Little Boy Blue - страница 9

She had been called at 4 a.m. by PC Alan Stark, a tame officer who was happy to accept cash payments for information. There had been a murder during the night – an unusual one – which is why Emilia was now ensconced with him in a transport café near the Torture Rooms, huddled over a bacon sandwich.

‘Did you see the body?’ Emilia asked, cutting to the chase.

‘No, but I spoke to a mate in SOC and they gave me chapter and verse. This place is something else.’

‘Meaning?’

‘It’s a fetish club and tonight was their “Annual Ball”. So they were all out in force – poofs, dykes, gimps, devils, angels -’

‘Did you recognize anyone?’

‘I’m sure they were all there,’ he laughed grimly. ‘City councillors, BBC folk, vicars, but you can bet your bottom dollar they scarpered before CID turned up. Those that did hang about were wearing masks, helmets and such, so -’

‘Did you pick up anyone with a criminal record?’

‘We’re still processing them.’

‘And who owns it – the club, I mean?’

‘Pass. But the manager – if that’s what you can call him – is talking to CID now. Sean Blakeman.’

Emilia wrote the name down.

‘Tell me about the victim.’

‘White guy in his early forties. Tied to a chair, before having his head taped up from chin to crown. I’m guessing the poor bastard suffocated.’

He continued to describe the scene, giving what details he could about the victim and the clientele of the club. Emilia was only half listening, writing his testimony down in her crisp, efficient shorthand, her mind already spooling forward to the story she would write. Sex, murder, torture, titillation – this case was kinky with a capital ‘K’ and would go down a storm with her editor. It had everything going for it and the icing on the cake was Stark’s confirmation that the case would be handled by Emilia’s erstwhile friend, now nemesis.

DI Helen Grace.

Helen walked briskly along the corridor, her heart sinking lower with each step. She’d been up all night, heading straight from the crime scene back to the incident room. She’d secretly hoped that the team might have made some quick progress, but in reality she knew it was too early for that – the peculiarities of this crime meant that they would have to be patient. Eyewitness reports were thin on the ground, and with no surveillance systems in the club they would have to garner amateur shots from mobile phones and piece together some kind of timeline. This might yield something and, of course, Meredith was still working her team hard on the forensics. Meanwhile, there was one very valuable piece of evidence that was as yet untapped – Jake’s body.

Helen reached the mortuary doors and buzzed herself in quickly. If she hesitated, she would lose her nerve and turn back. Jim Grieves, the pathologist, turned as Helen now approached. He didn’t offer much of a greeting and Helen was glad of it. She hadn’t the mental capacity or emotional strength for small talk. She just wanted to get this over with.

‘He’s a Caucasian male, late thirties to early forties, with a keen interest in body art, piercing and masochism. Lots of old injuries associated with the use of restraints, including a fractured wrist sustained a few years ago and a dislocated ankle that has never fully healed. Some evidence of STDs and I also found historic semen residue – not his own – on parts of his clothing.’

Helen nodded but said nothing – it was upsetting to hear her friend dissected in such a cold, clinical way.

‘We’ve done preliminary bloods – alcohol, ketamine and a small amount of cocaine, but that’s not what killed him. He died of asphyxia. You can tell by the petechial haemorrhages on his cheeks and eyelids and also the cyanosis, which is what gives his face that blue discoloration. There are no bruises or marks on his torso, so we can assume that the duct tape around his head was sufficiently tight to cut off oxygen to his airways and that his killer had no need to apply any pressure to his throat or neck. The bleeding and bruising to his lips suggest that he was trying to bite his way through the tape when he lost consciousness.’