Condemned Page 10

  Annie was rubbing the palm of her hand where the spike had pricked her. ‘You’re not gonna go in that tomb, are you? Who knows what’s waiting for you beneath? Holy Mother of God!’ she said, crossing her chest as the nuns had taught her.

  ‘It’s a fair question. What is in that tomb? Maybe Ms Pritchard can answer it for us?’ said Fred.

  Lily Pritchard’s face was free from emotion. In fact she appeared to be in shock.

  ‘There’s a saying, “Leave no stone unturned”,’ said Charley, ‘and that’s what we’re going to do.’

  ‘Is it legal for us to go on in without any authority?’ asked Annie.

  But Charley’s attention remained on Lily’s face.

  ‘What will the church records tell us about this particular plot? Do you know, Ms Pritchard?’

  Still the sexton remained mute.

  * * *

  Charley needed to find a common thread that ran through the evidence gathered in the investigations so far to be able to proceed, now the probe had been found. As darkness approached, the team returned to Crownest, to find the others were still painstakingly sifting through the dirt taken from beneath where the male corpse had been found behind the fireplace. If there had been something to be found, they would have done so by now, of that she was certain.

  Neal Rylatt the CSI supervisor caught Charley’s questioning gaze. He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing. Not a scrap of evidence to suggest who he is.’

  ‘This lack of evidence, does it suggest to you that this was not done by accident?’ Charley asked.

  ‘Killed, dumped in a tunnel, left to rot? It suggests to me that whoever killed him didn’t want him to be found, or identified, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Charley considered that with both murders, there were resources available to aid them in determining identification and in dating the evidence. Several burial artefacts found upon and around the skeleton of the female in the cellar were significant finds. However, this information was also confusing, as it appeared to the SIO that every pagan burial symbol known to man had been buried with the unidentified corpse.

  Perhaps they were put there in the hope it would aid the woman in her passage to the hereafter. Which suggested to Charley that, when she was buried, there may have been some confusion, as if the person who buried her didn’t know enough about her chosen pagan religion. However, what this act of kindness did seem to endorse was that the person, whoever she may be, had been well loved, and that she had been buried with whatever was thought necessary to take her safely to the next life. Putting coins over the eyes, Charley did know, was thought to pay the ferryman who was believed to take her there. ‘She must have links to Crownest to be buried here,’ Charley reasoned, holding on to the thought that the well-documented history of the house, genealogists, and forensic archaeologists would all serve to help her in the mysteries surrounding the investigation.

  Unfortunately, in the case of the male, there were no similar signs to suggest he was thought well of, but what Charley did have at her disposal were experts who could, with the DNA evidence available, use modern-day technology to try and trace the man through dental and hospital records and other national Force databases.

  Joe Greenwood approached Charley as she watched the team work. He was searching for his handkerchief inside his pocket. When he found it, he took it out and blew his nose, glowing red from the cold. ‘I hope you’ll have something for me soon. I’m gonna catch my death if I have to hang around here much longer without doing proper work,’ he said.

  Charley nodded towards the team. ‘Once their work is done, I’ll be able to hand the site back over to you for the demolition to continue.’

  ‘Really?’ Joe’s surprise was genuine.

  His joyful expression raised a smile. ‘Really. I’ve got everything I need now.’

  Neal Rylatt raised his hand to catch her attention. ‘I’ll be off now to take footage of the church,’ he said.

  ‘Photograph the graveyard, Seth Alderman’s gravestone and the altar tomb which is adjacent to it, please.’ The SIO nodded her head in Annie’s direction. ‘Take her with you, it’ll be quicker in the dark, if she shows you,where to go.’ Annie turned and Charley spoke directly to her. ‘I’ll wait for you outside in the car and take you back to the office. Quick as you like,’ Charley called after the pair.

  Joe waited patiently at Charley’s side, his relief apparent. ‘No more human remains then?’

  Charley shook her head, as a brief smile crossed her lips. ‘No, thank the Lord.’

