The Reach of Shadows Page 2

  ‘Stop banging on about my age,’ Bliss said, wanting to cough but holding it back in fear of what it might do to his ribs. ‘I’m not in my box yet.’

  Though I guess I could have been, he thought. And that’s precisely what Chandler would have been thinking ever since she was given the news about his accident. Which reminded him about something.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, turning to face her. Delving into his personal toolkit, Bliss reached for his most disarming smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For giving up part of your holiday and flying home early. For being there when I woke up. For… for caring, I suppose.’

  Chandler rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not getting all mushy on me, are you? I think those drugs they gave you are still in your system. Now shush until we get there.’

  He shrugged and allowed himself to relax. New England was one of the older districts of Peterborough, and had once been home to the Great Northern Railway marshalling yards. Chandler drove them to the eastern tip where it merged into Dogsthorpe around the Welland estate. In 1994 the area had become nationally infamous when a six-year-old boy by the name of Rikki Neave was found murdered in woodland, having disappeared on his way to school. His mother was arrested and charged with her son’s murder, but was later acquitted by a jury at the Northampton Crown Court. A little more than twenty years later the cold case was thawed open, and Bliss knew that his partner had been involved in the manhunt that followed. He wondered if returning to the area held any fears for her, especially given that the case remained unsolved.

  ‘You find this place a little haunting?’ he asked.

  Silence followed, and Bliss wondered if Chandler had even heard the question. As he was about to repeat it, she said, ‘It doesn’t so much haunt me as make me angry. I wasn’t on the original investigation, obviously. Now that might have thrown up a few ghosts. But we worked bloody hard, and it would have been nice to have got a result after all this time.’

  Bliss had thought the same. But in the past week, the Assistant Chief Constable had announced that, while the case remained open, there were currently no active lines of enquiry.

  ‘Was Edwards involved in that op?’ he asked.

  Chandler shook her head as she hit the indicators and turned left off the main road. ‘No, that was DCI Harrison. His last case before he took time out to take care of his wife.’

  He nodded. It was Harrison’s decision to take extended leave that had paved the way for Bliss to return to the city after a twelve-year absence.

  The series of roads that formed the giant rectangle they had entered was a real curiosity. Every home on both sides of the streets was a long, narrow bungalow, part of a series of semi-detached dwellings. The lack of a second storey on either side was peculiar, and played tricks on the eye as if the brain was incapable of processing such a regular formation. It took Bliss a few moments to adjust to the anomaly. As the Ford turned onto the longer stretch, the first responders were obvious among the vehicles mostly parked up on short and narrow driveways.

  Police officers were in the process of sealing off the scene with tape, behind which the gawkers did what gawkers do best. The day was bright and hot, the sky unadorned save for a few erratic streaks of cirrus. Those neighbours who gathered on the periphery of the crime scene wore little clothing, and stood shielding their eyes, fanning their faces as they indulged in excited chatter. Bliss asked himself why they didn’t just drag out a barbecue and a cooler box, throw some burgers on hot coals, whip out some chilled beer, and have done with it.

  Chandler slipped her car in beneath the tape after flashing her warrant card at a uniform Bliss did not recognise. He kept his eyes on the road and away from the crowd assembling rapidly on both sides of the cordon. Bad news spread fast and drew out the ghouls. Even the gamers and tweakers emerged from the shadows.

  ‘Any idea at all what we have waiting for us in there?’ Bliss asked, dipping his head in the direction of a bungalow painted grey, unlike others in the row which were a uniform sandstone colour.

  Drawing back the handbrake and killing the engine, Chandler replied on a heavy exhalation. ‘Not a Scooby. Beyond suspected murder, that is. I told you, Edwards wanted me out of there as fast as my tiny little feet would carry me. I’m lucky she found time to give me the address.’

