The sergeant’s face flushed with embarrassment.
“It doesn’t matter, what’s done is done.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the sergeant replied, genuine guilt evident in his voice.
She accepted his apology, turned on her heel, and sprinted up the stairs. On the way, she dialled a number on her mobile. “Jack, get in here right away. We’ve got another one.”
“Shit! I’m on my way.”
“Grow a pair of wings if you have to. I want to get to the site in the next twenty minutes. Got that?”
“Jesus, no pressure, then. Don’t go complaining about my excessive BO in the car, will you? I haven’t even had a shower yet.”
“No, dear. Get your arse into gear, pronto.”
She hung up as she reached the top of the stairs and almost bumped into DCI Green, her superior officer. “Morning, sir. Must run, I’ve got a murder scene to attend.”
“Not so fast, Inspector. I’m sure you have time to fill me in before you go.”
“I suppose I can spare you five minutes while I wait for my partner to arrive, sir. Do you want to join me in my office?” Sally resigned herself to spending the next fifteen minutes recounting the case of the first victim. DCI Mick Green always insisted on hearing every miniscule detail of a case once he cornered her on the hop. That was why she did everything in her power to avoid him whenever possible. Of course, she had to fill him in with every case that crossed her desk, but usually, she tried to avoid doing that until the case was either nearing completion or fully solved. DCI Green enjoyed his role as a paper-pusher—that was all Sally had seen him do in the three years he’d been her superior. Unlike DCI Joan Cradley, his predecessor, Green had not once ever accompanied Sally to a crime scene. Joan, who was also a very close friend of Sally’s, had cited boredom as her reason for taking an early retirement. Not everyone was cut out to file papers and carry out surveys on how to improve the police department every day. Sally knew she would go insane if the higher-ups ever forced her into the same position.
Sally was just coming to the end of sharing the details of Brenda’s case with the DCI when Jack knocked on the door then barged into her office.
“I think we’re finished here now, Jack. Aren’t we, sir?” Sally asked the DCI, wearing a tight smile.
“Indeed we are. I’ll let you get out there and cast your eyes over this new scene. Keep me informed at all times on this one, Inspector. I don’t take kindly to having unsolved murders of women on my patch.”
Sally stood as the DCI did. “Yes, sir. You have my word on that.”
“Sergeant. Forget to shave this morning, did you?” The DCI halted in front of Jack and looked him up and down.
“I rang and ordered him to get in here sharpish this morning, sir. His unkempt appearance is, therefore, totally my fault. I’ll make sure he shaves before we leave the station,” Sally said quickly, cutting off her partner before he had the chance to speak.
“No need for that. Have you seen all the beards Vice are sporting nowadays? I can’t stand them. Just make sure you don’t go down that route. You hear me?”
Jack nodded and felt the stubble on his chin. “No fear of that, sir. My wife would divorce me if I hinted at keeping this permanently.” A glint appeared in his eyes. “Or maybe I should consider growing one after all.”
“I’m with your wife on this one. What about you, Inspector? Clean shaven or beard?”
Sally gulped. “Er, definitely clean shaven for me, sir. If we women can’t hide our spots with beards, then why should men be allowed to?”
The DCI chortled as he left the room.
Sally exhaled and puffed out her cheeks. “Jeez… I thought he was never going to leave. Thanks for rescuing me. Are you ready to set off? I don’t think we have time to hang around and wait for the others to start their shift.”
“Fine by me. Can we grab a coffee and a doughnut on the way?”
“To a murder scene? Do you think that’s wise?”
“Okay, on second thoughts, I’ll stick with just the coffee instead.”
Sally pointed at the vending machine in the corner of the room. “On you go. I’ll have a white with one sugar, too. Thanks for offering.”
“Cheeky cow,” Jack mumbled when he turned his back on her.
“I heard that,” she joked sternly.
They took their coffees with them when they left the station. Sally parked the car alongside the pathologist’s van, then she and Jack walked across the grassy area to the riverbank, where the team was erecting a marquee to protect the body. The sharp breeze was giving them trouble.
“Problems, Simon?” Sally asked, coming to a standstill beside the thoughtful man.
“Good to see you here so promptly, Inspector, given the time of day. We’re just figuring out the logistics.” Simon tapped his finger against his stubbled chin.
“Meaning?”
“I think we’ll have to take photos of the corpse’s position then move it. At the moment, her head is still in the water, and it’s proving difficult to shield from the elements.”
“I see. Do what you have to do, then. Looks a nasty one,” Sally peered at the woman’s charred body then looked sideways at her partner. “Good job you decided against stopping off for that doughnut, Jack.”
His mouth twisted, and he nodded. “Too right. Christ, do we know if she was dead before she was barbecued?”
“Have some respect for the victim, Jack,” Sally chastised him before asking Simon, “Do we know when she died?”
Simon shook his head and smiled at her. “Let’s do the usual—set about preserving the body and any possible evidence first. I’ll know more once I carry out a preliminary examination. Okay?”
“Sure, you carry on. All right if we search around for any sign of ID?” Sally surveyed the immediate area.
“No need. Her clothes and her handbag were found in a pile, just like the first victim. We’ve bagged them up already.”
“So you’re definitely linking the two crimes?”
“Seems feasible to me, what with the two incidents occurring only five miles apart,” Simon said.
“We can’t really pinpoint the same MO though, can we? Considering the differing CODs.”
“There is that. But then, how many murders do we really get in this area? This is the second one in as many days. Seems plausible to link the two crimes to me, if only because of the way the clothes and ID were arranged at both scenes.”
“It’s not uncommon for serial killers to alter the killing process occasionally, from what I’ve heard; not having dealt with many of these kinds of cases before,” Sally stated pensively.
“Serial killer? Is that what you’re putting this down to, boss?” Jack asked.
“Not willing to jump the gun. Let’s see what the examination results throw up, eh?” Simon responded.
“I’m happy to set that conclusion aside for now,” Sally said.
“Indeed,” Simon replied. “Excuse me.” He walked towards the other two suited members of his team and issued his instructions.
“Let’s see if we can take a peek at her ID.” Sally walked back to the pathologist’s van, pulled on her latex gloves, sank her hand into the paper evidence bag, and pulled out the woman’s handbag. The square leather purse looked brand-new. Sally unzipped the pocket and located a bank debit card and a driving licence with the name Maddie Webster. “Jot this down, Jack. Maddie Webster, 17 Miller’s Croft Road, Lingwood.”
“Okay. I don’t suppose you can find anything in there to say if she’s married or not.”
“The card calls her a miss, so I’m guessing she’s single.” Sally smiled at Simon as he approached them. “Sorry, I took the liberty of having a look.”
“That’s fine. It’s why I didn’t seal the bag. My guys are taking some shots of the victim, then we’ll be pulling her clear of the river and erecting the tent. I think we’ll be here most of the morning and well into the afternoon. There’s one thing I’d like to point out before I continue.”
“I’m all ears.” Sally inclined her head.