Not all of it, of course. But I was confident that, when I finally met my someone, she would understand my reluctance both to post an accurate photograph of myself and to plaster the intimate details of my personal life all over the net.
I would save that for the right person. For the one who would become my wife. Until then I would keep my secrets.
Two
Vogel was still standing, quietly looking at the sad scene before him, when the rest of his team began to arrive.
One high-heeled, silver shoe lay close to the body. Totally unsuitable footwear for a 14-year-old in any circumstances, Vogel thought. He knew his colleagues (and sometimes even his own wife) considered him old fashioned and behind the times, but he was too old and set in his ways to change now. In days gone by — before the age of political correctness — police, judges, and lawyers alike might well have referred to a victim, dressed up the way this one was, as having asked for it. Vogel would never even think that. He was a compassionate man. He felt deeply for the victims he encountered, sometimes rather too much. He just wished that young girls would think a little more about how they presented themselves and the effect that might have on the wrong sort of man. They shouldn’t have to, of course, he didn’t disagree with that. But there was no shortage of evil perverted bastards out there and this poor kid had been unlucky enough to meet up with one.
Vogel couldn’t see the second shoe. The CSIs might find it. The girl could even be lying on it. It was also possible that her murderer had taken it as a souvenir, such things were not unusual.
‘Morning boss.’
Vogel swung on his heels. DC Dawn Saslow, newly transferred from uniform, sounded as bright and cheery as she always did.
Vogel grunted.
Saslow’s eyes dropped to the body at his feet. Her whole demeanour changed.
‘Sorry boss,’ she said, her voice quiet now.
Saslow, an attractive young woman, fresh-faced with shiny dark hair fashioned into a geometric bob, had already proven herself to be an officer with considerable promise.
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for,’ said Vogel. ‘Not yet anyway.’
The DC half smiled.
Not for the first time did Vogel wonder at the way they all behaved when confronted with such horrible sights. The coppers, the doctors, the CSI team. There was always banter. It was the only way they could get through it, he supposed.
Detective Sergeant John Willis was right behind Saslow, still fastening his protective polyethylene suit as he hurried towards the crime scene.
He and Vogel had been working together for six months now. Vogel found Willis to be intelligent and often, he thought, more sensitive than a lot of police officers. At 35 the DS would be hoping for promotion soon. Vogel would be sorry to lose him. The two men had already gained something of a rapport, although neither of them were prone to giving away a great deal about themselves.
Vogel nodded towards Willis, who inclined his head very slightly, his watchful, grey eyes taking in the scene before him. Vogel saw the sergeant wince. But, in common with his superior officer, it was not Willis’s way to show the emotion he was undoubtedly feeling. Not if he could help it anyway. He glanced back at Vogel and waited for instructions.
Unlike Saslow, Willis didn’t speak. He didn’t make it necessary for Vogel to say something banal. Nor indeed to pass any comment about the wretched nature of this inquiry, which the Avon and Somerset Constabulary’s Major Crime Investigation Team were about to embark on. DCI Reg Hemmings — the head of MCIT — was Senior Investigating Officer, as usual in a case of this severity. Vogel had already been appointed deputy SIO, a more flexible and hands-on role. He began to issue the instructions now required.
‘Right Willis, let’s see if we can find someone, anyone, who saw or heard something,’ Vogel began. ‘There must have been some noise. Screaming, I would say. There are flats over a lot of those shops and bars in West Street and presumably people living in the two houses just up the lane. Get a team together to knock on doors.’
Willis spoke for the first time.
‘Yes boss,’ he said quietly.
The DS was always a man of few words; something else Vogel liked about him.
Vogel turned to Saslow.
‘OK Dawn, you’re with me,’ he said. ‘The poor kid’s mother hasn’t been told yet.’
Vogel watched the shadow flit across Dawn Saslow’s face. He would have been disappointed if she hadn’t reacted like that. He hated this side of the job too. They all hated making death calls.
The district Home Office Pathologist arrived just as Vogel and Saslow were about to leave. Karen Crow had been the first woman in the country to gain such an appointment. She was nearing retirement now and inclined to give the impression that she had seen it all before.
None the less she shook her head sorrowfully at the sight of the young body spread-eagled before her and glanced curiously around.
Even now that day had broken, Stone Lane remained shadowy and somehow forbidding. The entire network of insalubrious alleyways and cul-de-sacs, which led off West Street and Old Market Street, was inhabited only by rats and the occasional prowling cat after dark.
‘What the heck was she doing here on her own at night?’ Karen Crow muttered vaguely in the direction of Vogel.
‘She wasn’t on her own,’ said Vogel grimly. ‘And I’ve no idea what she was doing here.’
The whole Old Market area was certainly no place for a schoolgirl, not once night had fallen. There was The Stag and Hounds on the corner; Bristol’s oldest pub and looking its age. A number of bars better known for late night brawls than anything else. Sex shops catering for every possible inclination, one was little more than camouflage for a brothel and several other brothels in the neighbourhood were making no pretence of being anything other.
‘I suppose it’s possible the body could have been moved,’ Vogel continued.
The pathologist was staring at the dead girl, as if willing her to come to life and tell her story.
‘I don’t think so, do you?’ she muttered. ‘Not from the way she’s lying.’
Vogel shrugged his agreement.
‘We can approximate a time of death from what the girl’s mother has already told us and from the time her body was found,’ he continued. ‘It’s unlikely she would have been killed here until quite late in the evening. Too many people about, even on a Thursday night, and it’s mid May. Doesn’t get dark until nearly nine. But you’ll let us know as soon as you’ve got anything more concrete, indeed anything at all, won’t you, Karen?’
‘Oh no, I was planning to keep it all to myself.’
Vogel stretched his lips into an apology for a smile. He just meant he didn’t want to have to wait for a written report. And Karen Crow knew that perfectly well.
‘My mobile, yeah?’ he said.
‘Naturally, Detective Inspector,’ the pathologist countered.
‘Right we’re just off to…’
Vogel didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Karen Crow knew exactly where he and Saslow were off to.
‘Good luck,’ the pathologist said quietly.
Vogel smiled wryly. A genuine smile this time. He actually liked Karen Crow because he knew how good she was at her job. Nothing else about the people he worked with really mattered to Vogel.
Leo
I sat in a corner of the Bakerloo line tube trying to make myself invisible. It was always like that. As usual on these occasions, I was convinced that everybody around me would know at once what I was. Not that I was entirely sure myself, of course, nor ever had been. I would be all right, well just about, once I’d completed my transformation. But a bag of nerves until then.