Beautiful Death Read online

  Joan signalled to him that something urgent was happening.

  He rolled his eyes. How much worse could today get . . . and it wasn’t yet eight. ‘I’ve got to go, Alys, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Will you call again?’

  ‘Promise. Now be strong. I’ll talk to you later.’

  He heard her sniff before she hung up. He turned back to Joan distracted, and made himself focus. ‘What’s up?’

  She looked grave but very little could unnerve Joan. ‘Another body I’m afraid, Jack, and the day’s hardly begun. I’ve got Malcolm on the line. He was rung first,’ she said, throwing up her hands. ‘Apparently they weren’t told that Panther is formally in operation. And be warned, the line’s really bad too.’

  Jack pointed to his desk. ‘All right, I’ll take it here,’ he said, and waited for Joan to put the call through, his mind still churning with the thoughts of Lily.

  The phone rang. ‘Sir?’

  ‘We’ve got another body, Jack, although I’m sure that won’t surprise you.’

  Jack couldn’t hear Sharpe well. There was lots of noise in the background, including the unmistakeable gibberish of a British Rail announcement. ‘No, sir. What do we know?’ He tried not to shout.

  ‘All sketchy at the moment. Panther was only mentioned a couple of days ago on the intranet so a crime scene manager — what’s his name again? . . . Hang on . . . Ah, here it is, it’s Stu Appleton, has been appointed through North-East HAT.’ Jack scribbled the name down, straining to hear. ‘He called me a few minutes ago because he wasn’t sure if this related to Panther or not. I’ve told him you’ll call. He caught me on the tube between Southgate and Arnos Grove and the reception was poor before I lost the signal altogether when we hit underground, so I could barely hear much. You’ll have to find out more. I’ll be in meetings most of the day away from Empress, once I bloody get there. Anyway, get down to the morgue. It’s a woman, we know that much, her body discovered in the Sainsbury’s car park at Cambridge Heath Road, Tower Hamlets. SOCO is already crawling all over the area. Here’s another number.’

  ‘Say it again, sir, I lost the last two numbers.’

  ‘Bloody British Rail.’ He dictated it again. ‘Hotel Tango’s in charge, of course, but that second number’s for Bethnal Green Police Station if you need it. Their people found her. Appleton will fill you in but I suggest you get over to the RLH morgue immediately and ensure we’re dealing with the same killer. Take it from there.’

  ‘Will do, sir. I’ll call you back.’

  ‘I should be back at Earls Court after lunch.’

  The line went dead. Jack’s head pounded and as he looked up Kate was standing in the doorway.

  She had a sympathetic expression on her face. ‘Déjà vu?’

  He shook his head. ‘Much worse. Don’t even take your coat off. We’re going over to the morgue at the Royal London Hospital.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said evenly, clearly sensing his mood, looking at Joan who’d arrived at her side.

  Jack did too. ‘Joan, you’ll need to just settle everyone down. I’m taking Kate with me to Whitechapel but give Cam Brodie this number will you? Ask him to call Bethnal Green and get us everything they’ve pieced together about the latest victim. I’ll contact the crime scene chief from the homicide team. Tell Cam he’ll need to send down a couple of our people to the scene when he knows the details. HAT and forensics are all over it. Tell everyone I’m sorry but we have another body. I’ll be back I hope by around ten and we’ll have our briefing then. You’d better order in some stuff. You know what to do. Oh, and one more thing, Joan . . .’ He consulted his mobile again, showed her the screen. ‘Can someone contact this translator, please? Kate hears on the grapevine that he’s the goods.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ she said. ‘You two get going. Has he even said hello, dear?’ she said to Kate.

  ‘No, but I’m used to that,’ Kate replied, eyeing Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Hello Kate,’ Jack said, nodding, taking in how good she looked. ‘You’ve grown your hair.’

  She touched her darkly golden, layered hair self-consciously. ‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.’

  ‘Suits you,’ he replied. ‘We’ll take a cab. It will be faster, I imagine.’

