On Borrowed Time Page 2

  Caroline looked at the body in front of her. She didn’t like to make too many assumptions without evidence, but some things were clear. It was a male, late twenties or early thirties, and he hadn’t been strung up in the few minutes before he was found. She could see from the colour of his skin that he’d been dead at least a couple of hours.

  ‘Where were the engineering works?’ she asked.

  ‘Just south of Manton Junction.’

  ‘Can’t see them from here?’

  ‘Nope. Probably wouldn’t hear them, either.’

  Caroline slowly nodded. Whether he’d hanged himself or someone else had put him there, one thing seemed clear: the intention had been for him to be hit by an earlier train, ensuring certain death and making identification of the body a lot more difficult.

  ‘Any ID?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘Nothing. Just the clothes he’s wearing.’

  ‘What state were they in?’

  ‘Fine. That’s the weird thing about it. If he’d been dragged down there, his clothes’d be in a right state. Something’s clearly been dragged down, though. You can tell by the state of the ground.’

  ‘But not him, perhaps. It looks like there’re some tyre tracks round the bend there.’

  ‘Yeah, I noticed those. They were there before we got here. The only way in’s the way you just came,’ PC Lloyd said. ‘There’s a gate and bollards down the other end. Just about wide enough for a bike or two, but there’s no way you’d get a car in. Or out.’

  ‘Difficult to turn around, though.’

  ‘I wouldn’t fancy it. But if you’ve got a small enough car, I reckon it’d be doable up the top there. Probably more of a twenty-seven-point turn than a three-point-turn, but it’s not like anyone’s watching. It’s either that or reverse all the way back out, and that wouldn’t be any easier.’

  ‘Has anyone spoken to that pub on the corner? Horse and Jockey, was it?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Alright. Can you, please? We’ll need to get hold of their external CCTV. With any luck, there’ll be a camera pointing the right way and we’ll be able to identify any vehicles that came down this track. Am I right in thinking they’d have to drive past the pub?’

  ‘Yeah, I can’t see how they’d manage it otherwise.’

  ‘Alright, good. Excellent. That’s got to be our best shot, then.’

  ‘If the cameras are working,’ PC Lloyd said, causing Caroline’s heart to sink.

  ‘Yeah. If the cameras are working.’

  Caroline nodded and smiled at the pathologist, Dr David Duncan, who she vaguely recognised. She had no idea how he’d managed to get here before her, especially as he lived further afield, but she looked on agog as he stood a little way away from the body, jotting down notes with one hand whilst popping Hula Hoops in his mouth with the other. Caroline walked over to him, noticing a few crumbs stuck in his greying beard as she greeted him.

  Dr Duncan spoke with a velvety baritone voice which wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a luxury chocolate ad. ‘I must say, DI Hills, you’re very good for business. It used to be a rare treat to come out to Rutland, but I can almost set my watch by the murder rate since you’ve arrived.’

  ‘Alright, thank you. I don’t need reminding. Is it murder then?’

  ‘Ah, now you know jolly well that’s not for me to say. But if I were you I wouldn’t be taking any holidays any time soon. There’s some bruising and chafing around the neck which isn’t entirely consistent with hanging. You can see where it’s tugged and bruised the skin. I’d say he’s been pulled down here.’

  ‘Dead or alive?’

  ‘Tricky to say. Not dead long, if he was. Either killed just before he was dragged down, or heavily sedated. There’s no sign of incongruous lividity. If he’d been dead for a little while before being hanged, I’d expect to see the blood pooling at its lowest point. Here, that’s the feet. So he was either killed shortly before being dragged down here, or he was brought in bolt upright on a roof rack.’

  Caroline couldn’t help but chuckle at the imagery. Gallows humour was often a required ingredient of the job. ‘Could he have been alive when he was brought down?’

  ‘Possible. If he was alive, he was sedated, because there are no signs he tried to remove the noose. We’ll have to do a toxicology report to confirm.’

