Body Heat Page 3

  “How’s it going, Jim?” she asked, adding, “anything of interest happening?”

  “Did you go out to that burning job, Dr Hughes?” he asked in return, as interested in it as she was, it seemed.

  “Yes, I understand the body was taken to Brighton?”

  “Odd, that case,” Jim continued, with Callie’s full attention now. “I heard that preliminary findings were that she was old, well, older than you’d expect, anyway. Late twenties to early thirties.”

  “Not a textbook joyrider, I agree, but hardly a pensioner,” Callie admonished him gently. After all, that was her age, and she wasn’t old, was she?

  “Mother too, well, at least there were signs she’d given birth at some point,” Jim continued.

  Callie was impressed with the high standard of his information. She knew he was likely to know someone in the Brighton pathology department; after all, he’d worked there previously and had been brought in, temporarily at first, to cover the unit after its troubles and had decided to stay. She had thought that, with Ian Dunbar’s death, she would no longer be in the loop, but it was pleasing to find that he was happy to pass news on.

  “Just what on earth was she doing in that car?”

  They both silently gave that some thought before Jim shook his head and started to prep the autopsy table, straightening the instruments as he checked they were all there, and whistling tunelessly.

  * * *

  It started to spit with rain as Callie walked to her car, and she broke into a run, holding her handbag over her head to protect her hair with one hand and cursing the fact that firstly, she had left her umbrella in the car; and secondly, that she was wearing a white cotton blouse beneath her jacket and it would undoubtedly go see-through when wet.

  She reached her midnight blue Audi TT and threw herself inside just as the rain began in earnest and her mobile phone began to ring.

  Pulling her phone out of her bag, Callie saw that the call was from the surgery and answered it, whilst checking her hair in the vanity mirror.

  “Hello, Callie here.”

  “Hi Callie,” Linda Crompton replied, in a whisper. “We’ve had a call from the police, can you pop in there on your way back? They’ve got a suspect they want you to look at and say if she’s fit for detention.”

  Callie sped towards the police station, happy to have a reason to go there and see if she could find out anything more.

  Chapter 3

  Whenever she entered the large modern building that was the Hastings Police Headquarters, Callie felt a buzz of anticipation. She could never really know what she was about to face and whilst most of her work for the police was mundane, there was always the possibility of something more interesting, something other than the seemingly endless parade of drunks, drug addicts and the aftermath of petty violence.

  She knew most of the uniformed sergeants and many of the constables by sight if not by name and, being a regular visitor, Callie was recognised by the civilian on the front desk and was quickly buzzed through the door into the body of the police station. She made her way briskly to the custody suite, stopping at the desk to let them know that she had arrived and was ready to see the patient, before heading to the treatment room to wait.

  The custody suite treatment room was slightly smaller than her consulting room, but felt much more spacious as it had less clutter, as well as a somewhat different array of equipment. Here there were syringes and tubes for taking blood samples from drunk drivers in one cupboard, along with swabs for taking DNA samples. Another cupboard held first aid equipment such as dressing packs, plasters and steristrips, to patch up both prisoners and policemen. Plus, there was a sink to wash her hands, complete with the obligatory notice reminding her to do so frequently. As if she needed reminding.

  Callie sat at the desk and read the custody notes for the prisoner she was about to see, quickly realising the information was superfluous. Marcy Draper was a long-time patient of Callie’s; a prostitute and a drug addict, she was a regular at both the surgery and the police station.

  There was a knock at the door, and it was opened by the custody sergeant.

  “Come on, Marcy, don’t keep the doc waiting,” he said as a woman who looked about fifty, but who Callie knew to be only thirty-two, shuffled into the room.

  “Sorry, doctor,” Marcy said, misery oozing from every pore, “I’ve messed up again.”

  Callie sighed, some things never change, and Marcy, it seemed, was one of them.

  * * *

  Once she had dealt with Marcy, giving her enough medication to keep withdrawal at bay and certifying her fit for detention while she waited to go up before the magistrates, Callie headed for the canteen. She needed to pick up a sandwich to eat on the way back to the surgery, as there was no time to stop and eat elsewhere if she was going to get her paperwork done before evening surgery.

  The canteen was busy with a mix of people having a late lunch and others an early tea break. Callie looked round, spotting Penny Davidson, a uniformed constable she had met before, sitting at a table with two other uniforms. It looked as if they were about to leave, so Callie grabbed a chicken salad sandwich and a bottle of water and headed for the till.

  “Hi Penny, have you got a moment?” Callie asked, slightly out of breath as she caught up with her at the canteen door and thinking that she really ought to find more time to get to the gym, and, unlike Kate, not just to pick up buff men.

  “Sure,” Penny replied and turned to her colleagues who had also stopped when Callie approached. “I’ll catch you guys later.” They left with a wave and Penny came back into the canteen and indicated a table by the door. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing majorly important, it’s just that I pronounced death for the body in the car and wondered if you knew anything about the case? I heard that it was a mature woman, not some teenage joyrider.”