  ‘Nothing’s fast at this time of the morning,’ Kate groaned, as they headed to the lifts.

  It wasn’t her first body, but she hadn’t been to the RLH morgue before and she hadn’t attended a postmortem for so many years that she’d forgotten how daunting it could be. She felt suddenly nervous in the taxi they had managed to hail relatively easily outside the Met. And when Kate was nervous she talked.

  ‘Have you been to RLH morgue before?’

  Jack was sitting in the seat opposite, travelling backwards. She hated going backwards; she also hated that he’d chosen not to sit next to her.

  ‘Yes, a few times. Are you a virgin?’ Now he sounded a bit more like himself.

  She nodded. ‘Well, not really . . . I’ve done a couple, but be gentle all the same.’

  ‘You’ll be okay. Deep breaths, and look over the head of the pathologist. And if it’s Rob Kent, definitely don’t show him you’re squeamish or admit to being a first-timer at RLH. He loves to make police officers suffer.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, feeling more unnerved, then frowned at him. Through the glass partition the cabbie cursed at another driver’s stupidity. ‘Jack, you seem distracted. I thought you’d be all pumped and rearing to go on day one of a major new case.’

  ‘I was. But I’ve just received some news.’ He shrugged.

  ‘News?’

  ‘It’s personal. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  She looked doubtful. ‘Well, I’m here if you need to talk. We’re near enough strangers these days so it will feel like therapy and my rates are cheap.’

  He smiled sincerely at her and that simple action fired the familiar spark of desire. She looked at the traffic.

  ‘Tell me about the case,’ she said, steering away from further intimacy. ‘I’m assuming it’s this one about the three corpses that have been found with similar wounds.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And that we’re on our way to view a fourth victim,’ she stated.

  ‘And that’s why you’re one helluva talented police officer, Kate Carter,’ he said.

  She scowled at his sardonic tone. ‘Well, it didn’t take much to work that out. I should admit Brodie rang last night and we worked it out together.’

  ‘I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll keep it short.’ He checked that the cabbie’s glass was completely pulled across and they could not be overheard. Nevertheless he spoke quietly, leaning forward, none of which Kate minded. She, too, leant in to get close.

  ‘Three bodies, presumably now four, have been found dumped with such alarmingly similar injuries that we believe we’re dealing with the same killer. MO is nearly identical in the first three — give or take a kidney — and I doubt we’ll find much difference with this next one. He . . .’ he paused, recalling their previous case together, ‘or she, is removing their faces.’

  ‘Their what?’ Kate gasped, snapping to full attention. ‘Faces?’ she repeated, a look of horror spreading across her features.

  He nodded. ‘The file notes suggest this is a person who’s pretty adept with the scalpel. The work is neat, precise. And pathology reckons it can place the first three in order of death by the professionalism with which the cutting was done.’

  ‘It keeps getting better, you mean?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

  ‘Who are the victims?’

  ‘So far two of Asian origin, probably in their earlyish thirties, and a European man in his forties — his was the first body found and we think he may have been a gypsy . . . and now this woman that we’re on the way to learn more about. So far we are guessing that the bodies are those
of illegal immigrants. There are no dental records, no fingerprint records, no one seems to have missed them, there are no references to their build, age, etc, on the missing persons list. Until someone comes forward to report someone fitting the descriptions missing, we’re working on the assumption of illegals. Not having faces makes it very tricky, of course.’

  She wasn’t sure if Jack was being black-humoured with his final comment, but as she sat back and studied him, there was no amusement at all in his expression.

  ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘A new perversion we’ve stumbled across. I don’t know. But none of the victims were sexually assaulted. Bruising is minor and consistent with legs or wrists being tied, but there are no other wounds.’

  ‘Just the face he’s after, then?’

  ‘Sorry, not exactly, one lost his kidneys as well.’

  Now Kate looked disgusted. ‘Sick,’ she said, glancing out at the streets of Whitechapel, teeming with people from the Asian community. She knew the area quite well. ‘This place is a real Little Bangladesh, don’t you think?’

  He nodded. ‘Where are you living now?’

