Shadows and Sins (The Falconer Files Book 13) Page 15

  ‘You’re very welcome, I’m sure: anything that helps to find my little girl.’

  ‘Have you no idea whom she kept in touch with when she left school? Has she got any friends from work?’

  ‘I simply don’t know. She didn’t go out much, but she spent all her time in her bedroom on Facebook or her phone. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t really know that much about her now she’s grown up.’

  ‘We’re doing all we can. Let us know if there’s any news, and we’ll keep you updated, Mrs Jones.’

  ‘At least we’ve tracked down a sighting,’ said Carmichael, as they headed off to the next pub.

  ‘And we can let the super know before he goes on the television tonight. It might jog other people’s memories, if there was a group of them. It would seem that, like so many younger people today, she lived a vicarious life; never really seeing or doing anything, just reading or talking about other people’s lives. It’s a sad reflection of the times we live in that young people shut themselves away like hermits in the cave of their bedrooms and don’t really interact anymore.’

  ‘Is that your thought for the day, sir?’ asked Carmichael, his head on one side to indicate that he meant to prick his superior officer’s balloon of pomposity.

  ‘Carmichael.’

  ‘Yes, sir.

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Sir.’ And they both smiled quietly to themselves in acknowledgement of the familiarity in this little exchange.

  It was the only luck they had and Tomlinson also came back empty-notebooked, having checked in with them from his mobile. ‘Not a dicky bird,’ he reported. ‘No one at all saw her, but at least we tried.

  ‘We picked up a sighting placing her with a group of young women getting rowdy in the Royal Oak, so at least that’s something,’ Falconer informed him, and Carmichael smiled as if they’d, somehow, earned a house point. ‘I’ll just nip upstairs and let Jelly know, so that he can include it in tonight’s media extravaganza.’

  As soon as he got back to his desk the phone rang, and he was informed that the search party had, indeed, turned up a body covered in branches and rubbish in a ditch. ‘Apparently one of the cadaver dogs sniffed it out, but there was no way they could have seen it. So, that’s yet another one on our list. We’d better get some suspects fast or we’ll be drummed out of the force. Still, I suppose it’ll be easier with the other officers helping out on door-to-door. This is turning into a nightmare on a huge scale, according to the media, and I quite agree with them.’

  The bones and bits and pieces from the septic tank were duly delivered to Doc Christmas, who almost had a conniption at the filthy state of them and the smell which sneaked into every nook and cranny of his post-mortem room and, to his dismay, his office. His whole suite smelled like a sewer and he realised that even the clothes he wore would have to be at least thoroughly cleaned, if not burned, as well as the whole place fumigated until the vile stench was eliminated.

  He called Falconer and announced that he expected him to be present as he examined the disparate parts. Why should he be the only one to suffer with these filthy things? And when the inspector arrived, the medical man smiled behind his mask at the expression of disgust on the detective’s face as he entered.

  ‘We haven’t quite got it all,’ he informed the inspector. ‘There are a few bits and pieces missing, but that’s not a bad effort your guys have made.’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll let the owner of the tank know that there might be a few specimens left. She’s arranging to have the thing emptied when we’re finished with it, and we can then consider, with a clear conscience, that she’s free of anymore body parts.’

  ‘It’s only the odd finger and toe,’ explained the doctor, leading Falconer to a lumpy table covered with a white sheet. ‘It was quite a jigsaw that you had delivered to me, though. Any idea who it might be?’

  ‘Not at the moment. Have you any idea how long the parts had been down there?’

  ‘Not with any accuracy. The action of all the microbes and organisms in a septic tank can strip a body in a surprisingly short amount of time, and this was pre-carved, so to speak.’

  ‘How can you be so off-hand?’ Falconer winced. ‘We’re talking about parts of what used to be a living and breathing person, after all.’

  ‘How do you think I face up to my job, Harry boy? If I couldn’t look at such things dispassionately, how on earth would I be able to cut up corpse after corpse? I can’t allow any emotion into the exercise. You should know better, having been in the army.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I think I shed a lot of the hard carapace I used to wear along with the uniform. Let’s get on with this. Is there anything there at all that we might use for identification purposes?’