  Penny shifted in her seat and looked at something over Callie’s shoulder. Too late, Callie realised that somebody had come into the canteen after them and was standing just behind her.

  “Constable Davidson, I trust you’re not being asked that because you are the station gossip.”

  Callie knew the voice all too well and leapt to her feet and faced Detective Inspector Miller.

  Away from the crime scene and out of the unflattering protective clothing, Miller was dressed in a smart, conservative blue suit and a crisp white shirt. Callie was standing uncomfortably close to him and could smell the faint scent of his sandalwood aftershave as well as an undertone of something soapy, as if he had just got out of the shower.

  “Can’t have you leaking information to members of the public, Constable,” Miller continued. The shower image disappeared in a puff of smoke and the look Callie gave Miller was blatantly hostile.

  “I am hardly a member of the public, Inspector. After all, I was involved in this case from the beginning, and so I am bound to have a professional interest in it.”

  Miller hesitated briefly.

  “Well, why don’t you come up to the incident room and I’ll give you an update, Dr Hughes? If it’s just a professional interest.” He looked pointedly at Penny. “Better than hanging around the canteen trying to pick up bits and pieces of inaccurate hearsay.”

  Before Callie could explain that she was in a rush, DI Miller turned and left the canteen.

  Callie made a quick decision and mouthed a “Sorry” to Penny, who waved her away with a smile and gesture that suggested, all too eloquently, what she thought of her superior officer.

  As Callie hurried after Miller, she attempted to defend the constable.

  “Penny didn’t say anything she shouldn’t have.”

  “I know,” he said with a little smile as he opened a door for her, “she doesn’t know anything.” He ushered Callie through the door and closed it before he continued. “I am far more interested in how you heard that the victim was a mature woman.”

  “Oh, you know, I do have my sources els
ewhere.” Callie was pleased to see the look of irritation cross his face as they walked along the corridor.

  “I am sure you are aware of the need to keep information like that quiet, Dr Hughes… Callie. We haven’t identified her yet and I wouldn’t want this to get out to the press before we had a chance to speak to her relatives.”

  “Of course. I’m not stupid, Inspector, just curious, and you never know, I might even be able to help.” He might have decided to relent and use her first name, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to do the same just yet given his frostiness at the crime scene.

  As Miller ushered Callie into the Incident Room, she could sense the atmosphere of excitement that was part and parcel of a major enquiry, at the start at least. As the investigation progressed, that excitement would become tinged with anxiety, particularly for Miller, the Senior Investigating Officer or SIO.

  There were eight desks in the room and Callie was pleased to see a familiar face in Sergeant Nigel Nugent, whom she knew in his usual role as custody sergeant, realising that he must have been borrowed to set up and run the incident room. He was busy directing the people connecting up computers and phones, crawling under desks trailing wires. Nigel would be sticking the wires in place with hazard tape once they were finished, she was sure, as he was that sort of person. Sometimes called Nerdy Nigel, even to his face, Sergeant Nugent had excellent IT skills and was methodical, thorough and pedantic, which didn’t win him many friends but would make him an ideal person to be in charge of an incident room. He gave Callie a small wave of acknowledgement before a hapless constable dropped a box of equipment and Nigel hurried over to sort out the mess.

  Miller was leading Callie towards his office, which was at the end of the room where a whiteboard with a few photographs of the scene was already in place. Two men were moving a second board into place next to it. Callie paused by the whiteboard and looked at the photographs. Close-ups of the car were beside a handwritten note of the make, model, registration details, including details of the owner and the info that it had been reported stolen at 10.30 pm, and last seen in Ebenezer Road at approximately 8.30 pm.

  The photos of the car in situ at the car park, or rather what was left of it, illustrated how closely it had been parked to the pole, making it impossible for the passenger to escape. There were also some pictures of a match and what looked like a burnt-out match book.

  “Is that what the killer used to start the fire?”

  “Yes, the first match was used to light the rest and then discarded. We’re hoping to get some forensics off it, but…”

  Callie could imagine that it wouldn’t be easy to get anything off a single match, particularly if the killer wore gloves. Miller waited patiently as Callie moved on to look at pictures of the corpse both in and out of the car. An arrow pointed to the photos with a question mark and the name Sarah Dunsmore.

  Callie approached the board for a closer look.

  “Is this who you think she is?” she turned and asked Miller.

  “It’s possible. She’s the only misper who fits the profile from the post-mortem,” Miller confirmed.

  Callie knew that he would have been checking reports for any missing person who had not been seen since Saturday in the hope of identifying the body as early as possible. With most victims being known by their murderers, if not actually related to them, knowing who they were could quickly lead to the culprit, or at least narrow the list of suspects.

  “The PM has been done already?”

  “And I have the preliminary report.” He led her into his office, picked up a file from the cluttered desk and held it out to her. “Strictly not for sharing.”

  Callie glanced at her watch briefly and saw that it was gone three o’clock. Her evening surgery was due to start at four. Silently apologising to all her patients who would be seen late, Callie took the file and quickly opened it.

