Murder Mile

Chapter Twenty-One

Jane had never driven at such high speed as she followed behind Lawrence, who had a police siren and blue lights on his car. There was a three-quarter moon and no clouds, so visibility when they arrived at Peckham Rye Park was not bad, but it was bitterly cold. The area was crawling with police officers, who were tying blue crime scene tape from tree to tree to stop public access.

‘It’s like an eerie mist,’ said Jane, looking out across the park.

‘As the food decays, the bin bags produce bacteria and molds, which in turn produce heat, which creates steam, and this is the mist effect,’ explained Lawrence, picking his way across the grass.

Edwards was blowing on his hands to keep them warm when he spotted them. He nodded and started to lead them over to the center of activity. A putrid smell emanated from the steaming pile of rubbish at least six feet high that ran along the edge of the park.

As they walked across the park, Edwards sidled up to Jane. ‘Sorry if I interrupted your evening in with Lawrence, Sarge. I must say you’re looking well dolled up. Anything I should know about going on between you two? Wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more,’ he concluded, imitating a popular Monty Python sketch.

Jane thought she’d have some fun and hopefully shut Edwards up at the same time. ‘Well, you did...’ She paused deliberately as Edwards’ mouth gaped open. Jane leant closer. ‘Unfortunately you spoilt the moment with your phone call,’ she said with a straight face.

Lost for words, Edwards scuttled ahead. Lawrence, having heard every word, caught her eye, and they grinned mischievously at each other. Ahead of them they could see Moran and Gibbs standing next to the night duty uniform inspector, who was shining a large torch onto a pale shape on the grass.

Moran turned when he saw them. ‘Thanks for getting here so quickly.’ He looked stressed.

Lawrence said nothing as he put on some latex gloves. It was as if his brain had switched into another mode, now that he was in his domain: a major crime scene. Lawrence knelt, picked up the ten-inch forearm and held it under the inspector’s torch to get a closer look.

‘From the serration on the wrist, the hand’s obviously been cut off using a saw. Same with the elbow end,’ Lawrence remarked, pointing to the saw marks.

‘Is it male or female?’ Moran asked.

Lawrence shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t say.’

‘Should I get Professor Martin here?’

‘I don’t think it’s worth it for one body part, and in any case, it’s fairly certain the murder and dismemberment took place elsewhere,’ Lawrence replied.

‘Are those bite marks in the middle?’ Jane asked.

Lawrence nodded. ‘Not human, though. Could be a dog, but more likely to be a fox.’

‘The man who found the forearm said there was a fox nearby,’ Edwards put in.

‘Foxes are scavengers. They’ll rip rubbish bags open to get to food. The piles of rubbish dumped in the park are like a banquet to them.’ Lawrence pointed to a couple of rubbish bags that had been ripped open.

‘There could be other body parts in amongst all these rubbish bags,’ Jane said.

‘Some bits may even have been taken by foxes. They like to bury food to consume later, so this whole park will need searching,’ Lawrence added.

‘Shit! Right, I want the whole area searched,’ Moran told the uniform inspector standing beside him.

‘It’s over a hundred acres,’ the inspector replied hesitantly.

Moran glared at him. ‘I don’t care how fucking big it is, it has to be done sooner rather than later. Firstly, get every available officer from the surrounding divisions and the SPG down to the scene to start going through the rubbish bags. Tell the traffic police to attend with every available arc light they have — and I want every detective on the team called in to assist in the search.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the inspector said sheepishly and scuttled off to organize the search teams.

Moran looked anxiously at Gibbs. ‘The press will be all over this by morning. I want as much done as possible at the scene before they turn up in their droves fishing for information. Searching the bin bags for any other human remains is the priority.’

‘No doubt the headlines will say the Murder Mile Killer has struck again,’ Gibbs added.

‘We don’t know for sure if this is linked to the other murders. The forearm could be a man’s,’ Moran said, but he didn’t sound very convincing.

‘This murder could have happened before Lang went on the run,’ Gibbs suggested. He turned to Lawrence. ‘How long ago do you think the body was cut up?’

‘Hard to tell. It doesn’t look that decomposed, but if it was in a bag on the exterior of the pile, the cold might have preserved it. Professor Martin will be able to give you a better time frame.’

Moran held a hand up to get their attention. ‘Look, we keep this in-house for as long as possible and say we’re looking for a murder weapon after an anonymous tip. And tell the man who found the forearm it wasn’t human, just a bit of pig.’

Jane and Lawrence exchanged glances. Moran was clearly desperate to avoid further damaging press coverage, but no one argued with him.