  ‘Not too far from here, actually. Stoke Newington. Dunsmure Road. I bought a tiny townhouse and I’m very happy there. A quick stroll to Bethnal Green tube — all very easy.’ She looked back at him. ‘I heard you’ve defected,’ she added.

  Jack was getting used to this. ‘Yes, I’m a southern boy now,’ he said, adding a Texan-style drawl to his words.

  ‘I love Greenwich,’ she said wistfully. ‘Do you use the park?’

  ‘As often as I can. You’ll have to come over — I’ll take you to all the famous sights.’ And when she gave a groan, reminiscent of Malcolm Sharpe, Jack chuckled. ‘The BBC loves Greenwich for its period features,’ he told her. ‘You’re missing out in the north.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll take you up on your invitation, I just don’t want a guided tour through history.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a philistine,’ he said. ‘Now, how’s your bile holding?’

  She glared disdainfully at him. ‘I’ll be fine. Pay the driver.’ She opened the door and stepped out into the frenetic activity and noise of Whitechapel Road.

  Joining her, Jack took her arm as they crossed the busy street. ‘This impressive façade hides the huge sprawl of the hospital, you know. This is only the entrance; the hospital spreads out well into the backstreets. It takes up most of Whitechapel.’

  ‘Respectfully, sir, shut up,’ Kate said.

  He was undeterred as they climbed the steps, approaching the great arches. ‘Do you know whose skeleton they keep here in a private museum?’

  ‘Jack the Ripper?’ she tried, trying to sound bored.

  ‘Joseph Merrick, aka the Elephant Man.’

  ‘Good film,’ she admitted.

  ‘Except the public can’t see his remains. Only the select few.’

  ‘Please don’t tell me you have.’

  He frowned and she liked the way he was immune to the general mockery of his historical interests. ‘No, damn it, but I’d love to.’

  ‘Insist it’s for police matters,’ she suggested and earned a grunt for her trouble.

  ‘Straight to the morgue for you, my girl,’ he said, but then became serious. ‘All right now, Kate. This is not going to be pretty. Are you quite sure you’re going to be okay?’

  ‘Sir,’ she growled, ‘I’ll be fine. Lead the way.’

  He took her down the sweeping Victorian staircase, resisting the impulse to point out design details of this very beautiful feature of what had clearly become a busy, overcrowded public hospital. Everything looked tired, dirty . . . and the people they passed looked equally worn and battle weary.

  Kate had not had occasion to enter a hospital as a patient since childhood, but she knew that if she needed to she’d be marching straight into a private one. This place made her shudder, although she tried to convince herself that these were simply inconsequential corridors beyond which, surely, were friendly airy wards. She’d want a private room, though, one that looked like it came out of an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, the TV show she’d seen previewed during her visit to the US and knew would be her new addiction. Her boss had been talking. ‘Sorry, Jack, didn’t quite catch that.’

  ‘I said we need to mask and gown up. Hospital rules.’

  Kate took a last stab at levity. ‘Always fancied myself in scrubs,’ she said, as they approached the morgue’s double doors.

  DI Cameron Brodie had mustered the troops in the absence of his boss and given them all a warm welcome. For some, like DS Sarah Jones, it was back into the familiar surroundings of Operation Danube, while for others, like DS Angela Karim, the view still had them mesmerised. Right before them, the London Eye reared up and, beneath its carriages, which glowed blue at night, Southbank and the city of Westminster sprawled.

  Angela Karim gave a silent wow. ‘Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament look so different from up here,’ she commented. ‘And look at Big Ben!’

  A soft Scottish brogue spoke behind her. ‘You’ll get so used to it you won’t even look out the window soon,’ Cam said, winking at the darkly attractive young detective as she turned to regard him. He suddenly wished he worked out.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she replied, her deep chocolate eyes sparkling with wonder.

  ‘Even better at night.’ It was Sarah. ‘Hi, I’m DS Sarah Jones,’ she said, smiling warmly and removing her anorak.

  ‘DS Angela Karim. Good to meet you. So you worked on Danube?’