  Cause of death was given as smoke inhalation; the superheated smoke had pretty much destroyed the lungs. That this had happened before the fire had managed to do anything more than superficial damage to the rest of the body was strangely comforting. At least the worst of the burns had happened after death.

  Callie went on to read the more detailed report on the body. No gross abnormalities, the presence of erupted wisdom teeth, fusion of epiphyses, structure of the skull, condition of the pelvic bones and more besides, had led the pathologist to conclude that it was the body of an adult Caucasian female, approximately twenty-six to thirty-five years old. The pathologist had added that further microscopic examination of the osteons, the minute tubes within bone that contain blood vessels, might enable a more accurate estimate of age. Jim the mortuary technician had also been right in that evidence of pelvic bone scoring suggested the woman had given birth at some point in the not-too-recent past.

  Miller asked her to explain one or two things from the report and she realised that he had asked her up there for a reason, other than just to satisfy her curiosity, and what’s more, that she might be able to help him in a small way at least. Not that he was likely to admit he needed help, or that she had been any use.

  She explained that the report suggested the woman had been alive when the car was set alight, the burning gases searing her lungs, which then flooded with fluid, effectively causing her to drown. A horrible way to die. Callie could only begin to imagine the fear that must have passed through the victim’s mind as she realised what was happening. She was being burnt alive, and her escape routes were either blocked or too difficult to reach in the short time she had left.

  “What on earth was she doing in the car?”

  “Looking for excitement, maybe?” Miller suggested.

  A new voice broke in.

  “Well, she got that, didn’t she? Only, I think it was probably more fucking thrilling than she expected. Nice to see you again, Doc. Come to look at our pretty pictures?”

  Callie turned to glare disapprovingly at Jeffries who was standing in the office doorway, but it was like water off a duck’s back. He was munching a biscuit and had a mug of tea in his hand. Callie saw Miller look at the newly set up refreshment station which Nigel had furnished with a kettle and mugs borrowed from the canteen and a supply of tea, coffee and biscuits. It already looked as if it had been hit by a tornado, with the lid off the coffee jar, sugar spilled across the surface and a solitary teaspoon left beside an almost empty packet of custard creams. No doubt the tin for people to contribute to the cost of supplies would be empty, as it was generally considered the SIO’s responsibility to pay for it.

  “The fire investigator from the crime scene is downstairs, boss. He insists on speaking to you. Do you want him brought up?”

  Miller nodded and Jeffries called out to a young woman, “Tell ’em to bring him up then, Tracy love.”

  What Tracy thought about being called ‘love’ was hard to tell, but she did as she was asked all the same.

  Callie handed the post-mortem file back to Miller and turned to leave.

  “Are you using dental records to identify her?” she asked as he walked with her towards the incident room door.

  “Initially, yes. We’ve got the details of Mrs Dunsmore’s dentist and he’s emailing her records and recent X-rays to us and the pathologist for comparison. Obviously, we’ll have DNA too, but that will take longer.”

  They both looked up as the door opened and Chris Butterworth the fire investigator was shown in. Now that he wasn’t wearing crime scene overalls, Callie could see that he was a lean and muscular man in his forties, with his dark hair cut very short. Completely ignoring the policewoman who had shown him in, Butterworth spotted Miller and quickly walked over to him.

  “Good of you to bring the investigation report over in person,” Miller said holding out his hand, whether to shake Butterworth’s or to take the file he was holding from him it was unclear, but either way the fireman ignored the outstretched hand.

  “Inspector, I wanted to let you know as soon as possible that I thi
nk I know this arsonist. From his MO. I thought I recognised it this morning and wanted to go back and check my files and I was right. He’s a regular and always starts fires this way.”

  At this point he thrust his file at Miller who took it eagerly, as Jeffries tried to take a look at the name on the front. The three men retreated into Miller’s office and Callie found herself left outside with the door being firmly closed in her face.

  Any thawing in her feelings towards Detective Inspector Steve Miller vanished. He hadn’t even bothered to thank her for the information she had given him about the cause of death. She glanced at her watch, forgot all her frustration at being ignored and ran down the stairs. Being this late was going to need a lot of explaining.

  * * *

  Evening surgery had been every bit as bad as Callie had expected it to be. Starting late meant that every patient came into her consulting room already cross and determined to be heard. Now she was in the office, doing all the paperwork she should have done before surgery began, trying to complete it before all the receptionists left, and she ended up with the additional job of locking up the building when she finally finished. She didn’t mind locking up, it was working alone in the building that worried her. Not because it was spooky or frightening, but because there were always people knocking at the door, wanting a doctor or a prescription and unable to understand that they needed to come back in the morning. They seemed to think that as she was there, that she should deal with their problem right then, however petty or unimportant it was, or however easily it could wait until morning. And then, of course there were the cases which actually couldn’t wait until morning. Callie had once been stopped, just as she was leaving to go home, by a man wanting to see a doctor urgently. It quickly became clear that he was right, he did need to see a doctor urgently as he was having a heart attack, and Callie had to wait with him, praying he wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest before the ambulance arrived. She knew her limitations and wanted to get him to the heart attack centre as quickly as possible as they would be so much better equipped to help him.