‘Seeing as we’re going to get covered in shit, is there any chance someone could bring down some overalls and gloves?’ Edwards asked.

Moran shook his head. ‘Not at this time of night.’

‘I’ve got a box of latex gloves in the car,’ Lawrence offered.

‘If you find any other body parts, tell Lawrence. He can look at them and make sure they’re discreetly placed in clean black bin bags for removal to the mortuary.’

Lawrence followed up on Moran’s order. ‘Preserve the original bin bag and contents for fingerprinting. There could be an old envelope with an address on it, or other paper stuff we can fingerprint that will lead us to whoever is responsible.’

Moran patted Lawrence on the back. ‘I’m glad you’re one of us, Paul, ’cause someone with your knowledge could get away with murder.’

‘What the fuck!’ Edwards shouted.

Everyone swiveled in his direction, then turned to look where he was staring.

‘There, over there! That fox has something big in its bloody mouth.’ Edwards pointed, then started running. ‘Drop it, you mangy animal,’ he shouted, but the fox only looked up and casually sauntered off. As Edwards chased it, his shoe slipped off. ‘Stop! Do you hear me? Stop, I’m a police officer!’ He picked up his shoe and threw it, hitting the fox and causing it to drop whatever was in its mouth. The fox looked at Edwards, picked up his shoe in its mouth and quickly disappeared into a wooded area of the park.

Everyone was trying not to laugh as Edwards limped back through the damp grass.

‘Did you see that? The bastard nicked my shoe!’ he moaned.

‘That fox simply has no respect for the law.’ Lawrence grinned.

Gibbs started laughing. ‘The fox will probably take it down the charity shop in the morning. What was in its mouth, anyway?’

‘Looks like a hand, or what’s left of it.’ Edwards handed it to Lawrence in the handkerchief he’d used to pick it up.

‘The other hand must be around here somewhere,’ Gibbs said.

‘Not if the victim’s Captain Hook,’ Edwards joked.

‘Shut up, Edwards. I’ve had enough of your stupid jokes,’ Moran snapped.

‘We might be able to identify the victim from fingerprints on the hand,’ Jane suggested.

Paul shone his torch on it. It was a left hand, but the fingers and thumb had been chewed down to the knuckle, making fingerprinting impossible.

Lawrence put the hand in a plastic property bag. ‘There could be more than one dismembered body hidden in this rubbish.’

Moran looked downcast. ‘Then start searching. I need to inform DCS Blake. I’ll be back at the station if you need me.’

Jane looked at the huge pile of rubbish as Moran trudged off wearily. This certainly wasn’t how she’d expected her evening to turn out.

Within an hour there were nearly fifty uniform officers and detectives methodically searching the piles of rubbish, using high-powered torches and arc lights. There were muttered complaints about the stench and the cold, but Gibbs told them to shut up and get on with it, as the harder they worked, the quicker they’d get through the pile and the sooner they’d get home for a bath or a shower. Jane felt herself retching at the foul smell of rotting food and other household rubbish like soiled nappies, but agreed with Gibbs.

It wasn’t long before their work started to pay off. By 2 a.m. they had found two upper arms, a thigh and a size 10 left foot in three separate bags. Edwards, who was searching next to her, called out to DS Lawrence that he’d found something in a bin bag. As Lawrence approached, Edwards pulled a lower leg out of a bin bag and held it up.

‘It’s quite hairy and as the foot was size 10 it must be a man that’s been murdered and cut up,’ Edwards declared.

‘Probably,’ Lawrence replied. ‘But not all women shave their legs, and I can’t say if any of the parts are from the same body yet. I’m afraid it’s possible that more than one person has been killed, dismembered and then dumped on the pile.’

Jane grabbed another bin bag, shone her torch inside and started to rummage around with her gloved hand. She pulled a stinking chicken carcass and some soggy newspapers out and shone the torch in again. What she saw next shocked her to the core. Dropping the bag, she stepped backwards so quickly she fell onto her backside. Edwards rushed over and helped her up.

‘You OK?’

Jane’s heart was hammering in her chest, her breath came in short gasps, and she couldn’t speak. Edwards looked in the bag, then instantly turned away and vomited onto the grass. Paul hurried over and opened the bag, at first not understanding what he was seeing, then carefully reached in with both hands and pulled it out.

The three of them found themselves looking at a human head.

Her hand shaking, Jane shone her torch onto it, the light making it look even more like something out of a horror film. The skin had been removed, revealing muscle tissue, blood vessels and sinew. The eyes bulged from the peeled sockets, as if frozen in terror at the moment of death.

Gibbs joined them and let out a low whistle. ‘Jesus. Whoever did that is one sick, evil bastard.’

