Stepping out of the shower he delicately dabbed the towel over his wet torso. He hurt like hell this morning. In the mirror he examined his well-defined stomach and ribcage. The bruising had already taken on an intense purple shade. Thank god he’d been able to cover his face.
It took an eternity to dress and he had to skip breakfast to get to work on time. As he pulled his Audi out of the drive Simple Minds, ‘Alive and kicking’ played out from the radio and he laughed to himself, and then winced as it caused him much discomfort.
Turning onto the bypass he wound down the driver’s window to let in the fresh morning air. It was already warm and not yet seven-thirty am. The road ahead was clear and ELO’s, ‘Mr Blue Sky’ had just started. He turned up the sound and forced down the accelerator.
Half a mile from the station the wail of two-tone horns approaching from the rear and at speed tore his attention away from the pounding music. Glancing in the rear view mirror he picked up the ambulance screaming towards him and he pulled in and hugged the kerb as it shot past. As he picked his speed back up he hoped to God it wasn’t going to be another call requiring his team to attend. They didn’t need another murder at this time — they were fast running out of detectives.
* * * * *
Following morning briefing and the de-camping of the teams from the MIT department to carry out their daily tasks the Detective Superintendent had called together Hunter, DS Mark Gamble, the two supervisors of the MIT teams, Detective Inspector Gerald Scaife, the office manager who coordinated all the actions, and Isobel Stevens, the supervisor of the HOLMES team, to review the investigation.
They had all been told to meet in the conference room and they were now seated around the large table. In front of them they all had several A4 size computer generated replications of the timelines relating to Carol Siddons and Rebecca Morris, and a summary of the important issues taken from key statements of witnesses, which had been supplied by Isobel’s team.
The Detective Superintendent had already mentioned that he wanted to discuss the status of the investigation and by the end of the meeting confirm the strategy for the next phase of the enquiry.
“Heard the latest?” said Detective Superintendent Robshaw, leaning forward, resting his chin on cupped hands and roaming his eyes around the table. “Seems somebody gave Steve Paynton’s two brothers, and one of his cousins a good hiding. One of the brothers has got two broken ribs and a punctured lung, another has a broken nose and cheekbone and several teeth missing, and the cousin has a broken jaw and a badly gashed eye. Rumour has it that a police officer was involved.”
Hunter saw the SIO land his gaze upon him. Defensively, he shrugged his shoulders and gave him a ‘why are you looking at me’ expression.
“Anyway it seems none of them want to make a complaint, and we’ve got too much on our plate to have to follow up on malicious gossip.”
As the Superintendent leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, Hunter saw that his eyes were still fixed upon him. Seeing that look, he knew in his mind that Michael Robshaw was letting him know that he was fully aware of what had gone on, and more than likely realised what lay behind it, and that he wanted him to know that nothing ‘on the shop floor’ slipped past him despite his managerial position. Equally Hunter knew that the Superintendent was making it quite clear that given the circumstances he was prepared to not make a great fuss about it.’
A bright shaft of sunshine pierced the gap between the partly closed blinds covering the many large windows which spanned one side of the conference room and reflected off the surface of the well polished oak veneered table giving additional warmth to the already stuffy room. Michael Robshaw unfolded his arms and, using a hand held remote control switched on the air conditioner. A low hum came from the unit high up against the ceiling and an almost instant coolness drifted down.
Michael Robshaw said. “Okay, I’m going to open things up. Firstly, have we got anywhere yet with the playing card found with Rebecca Morris, or these markings carved into the bodies stomachs?”
Hunter looked up from his papers and diverted his eyes towards the white melamine boards lined up at the front of the room. He particularly focussed on the blown-up photos of the killer’s signature on Rebecca’s and Carol Siddons’ abdomen. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the pale waxen flesh of Rebecca and the wrinkled parchment-like skin of Carol’s mummified body. It made the marks appear so different. He thought that Professor McCormack had done a magnificent job spotting them.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Isobel Stevens, an experienced detective with twenty-two years’ service behind her and who had joined the HOLMES team following the Home Office review arising from the mistakes of The Ripper Enquiry. She had been elevated to the role of Supervisor within a short space of time. She was generally the first to be called out whenever a new investigation required the HOLMES network to be set up.
She continued. “We know from all the enquiries that DC Sampson has made that they are not religious markings or anything to do with the occult. So could they be a code of some kind?”
Hunter tilted his head as he stared at the images, recalling what Isobel had just said. The puzzle the killer had left behind had been playing on his mind ever since the pathologist had highlighted it.
He swayed his head the other way to get a different view. Then it hit him. The flashback to earlier that morning when the ambulance appeared at his rear was the trigger. He recalled how that in his interior mirror he had been able to pick out the wording on the front of the vehicle because it was written in reverse.
“I’ve got it,” he couldn’t help but blurt out. Pushing himself out of his seat he made his way to the feature boards. He tapped the shots taken of Caroline Siddons torso. The marks were clearer on these.
“It’s a word, don’t you see?” He moved his finger right to left underlining the marks. The last digit is not a number three, it’s a letter E. It’s written facing backwards. And they’re not roman numerals they’re all letters. Look,” he continued tapping excitedly. “He’s carved the word EVIL backwards into these girls’ stomachs.”
Hunter saw that he had grabbed all their attentions.
“Bloody hell Hunter,” interjected Det Supt Robshaw, “I think you’re right.”
A silence ensued around the table.
It lasted a good ten seconds then Isobel piped up. “So is the killer saying he’s evil, or the girls are evil?”
Hunter tapped his chin; pondering. “I think he’s saying the girls are evil. That’s why he did to them what he did. Just think about it, Carol Siddons was taken into care and within a month or two had completely changed character. Her background statement describes her as a drunken, violent and promiscuous girl. She had become known as a girl with a bit of a reputation. And then Rebecca,” he aimed a quick glance at the school photo of her. “We know from her best friend Kirsty Evans that Rebecca wasn’t the sweet innocent girl we have pictured here. She’d become a bit of a rebel the few weeks prior to her death. In particular she’d started flirting with older lads to an extent she’d get them worked up to expect sex and then she’d push them away and embarrass them. If we surmise that the killer got to know that side of their characters then maybe in his twisted little mind he saw them both as evil and needed to be punished.”