  * * *

  Charley sat waiting for Annie, the car heater blowing hot air in her face. She had learnt long ago that time at a crime scene was time well spent, and the use of any expert was essential to understand something that is not commonly known. She began to recall the most bizarre details from her days at training school. South East Texas Forensic Science Laboratory that she had visited, had buried partially decayed human bodies in different soil types, so that they could study every stage of the natural decomposition process. Such was her interest, and the impact it had made on her, that she could recall their findings and recite them verbatim. A body buried six feet in the ground, without a coffin, takes between eight to ten years to decompose. Also, fingerprints were one of the last things to disappear from a human body.

  Warmed up now from her time outside, Charley switched the car engine off, lowered her window and rested her elbow on the driver’s door, idly stroking the top of her pinned-back blonde hair. Eyes drooping, she watched Annie walk around the front of the car before she opened the door, and slipped into the passenger seat next to her boss. It was obvious she had been running by her shortness of breath. The younger detective fastened her seatbelt. Charley started the engine, looked in her rearview mirror and pulled away.

  ‘What’s next?’ said Annie, when they had left the unlit, country roads behind them and had pulled up at a red light in the town centre.

  ‘Full briefing with the team to ensure that enquiries into each of the human remains are not duplicated, but instead complement each other – that’s the most important thing to remind everyone right now. But first I must go and see the Divisional Commander to let him know what’s happening.’

  * * *

  Back at the station Charley took the stairs two at a time to the management suite. Flora, Ruth’s guide dog was the first to greet her, in her owner’s office. Ruth indicated that the Divisional Commander, Bobbie Stokes, was in.

  Charley knocked on the office door, opened it slightly, and put her head inside. ‘Come on in, Charley Mann,’ he said warmly.

  ‘I know it’s a little late to update you on the discoveries, but I wanted to be sure of what we were dealing with before I spoke to you.’

  ‘Forget the bullshit. I know how busy you’ve been, and appreciate the good work you’ve done. Mike Blake speaks very highly of you.’

  ‘Yeah, but he lies a lot,’ Charley joked.

  ‘I don’t think so, I’ve known Mike for a long number of years; he’s loyal, he’s good at his job and he’s no liar…’

  * * *

  Meanwhile whilst the investigative team had been on location at Crownest, and Charley had been updating the Divisional Commander, the additional support staff who had been called upon to be attached to the mounting enquiry had been arriving in the Incident Room. Now, late as it was in the day, it was time for the first briefing.

  Charley introduced herself, then her deputy, DS Mike Blake, who sat beside her, before outlining the grim discoveries. ‘Ladies and gents,’ she said, ‘our enquiries are focused on the crime scene, a detached house, called Crownest, that, as many of you will know, has a notorious, bleak past. It was being prepared for demolition prior to the investigation, ultimately to be replaced by several new homes. The house, and land, is owned by JT Developments, and has been sold by Raglan Estate Agents. Several unexplained fires over recent months, including this latest, have been reported at the property.

  ‘The se
mi-derelict property was put up for sale by the owners. There was interest from property developers JT Developments – but their plans to demolish the house and build five detached houses was turned down by the council. In recent times it was rented by a husband and wife, Brad and Brittany Dixon, with a view to purchase. I will return to them shortly. And, finally it was bought by Mr James Thomas the owner of JT Developments who were in the process of having the house demolished, by Nevermore Demolition.

  ‘The fire brigade were called out a few days’ ago to attend a blaze at Crownest. The house and its grounds were secured; Nevermore workmen had been on site the previous day. This fire appears to be a deliberate attempt to burn down the house, as there were several seats of fire confirmed by the fire crew in attendance. I attended the scene, and some time later, the incident was released in order for the demolition work to commence again. The owner of Nevermore is a Mr Joe Greenwood. However, shortly after, and to the annoyance of James Thomas, the owner of the property, work was forced to cease when two sets of human remains were found. Footage taken at the scene, and of the recovery of the human remains, will follow.