  Milling awkwardly outside the property were six uniformed officers, which accounted for the three patrol vehicles parked up within the cordon. All were in short sleeves and baking beneath the relentless sunshine. There was an ambulance standing by, and Bliss saw two crew members attired in dark green chatting with a female police sergeant. One unmarked vehicle was parked close to the drive, and Bliss assumed this would belong to the on-call doctor who had been summoned to pronounce life extinct or variations of the same.

  With the aid of the door frame, Bliss managed to haul himself up and out of the car without asking for help from his partner. His chest had been iced prior to him getting dressed, and he had also taken some heavy-duty painkillers, but the damaged ribs were quick to let him know he should be resting in his recliner at home. His shirt clung to his back as if he had stepped out of the shower. Chandler held back, not looking at him but waiting all the same. He could have kissed her for that. Instead he took a deep breath and made his way across to the uniforms.

  ‘Who was first on site?’ he asked, flashing his credentials.

  The constable who stepped forward with his hand raised was someone Bliss recognised but could not put a name to. ‘PC Virgil, sir,’ he said. ‘We took the call and assessed the situation upon arrival. A neighbour reported hearing a scuffle and what they believed to be a loud cry. I entered through the kitchen door to the rear of the property. My colleague, PC Irwin, was waiting out front still trying to get attention from the owner. We did knock several times before I headed round back.’

  ‘The kitchen door was unlocked?’ Bliss asked, nodding a greeting. He now remembered Virgil as one of the officers involved in a major vehicle chase across the Fens the previous autumn.

  ‘Hanging wide open, sir.’

  ‘So, having received no answer to your previous knocks, you went inside?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I announced myself on the threshold, and when there was no answer, I entered the property.’

  Bliss smiled. ‘It’s okay, PC Virgil, save all the proper terms and procedure for when you make your statement. For now, just give it to me as it happened.’

  Virgil smiled. ‘Yes, sir. The kitchen was empty. I called out again, but still nothing. I moved through into the hallway, still calling out. Next thing I did was open up the front door to let my colleague in. I wasn’t sure if it was better to send him off looking for signs of a potential break-in or clear the house first. I decided it was better to clear the house.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ Bliss told him. Virgil had made a snap decision as to whether to search for signs of a forced entry or check each room inside the property in case the occupier was in distress.

  ‘Thanks. Anyway, I happened to be first inside the bedroom, which was at the front of the property to the right of the front door. I found a body lying on the bed, covered in blood. She was naked, her legs were spread wide and her hands were tied to the metal frame of the bed. I was pretty sure she was dead even before I noticed she wasn’t breathing. I didn’t want to interfere with the scene, but I knew I had to check her out just in case there was still time to do something to save her. I edged my way around the perimeter of the room, then I spotted a magazine on the bedside cabinet, so I picked it up just with the very corner of its cover and dropped it onto the floor so’s I could step on it rather than the section of carpet so close to the victim. That put me in reach of her.

  ‘I didn’t want to touch the skin. I guess I was thinking about forensics, although I’m sure I ought to have checked for a pulse instead. Anyhow, I wear reading glasses, so I took them from my shirt pocket and held them just beneath the victim’s nose. When they didn’t mis
t, I told Irwin to call it in.’

  Bliss was astonished by the officer’s composure. His heart had to have been hammering its way out of his chest, with a thousand-and-one thoughts tumbling around inside his head, yet he had kept his cool and done a pretty good job of maintaining the integrity of the crime scene. Though Virgil’s intentions were right, using the magazine to step on was not such a good move, as his shoes might have smudged clear prints on the glossy paper. Nonetheless, Bliss was impressed.

  ‘You did very well,’ Chandler said. She was standing close by and had overheard the entire exchange. ‘Not sure I would have done all that even now.’

  Virgil blushed. ‘Thank you, DS Chandler.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘You know me by name. Have we worked together before?’

  ‘No. I’ve seen you around whenever I’ve had reason to be at Thorpe Wood. I make a point to learn the names of as many detectives as I possibly can. It’s where I want to be in a year or so. Major Crimes, that is.’