  ‘Smells like he’d been drinking pretty heavily. Would that do the trick?’

  ‘Unlikely. Although he might’ve drunk himself into a deep sleep and not been able to react quickly enough to strangulation, for example. Especially if it was forceful enough to damage the windpipe or just happened to catch the vagus nerve. If you apply enough pressure to just the right point on the side of the neck here, it causes a rapid drop in heart rate and blood pressure and can easily render someone unconscious. If your man here had low blood pressure anyway, that effect could be achieved more easily. Alcohol would’ve reduced his blood pressure, too. It’s entirely possible he might’ve had a head start. We’ll be able to confirm in more detail once we’ve got him on the slab, but there’s certainly some odd bruising which could well be consistent with prior strangulation. I wouldn’t like to say just yet, though.’

  Caroline looked back at the body — the third since she’d arrived in Rutland — and mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

  4

  As if a murder case on a Monday morning wasn’t enough for Caroline, she arrived at work to a note on her desk asking her to head to Chief Superintendent Derek Arnold’s office. Arnold point-blank refused to phone or email anyone in the same building, and was frequently seen roaming the corridors in search of whoever he was looking for. Caroline, on the other hand, preferred a bit of space and thinking time — something that wasn’t possible when under the pressure of an unnecessary face-to-face meeting.

  Arnold’s way of doing things meant she had no idea what he wanted to talk about until she was seated at his desk — by which time it was too late. It was something else which made him appear daunting and formidable, although Caroline was starting to see something else under that exterior.

  She knocked on the door of his office and waited to be called in.

  ‘Ah, morning. I won’t keep you long,’ he said. ‘I hear you’ve got a bit of a job on your hands. How’s it all shaping up?’

  ‘Very early days, but we’re making fast progress. I think once we’ve got an ID we’ll be a lot closer.’

  ‘Is there still a possibility it wasn’t murder at all?’

  ‘Well, yes. Sort of. There are fresh tyre tracks. I suppose they could’ve been there longer, but you’d expect them to be gone by then due to the amount of foot and bike traffic that path gets. Besides which, we’ve had rain over the past few days, so I’d expect them to have been washed away if they were any more than a day or so old. He obviously didn’t drive himself up and then drive his own car away.’

  ‘Fingers crossed there’s another answer. Last thing we want is another murder on our doorstep. That won’t do the crime figures any good at all.’

  Nor the families of those who’ve lost loved ones, Caroline wanted to say, but didn’t.

  ‘But anyway,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘How are you getting on otherwise? With the… you know.’

  ‘Cancer.’

  ‘Yeah, that.’

  ‘It’ll be a long haul, but I’m doing alright.’

  ‘I’ve noticed the… you know.’

  ‘The hat.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ve been getting some hair loss. Bit of a temporary measure, really.’

  ‘I see. And do you think you’ll be getting a… you know.’

  ‘A wig.’

  ‘Yes. One of those.’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Part of me wants to cling on to what I’ve got and carry on as normal, and the other half wants to say “sod the lot of you”, shave it all off and stick a finger up at anyone who takes a second glance.’

  ‘Well, there are probably
other ways of fostering better community relations, but I see your point. And what about energy levels and things? How are you coping?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Because I was thinking, if this does turn out to be a murder case after all, it might be an idea to pass it on to EMSOU. Purely because of the timing, I mean. The last thing I’d want is to create unnecessary pressure for you.’

  ‘It’s not unnecessary. It’s literally my job.’

  With Rutland Police being the smallest force in the country — by quite some way — it was usual for major crimes to be handed to the East Midlands Special Operations Unit. Caroline, though, being an experienced detective who’d worked for the Metropolitan Police in London, had other ideas.

  Arnold shuffled in his chair. ‘I mean, by rights we should be handing it over anyway. It’s highly irregular for Rutland to be taking on its own murder cases.’

  ‘It’s highly irregular for Rutland to have murder cases full-stop. But I’ve got the experience and the track record.’

