Aftershock

Six

‘I’m going to need a list of members,’ Neil McIlhenney told the golf club manager, a prickly little man who had introduced himself as Major Leo Fullbright as he entered the mobile police station that had been set up in the car park. ‘We’ll have to interview everyone to establish whether the woman was seen just before her death.’

‘Am I obliged to provide that?’

‘Is there any reason why you shouldn’t?’

‘Data Protection Act.’

‘And general get-out excuse,’ McIlhenney growled. ‘Technically, Major, this isn’t a criminal investigation, not yet. It’s an inquiry into a suspicious death. However, I could argue in court that the general administration of justice exemption applies here. Do you want me to get a warrant from the court?’

‘For my own protection,’ the man smirked, ‘as well as for the protection of the data.’

‘This isn’t funny, but if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.

Of course, I can’t proceed until I have it,’ he paused as the door opened and Becky Stallings stepped into the van, ‘and until I can proceed, this course stays closed.’

He looked over at the inspector. ‘Did you see Lord Archibald?’

‘Yes, I’ve just left him.’

‘He’s still here?’

‘I think so. He hadn’t finished his coffee.’

‘In that case, I want you to get back in there and ask him if he’ll put on his wig, metaphorically, and hear a formal application for authority to access the membership records of this club for the purpose of interviewing potential witnesses. You can tell him that the club manager’s worried about his personal position.’

‘I’m on my way.’ She headed for the door.

‘You can tell him also that once he gives me the authority I need, and once the forensic people are finished, I’ll cordon off the area around the scene and the course can be reopened. If his lordship has any doubt about being able to hear our application, that should sway him.’ He turned back to the club manager. ‘All that should take about ten minutes, tops. I want those records here as soon as I have the judge’s written order in my hand.’

‘Very good.’ Fullbright followed Stallings out of the office.

‘Well, Jack,’ said McIlhenney to McGurk as they left, ‘how do you see our priorities?’

‘Number one, identify the victim; no question about it.’

‘Absolutely; we have to put a name to her soonest, so get on to Missing Persons, here and nationally. You were at the scene for longer than I was: can you set search parameters?’

‘Dark hair, approximately five feet four, slim build; the doc estimated her age as mid-twenties.’

‘We can’t rely on that, given the state she was in. Ask for details of all women reported missing in the last month, aged between twenty and thirty-five.’

‘The last month? She’s been dead for a fortnight at most.’

‘So maybe she was abducted, and reported missing before she died. Let’s overlook nothing, Jack. If we don’t find her listed we’re in trouble. We’re not going to have a photograph to publish, not without doing a facial reconstruction from her skull.’

‘Can’t we use dental records?’

‘Not until we’ve got a name, or a list of names to match against them. We’ll try that route, sure, and the national DNA database, but I don’t fancy our chances.’

‘Okay, boss. First off, I’ll get on to Missing Persons.’

‘Good. When you’ve done that, there’s another area I want to explore. I hope to Christ I’m wrong, but if the pathologist does say, “murder,” and we are looking at a copycat, what’s the betting he’s continuing to prey on artists?’