The Headhunters

TWENTY-ONE

The manhunt was stepped up.

Cartwright was no longer just a missing person. The official line, that he was wanted for questioning in connection with the deaths of three women, was sent out with a ‘not for publication’ note that he was believed to be a psychopath likely to kill again.

Hen’s morning started at the mortuary. She’d never been squeamish about attending autopsies. It was the tough-talking men-bless their little cotton socks-who were liable to faint as soon as the pathologist picked up the scalpel. Even so, this one was a severe test, definitely a face mask and tic tac occasion. The well-prepared Dr Kibblewhite had brought two cans of air freshener and they were put to good use from the start.

To put everyone at ease while cutting away the pink swimsuit, he talked with affection about one of Dr Quincy’s television episodes. ‘You didn’t see the dissection. Never did in those days. The only bits of the body you saw were the feet or the face. All very wholesome. So I can’t say for certain if Quincy would have destroyed a perfectly good costume as I’m doing here, but, if you think about it, even if I removed it without damage I doubt if anyone would wear it.’ He cut off the label and handed it to Hen. Speedo was so common a make that it was almost no help at all.

Photos had to be taken at each stage, prolonging the operation. Kibblewhite stressed that drowning is difficult, if not impossible, to diagnose at post mortem when the body is no longer fresh. No question that water was in the lungs and would be sent for analysis with the other samples, but he doubted if he could state the cause of death even when the results came back. And with the sodden skin deteriorating and no other injuries apparent, he could find no external evidence that the woman’s demise had been homicidal.

Neither were there any useful clues to identity. No scars. She was aged about fifty, give or take five years, and she looked after her hair and nails, like a million other women. Two of the fingernails on the right hand were torn, but Kibblewhite said it would not be wise to read too much into that. They may have been damaged when the body was taken from the pool. ‘They go soft, you see.’

‘My lads lifted her out,’ Hen said. ‘I was watching them.’

‘So was I. It’s so easily done.’

‘I notice you just tugged out some hair at the roots.’

‘Deliberately. Another indication of the amount of time she spent in the water,’ Kibblewhite told her. ‘The hair loosens.’

‘Are you sticking with your estimate of two to five days?’

‘I am.’

‘You can’t be more precise than that?’

‘Too many variables.’

‘That hair you just removed. If you bag some up for me, I’ll ask for an immediate DNA test.’

‘You’re an optimist.’

‘I’m sure Quincy would take the trouble,’ she said, unable to resist the dig.

‘Quincy didn’t know about DNA.’ He used tweezers to put some hairs into an evidence bag and handed it to her. ‘Don’t forget to label it.’

The dissection was more productive, or so Kibblewhite claimed. He went so far as to mention the word ‘drowning’ as a possibility after finding froth in the main air passages and over-distension of the lungs. Only after he’d seen the results of lab tests would he know if he could say more.

Hen came away thinking she could have been better employed at the nick. Outside, the rain was belting down again. She sprinted through the puddles to her car. When she got there she swore mildly. The SAVE TUFTY umbrella was still on the back seat, neatly furled. She ran all the way back and returned the precious souvenir to its owner as he came out of the door.

‘But you’re drenched,’ Kibblewhite said. ‘Why didn’t you use it?’

There was better news when she got back to the incident room. Cartwright’s red Peugeot Estate had been found near the boatyard at Dell Quay. The registration had been checked with Swansea and the car transported to Chichester for forensic examination.

‘Hey, that’s the first good thing I’ve heard today. There’s sure to be evidence inside.’

‘Remember who we’re dealing with, guv. His middle names are spick and span,’ Paddy Murphy told her. ‘It’s as clean as a Buckingham Palace loo.’

Hen tried to stay upbeat. ‘We’ll get something back from the Motor Investigation Unit, if it’s only grit from his shoes. It’s safe to assume, then, that he put to sea.’

‘Well, his boat hasn’t been found.’

‘What sort is it?’

‘Quite modest. A twelve-metre yacht called Nonpareil.’

‘Called what?’

‘Did I say it wrong? It’s written on the board over there. Gary says it’s a printing term, a typeface.’

‘I think it also means the best. I wouldn’t call that modest.’

‘He was proud of the boat when he named her, I expect,’ Paddy said. ‘She isn’t in top nick, according to the locals, but seaworthy enough to cross the channel. A full description went out with the call to Interpol.’

‘At twelve metres, it has a sleeping berth, no doubt. He could lay up in some French port for weeks and not be noticed.’