  ‘Yes, well I think it’s probably best we don’t talk about track records. You know how intensely uncomfortable Operation Forelock was.’

  ‘I certainly do.’

  ‘Which is why I think it might be best to at least provide you with some additional support from EMSOU. That’s not to say you can’t be involved. I just think it would be a dereliction of my duty as your superior if I let you take this on alone, considering the circumstances.’

  ‘I told you the circumstances. I feel fine. With respect, you don’t get to decide how I feel or what I’m capable of.’

  Arnold sighed. ‘Listen, there’s no need to overreact. If we’re still investigating the suicide angle and there’s a good chance this chap killed himself, it doesn’t need to be an issue at all. You know, maybe it would be best if it did turn out to be a suicide after all.’

  ‘Even if it isn’t, it still doesn’t need to be an issue. You’re the only one who seems to want to turn it into one.’

  ‘I just want what’s best for you and the rest of the team, Caroline.’

  Caroline stood up. ‘Good. In that case, I’ll get back to work.’

  5

  Back in the incident room, Caroline prepared to brief her small but able team. There seemed to be less energy and enthusiasm than she’d expected, almost as if they were anticipating her announcing the case would be handed over to EMSOU. But she hoped what she was about to say would focus a few minds.

  ‘Right. First of all, thank you for all the work you’ve been doing so far on this already. The computer kindly tells us we should be referring to it as Operation Utopia. And yes, that means we’re keeping hold of the case.’ She could tell from looking at the faces of Dexter Antoine, Sara Henshaw and Aidan Chilcott that there was an undercurrent of unease. ‘Does anyone have any questions at this point?’

  Aidan raised his hand. ‘Is it a good idea, so soon after Operation Forelock?’

  ‘What’s the timing got to do with anything?’ Caroline asked. ‘I’m not being funny, but we managed to close that case, and this one looks like child’s play in comparison.’

  ‘But it nearly went so wrong.’

  ‘Nearly. But it didn’t, did it?’ She wouldn’t admit to her team that she had, of course, had reservations of her own. Not only had she been taken off Operation Forelock and had the case handed over to EMSOU, but she’d come face to face with the killer they’d been hunting after she made an eleventh-hour discovery that had revealed his identity. She swallowed hard as the flashbacks hit her and she recalled how close she’d come to being his final victim. ‘In any case, we don’t have time to worry about daft procedural issues. They’re for me to deal with. Let’s crack on. Sara, we’ve managed to get ID on the body?’

  ‘We have. He’s Thomas Medland, known to friends and family as Tom. Thirty-four years old, from Barleythorpe. Lived locally all his life. He was married for a while but was recently divorced and living back with his parents. They reported him missing this morning when he hadn’t come home from the pub last night.’

  ‘Pub? Where was he drinking?’

  ‘All over Oakham, apparently. I think he’s well-known in a few local places. Well-liked too, apparently. Didn’t get much more than that. Figured we should probably save it for a sit-down chat. We’ve got an FLO with them.’

  Caroline nodded. Family Liaison Officers were specially trained to deal with bereaved families and the victims of crime. ‘Okay, thanks Sara. Anything else from forensics or pathology at the moment?’

  ‘Not yet. He stank of alcohol, apparently, which isn’t surprising if he’d been at the pub. Didn’t seem to be any injuries on the body other than what we’d expect from a hanging. We’re still waiting on an official report, though.’

  ‘Alright. Good. Let’s get his photo circulated around the pubs, see where he was last night. From there, let’s follow as far as we can on CCTV. See who he talked to, who he left with, where he went. Did he get into any fights or altercations? Ask the publicans, ask the locals. Let’s get on top of this from the off. Get onto the phone network and find out where Tom’s mobile went, too. He’s unlikely to have gone out without it, so we can trace his movements using cell site data and work our way back from there. Dexter, we’ll go and speak to the parents and see what we can get from them. Everyone clear on what they’re doing?’ She watched as her team nodded, now seemingly more fired up than they had been a few moments ago, and felt a fire within her own belly.