  Doc Christmas flicked off the sheet and exposed a stinking pile of what looked like crap-covered bones. ‘Even that giant dog of Carmichael’s that you’ve told me so much about would turn his nose up at this lot,’ said the FME as lightly as possible.

  Falconer took a deep breath for courage, almost immediately regretting it, and took a good look. ‘There’s not a lot left, is there?’

  ‘No, but I had a quick peek before you arrived, and I found a couple of gold crowns that might prove more than useful.’

  ‘Can you show me?’

  Doc Christmas put out a gloved hand to the skull, and gently moved down the lower jaw bone. ‘In there, left, rear.’

  ‘Excellent. Can you get me an x-ray of the teeth, and I’ll get them circulated. They shouldn’t be too hard to identify.’

  ‘Atta boy, Harry. And by the way, it’s a girl.’

  ‘Ad dow I think I’ll get back to by teab,’ stated Falconer nasally, doing an abrupt about-turn and speeding out of the door, and eventually into clean, fresh, untainted air. Damn, he’d forgotten to pass on a message.

  Entering the noisome premises again, he called through to the doctor that there had been a body turned up by the search party, and they would be calling him out to certify death and have a look at it, before it was delivered to him later, then he made off for his car at a trot.

  So, they were the remains of a female, were they, that had been taken out of the septic tank? Then this could be the long-missing Suzie Doidge or even the mysteriously disappeared Bonnie Fletcher. Dental records would either disprove or confirm his theory.

  He was re-summoned to the post mortem suite again that afternoon when the latest body that had been discovered by the search party had been delivered, as promised, to the FME. It was a mess, having been out in the open for some long time, and the doc wanted Harry Falconer to share in this grim task. If these young women had disappeared while he was in charge of CID, he wanted him to see what had resulted from all these unnoticed disappearances. He knew this was a little unfair, as most of them had not been reported, but he was angry with this pointless loss of life. Maybe he was allowing himself to become involved – always a mistake.

  The DI arrived as the doctor was about to start his task, and gagged when he saw the rotted, tattered remains that awaited him. ‘My God, Doc, that looks like something from the First World War trenches. How was that never come across before?’

  ‘Oh, it undoubtedly was, but by four-legged creatures rather than those who walk on their hind legs. There have been bits of it nibbled off by animals, I assume, but it was in a ditch that was little frequented by the owner, and Mother Nature’s had a good chance to deal with it. Some of the others were in a much better preserved state. I presume you won’t be bringing anyone in to identify the body?’

  ‘Ha ha. Very funny. I’m not going to hang around here while you pull that apart because, from the way it looks, you could cut what’s left with a butter knife, and I’m feeling decidedly queasy.’

  ‘Wimp!’

  ‘What I will do is arrange for samples to be sent to the lab for DNA testing. We’ve got hair brushes and toothbrushes and other detritus that should prove perfect for this. What I want you to do is provide samples of what’s left
of this discovery and get them over to the lab, so that they can do a comparison.

  ‘We should be able to identify the victim from Stoney Cross from the gold crowns. I don’t suppose this one has had any esoteric or expensive work done on its teeth?’

  ‘Not so lucky this time, Harry, boy. I had a quick peek, but I’m afraid this poor soul hasn’t had many visits from the tooth fairy. DNA’s probably your only option. How many girls have you got missing, still?’

  ‘Three,’ replied Falconer, ‘But one of them is quite a recent disappearance. I think I know who these two are, but not which is which. The sooner we find the dentist who fitted those crowns, the better. Have you got the X-rays done from that skull?’

  ‘Of course I have. I don’t hang around, you know.’

  ‘Thanks for your efficiency. I’ll get someone going on the dentists and also arrange for an assortment of brushes to be forwarded to the lab if you could prepare tissue samples for them.’

  After work that day, DS Carmichael called in to visit his wife and recently born twins, then got himself back to Castle Farthing to see his other three children.

