‘I thought you might be the ambulance when I heard the siren.’ The man crouched down to speak to them. ‘Poor thing’s just up there. She’s lyin’ face down and ain’t moved. I put one of me stall tarpaulins over her to keep off the sleet and cold. I was hopin’ she might warm up and come round.’
Jane put on her leather gloves, got the high-powered torch out of the glove box and picked up the portable Storno police radio.
‘There’s quite a lot of rubbish been dumped on one side of the alley, just up from where she is — be careful of the rats,’ the market trader said as they got out of the car.
Jane grinned at Edwards. He hadn’t looked too happy at the word ‘rat.’ ‘You get the details,’ she said. ‘I’ll check on the woman.’
She turned on the torch, lighting up the dingy alley. The narrow path ran alongside the railway line. In the arches underneath were small lockups where the market traders stored their stalls and goods. Jane walked at a brisk pace, until about forty feet along she could see the green and white striped tarpaulin. Crouching down, she lifted it back and shone the torch. The woman beneath was wearing a thigh-length blue PVC coat, with the collar up, covering the back of her neck.
Removing her right glove, Jane put her index and middle fingers together, and placed them on the side of the woman’s neck, in the soft hollow area just beside the windpipe. There was no pulse and the woman’s neck felt cold and clammy. Jane felt uneasy. She stood up and slowly shone her torch along the body, revealing dried blood smears on the back of the blue coat. The woman’s knee-length pleated skirt was hitched up to her thighs, revealing garters and black stockings. Near the body the torch beam caught three small shirt buttons. Peering closely at one of them, Jane could see some white sewing thread and a tiny piece of torn shirt still attached. It looked as if the button had been ripped off, possibly in a struggle.
A little further up the alleyway Jane noticed a cheap and worn small handbag. Wearing her leather gloves, she picked it up and opened it carefully, looking for any ID. All she found was a lipstick, handkerchief, a small hairbrush and a plastic purse. Inside the purse were a few coins and one folded five-pound note. There were no house or car keys to be found. Jane placed a ten pence coin down on the spot where she’d found it; it would go in a property bag later to preserve it for fingerprints.
Next, Jane shone the torch around the body. It was strange: she couldn’t see any blood on the pavement around or near the victim, or on the back of her head. She crouched down and slowly lifted the collar on the PVC coat back, revealing a knotted white cord around the victim’s neck and hair.
Shocked, Jane got to her feet and pulled out the portable radio.
‘WDS Tennison to Peckham Control Room. Are you receiving? Over.’ She spoke with confidence and authority, despite the fact she’d only been promoted and posted to Peckham a few weeks ago.
‘Yes, go ahead, Sarge,’ the comms officer replied.
‘Cancel the ambulance. The woman in Bussey Alley appears to have been strangled. I’ve looked in a handbag for possible ID, but can’t find any. I need uniform assistance to cordon off and man the scene at Rye Lane, and the far end of Bussey Alley, which leads onto Copeland Road.’
‘All received, Sarge. A mobile unit is en route to assist.’
Jane continued, ‘Can you call DCI Moran at home and ask him to attend the scene? I’ll also need the laboratory scene of crime DS here. Oh, and the divisional surgeon to officially pronounce life extinct... Over.’
The duty sergeant came on the radio. ‘Looks like a quiet week just got busy, Jane. I’ll call Moran and tell him you’re on scene and dealing... Over.’
Jane ended the transmission and replaced the tarpaulin over the body to preserve it from the sleet that was still falling, although not as heavily. Then she walked back to Rye Lane.
Edwards was still speaking to the market trader and making notes in his notebook. As she approached him, she gave a little shake of her head to indicate this was more than a collapse in the street or hypothermia, then went to the rear of the CID car. Taking out a plastic police property bag, she placed the handbag inside it.
‘Is she all right?’ the trader asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘I’m afraid she’s dead, sir. Did you see anyone hanging about or acting suspiciously before you found her?’
The man looked shocked. ‘No, no one... Oh, my — the poor thing. What’s happened to her?’
‘I don’t know, sir, I’m afraid. Further investigation is needed.’ Jane did not want to reveal more.
‘Can I get me gear out the lockup and set up for business?’
‘Sorry, not at the moment, but maybe in an hour or two,’ she said. ‘We’ll need to take a more detailed statement off you later.’
Jane took Edwards to one side. By now their hair was soaking and their coats sodden.
‘I take it you’re thinking murder?’ he whispered.
Jane nodded. ‘Looks like she’s been strangled with a cord. I’ve spoken with the duty sergeant who’s informing DCI Moran. The market man’s up a bit early — does his account of how he found her sound above board to you?’
‘Yeah. His name’s Charlie Dunn, he’s sixty-two and he’s been working the markets since he was twelve. He’s always been an early bird. He said he’s just been over to Spitalfields fruit and veg market to get fresh stock for the day. That’s his white van under the railway bridge. He was unloading it to his archway lockup in the alley when he saw the woman on the pavement. I checked his van: it’s full of fresh goods. He also showed me the purchase receipt for the fruit and veg and his market trader’s licence. He sounded and acted legit to me.’
‘Well, she’s stone cold, so it looks like she’s been dead a while, anyway.’
‘Any ID on her?’
‘Nothing in the handbag, not even keys. I haven’t had a chance to check her coat pockets yet. I want to get both ends of the alleyway sealed off and manned by uniform first — all the market traders will be turning up soon and wanting access to their archway lockups.’
Edwards nodded and blew into his freezing hands. He didn’t question her authoritative tone; on the contrary, he liked the fact WDS Tennison was taking responsibility for the crime scene.
The market trader went to his van and returned with a Thermos flask.
‘Hot coffee? You can have it, if you want. I’m going to go home and come back later.’
‘Thank you!’ Edwards took the flask and poured some coffee into the removable cup and handed it to Jane. She took a mouthful, swallowed it, then let out a deep cough and held her chest.
‘There’s more brandy in that than coffee!’
Edwards promptly held the flask to his lips and took a large gulp. ‘So there is,’ he said with a grin.
‘Put it in the car, Brian. We don’t want Moran smelling booze on us — you know what he’s like about drinking on duty.’
Edwards took another gulp, then put the flask in the back of the car and got a packet of lozenges out of his pocket.
‘“Be prepared,” as we used to say in the scouts. You see, I remember some famous quotes as well.’ Edwards took one for himself, then offered the packet to Jane.
‘What are they?’ Jane asked.
‘Fisherman’s Friend. They’ll hide the smell of the brandy and warm you up at the same time. I take them fishing with me when it’s cold like this.’
Jane reached into the pack, took out one of the small, light brown, oval-shaped lozenges, popped it in her mouth and immediately began taking deep breaths. The menthol flavor was so strong her eyes began watering, her nose started running and her throat tingled.