  6

  Caroline drove out to Barleythorpe, formerly a village in its own right, but having more recently become the de facto north-west conurbation of Oakham. As they approached Tom Medland’s parents’ house, Derek Arnold’s words rang in Caroline’s ears.

  Maybe it would be best if it did turn out to be a suicide after all.

  She couldn’t help but read between the lines — even if they didn’t exist. Was he suggesting that she should try to write Tom Medland’s death off as suicide, regardless of her suspicions to the contrary? Proving murder might well turn out to be difficult in itself, never mind identifying a killer. But what if her suspicions turned out to bear fruit? She couldn’t, in all conscience, bring herself to sweep anything under the carpet to save Arnold’s precious statistics and crime figures. As far as she was concerned, justice had to be done — at all costs. It was the only way the circle of life could continue unpolluted.

  They pulled up outside the house of Jerry and Lorraine Medland, and Caroline switched off the engine.

  ‘Nice enough place,’ Dexter said.

  ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that the amount of money and size of house you’ve got means absolutely nothing when it comes to things like this. Murder transcends social boundaries. And when it doesn’t, it’s usually money that’s caused it in the first place.’

  The Family Liaison Officer was already waiting for them when they arrived, disappearing into the kitchen to make cups of tea and leaving them to speak to Jerry and Lorraine in peace.

  ‘First of all, can I say how sorry we are for your loss,’ Caroline said, affecting a reaction in Lorraine Medland which sounded like it was the first time she’d heard the news.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jerry said, comforting his wife. ‘It’s just it hits us every now and again. Doesn’t quite sink in, you know? Your brain sort of adjusts for a minute or two, then — wallop — there it is.’

  Tom’s parents were older than Caroline had imagined them to be. If Tom was thirty-four, she’d expected Jerry and Lorraine to be somewhere around sixty, but she estimated they were a good ten years older than that.

  ‘I understand you’ve already been told what happened?’

  Jerry nodded. ‘Yes. But it doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way Tom did that to himself. He wouldn’t. He had no reason to.’

  ‘He was divorced, wasn’t he?’ Dexter asked.

  In an instant, Jerry’s face turned sour. ‘We’ll not talk about that. But you can take it from me, Tom
never let things like that get to him. He used to pick himself up and get on with it. Always happy, always chipper. There’s no way he would’ve done a thing like that.’

  Tom’s mum started wailing again at the thought, and Caroline felt a stab of pain in her own chest. The thought of losing a child was unbearable, and at times like this she had to separate her own motherhood from the job in hand. If she let her thoughts run away with her, she’d never be able to do anything.

  ‘Does his wife still live locally?’ Caroline asked.

  Jerry shook his head. ‘Buggered off back to China.’

  ‘She was Chinese?’

  ‘As they come. She was only over here for university. Tom met her on a night out in Leicester. Weaselled her way in, got married, then lost interest and decided she didn’t fancy the green card after all, and jumped on the first plane home.’

  ‘Has she been back since?’

  ‘Not bloody likely. Haven’t heard hide nor hair of her since.’

  Dexter took down the wife’s details, and made a note to check with the border authorities that there was no record of her being back in the UK. They’d have to track her down and speak to her as a matter of course, but that would be a matter for Interpol.

  ‘Do you know who Tom was out with last night? We understand he was at the pub. Do you know which one? Or if he’d arranged to meet anyone?’

  Again, Jerry Medland failed to hide the disdain on his face. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got my suspicions.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘His cousin, Charlie. Charlie Ford. The lad’s an absolute scumbag, if you ask me.’

  The name rang a vague bell in Caroline’s mind, but she wasn’t sure why. ‘What makes you say that?’ she asked.

  ‘Check your computers when you get back to the nick and see for yourself. Off the top of my head: burglary, car theft, shoplifting and assault.’