Just a witness for now. Sergeant can you run a full background check on this guy. Focus especially on his army records. I want to see if he has any history of violence…criminal violence I mean during his time in service. See if you can get his conduct records as well. Cheers.’
The custody sergeant walks out of the observation room muttering under his breath. I don’t care if I have just ruined his quiet evening, Neal Stephens is the best chance we have of catching our killer and I want to know as much about him as possible.
‘Right then JD, it’s your lead. Has he been searched?’
JD looks crestfallen, ‘He was a witness, I didn’t think…’
‘Jesus JD! Shit. We know nothing about this guy and you don’t even think to ask him to empty his pockets before bringing him here. What about forensics on his clothes, fingerprinting…anything.’ I stare at him but he won’t look at me.
‘Get the fingerprinting kit, DNA swabs, evidence pack up and a change of clothes for him. We will have to assume he has been all over the crime scene.’
‘Pete, Peter. I’m sorry. The first thing I did was physically check the body with the forensic techs to ensure,’ JD pauses, ‘to ensure it wasn’t Helen. Then I brought him here and came and got you. I was just so relieved it wasn’t her that…’
‘And you have the nerve to ask me if I should be working on this case. For fucks sake JD get a grip on yourself. Let’s do this.’
As JD rushes off to get the items required to eliminate Stephens from our enquiry or provide us with evidence of his guilt, I force myself to breathe slowly. It is oversights like this that cause overpaid and out of touch judges to let criminals go free.
CHAPTER 5
Zoes throat is on fire. She is lying naked on a cold, hard floor but she does not realise her nakedness yet. She manages to get up on all fours and struggles to get air into her lungs. She wants to breathe deeply but the vomit rising to her mouth stops her doing so. She can do nothing but let it come and watches the contents of her stomach splatter on to the concrete floor as if through someone else’s eyes.
‘Let it come, breathe through your nose if you can. Short breaths and when it stops, whatever you do, don’t scream. It will only hurt your throat more and we can’t be heard in here.’
Looking over to the source of the voice, Zoe see’s a young woman, also naked, curled up on the floor staring at her. Through her mind’s fog she starts to become aware of her surroundings and her own naked vulnerability. Before she can answer or ask the stranger anything more vomit is purged from her lips.
‘Can you at least turn the other way when you are sick. There’s not much clean space in here.’
Zoe does as the girl asks and turns her head away only for her to look straight into the clouded eyes of another face. The terrifying death mask of a woman who has only gaping wounds where her legs should be. She lets out a silent scream as she gags on more vomit and tries to move away. Her body is too weak for this rapid movement and she collapses into her own mess, coughing and crying in equal measures.
She hears an animalistic wail and vaguely comprehends it is coming from her own mouth. She flinches as a hand touches her on the shoulder. It is a gentle touch and she stops her keening as the other woman uses her hands to rub feeling back into her body.
‘It’s OK. It’s going to be OK. You get used to it, you get used to them. You don’t see them after a while.’
Zoe turns to face her comforter, ‘See them? What do you mean, them?’
In the dim light the woman nods in the direction over Zoes shoulder.
‘Them. The three dead girls that are in here with us. There were more, but now just three. Just three unless you upset the people that come to get us. Then there will be four.’
It is said flatly, no emotion in the voice at all. That is what scares Zoe more than if it was screamed out in terror.
‘When I woke up, just like you now, there were two dead girls and four live ones. The ones who fight, who show spirit, they let live. The ones who give up…’ she lets the sentence trail off. It does not need saying.
‘How did I get here?’ Zoe croaks through her raw throat, ‘What happened?’
‘I wish I knew hon. They use some sort of drug, that’s why you are feeling what you feel now. I have heard them call it Ace. Everyone comes around the same way, sore throat, banging head and sickness. It will pass.’
‘How many have you seen? How long have you been here?’
There is a pause and the other girl starts sobbing gently.
‘I don’t know how long it has been. Three weeks, four weeks maybe.’ She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist and her voice turns cold and emotionless again. ‘But there have been three other girls like you. You are the fourth since I was brought here.’ She nods once more in the direction over Zoes shoulder, ‘Those are the other three.’
The two young women lie together on the cold floor both wondering when the door will open next. One is in terror because she knows what to expect when that happens, the other girls fear is because she does not.