  ‘Well, you’re off to a good start here, Constable,’ Bliss told him. ‘Some quick thinking inside that bedroom.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Bliss looked at his partner. ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really,’ she replied, shaking her head. Shortly after their arrival on scene she had tied up her shoulder-length hair, and only a few loose strands fanned the air around her. ‘But let’s do it anyway. How are the ribs holding up?’

  ‘Sore. But I’ll survive.’

  ‘I heard you’d been in an accident, sir,’ Virgil said, his eyes narrowing. ‘I trust you’re recovering well.’

  ‘I’m doing better than our victim,’ Bliss muttered as he stepped towards the bungalow. He flipped a mental switch and immediately cut off everything except that which lay ahead, blotting out the rest of his surroundings. Fatigue and pain moved with him. He was feeling every one of his years and more, but it was time to go to work.

  Chapter 3

  According to the documentation they discovered during their initial cursory sweep, the victim’s name was Jade Coleman and she rented the property from a local housing association. Bliss stared down at the body for several minutes without either moving or speaking. He wanted to cover her up, but could not. The crime scene manager would be there soon enough, followed swiftly by the team of forensic investigators. He could not disturb the scene prior to their attendance.

  Bliss regarded the nightmarish vision before him. They will be busy in here today, he thought. Despite the fierce heat of the morning, he felt a chill coming off the room that carried with it much pain and suffering. The sensation would stay with him now wherever he went, circling the drain but never disappearing entirely. Eventually it would filter through his skin and lodge somewhere alongside all the other obscenities he had witnessed in his career.

  His own purpose was to get a feel for what had happened. Unlike many detectives of his rank, Bliss opted to visit the scene at this stage, before the CSI and mortuary crews had carried out their work. He had no need for the sanitised version, long after the body had been excised from its place of death. He had rarely been able to get a feel for a victim once their lifeless form had found its way into the mortuary. Here at the scene was where their life had been extinguished – in this case, so clearly snatched away from them in such brutal fashion. So here at the scene was where Bliss believed he had to observe them, if only for a few minutes. He felt he owed them that.

  ‘I bet she was named after her eyes,’ he said, more to the room than its other living occupants.

  The doctor, a willowy forty-something with a kind face and upturned lips, looked away from the notes she was writing up on her Acer tablet and leaned forward over the bed. Her wavy hair hung down almost protectively over the victim, but she took care to ensure there was no contact.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she said, as she stood up straight again. ‘They were a gorgeous colour.’

  ‘They still are.’

  The doctor smiled at him and nodded. She had introduced herself to him as Faith McGovern. No pronouncement of or insistence on the use of her title. Bliss liked that about her.

  ‘You’re a romantic,’ she said to him, a single eyebrow arched.

  Behind them, Chandler apparently felt the need to cough, though it did nothing to disguise the harsh snort that had preceded it.

  ‘Hardly,’ Bliss responded to the question. ‘But even without life in them, those eyes are expressive.’

  ‘You see her killer in them, Inspector?’

  ‘Now who’s the romantic?’ Bliss gave a thoughtful smile.

  ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I noticed you wincing, that’s all.’

  Bliss nodded. He hadn’t realised.

  ‘That’s just his indigestion,’ Chandler said, slipping around the other side of the bed, her eyes fixed on the victim. ‘Old men tend to get that sort of thing more frequently.’

  Bliss stifled a laugh. This was her unique and less than subtle way of suggesting he steer clear of the doctor; that she was far too young for him to chase after. In truth, while McGovern was attractive enough, he had not once thought about her in that way. Perhaps he was finally feeling as old as his partner insisted he was.

  Ignoring Chandler, Bliss gave a brief summary of his accident to the doctor. When he was done, and had received the expected sympathetic response, he added, ‘So then my sergeant here dragged me out of my hospital sick bed today and brought me straight to work instead of home for a spot of R&R. What do you think of that, doc?’

  McGovern shot Chandler a disapproving glance. ‘After a concussion, and with cracked ribs, rest is precisely what you need in the first few days, Inspector. I would have signed you off for two weeks.’

