A Murderous Mind Page 3

  Patrick nodded and watched Bob disappear into the office. His eyes gleamed with excitement. Every day with Bob Taylor he was learning new things. Bob knew stuff and not only was he willing to share that knowledge, but he seemed to be enjoying the process just as much as Patrick.

  FIVE

  DI Tess Fuller stood in the kitchen doorway and looked. Beside her, Vin Dattani, her sergeant, remained silent, waiting for her lead. Both were dressed in pale blue coveralls and bootees ready to face what Vin, with typical restraint, had told her was a messy scene. His presence, Tess thought, was always satisfyingly solid and quiet; he understood that she needed to stop and think – and prepare – before facing yet another body.

  Shared kitchen, Tess thought, but very different from her own student days when she’d lived in a tatty communal house with six others. This was fresh and new, the old office block having been recently converted into yet more student accommodation. Sometimes, she thought, the town was set just to become one big campus.

  Breakfast pots on the table – or maybe left from the night before, she reassessed. The remnants of takeaway pizza lay on the kitchen counter. But the room was untidy rather than dirty and a stack of washed crockery beside the sink attested to at least sporadic attempts at housekeeping.

  Away from the kitchen area was a communal living space with a television and a selection of uncomfortable-looking chairs with padded seats and backs and wooden arms. This part of the space looked less used than the kitchen, the odd magazine on the floor, a set of headphones and an MP3 player on the arm of a chair.

  ‘What’s in this cupboard?’ Vin asked.

  Distracted, Tess glanced sideways at the large wooden door. She pulled it open and found a vacuum cleaner, sweeping brush and a few occupied coat hooks. Then she turned her attention back to the kitchen and the doors that led off the communal area.

  There were four heavy doors with self-closing hinges, each emblazoned with stickers that announced them to be fire doors that must be kept shut and a number on each that, as they were in the mid three hundreds, she guessed must be a continuation of a system used throughout the student flats in the rest of the building. One door stood open, propped by a rubber wedge and Tess could see the blue-clad figures of the two CSI moving inside.

  ‘What do we know?’ Tess asked.

  Vin consulted his notes on the tablet he held. ‘The victim’s name is Leanne Bolter. She was eighteen years old, a first year foundation arts student. She came to the uni from Manchester, her parents, apparently, thought she’d be safer and cope better on a smaller campus. First time away from home,’ he added.

  Tess nodded. ‘Do we have a photo?’

  Vin scrolled through the images on the tablet and showed Tess. A smiling, blonde haired teen looked back at her. She was pretty, Tess thought, not exceptionally beautiful but attractive in that generalized, youthful way that teenage girls were somehow meant to be. She nodded, consciously committing the image to memory in preparation for what she knew she was going to see. She had learnt very early in her career that it was better to have a positive image to take to bed with you than just the picture of what was left at the crime scene. True, it was a strategy that didn’t always work, but she still figured it was better than nothing.

  ‘And they found her when and who – and how?’

  Vin had been first on the scene, Tess joining him after she left court that morning – following another adjournment due to non-appearance. He’d done the preliminary witness interviews. ‘Found by her flatmates, Ginny Reed and Samual Ford. He calls himself Sam,’ Vin added. ‘Leanne wasn’t awake and they’d got a lecture so Ginny knocked on the door and then opened it when she didn’t reply. Apparently it wasn’t unusual for Leanne to sleep late, so they’d not been worried before.’

  ‘And they didn’t notice anything wrong? You can smell the blood and shit when you come up the stairs.’

  ‘All these doors are fire resistant,’ Vin pointed out. ‘They’re thick and they’re designed to seal to keep the smoke out. And the heating in the victim’s room had been turned off. It would all mitigate against them suspecting anything.’

  Tess frowned, but accepted the logic. ‘And she was killed, when?’

  ‘Best guess, given all the possible factors, is between two thirty a.m. and maybe six.’

  ‘So the others in the flat. They were all in bed?’