  As he opened the door, his mother, who was holding the fort for him at the moment, shouted out, ‘Take off your shoes and put your slippers on. I’ve shampooed the carpets today, and I don’t want your enormous boats tracking mud all over them.’ She had left his slippers by the door, and he complied, before looking in to see where the children were.

  The two boys were sitting at the dining table, apparently doing their homework. Harriet was in her highchair scribbling on a piece of paper with a wax crayon. ‘Didn’t want them treading on a slightly damp carpet,’ his mother explained. ‘And don’t sit on the suite. I’ve shampooed that today an’ all. Don’t know what your Kerry does all day with two of the kids at school. I dropped your Harriet over to Rosemary Wilson so I could get this place bottomed, and it was absolutely filthy.’

  Every surface shone, and every window twinkled with cleanliness. OK, Carmichael wouldn’t have thought to do housework in the evenings after work, but Mrs Carmichael had got very house-proud since her brood had grown up, and the sergeant remembered the chaos that used to reign in his family home when he was small. She’d certainly changed her tune over the years.

  ‘You never used to be like this,’ he challenged her.

  ‘Maybe not, but I had double the kids. Your Kerry’s got to do a bit more about the place.’ This looked like a declaration of war.

  ‘My Kerry’s been carrying twins for months, she’s been carrying a lot more weight, as well as dealing with hormones, and we’ll live as we please. I don’t want to live in a museum or a show house,’ her son exploded.

  A bit of a yelling match ensued, which had the boys with their hands over their ears and Harriet bawling her eyes out, but eventually they called a truce. Mrs Carmichael senior reflected that she hadn’t always been that efficient with the cleaning and tidying, and Carmichael said it was kind of her to have a spring clean for the new mother coming home.

  His mother, however, was still top dog where any of her children were concerned. Carmichael found himself unexpectedly in bed at seven thirty, cleared off out of the way with his offspring, so that his mother could shampoo the seats of the dining room chairs and wash the curtains from the lounge. How had that happened?

  Falconer had decided, as Honey had turned up on him unexpectedly twice lately, that he would call in at her apartment on the way home. What was sauce for the gander could also be sauce for the goose in his opinion, and he’d surprise her.

  He felt an air of excitement as he drove. His transformation had been complete since Honey had been round cherry-hunting, and he’d like a little more of that, if that was all right with his new lover. What a terribly seductive word that was – and he hoped that she would prove to be exactly the same tonight.

  The smile on his face froze as he surveyed her expression of absolute horror when she opened the door to him. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ he asked, a reflex reaction.

  ‘Um, could you possibly go away and come back a little later – say, half an hour?’ she asked in an uncertain voice, her eyes wide with trepidation.

  ‘What are you hiding from me? Who’s in there?’ Falconer’s mind filled immediately with anxiety, and he thought the worst: that she was being unfaithful again, and had another man stashed in her bedroom.

  ‘There’s nobody in here,’ she declared. ‘Absolutely nobody at all; except for me.’ There was, however, desperation in her voice, and Falconer’s suspicions were fully alerted.

  ‘If there’s no one in there, why won’t you let me in to see?’ he asked, perfectly reasonably, although he didn’t feel at all reasonable. Surely she couldn’t be two-timing him again? After what they had shared together?

  ‘I just can’t. But there’s nobody else in here. Please don’t push it, Harry. Just give me half an hour.’

  That was like a red rag to a bull, and Falconer shouldered his way past her and into the apartment, then stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into the living room, utterly appalled at what met his unsuspecting eyes.

  When Tomlinson eventually got home, it was to find Imi had gone to work and every work surface in the kitchen, and the small table they ate at, covered in baking – and mess. There were jam tarts, pies, Cornish pasties – his personal favourite – and sponge cakes, along with splatters and dirty bowls and utensils. There was a fruit cake and two Swiss rolls, one vanilla and one chocolate. Had his girlfriend lost her mind – and why was she so messy? Had she become totally addicted to baking and now couldn’t stop? Would she have to go to BA – Bakeaholics Anonymous?