  ‘The human remains were found in two separate parts of the building. The female skeleton is thought to be over 75 years old. The evidence shows that this woman was murdered, and it is our duty to investigate her death, although it is now historical. Her remains were discovered behind a bricked-up wall in the cellar. The second body was found in a concealed tunnel, which was discovered behind the large stone fireplace in the main dining room. The tunnel is not included on the plans of the building. This male corpse, we are led to believe by pathologist reports, has only been there a matter of weeks or months at the most. We found a gunshot wound to the back of his head.

  ‘The majority of our enquiries will now focus on the murder of the male, for obvious reasons. However, because both bodies were discovered in the same house, we will be conducting our enquiries from the same Incident Room. The tunnel I mentioned has been found to lead to the graveyard at the nearby St Anne’s Church. So, we have at least one murderer at large with access to a firearm. Our priority is to identify who this is, and take the necessary action.

  ‘In respect of both corpses, we have no information as yet to their identities, and nothing was left at the scene to assist identification, so, further priority enquiries will be to establish who our victims are.

  ‘I mentioned the Dixons previously as the couple who were the last-known occupants of the building. My question here being, why would you rent rooms in a semi-derelict house, with a view to buying it? However, after reading the intelligence on both Brad and Brittany Dixon, it appears they are known to us for committing armed robberies and discharging firearms, so maybe they had an ulterior motive.

  ‘It will also be a priority to trace the pair as soon as possible. When we do, I don’t want anyone taking chances. They are known to be a violent couple who have previously spent time in prison. Firearms officers will be brought in if, and when, required to detain these two individuals.’ Charley took a deep breath.

  ‘That’s a summary, but let’s talk more about the human remains. The female body discovered in the cellar is a full skeleton. There are artefacts in her tomb which suggests a pagan burial. Including this…’ Charley turned to Mike who, held up a piece of paper between his finger and thumb. ‘This pagan dagger.’

  ‘Did it kill her?’ piped up Annie.

  Mike Blake shrugged his shoulders. ‘I doubt we will ever know exactly what killed her, but the dagger stuck in her ribcage is a good start. Her remains are yet to be examined by the experts. Work is underway to ascertain how long she’s been there; the dates of the coins that covered her eyes will be of some help.’

  Charley continued. ‘Pagan, for those of you who are unaware, is an umbrella term relating to people who hold religious beliefs other than those of the main world religions, and worship several gods of the Earth.’ The SIO’s tone changed. Her eyes were specifically on Wilkie Connor half-expecting his usual prejudiced remarks that she’d had cause to speak to him about recently, half-hoping he had taken heed of her warning. ‘What I don’t want anyone to do is wear blinkers on this enquiry. We will, as usual, let the evidence speak for itself, understood?’

  Wilkie Connor’s mouth turned up at the corner. ‘Indeed we will, ma’am,’ he said under his breath.

  ‘Okay, for those who have been notified that they will be working on this enquiry, your desks are situated at the far end of the Incident Room.’

  With no interruptions or other questions forthcoming, Charley carried on, ‘The second body, the male, has been dead possibly only weeks. A bullet hole found in the back of his head made the pathologist suggest that the cause of death was nothing short of an execution. If we’re lucky, the shell might be rolling about inside his skull like a marble when he’s opened up. The location of this corpse is relevant to the enquiry, and you’ll see why.’ Charley’s nod was to Neal Rylatt who ran through the footage from the outer scene, and the graveyard in his capacity as senior CSI, and then concluded with the inner scene, a close-up of the body, followed by pictures of inside the tunnels.

  Charley went on, ‘Crownest has, for as long as I’ve known, been called Murder House because of its infamous past. A brief of its nefarious history compiled from research so far, for those interested, is available from Ellen Tate, Office Manager.’ Charley beckoned the middle-aged woman, known as Tattie to her friends, to stand up from her chair at the desk she had chosen by the window, where she had placed her beloved green plants on the windowsill. Ms Tate was easily identifiable owing to her nest of frizzy sandy-coloured hair. She then sat as quickly as she had stood.