  ‘Ginny and Sam came in at about one. Leanne was still up and they all shared pizza. She turned in just before two and the others soon after. The other housemate had stayed at her boyfriend’s last night.’ He pointed back across the kitchen at the other doors. ‘Three one five is Sam’s, the next one over is Ginny’s and the one next to Leanne’s room belongs to Tina Sanders, she wasn’t here.’

  ‘And we’ve checked up on that?’

  ‘We spoke to a flatmate of the boyfriend. Tina had already left. She had a class at nine and he doesn’t know where she’d be after that. The boyfriend had gone to work so we’ve got someone heading over there.’

  Tess nodded. She knew she could have asked him this afterwards, that she was putting off the moment of confrontation. Once she stepped into that room and the CSI moved aside so she could get a proper look at the crime scene, that would be it. The image of the smiling young girl in the photograph on Vin’s tablet would be finally and irrevocably tainted.

  Times like this she wondered if she was in the wrong job or at least in the wrong branch of her chosen profession.

  ‘OK,’ she said and stepped across the threshold into the room.

  Plates had been laid to create a path across the carpet. ‘Stop there, please,’ the crime scene manager requested. ‘You can see everything from there, but after that you’re into the blood and we’re still processing.’

  Instinctively, Tess looked down at the carpet. It was a coarse grey cord, presumably designed to be hard-wearing, but just beyond where she stood the colour had been changed; stained and darkened and Tess realized with shock that it was soaked in the girl’s blood.’

  ‘It’s even on the frigging ceiling.’ Vin sounded awed and Tess looked upward at the spray that reached halfway across the room.’

  ‘Arterial blood?’ she managed to ask, though her mouth was so dry her lips stuck to her teeth as she tried to speak.

  ‘Looks that way,’ the CSI said. ‘But frankly it’s not easy to get a handle on things just yet.’

  Tess tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Her nostrils filled with the stink of blood and faecal matter and body fluids. She gripped her hands into tight fists, the nails digging into her palms. The two CSI stepped out of her way and she saw the body properly for the first time. It took a moment for her brain to interpret what she was actually seeing.

  Leanne Bolter lay on her bed, slit open from throat to pubic bone, her intestines spilling out on to the floor, lungs stripped out from beneath shattered ribs.

  ‘Oh my god,’ Tess whispered. Defensively, she tried to look away, her gaze falling on the girl’s face, oddly, though the rest of her body had been utterly desecrated, her face appeared to be untouched and her eyes were closed. Beside her, Tess felt Vinod move, a sudden jerk as though something shocked him.

  ‘Her hair,’ Vin whispered. ‘He combed her hair?’

  ‘Looks that way,’ the crime scene manager said.

  Tess stared. Somehow that one tiny bit of order in amongst all of this brutal chaos was even more shocking, though she could not have said why. She guessed from Vin’s reaction that he thought so too. She had seen enough.

  ‘Thanks,’ she managed. ‘I’ll let you get on.’

  She was halfway down the stairs before Vin caught her. ‘Best take that off,’ he said, pointing to the coverall.

  ‘Right. Yes, of course.’ She paused and began to strip the blue garment away, balling that and the bloody shoe covers in her hand before stuffing them into the bag that Vin held out to her.

  ‘I stink,’ she said. ‘I can’t do the interviews until I’ve change
d my clothes. I—’

  ‘OK, go home, I’ll carry on here.’

  She glared at him, looking for disapproval in his tone but found none. ‘You probably stink too,’ she said.

  He shrugged. ‘Hard to tell,’ he said. ‘My nose refuses to tell me anything. All I can smell is her … I think it’ll take more than a shower and a change of clothes to get the smell out of my nose and lungs. Tess—’

  She nodded, understanding what he was feeling and what they both felt unable to say. ‘Looks like the bastard thought he was channelling Jack the Ripper,’ she said. ‘And her friends never heard a thing. How didn’t they hear anything?’