  Before he could speculate too much further, his eye caught a piece of paper wedged under a tray of scones, and he read it to find that Imi’s parents were coming for tea in a couple of days’ time, and she’d not be free to do any preparation because of her shifts. She asked if he would mind putting everything in the chest freezer in their spare bedroom, and then she could show them that she was still on the ball, domestically, and hadn’t gone to pieces now that he had moved in with her. The note ended with, ‘Sorry for the mess. Will clean up when I get back.’

  Tomlinson smiled at the way his mind had easily jumped to the worst possible conclusion and, as he casually popped a whole jam tart into his mouth, he grabbed two of the baking trays and set off to put them in to freeze. His girlfriend was not only an enthusiastic baker, but she also efficiently planned ahead. She may be messy, but she acknowledged the fact, and promised to clean up her own chaos. And it showed how much notice he’d taken of the contents of the kitchen cupboards, because he hadn’t even known she had possessed so many baking trays. She must have done this sort of mass bake before, when time was short, and something important was on the horizon.

  Even though he didn’t see much of Imogen, he saw more of her than he had when he had lived in Cornwall, and she made sure that he always had plenty of comfort food to while away any lonely hours, knowing that he never put on an ounce of weight. At least he knew he’d never go short of food in this new life of his, and work was getting pretty interesting, too.

  Falconer’s face was a mask of absolute horror as he surveyed the state of the living room, the abandoned cups, plates and bowls, and the casual layer of magazines and newspapers that lay all over the floor and tables. When he’d last seen this place it looked like an exhibit for the Ideal Home Exhibition. Now, it was a disaster area. No wonder she’d been the one to call on him unexpectedly recently.

  Behind him, he could see Honey with her hands over her face, trying to stifle the sobs that leaked through her fingers.

  ‘What?’ he asked in confusion.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Harry. It was a good thing that we didn’t usually come here, because I’m not actually very organised, and I spent days clearing up and cleaning before you came round for a meal. I know how fastidious you are, even though I’d only peeked into your house, before you let your hair down, so to speak.’

 
; ‘I can’t spend any time in here,’ he declared.

  ‘Don’t run out on me again. I’ll change,’ she pleaded, seeing her chances with this man going from ‘just about sorted’ to ‘binned along with the other rubbish’.

  Falconer stood in complete silence, thinking, while Honey waited anxiously. ‘You know how intense my job is,’ she pleaded, as he still refrained from speaking.

  ‘Please say something – anything. What can I do to convince you that I’ll stop living like this? I’m sorry I duped you.’

  Finally, the inspector uttered, ‘What you can do is you can come back with me now and stay until the morning, then you can get yourself a regular cleaner to come in and keep you in hand. You may be able to change a bit but I don’t expect miracles to start with. If you want to live differently, I can only encourage you to make the effort.’

  ‘I need to be organised,’ Honey said, rather ruefully, ‘And I think, now I’ve got something to look forward to – you – I can make the necessary alteration to the way I look at my living quarters.’

  ‘Are you sure you want to?’ asked Falconer, his fingers crossed behind his back as he awaited her reply.

  ‘I was always very tidy at home, and I wasn’t too bad here until we broke up that last time, then I sort of went to pieces.’

  ‘Right, kiddo, get some black bags. This isn’t what I envisaged doing this evening, but let’s at least have the rubbish bagged and binned, and you can get a domestic in with a relatively clean slate. Let’s get going.’

  Honey couldn’t believe it when she instantly obeyed. This was what she had needed for so long: a strong man to be masculine with her and stop her being a domestic sloven. It was just lack of direction in her domestic life that had made her such a slouch when it came to maintaining decent quarters.

  The whole place looked a lot better when they finally finished taking the last bag out to the wheelie bins in the car park, and Falconer had a twinkle in his eye as he slung an arm around her shoulder when they left for his place. She had changed his life completely by introducing him to someone hitherto unindulged in activity. Why shouldn’t he be able to change hers by re-educating her about housekeeping? Between them, they should make a pretty good team.