‘Just a witness for now. Sergeant can you run a full background check on this guy. Focus especially on his army records. I want to see if he has any history of violence…criminal violence I mean during his time in service. See if you can get his conduct records as well. Cheers.’
The custody sergeant walks out of the observation room muttering under his breath. I don’t care if I have just ruined his quiet evening, Neal Stephens is the best chance we have of catching our killer and I want to know as much about him as possible.
‘Right then JD, it’s your lead. Has he been searched?’
JD looks crestfallen, ‘He was a witness, I didn’t think…’
‘Jesus JD! Shit. We know nothing about this guy and you don’t even think to ask him to empty his pockets before bringing him here. What about forensics on his clothes, fingerprinting…anything.’ I stare at him but he won’t look at me.
‘Get the fingerprinting kit, DNA swabs, evidence pack up and a change of clothes for him. We will have to assume he has been all over the crime scene.’
‘Pete, Peter. I’m sorry. The first thing I did was physically check the body with the forensic techs to ensure,’ JD pauses, ‘to ensure it wasn’t Helen. Then I brought him here and came and got you. I was just so relieved it wasn’t her that…’
‘And you have the nerve to ask me if I should be working on this case. For fucks sake JD get a grip on yourself. Let’s do this.’
As JD rushes off to get the items required to eliminate Stephens from our enquiry or provide us with evidence of his guilt, I force myself to breathe slowly. It is oversights like this that cause overpaid and out of touch judges to let criminals go free.
CHAPTER 5
Zoes throat is on fire. She is lying naked on a cold, hard floor but she does not realise her nakedness yet. She manages to get up on all fours and struggles to get air into her lungs. She wants to breathe deeply but the vomit rising to her mouth stops her doing so. She can do nothing but let it come and watches the contents of her stomach splatter on to the concrete floor as if through someone else’s eyes.
‘Let it come, breathe through your nose if you can. Short breaths and when it stops, whatever you do, don’t scream. It will only hurt your throat more and we can’t be heard in here.’
Looking over to the source of the voice, Zoe see’s a young woman, also naked, curled up on the floor staring at her. Through her mind’s fog she starts to become aware of her surroundings and her own naked vulnerability. Before she can answer or ask the stranger anything more vomit is purged from her lips.
‘Can you at least turn the other way when you are sick. There’s not much clean space in here.’
Zoe does as the girl asks and turns her head away only for her to look straight into the clouded eyes of another face. The terrifying death mask of a woman who has only gaping wounds where her legs should be. She lets out a silent scream as she gags on more vomit and tries to move away. Her body is too weak for this rapid movement and she collapses into her own mess, coughing and crying in equal measures.
She hears an animalistic wail and vaguely comprehends it is coming from her own mouth. She flinches as a hand touches her on the shoulder. It is a gentle touch and she stops her keening as the other woman uses her hands to rub feeling back into her body.
‘It’s OK. It’s going to be OK. You get used to it, you get used to them. You don’t see them after a while.’
Zoe turns to face her comforter, ‘See them? What do you mean, them?’
In the dim light the woman nods in the direction over Zoes shoulder.
‘Them. The three dead girls that are in here with us. There were more, but now just three. Just three unless you upset the people that come to get us. Then there will be four.’
It is said flatly, no emotion in the voice at all. That is what scares Zoe more than if it was screamed out in terror.
‘When I woke up, just like you now, there were two dead girls and four live ones. The ones who fight, who show spirit, they let live. The ones who give up…’ she lets the sentence trail off. It does not need saying.
‘How did I get here?’ Zoe croaks through her raw throat, ‘What happened?’
‘I wish I knew hon. They use some sort of drug, that’s why you are feeling what you feel now. I have heard them call it Ace. Everyone comes around the same way, sore throat, banging head and sickness. It will pass.’
‘How many have you seen? How long have you been here?’
There is a pause and the other girl starts sobbing gently.
‘I don’t know how long it has been. Three weeks, four weeks maybe.’ She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist and her voice turns cold and emotionless again. ‘But there have been three other girls like you. You are the fourth since I was brought here.’ She nods once more in the direction over Zoes shoulder, ‘Those are the other three.’
The two young women lie together on the cold floor both wondering when the door will open next. One is in terror because she knows what to expect when that happens, the other girls fear is because she does not.
To buy the paperback or Kindle version of 'One Piece At A Time' please click on the links below.
|
<-------- Kindle Version £2.95 Paperback Version £6.76 ---------------> |
|
Website design by