‘Sir?’ Carter knocked and entered Detective Chief Inspector Bowie’s office door. Since the retirement of Superintendent Tanner, Bowie was the most senior detective in MIT 17.
‘You got a callout this morning?’ Bowie asked from behind his desk. The desk itself was messy, littered with papers and personal effects. In pride of place were photos of his wife and kids.
Carter came to sit down opposite him. Despite his expensive suit and three-hundred-quid shoes, Bowie always had a dishevelled look; his shoes needed cleaning and his suit didn’t sit properly on his bony shoulders. He struggled to keep weight on. He was pale, tall and blond with watery blue eyes.
‘A woman pulled out of Regent’s Canal at King’s Cross, Sir.’ Carter took off his coat and scarf and hung them over the back of the chair.
‘Any idea who she is?’
‘Not yet. She’s pretty distinctive with long auburn hair, youngish – early twenties. She has a tattoo which we’re hopeful about.’
‘How did she die?’
‘She’d been strangled. Probable sexual motive. She had a plastic bag over her head.’
‘Maybe a sex game gone wrong?’
‘I was thinking the same.’
‘Dismembered?’
‘No.’
‘Heat of the moment then – he panics and throws her into the canal.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Carter. ‘Except Doctor Harding says the bag was put on after death.’
‘You’re SIO on this investigation. Operation Sparrowhawk.’ Carter nodded. Murder Investigations were named in alphabetical sequence, they followed groups. The last group had been towns in Australia; this time it was birds of prey.
‘Still, I think a prostitute seems likely,’ said Carter. ‘We’ll get officers out on the surrounding streets with a photofit of her and see if any of the regulars recognize her. SOCOs are out searching the surrounding undergrowth and along the towpath for any items of clothing or ID but I’m not expecting great results. Doctor Harding estimates she’d been in the water a couple of months, maybe three.’
‘Was she wearing any clothing?’
‘She was naked except for a chain around her neck with two rings on it. One of them is worth money – we’re running it through lost and stolen property files now.’
‘What’s the condition of the body?’
‘The drop in water temperature has kept it from decomposing too far. Skin is still there but it’s lifted and most of her fingers are gone. But she was in a bad way before she ended up at the bottom of the canal.’ Carter took out his phone and handed it to Bowie. ‘She has these wounds over her body.’
Bowie took the phone from him and slid his finger across the screen as he viewed the shots.
‘Nasty. Aren’t they caused by the pond life?’
Carter shook his head.
‘What does Doctor Harding say they are?’
‘She says they started out as ulcers left untreated – it’s possibly down to some contaminated heroin injected under the skin.’
‘Better see if there is some on the streets that’s capable of that.’
‘Yeah – doing it.’
‘Anyone interviewed the lad that found her yet?’
‘We took a statement from him earlier, much earlier.’ A smile crept across Carter’s face. ‘We’re holding him for a bit longer just in case we remember anything else we want to ask him. Then maybe he’ll remember his civic duty next time and call us first instead of posting a photo on Instagram.’
‘Jesus Christ – little fucker. Let me know what you need after you talk to Robbo. Let’s get it all set up. When’s the post mortem?’
‘Harding said she’d get started in about an hour. I’m heading over there shortly.’
‘Okay, keep me in the loop.’
Carter left Bowie’s office and walked down the corridor to the largest office in the department – the Enquiry Team Office. Willis was sitting at one of the six long desks. Jeanie Vincent the Family Liaison Officer sat diagonally opposite her. When the office was full there were twenty detective constables and five detective sergeants in it.
Ebony was scanning through Missing Persons records.
Carter stopped at her station and looked over her shoulder at the screen. ‘Anything in Mispers?’ His eyes drifted up to nod a hello to Jeanie. Jeanie smiled back.
‘Not yet, Guv.’
‘Okay, you ready? We don’t want to be late for Doctor Harding.’
‘Ready.’ Ebony stood and picked up her jacket. ‘Are we walking over, Guv?’
Carter didn’t answer so Jeanie did. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course not.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You know he hates what the damp air does to his hair, Ebb.’
Ebony smiled.
‘And don’t forget you’re coming to Sunday lunch soon. Peter’s cooking it so you’re safe. It’ll be edible this time.’
‘Nice to know some things never change,’ said Carter as he waited for Ebony to shut down her PC.
Jeanie nodded. ‘Yep. It’s never a good thing to admit you can cook to a man – slippery slope. How are your parents, Dan?’
Carter nodded. He looked ready to say something and then changed his mind.
‘Give them my love.’ Jeanie’s eyes lingered on him.
‘Will do.’
They caught the lift down to the car park. Ebony looked across at Carter. She was used to the awkwardness between Jeanie and Carter. They had been a couple long before Ebony began working at the Murder Squad. They still found it difficult to work together. But Ebony had seen the way Carter hesitated at the question about his parents. She knew something wasn’t right. She’d met his parents many times when she and Carter had called in after work and been fed or given a coffee. She was very fond of them. She hadn’t been around to their home in Finchley for a couple of months.
He turned to see her watching him.
‘My dad’s really ill. He’s got throat cancer.’ Carter smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘Cigars have done it. That and a few brandies every night.’
‘Is he having treatment?’
‘Yes. He’s having an operation to remove what they can. It’s a terrible thing to feel so helpless. I can’t do anything to help him. He can’t eat. He sits in his chair in the lounge and he pretends to be fine about it but I can see the panic in his eyes. He’s scared.’ Carter started up the engine. ‘Still, where there’s life – there’s hope, huh? He’s a fighter.’
‘He’ll be all right, Guv.’
‘Yeah – let’s hope so, Ebb. And at least he didn’t end up at the bottom of a freezing canal.’
The fog had cleared and the man walked away from the canal bridge and back through the new building works in King’s Cross. He stopped to look through a peep hole at the massive construction site that encompassed the whole of King’s Cross Station and the surrounding area. The day stretched pale blue and a giant crane swung in the air. The ache and groan of steel being driven into the earth made him feel exhilarated. He felt the blood pump around his body as he stood watching the huge machinery languidly move its metal limbs and lower and lift.
A group of Chinese students passed, all chattering together. They didn’t notice him. A woman passed walking too fast for her skirt. She was in a hurry – going somewhere. She glanced his way; he stared back. He saw beneath the make-up, he peeled her open like an onion, folding back the layers of skin, fat, muscle and severing tendon and ligament, snapping bone.
She came level with him and he smelt her perfume. It made him want to grab her by the neck and pin her to the wall, squeeze her neck, lift her feet from the ground as he cut off the oxygen to her brain. He would watch her eyes widen, panic, stare at him, drift and lose focus and roll back in her head and he would part her thighs and enter her at that moment and the last thing she would feel was him inside her, the pleasure and the pain in death and ecstasy.