  ‘The doors are heavy, designed to keep smoke out and probably noise too. And the friend who would normally have been in the next room wasn’t there. I suppose he got lucky. I suppose … hopefully it means she died quickly, that there was no noise. Nothing for them to hear.’

  He paused, ‘So what do you want to do,’ he asked. ‘Go home or get straight on with the flatmates?’

  She turned away, knowing she had to cool off and calm down before she could make any kind of decision. Did this make her a bad copper, she wondered. This utter horror she felt at crime scenes. She knew officers who seemed utterly unmoved by the sight of blood and violence.

  And she knew she didn’t believe them.

  And she knew, if they were telling the truth about that, she didn’t want to be one of them.

  Together they stood outside the building, gulping in the fresh air. Vin found some mints in the depth of a pocket and they shared half a pack. The wind cut down the narrow road, chilling Tess to the bone. She welcomed it. She was alive enough to feel the chill; to shiver, to draw up her coat collar and feel the frigid air biting at her fingers. Leanne would never do that. Leanne would never feel anything again. And the last thing Leanne Bolter ever got to feel was utter terror and excruciating pain.

  SIX

  Patrick arrived back on campus just before lunchtime, ready to grab a quick bite to eat before his one o’clock lecture. He made his way to the student union café to meet up with friends. He could see something was wrong even from across the crowded restaurant. Emmie had been crying and Maeve was doing her best to comfort her. Hank just looked bemused and uncomfortable – but then, that was normal for Hank. Daniel was pale, even for him.

  ‘What’s up?’ Patrick sat down and dumped his bag on the floor, then rooted in his pocket for some cash. He nodded towards the counter. ‘Anyone want anything while I’m over there?’

  ‘You’ve not heard?’ Maeve said.

  ‘Heard what. I’ve been at the auction house with Bob Taylor. He just dropped me off.’

  ‘There’s been a murder,’ Maeve announced. She sounded awed, excited and just a little scared. Emmie wailed and turned on the waterworks again.

  ‘Who? Where?’ Patrick demanded.

  ‘Student flats on Curzon Street. Penfold House, I think. There’s a police cordon up.’

  ‘Could be just a burglary,’ Patrick suggested.

  Hank shook his head. ‘It said on the news a student had been attacked and killed. We just don’t know who.’

  Patrick wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘But Ginny and Leanne weren’t in the lecture this morning. Neither was Sam. He never skips lectures.’

  Patrick frowned. ‘A lot of people live in that block. They might just be … I don’t know, maybe the police are talking to everyone.’

  Hank shrugged. Emmie wailed again and Maeve looked anxious. Daniel didn’t say anything, but then, Patrick thought, Daniel generally spoke less than even Patrick on a bad day. He talked to Patrick, though. Mostly.

  Patrick stood up and began to head towards the counter.

  ‘How can you think about food?’ Maggie demanded.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ he said simply. ‘I can’t think when I don’t eat.’

  Daniel followed him over to the counter. ‘I walked past Penfold House this morning,’ Daniel said. ‘There were three police cars and a van and a forensic team. They were all in those blue overalls. It looked bad, Patrick.’

  That was quite a presence, Patrick thought. ‘Anyone tried texting them?’ he asked, then thought, of course they have. That would be the first thing his friends would do. He didn’t know Ginny and Leanne particularly well; they shared some classes, but that was all and this term they’d been allocated the same assignment, which meant working as a loose team to put a presentation together. Sam was someone he knew a little better as they were in the same seminar groups.

  ‘No one’s answering their phones,’ Daniel said. ‘Susanne Marks said the whole block had been evacuated and the police have said they may not be able to go back today.’

  That really was bad, Patrick thought. It meant something really serious had gone on. He selected a sandwich and ordered coffee at the hot drinks counter. ‘What did the news say?’

  Daniel asked for a coffee too, then glanced back at the table where they’d left their friends as though embarrassed to be thinking about refreshments at a time like this. ‘It said a student had been attacked at the halls of residence on Curzon Street. It didn’t say which one. It said they had died from their injuries and police were treating it as murder. The radio said it was breaking news and that police would be issuing a statement later.’