When he heard about the gruesome discovery, Moran quickly returned to the scene with DCS Blake. They too were shocked when Lawrence showed them the skinned head and for a few seconds both were too dumbfounded to speak.

Then Blake turned to Moran. ‘I doubt this murder is connected to the three females. It’s a very different MO and the victim is most likely male. This has the hallmarks of a gangland killing and dismemberment to dispose of the body.’

Lawrence was sealing the bag. ‘We haven’t found any genitalia yet, sir.’

Blake ignored Lawrence. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate already, Nick. I’ll get another team to run with this.’

‘When do you think you’ll complete the search of the bin bags, Paul?’ Moran asked.

Lawrence looked at his watch. It was just after 5 a.m. ‘Hopefully by about eleven a.m.’

‘Thanks, Paul. I’ll contact Professor Martin and arrange a post-mortem for midday.’

Moran walked over to Jane, who was covered in muck from searching the bin bags. ‘I heard you found the head.’

‘Yes, sir. It was a bit of a shock.’ Jane blew her now untidy fringe from her eyes.

‘But you’re OK now?’ Moran asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

Moran noticed how disheveled Jane looked and could smell the rotting rubbish on her clothes. ‘Don’t take this personally, but...’

‘But what?’

Moran smiled. ‘You stink and look a mess. I suggest you go home to get washed and changed before the post-mortem — and don’t be late.’ Moran walked off.

Jane sighed. ‘Not another bloody post-mortem,’ she said to herself.

Moran, Gibbs and Jane were in the mortuary examination room waiting for Professor Martin. DS Lawrence had already laid out the recovered body parts on the post-mortem table in anatomical order and photographed them. Lawrence had also done Scotch tape lifts on each part to retrieve any fibers from the skin. The search had so far recovered the skinned head, a lower half of a torso cut just below the breast line and above the genitals, left and right upper arms, one right forearm and chewed up left hand, left thigh, left lower leg and foot, all of which were in varying states of decomposition. Lawrence had taken a rough measurement from the top of the head to the heel of the left foot. He estimated their victim was five foot ten to six feet tall. He also surmised that the missing upper torso, genitalia and other body parts had either been dumped elsewhere or taken by foxes.

‘What happened at social services with Simon Matthews?’ Moran asked Jane.

‘I did try and ring you, sir, but you were at the Yard. Mrs. Williams, the senior child care worker, interviewed Simon, and a doctor examined him. They were both of the opinion he had not been sexually assaulted.’

‘So why did Miss Summers suspect that he had been?’

‘It would seem Simon was subdued because he was being bullied and Summers misread the signs,’ Jane answered, careful not to mention Simmonds.

‘Well, I’m relieved the lad wasn’t abused. At least we can put that to bed now and concentrate on finding Aiden Lang. Brenda Matthews can return to her flat, if she wants, but I’ll still keep an armed guard with her until Lang’s under lock and key.’

To everyone’s surprise, DCS Blake suddenly walked in.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Gibbs whispered to Moran.

Moran answered in a low tone, ‘I don’t know... He never told me he was coming. Hopefully he’ll just be a silent observer.’

Professor Martin walked in and slammed his clipboard down on an empty mortuary slab. ‘I hope you lot appreciate I’m missing my Sunday lunch in the pub for this—’ He froze, shocked to see what was laid out on the PM table. ‘Jesus wept. I’ve been a pathologist for twenty-five years and never seen a flayed head like that! I hope the poor bugger was dead or at least drugged when it was done to him.’

The four detectives looked at each other in horror. Even in their worst imaginings, it hadn’t occurred to them that the flaying could have been done whilst the victim was still alive.

‘You said him, Professor. Is the victim definitely male?’ Blake asked.

Martin picked up a scalpel. ‘Long time since I’ve seen you in a mortuary, Blake. Haven’t they got you driving a desk at the Yard now you’re a DCS?’

Blake looked offended. ‘I’m overseeing this murder and the three women’s.’

Martin looked at Lawrence. Whilst Blake’s attention was still drawn to the assembled body parts, he raised his eyebrows and mouthed the word ‘wanker.’ Lawrence nodded in agreement.

The professor stood over the lower torso and proceeded to cut it open with the scalpel. He felt around inside the torso. ‘Well, this bit is male. And I’d say all the parts you’ve recovered so far are from the same body.’ Martin removed the intestine, bladder and other organs, then placed them in a round plastic kitchen bowl.

‘The bladder is intact with some urine still present.’ He picked up a syringe, punctured the bladder, then withdrew the urine, before ejecting it into a small plastic bottle. Using a different syringe, he withdrew some blood from an artery in the left thigh. He handed the blood and urine samples to Lawrence for drugs and poisons testing by the toxicology lab.