  Wilkie Connor mimicked the tipping of a hat in her direction. ‘Good egg, that one,’ he said, nudging the detective sitting next to him. ‘She’s always got a stash of goodies in her drawer,’ he said with a wink, before reaching for a handful of biscuits from the plate in the middle of the briefing table.

  ‘All relevant information will be on display boards around the room for easy reference very shortly,’ continued Charley.

  Charley looked towards the door. ‘We were supposed to be joined by two members of the cold-case team who are looking at the Dixons for various unsolved crimes.’ She sounded a little annoyed. ‘They must have got delayed.’

  Wilkie chuckled to himself. Old-timers Ben and Terry from the cold-case team had never been ones for rushing to a job, but were well known for letting others go before them.

  On that note, Charley closed the briefing. ‘Every line of enquiry you are given to investigate is a priority. Don’t hesitate to ask, or to share anything with me or Mike.’

  The briefing over, it was nine o’clock. A tired, but adrenaline-charged Charley retreated to her office with Mike, to allow the identified team leaders to further instruct their teams on specific tasks. ‘Where the hell are Ben and Terry? You’d think this would be a priority for them, too, given what we suspect about the Dixons.’

  Chapter 14

  The next morning Charley was standing at her office window next to her door, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. The window looked immediately into the main office, part of which now formed the Incident Room. With the initial briefing over, there was a lull in activity. This was because the majority of the team, with the exception of Wilkie Connor, who was still doing administration on light, part-time duties following his convalescence, and Tattie, who was based in the building as the office manager, were out and about to trace, interview and eliminate people from enquires. Interestingly, Ricky-Lee Lewis was also still in the office.

  Transfixed, Charley watched the younger, tanned, athletic-looking detective constable frantically search his locker, then his desk drawer. Her eyes widened to see him crouch down and crawl right under the four desks in the central reservation. Charley giggled to herself for she knew exactly what he was looking for – and she knew that his search was futile. The tightly-rolled, well-thumbed, heavily-marked Racing Post newspap
er was in her waste bin.

  Next, not surprisingly, came the teasing and jeering from Wilkie. Then Tattie, who patience was finally lost, stood squealing at Wilkie for silence. How could she possibly prepare the budgets with such a din?

  The arrival of the cold-case team officers soon after couldn’t be mistaken. Jovially, they pushed and shoved each other to enter the Incident Room doorway at the same time. Taken by surprise by the noise, Ricky-Lee lifted his head quickly and accidentally slammed his face into the steel filing cabinet.

  Two pairs of strong arms swiftly lifted the dazed-looking Ricky-Lee off all fours, to his feet. However, the agonising pain appeared to be short-lived when he recognised the men. Charley continued to observe as Ben and Terry stopped briefly at Ricky-Lee’s desk. With a slap on the back and a ruffle of the detective’s hair, Ben counted notes from his wallet into the palm of Ricky-Lee’s hand. There was no mistaking the face of a gambler.

  Again, Charley’s eyes found the racing paper protruding from her rubbish bin, the newspaper that she had plucked from Ricky-Lee’s jacket pocket this morning when he was making a brew.

  When she glanced back in the direction of the Incident Room, she saw Ricky-Lee shaking Terry’s hand with vigour, then he grabbed Ben’s face in his hands and kissed him forcefully, on the lips. When Ricky-Lee sat, Ben clipped him round the back of his head and the pair left him counting his money, to walk the short distance to her office. There was a loud, confident rat-a-tat-tat at her door.

  ‘Morning gents,’ she said, on opening the door for them to enter. ‘Better late than never.’ Wilkie Connor followed them to the door. Overhearing her curt welcome, he withdrew grimacing. He knew that tone, and being greeted by the boss in that way had never ended well.

  His hand rested on the door handle. ‘Can I get anyone drinks?’ he said. Charley nodded. ‘I don’t think there are any biscuits left.’ His eyes flew backwards to the empty tin on his desk, ‘but maybe Tattie might have some in her drawer,’ he said, looking for Tattie’s confirmation, but his unspoken plea was met with a slow shaking of her head. Charley’s expressionless face told him to get on with it, and she closed the door firmly behind him.