  ‘Right,’ Patrick said. He knew it was an inadequate response, but was unsure of what else he could possibly say.

  ‘Emmie’s convinced herself it’s Ginny or Leanne. She says she can sense these things.’

  ‘Let’s hope she’s wrong. Let’s hope the news got it wrong.’

  ‘Not likely, is it,’ Daniel said.

  Patrick shook his head.

  They headed back to the table and Patrick glanced at his watch. Half past twelve.

  ‘Are we going to the lecture?’ Maeve asked. ‘Will it still be happening?’

  ‘We should go,’ Patrick said. ‘There might be an announcement or something.’

  Maeve nodded. ‘Right,’ she said. She hugged Emmie. ‘He’s right, hun. We might be able to find out more. It might not be them. Like Patrick said, there are a lot of people in that block.’

  Emmie sniffled miserably. Patrick ate his sandwich in silence. Whoever it was, he thought, someone had died. He wasn’t sure it mattered who it was. Patrick, who had experienced more than the average in terms of loss in his short life, knew what ripples spread outward from such violent acts and knew that, however you looked at it, this was still a very bad thing.

  SEVEN

  Leanne Bolter’s flatmates had been taken to a conference room at the university together with a nurse from the medical centre and a police liaison officer. Their parents had been summoned and were on their way. Ginny’s had further to come than Sam’s; his, Tess was informed, would arrive within the hour.

  She and Vin had walked across from the student flats, through crowds of young people just released from lectures and others heading to. Their chatter, laughter and music so much at odds with what she had just seen. Most of them, she noted, seemed to be half plugged in to MP3 players. One earbud in, one hanging loose, conversations with friends continuing against the backdrop. The rules of social interaction seemed to change with every generation, Tess mused. Her parents would never have condoned anything less than complete attention when someone spoke to them.

  Technically, the two young people she was going to interview were adults and she didn’t need a parent or other appropriate adult to be present, but Vin asked the question she was mulling over as they walked up the stairs towards the conference room.

  ‘Are we going to wait for the parents to get here? God knows what state they’ll be in.’

  ‘I’d rather not,’ she said. ‘I want them to talk as soon as possible, while all the first impressions are uppermost. Once they start getting babied, they might well clam up.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Vin argued. ‘They’re only kids.’

  ‘And their friend is a dead kid. We don’
t have time to be sentimental.’

  She pushed open the conference room door and they both slipped inside. At the far end of the room a little group clustered. The two flatmates, the liaison officer and a young woman Tess guessed must be the nurse sent over from the medical centre. She got up as they entered and switched the electric kettle back on. It stood on a sideboard together with tea and coffee and biscuits. Tess guessed it had been much used this past hour.

  Tess introduced herself and Vin and they drew up chairs close to the young people. ‘I know this is hard,’ Tess said quietly, ‘but I need to know everything. What you did, what you saw, if you were aware of anything odd happening last night or any strangers hanging around. Any small thing might be vital. You understand that?’

  Sam nodded and, after a slight hesitation, so did Ginny.

  ‘So, start with last night. What time did you come home and did you see Leanne.’

  She already knew they had, but it seemed better to start with something familiar, something easy.

  ‘We got back about one,’ Ginny said. ‘She looked at Sam for confirmation and he nodded. ‘We’d brought pizza and Leanne was still up so she ate some too.’

  ‘And how did she seem? Happy, worried?’

  ‘No, she was fine. She’d been finishing an essay. We chatted for a bit and then we all went to bed.’

  ‘And the other girl who lives with you? Tina Sanders?’

  ‘She was staying over at her boyfriend’s place. He had the place to himself last night so she’d gone over there about eight.’

  Tess nodded. ‘And you saw or heard nothing unusual. There was no one in the street when you came in?’

  Ginny shook her head. ‘No one. The doors were shut like always and we used the key code to get in and then the key code for our floor. I mean, you’d need both of those codes to get anywhere near our flat, so how—’