Martin then proceeded to examine each body part. ‘The last dismemberment case I worked on was in the late sixties. It was a gang killing in East London—’

‘I told DCI Moran this might be gang related.’ Blake nodded, looking pleased with himself.

Martin looked displeased. ‘How astute of you, Blake. I was going to say the victim had been lured to a flat where he was stabbed to death, then dismembered. They put the bits in bags and threw them into the canal at Bow. Silly buggers didn’t realize that a torso underwater will still bloat from gases created by decomposition.’ Martin laughed, as if it was a fond memory. ‘So of course it floated to the surface.’

‘Was it the Krays?’ Jane asked.

‘Everyone suspected them, but it was never proved,’ Martin said.

‘If it wasn’t for the man walking his dog, we might never have found the body parts,’ Jane mused. ‘People have been avoiding the park because of the rotting rubbish and the rats. Whoever dumped the body probably assumed the rubbish bags would be carted off to a landfill site when the bin strike ended and nobody would be any the wiser.’

Blake threw her a dismissive look. ‘Well, that’s pretty obvious, Tennison.’

Martin shook his head at Blake’s rudeness, then turned his attention to examining the cut edges of the dismembered parts with a magnifying glass. ‘The marks left by the teeth of the saw blade on the bone suggest a hacksaw rather than a thicker and larger handsaw.’

Lawrence got his camera out. ‘I’ll take some close-up scaled photographs of the cut marks on the bone. If we recover any saws, I can do some test cuts on pig bone to see if they produce the same striation marks.’

Martin looked closely at the left hand through the magnifying glass. ‘The fingers and thumb were cut off at the knuckle joint, before the fox had a nibble. Again, most probably with a hacksaw.’

Blake looked shocked. ‘Whoever did this doesn’t want the victim identified. The flayed head makes him unrecognizable and removing the fingers suggests the victim might have a criminal record and could be identified.’

Martin moved onto the head, which had been hacked off where the neck met the shoulders. He slowly peeled back the layers of neck muscle with a scalpel, revealing the underlying bone and cartilage.

‘No signs of bruising on the neck or muscle tissue, and the hyoid bone isn’t fractured or broken.’ Martin shone a torch in the eyes. ‘No petechial hemorrhages in the eyes, either. I think we can safely rule out strangulation as the cause of death, but I’ll just check the tongue to be sure.’ He slowly opened the mouth. ‘Jesus, they’ve even cut out his tongue!’ he exclaimed.

Everyone stepped forward to get a closer look.

‘Cutting out the tongue is a common gangland punishment for police informants,’ Blake pointed out.

‘I think we have become rather saturated with Hollywood gangster movies, don’t you?’ Professor Martin commented.

He spent the next two hours going over every inch of the recovered body parts. Eventually he took off his latex gloves and mortuary gown, and turned to the detectives.

‘The victim could have been stabbed or shot in the heart, since we don’t have that organ. It’s also possible the artery on the missing left thigh was severed and he bled to death. To be honest, I can’t give you definitive cause of death.’

‘Can you give an estimate of his age or time of death?’ Moran asked.

Martin sighed. ‘Hard to tell his exact age with no face. It could be anywhere from twenty to thirty. There are also many variables to consider regarding time of death. The decomposition on some parts is more advanced than others. The parts could have been kept in a fridge or freezer before being dumped. A best-guess scenario would be seven, maybe six days ago — but don’t quote me on it.’

Moran looked glum. ‘There’ll probably be hundreds of mispers across the country who fit his size and age range. We don’t even have a definitive hair color.’

‘We know he’s got blue eyes,’ Gibbs said, trying to sound positive.

Moran frowned. ‘Well, that should crack it, Spence. Maybe I should circulate an appeal for information poster of the flayed head with: Do you know this man? scrawled across it!’

‘Might be worth getting a forensic odontologist to check the teeth against dental records of male mispers,’ Gibbs countered.

‘That could cost a bloody fortune. Check Missing Persons first for any likely matches, and then I’ll decide about the odontologist.’

‘Do you think, in your professional opinion, this murder is linked to the murder of the three women?’ Blake asked Martin.

‘That’s not for me to decide, DCS Blake. My job is to give the cause of death from a pathologist’s viewpoint. I’ll have my report done by mid-week. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’m off home.’

Blake looked at Moran. ‘In my opinion, this murder has all the hallmarks of a gangland killing.’

Moran nodded. ‘Well, the first thing I’m going to do is put out a press release making clear it has no connection to the three female victims.’