Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel. Mark Sennen

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      ‘You’re not the only one.’ Savage patted Layton on the shoulder. ‘Seeing this sort of thing hardens us, I suppose. And I’m with you. Hanging’s too good for them.’

      ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Layton bagged the top. ‘I just hope you’re there at the bust.’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Savage Justice. Haven’t you heard the banter at the station?’ Layton paused, a wry smile on his lips. ‘That Harrison guy, he burned to death in a car you were tailing. Those twins who killed women on Midsummer’s Day: one committed suicide while the other fell down a mineshaft and broke his neck. Then there was the Chief Constable: you discovered him sitting in his car with a vacuum cleaner hose attached to the exhaust pipe.’

      ‘Bloody hell, John, you’re kidding me, right? Is this sort of stuff going round the canteen?’

      ‘It’s not malicious, Charlotte. They’re saying it in admiration. They probably don’t quite believe the stories themselves, but they’d like to think they were true.’

      ‘Well, they’re not, OK?’

      ‘No, of course not. Still, I don’t think the rank and file would be too bothered if they were.’

      ‘Well I am bothered. You don’t know—’

      ‘Here he is. About bloody time.’

      Savage turned to see a thin, stick-like figure silhouetted against the glare of the lights. Dr Andrew Nesbit, the pathologist. As he moved closer, the details on the silhouette filled out. Like Savage and Layton, Nesbit was wearing a white coverall, but as he walked towards them he was struggling to close up the front, the zip having snagged the tweed jacket beneath. Without the white PPE, Nesbit would have resembled an elderly actor who’d come to audition for the part of Sherlock Holmes, although he was sans deerstalker and pipe and wore a pair of half-round glasses.

      ‘Charlotte. John.’ Nesbit jerked a thumb back over his shoulder and then managed to free his jacket and zip up the coverall. ‘These crime scenes will be the death of me one day. Nearly broke my leg coming down the path to the railway line.’

      ‘You’re not the only one, Andrew,’ Savage said. ‘I think the DSupt is thinking of installing a stairlift. Although a forklift might be more appropriate where he’s concerned, don’t you think?’

      ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’ Nesbit paused and peered at Savage over his glasses. Then he turned his head, his bushy eyebrows arching as he stared deep into the tunnel. ‘Shall we?’

      Savage, Nesbit and Layton moved on until they reached the last set of lights. The body was lit on three sides by an elaborate series of tripods holding an array of halogens. Now there was no hiding from the horror. The boy’s pale white skin contrasted with the dark stones of the ballast he was lying on. Apart from the Y-fronts and boots, he was naked. He lay on his side, arms stretched above his head, legs slightly bent. Savage tried to swallow a sudden rush of nausea which rose in her throat. At most crime scenes there’d be something to ameliorate the horror. In a woodland setting there’d be flowers or the sound of birds in the trees. In the city you could hear a constant background noise, reminding you that although you stared down on death, elsewhere there was life. Here in the tunnel there was nothing but the dank smell of the underworld.

      Savage and Layton stopped a few metres from the body and allowed Nesbit to approach alone.

      ‘Do we know the boy’s name and age?’ Nesbit said.

      ‘Jason Hobb,’ Savage said. ‘He was just eleven.’

      ‘Just eleven? That says it all, doesn’t it, Charlotte?’

      ‘Yes. He’ll never be anything else but eleven and a headline in the papers.’

      ‘Quite.’ Nesbit put his bag down on the concrete and then stepped over and surveyed the body. ‘There’s wounding on the hands. Cut marks. Not much blood though. I think he died somewhere else. The body was brought here afterwards.’

      ‘I wondered if that was the case,’ Savage said. ‘What we can’t quite work out is his attire.’

      ‘No? Well, we’ll leave his underwear and boots in place until the PM.’ Nesbit moved closer to the body and knelt. He touched one of the arms and then bent to the head. His gloved fingers examined the boy’s neck. ‘Seems the killer used a ligature. Did the boy have a belt?’

      ‘No. From the clothing in the bag it appears he was wearing tracksuit bottoms.’

      ‘Then I’d say the killer may well have used his own. Look, there’s more bruising on the back. I think the belt was used like a choke chain. The killer pulled up with one hand on the belt while pushing down with the other. The boy would have been powerless.’

      Powerless. Savage shook her head, not understanding how anyone could gain pleasure or satisfaction in subjugating another person, let alone killing them.

      ‘This one’s dangerous, eh, Charlotte?’ Layton pointed at the figure of Nesbit hunched over the body. ‘And I’ve got a bad feeling in my waters.’

      ‘I thought you were like Dr Nesbit, John? Scientific enquiry, evidence, reason.’

      ‘I’m just saying I’m uncomfortable with this. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but something’s not right here.’

      ‘Andrew?’ Savage said. ‘How say you?’

      ‘Well, there is something odd here.’ Nesbit was peering at one of his hands, holding a gloved finger up and rotating it. ‘There’s a substance on the surface of his skin. Something sticky.’

      ‘Sticky?’

      ‘Perhaps more slippery than sticky. Possibly grease. Perhaps it’s something from the tunnel. Oil from the trains maybe?’ Nesbit bent to the body again. He lifted one of the legs. ‘Of more importance is the fact he’s still in rigor. I’ll take a rectal temperature reading to establish time of death. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have an answer for you on that.’

      ‘OK, doc,’ Savage said. She turned away and walked back to the tunnel entrance, leaving Nesbit and Layton arguing over the ambient air temperature. She walked along the track and climbed the little path to the lane. She found Hardin standing in a pale circle of light cast by the mobile incident room van.

      ‘Layton and Nesbit any good?’ Hardin said. ‘Because if those two can’t find anything, we’re buggered. There’s nothing yet from the wider search and little chance of any witnesses.’

      ‘The barracks at Bickleigh. They’re not far away.’

      ‘A bloody squaddie? That’s all we need. They’ll close ranks, deal with it internally.’

      ‘No, sir. I meant cameras. They have them at the entrance. Perhaps they filmed a vehicle passing late at night. Possible a sentry also saw something suspicious.’

      ‘Good idea. I’ll get someone on to it.’ Hardin paused and cocked his head. ‘What’s it like in the tunnel, Charlotte? Grim, I’ll bet?’

      ‘Very.’

      ‘Well, СКАЧАТЬ