  Sarah smoothed her short hair and nodded. ‘Yeah. This feels darker, though.’

  Brodie had already briefed the group on what he could glean from the files on Jack’s desk and Joan’s expert summary. ‘So, Sarah, where would you begin?’

  She frowned over her glasses. ‘HOLMES, of course. The database has to be our first port of call because it can cross-reference so much detail,’ she replied softly. ‘I’ll see if I can work up a list of any similarly macabre killings, although this sounds unique.’

  Cam nodded. ‘We’ve got a translator being sourced from NRPSI,’ he told the group, ‘so make good use of this resource.’

  ‘Do we need one?’ Angela queried. ‘Between Mal and myself we can handle Urdu or Gujarati.’

  ‘I know, and that will be very handy, but the boss has asked for this and I think it’s probably a requirement. Call this Sarju guy and see if he’s available to join the operation immediately. If not, we’ll get some more advice from NRPSI.’

  ‘Okay, no problem.’

  ‘Malik?’ Cam began.

  A tall Indian man with an open face and easy smile looked over. ‘Call me Mal, sir.’

  ‘Mal, it is. You’re coming with me down to Bethnal Green police station, but first we’ll go down and speak to the SOCO team, see what they have.’

  He looked over at a young DS, newly promoted, who had also worked on Danube. ‘Dermot?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Congratulations on your promotion by the way; you get onto Sainsbury’s. I want a list of their security people, anyone who was rostered on yesterday and last night.’

  Dermot blushed and nodded.

  ‘And Derm, then I’ll need you to help out our new PCs, okay?’

  ‘Fine, sir.’

  Cam walked over to where two young police constables stood by nervously. ‘Caught in the headlights?’ Cam asked, but either they weren’t sure what he meant or didn’t want to assume he was making a joke. ‘Don’t worry. Okay, so you are PC Jenny Hughes?’

  ‘Er, yes, sir.’

  ‘And PC Doug Feltham?’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Good, okay, I’m just assigning everyone some tasks so we can make a brisk start in gathering up everything we know. That’s how any operation begins. The more information we gather, the better our leads will be and we won’t be wasting anyone’s time.’

  They stared at him, saying nothing, so he continued. ‘All right, then, I want both of
you to put a ring around Sainsbury’s and to canvass the storeowners especially — there’s little residential in the immediate vicinity of that supermarket. Also ask all the restaurants, pubs, cafés, hospital staff, whoever about whether they saw the van being left or know anything about it. Joan will give you the details of the van’s make, year, rego and a photo.’ Cam eyeballed them both firmly. ‘Someone must have seen something. It’s our job to find that someone. Now DS Dermot McGloughlan and DC Angela Karim will join you later on that and you’re to keep them appraised of everything, okay?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they said crisply together.

  ‘Good luck,’ Cam said, finding a smile, remembering his first major operation that now felt like a million years ago. ‘Right,’ he said, turning to face the team, ‘any last questions because Mal and I are headed down to the scene now. Joan can reach me if you need me or just call the mobile. Have a productive morning. We’ll re-group this afternoon, hopefully with the DCI. By the way, take the interpreter with you. He or she will be helpful when you’re canvassing around Whitechapel.’

  The post-mortem had already begun when Jack and Kate were shown into the viewing gallery. The doctor had just finished dictating details of the case, assigning it a number, date, time and other file details.

  There was dim lighting in the gallery but the lab was fluoro bright, the woman on the steel table appearing almost bleached beneath the harsh lighting. Where her face had once been was a bloodied pulp. Jack nodded at the doctor, who’d looked up at their arrival, but he didn’t want to even glance at Kate. It was so much more horrific than he had imagined and he was having trouble keeping his gaze fixed on Dr Kent. He guessed Kate wouldn’t be able to speak so he did the introductions for all of them via the microphone. ‘Rob, this is DC Kate Carter. I guess it’s pretty clear this body has a similar disfiguration to the previous three corpses?’ He avoided looking at the bloodied mess where the woman’s face had been.