‘Not for much longer.’

‘Let’s hope.’ A shadow crossed Hen’s face. ‘I can see some unfortunate Frenchwoman being invited aboard and becoming victim number four.’

‘Sweet Jesus. I hope not.’ Paddy passed a hand thoughtfully through his silver hair. ‘Most crimes I can understand, even when they’re evil. This one is a mystery to me. What’s in it for him?’

‘Better ask a shrink, Paddy. Pulling them in is my job.’

‘Yes, but we need to know the motive.’

‘With psychos you can’t tell. Some kill out of boredom. That’s not a motive. In this case we’ve got a pattern and we’re collecting evidence and we know who we’re looking for. Enough to be going on with.’

She walked across to the display board where the name of Cartwright’s yacht had been written. It was below his head and shoulders picture-one they’d found in his house and distributed to the press. He looked inoffensive and trying to appear likeable, like some local election candidate, hair parted in an old-fashioned style, eyes wide and hopeful, lips curved in a diffident smile. The check bow tie was the only remarkable feature. Did it reveal humour? Self-regard? Or a nut? Whichever, you would look in vain for signs of violence.

Hen wasn’t fooled. She’d seen killers in real life. Maybe one in twenty looked the person you wouldn’t share a lift with.

The other two mugshots on display-Dr Sentinel and Jake Kernow-were more believable as murderers, Jake especially. Sentinel’s thin lips arched in a cruel way. As for Jake, well, he’d curdle the milk by looking at it.

He was still in custody. She’d have to come to a decision soon.

‘Call for you, ma’am,’ one of the civilian staff said.

Hope rising, she picked up a phone, and wished she hadn’t. Headquarters. The Deputy Chief Constable himself.

She took a deep breath and listened.

‘We’ve been following this enquiry into the drownings. You appear to have someone in the frame now, this print manager.’

‘Cartwright.’

‘He’s being sought in all the French ports as well as our own. Is that correct?’ The voice was so courteous, so reasonable.

Ominously so.

‘Yes, sir. We found a third body yesterday afternoon, concealed in Cartwright’s swimming pool. I’m waiting for confirmation that she was drowned. It raises the stakes. There’s no question in my mind that we’re pursuing a serial murderer, so I alerted Interpol.’

‘No problem with that. But is it a fact that this was the second search of Cartwright’s house and garden?’

The knife unsheathed. Stella, you dozy mare, I’m walking the plank for you, she thought. ‘That’s true. The first search was Sunday morning, after the second victim was found. The last sight of her was leaving the Fishbourne office with Cartwright. Neither of them was seen alive after that, so I obtained a warrant and sent a team to the house.’

‘Didn’t you take charge yourself?’

‘I accept responsibility, but, no. I wasn’t there. I was following up another lead.’ Francisco. Please don’t ask, she thought.

‘Did your people take a passing glance at the pool?’

She couldn’t bluff her way through this. ‘I believe not.’

‘Don’t you know for certain?’

‘I haven’t had time to check with the inspector who led the search. I’ve just come from the post mortem.’

‘You’re obviously under a lot of pressure.’

Dangerous to concede. ‘But on top of the job.’

‘I would say it’s pretty obvious something was wrong with the search because the body was in that pool for up to five days.’

‘Two to five, yes.’

‘If the team had done its job, the hunt for Cartwright might be over by now.’

‘Conceivably.’

‘Somebody goofed, Chief Inspector. I wouldn’t go out of my way to cover for them if I were you. Being an effective leader matters more than loyalty to a colleague.’

From deep in her subconscious she dredged up an old saying. ‘But if you can’t ride two horses at once, you shouldn’t be in the circus.’

It stopped him in his tracks.

He took a few seconds to think about it before saying, ‘Another thing: you’re still holding this man, Kernow. Why?’

‘He’s been under strong suspicion for some time. He knew the first victim, Meredith Sentinel, and met her in London. And we’ve established that he visited the print works and spoke to victim number two, Fiona Halliday. What is more, he served two years for GBH.’

‘I know all that, but if Cartwright is your man-as everything seems to suggest-Kernow can reasonably claim wrongful detention. I’m not his solicitor, but if I were, I know what I’d be doing.’

How could she explain the feeling in her bones that Cartwright was not the killer, even in the face of all the evidence?

‘I’ll bear that in mind, sir.’

‘This has become a high profile investigation. I can bring in some big hitters from another division.’

‘No thanks.’

‘It may be necessary.’