  Bliss chuckled at Chandler’s scowl aimed in his direction.

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ she said. ‘He wants to be here, that’s the truth of the matter. And believe me, it was not my decision to bring him to the scene. If it had been down to me, I would have driven him home, kicked him out without braking and left him there to rot on the driveway.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ McGovern said, head bobbing, a broad smile stretched across her face. ‘I’ve been had. I’ll remember that for the future, Inspector Bliss.’

  He lifted his shoulders, which sent a spark of pain down his back. ‘Just making light of a grim job,’ he said. ‘That way we don’t have to think too much about what this poor woman went through, and how we can’t even give her any dignity in death by covering her up. Instead, we have to leave her exposed like this for everyone who walks through that door between now and when the crime scene techs are finished with her.’

  The doctor flipped the cover over on her tablet and tucked it away inside a large shoulder bag which she had planted on the floor by her feet. Her eyes remained on him, and he felt himself colour beneath her scrutiny.

  ‘Well, that’s me done here,’ she said, her voice smoky and low. She hooked the bag strap over one shoulder and started for the bedroom door. ‘Life is extinct. She’s all yours, Inspector. Oh, and take no notice of your colleague’s mocking. There’s clearly more to you than you’d have her know.’

  McGovern gave a brief wave and left the room. Bliss followed her with his eyes, then turned to Chandler. ‘See,’ he said, tapping a finger against his chest. ‘Hidden depths.’

  Chandler grunted. ‘Yeah, right. And all of them shallow.’

  Bliss ignored her and slipped back into his usual routine. He examined the contents of Jade Coleman’s purse, which was lying on the bedside table next to her mobile phone. Along with her bank debit card, Visa, gym membership card and more than sixty pounds in cash, it contained her driving licence, which confirmed her age as thirty-eight. The money and the cards told him this had not been a robbery. In the ID photo her hair was shorter and styled differently, but it was definitely the same woman. Nothing in the bedroom suggested Coleman had not lived alone; there was no men’s clothing in
the open wardrobe, nor any men’s items on the dressing table or on either bedside cabinet.

  Other than the volatile tableau presented by the crime, the room looked as if it was usually kept clean and tidy. The bed, its sheets, pillows and duvet, now wore ragged scars of blood. It was dry but had not yet oxidised. Bliss had no doubt that he would still be able to smear it beneath his gloved thumb.

  As he stood in place, he snapped his nitrile gloves against his wrists. Bliss had often been told this was a habit of his; yet, had refused to believe it until seeing it for himself on a crime scene video when he was accidentally captured in front of the camera surveying a murder scene.

  The victim before him now had been in good shape, he thought, with narrow hips and long, silky smooth legs with excellent muscle tone. She had taken time grooming herself to look good. Bliss wondered if that was for herself or someone else. Perhaps even a special someone.

  Bliss counted seven or eight obvious wounds confined between the chest and torso area. The only blood on the woman’s face appeared to come from stray spatters, probably resulting from the knife, that had clearly been used, being withdrawn from the body in order to repeat the stabbing motion. On both hands and arms there were what he imagined would prove to be defensive wounds – deep and brutal – where Coleman had initially raised her hands to fend off the attack before being tied up. Crimson spatters of cast-off climbed the walls and window blinds like a poisonous, deadly form of ivy. There were red blotches and scuff marks on the bedroom carpet, leading away out of the door and into the hallway, where Bliss had already seen they faded and then stopped before reaching the kitchen.

  Bliss took a moment to reflect. The killer had got some blood on the soles of their footwear, but not a lot. They had been wiped clean in just a dozen or so paces. The attacker must also have had blood on their own skin and clothing at a minimum. Had they exited the bungalow without washing up and changing? Had they worn protective clothing, which afterwards could have been discarded and bagged prior to removal from the scene? Obtaining answers might lead them closer to understanding how much of this had been planned.