‘It isn’t, and I don’t expect it to become so,’ Hen said with all the authority she could muster.

After cradling the phone she went outside the building. Some people keep going on caffeine. She knew what her fix was.

By standing with her back in the open doorway she had some protection from the rain. How the anti-smoking brigade would view this, she didn’t like to think. Some of the fumes would certainly drift over her shoulder into the building, try as she did to blow them across the car park.

She’d been there about a minute when she was aware of someone standing behind her. She edged to one side and said, ‘There’s room.’

They didn’t squeeze by, so she turned and saw it was Stella, looking uncomfortable, as well she might.

‘Come to clear the air, have you?’ Hen said. ‘You’ll have a job.’

‘They’re saying upstairs that you took some flak from headquarters because of me,’ Stella said. She continued to stand inside at a safe distance.

‘A little.’ Hen was forced to turned her head to exhale.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You know what it’s about?’

‘Paddy phoned me at home last night. I didn’t get much sleep.’

‘What amazes me, Stell, is that I can generally bank on you to carry out a search. It was so bloody obvious, that pool with the ghastly blue cover. I don’t know how you missed it.’

‘I didn’t,’ she said.

‘Even those two wretched women… What did you just say?’

‘I looked in the pool. I had Sergeant Malcolm from uniform lift the cover at both ends. We didn’t take it off completely because I could see it would be a major operation putting it back. Stupid. Everything was so tidy in the house that I got into a mindset of leaving the place as we found it.’

‘Go over it again.’

‘We switched on the lights and I knelt down and looked under the cover and couldn’t see anything. The sergeant did the same. Don’t ask me how, but we must have missed the body.’

‘You were sure the pool was empty?’

‘I really thought so.’

‘And you had lights on? Could you see to the other end?’

‘I thought so at the time. I’m really sorry.’

‘And when it was over, you put it all back in place?’

‘Tried to. It’s quite technical. Sergeant Malcolm said you need an Allen key to adjust the bolt things that hold the springs in place. We had to leave some of them undone.’

She recalled Gemma Casey saying one end had not been fixed properly. Stella wasn’t making this up. ‘If the body was lying on the bottom would you have missed it?’

‘I can’t understand how, with the lights on as well.’

‘How deep is it?’

‘Not much over two metres. The water was clear.’

‘I saw.’ Hen puffed on her skinny cigar. ‘I thought you must have failed to notice the pool. You failed to notice the body.’

‘That’s worse,’ Stella said.

‘I wasn’t going to say it, but you’re right.’

‘Don’t know about you,’ Gemma said to Jo as they drove away from Apuldram, ‘but I don’t feel like going back to work after that.’

‘Starbucks?’

‘Great suggestion.’

‘Some people call them pigs,’ Jo said.

‘The police, you mean?’

‘Yes. I’ve always thought it was unfair. Until today. That’s what they are-pigs. They’re disgusting. We do the public-spirited thing and report what we found in the pool, proving Cartwright must be the killer and what do we get in return? The third degree. Anyone would think we were murderers.’

‘And they’re still holding Jake.’

‘It breaks me up, Gem. It’s sadistic.’

They each had a black espresso and an almond croissant, to restore the blood sugar, as Gemma put it.

Jo hadn’t finished her diatribe against the police. ‘It was insulting. The Hen woman was questioning me about my background, how long I’ve lived here, all kinds of stuff you only ask of criminals.’

‘We did break into a house, matey.’

‘Not to steal.’

‘We were in the wrong, Jo. She gave me a going-over, too. It wasn’t about us actually. It was about her annoyance that we discovered something she missed.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Good thing she doesn’t know the whole truth.’

Jo frowned. ‘What’s that?’

‘Us being the first to find Fiona’s body.’

‘Christ Almighty, yes. Keep your voice down, Gem.’

‘In fact, you found all three bodies.’

Jo blinked and gasped. ‘That’s true.’

Gemma gave her conspiratorial grin. ‘And we associate with a man who confessed to murdering a fourth.’

‘Rick.’ Jo’s throat was dry. ‘But we don’t believe him, do we?’

‘I think we’ll find out soon. Mallin knows about him. She calls us a clique and she warned me not to cover up for my friends. I don’t think she meant you.’

‘She meant Jake.’

‘I doubt it. I think she’ll soon be knocking on Rick’s door.’

‘You’re making me nervous,’ Jo said. ‘This was supposed to calm us down. I don’t like to think what Rick might say under questioning.’

‘He’s rock solid. Don’t worry.’