Fallen Angel (6 page)

DCS Higgins and DI Collins walked into Guy's Hospital. With a murder a day in London, both had been there many times before. Both knew their way to the mortuary and were moving quickly, ignoring the signs, pushing through doors, turning swiftly left and right, their footsteps clicking in the hollow antiseptic corridors. They entered the changing room and put on the disposable plastic gowns, overshoes and face masks that had been neatly set aside for them before making their way into the mortuary.

The room was stark and bright with white walls and a concrete floor that had been painted pale blue. Three large stainless-steel tables, each looking like a shallow bath sitting on a cylindrical pedestal, filled the centre of the room. The first was empty. The third was covered with a foamy mix of brown-black sludge and was being washed down by a pretty young mortuary assistant.

The centre table had been prepared for what was to follow. A video camera and microphone were suspended from the ceiling, ready to record the proceedings. Two trolleys, one loaded with surgical instruments, the other empty apart from a box of evidence bags, were in place on the far side.

As soon as she saw the officers, Jessica Matthews, the forensic pathologist, went over to greet them. ‘Morning. We're just waiting for the Exhibits Officer to turn up, and
then we'll be ready to start. He'll be here any minute, so I'll prepare the body.' Her educated voice held an aura of professionalism and authority. Matthews was thirty-nine, tall and slender with straight brown mousy hair, a few strands of which were poking out from under the bottom of her disposable cap.

All three headed towards the bank of square metal doors on the far wall where the refrigerated bodies were kept. Matthews stooped down to the door on the bottom left where D. ELIOT was written on a plastic tab beneath a small viewing window. She opened the door, releasing a blast of cold air that made Collins shiver involuntarily. She had been to plenty of autopsies, and they were never pleasant, but she knew she would find this one particularly difficult.

Matthews pulled out the metal shelf, and the small black bag containing the body of Daniel Eliot came into view. The young assistant helped Matthews lift the body on to a trolley. As they were wheeling it over to the centre table, the Exhibits Officer arrived.

With everyone now in the room, Matthews switched on the camera and microphone and recorded the formalities of date, time, the name of the victim and persons present. She then unzipped the body bag to reveal the blue-tinged body within.

Matthews and her assistant lifted Daniel's body to the table and began to cut away his clothes.

‘Oh my God,' gasped Collins. ‘What have they done to you?'

Daniel's naked body revealed for the first time the full extent of his injuries, and even Matthews took a sharp
intake of air as she saw the damage. There were deep slash marks on his chest and shoulders; his arms and legs were broken in several places, creating gentle unnatural lines in his body. Burn marks appeared at random intervals, and there was a deep puncture mark on his right-hand side just below the ribs.

Everyone in the room was shaken. To Collins it seemed only yesterday that Sophie had been that small, that vulnerable. She had seen plenty of corpses before, of course she had, but this one was different. Usually a dead body had an aura of peace. Even those that had died violently seemed to carry with them a sense of relief that their suffering was at an end. But not this one.

‘Are you okay?' Higgins whispered gently.

Collins turned to face him, wiping away the tears that were starting to fall from her eyes. ‘I'm fine. Thanks,' she replied, quickly regaining her composure.

‘Shall we begin?' asked Matthews.

Higgins and Collins nodded, and watched as she carefully inserted her scalpel into Daniel's left shoulder, cutting diagonally across his chest to the middle. She repeated the process on the other side, this time continuing down towards his genitals, forming the shape of a large Y on his small torso. As she began to peel back the loose flaps of skin to expose the ribcage, she looked across at her assistant. ‘Please prepare the head.'

An hour later Higgins and Collins emerged from Guy's Hospital, back into the sunshine, and walked to the car.

‘Fuck me, I thought I'd seen it all,' he said.

As Matthews carried out the autopsy, she gave Higgins and Collins her initial evaluation. Blue-tinged lips and fingernails, along with blood around the nose and severe bruising around the neck, supported a diagnosis of asphyxiation as the result of hanging. This was further confirmed by the internal examination, which revealed compression of the neck and burst blood vessels in the heart and lungs. Daniel's left hand had been chopped off with a heavy sharp instrument, most likely an axe, which had cut cleanly through the skin, sinew and bone. The body had lost so much blood that Matthews had to do further tests to determine whether this had been done pre- or post-mortem.

A definitive time of death also could not be arrived at until those further tests were conducted, but Matthews's initial findings suggested that Daniel had been killed around the time the kidnapper called the parents.

Collins, as lead investigator, then had to ask questions that might provide them with clues in their hunt for the murderer. She established that Daniel had not been sexually assaulted and that his stomach had been full of partially digested chips, which meant that he had been fed shortly before he died. Matthews sent several samples, including Daniel's clothes, scrapings from under his fingernails and various swabs from around the boy's body that might produce DNA evidence, to Edward Larcombe in Forensics.

‘Why do you think he took the hand?' Higgins asked Collins as they got into the car.

‘Trophy perhaps? Or might have held a clue.'

‘Like what?'

‘Maybe Daniel had scratched him and got his killer's skin and blood under his fingernails.'

Higgins nodded thoughtfully. ‘Makes sense. What are your thoughts on the hanging? There are far easier ways to kill someone. He must have wanted to display the body like that for some other reason. But to get a struggling boy into the church in the middle of rush hour without being seen would be nigh on impossible. And he must have spent some considerable time in there breaking the bones and then stringing him up.'

Collins replied without answering him. ‘There's also the question of why he tortured him. If he was going to kill him, why not just kill him and dump the body? It's like he wanted to punish the parents for going to the police.'

Higgins could sense growing anger and emotion in Collins's voice. It was clear to him that she was becoming increasingly distressed by what had happened to Daniel. It was a side of her he had never seen before.

‘Stacey.' This was one of the rare occasions when he addressed her by her first name. ‘I need to know if you are capable of dealing with this case.'

‘Why are you asking me that? I'm just running through the possible scenarios.'

‘I know. It's your emotional attachment to Daniel that's giving me cause for concern. I've never seen you like this before.'

‘I'm fine, guv. Please. I'm on top of it.' Her voice was firm and assertive, and left no room for doubt. ‘As soon as we get back, Woods and I are going to see the boy
Daniel was with shortly before he went missing. I know it's pretty thin, but until the forensics get back, we've got nothing else to go on.'

Flowers had started to collect on the small front lawn of the Eliots' house soon after Daniel's picture first appeared in the morning papers. By early afternoon the entire garden was covered with offerings and still people were coming from miles around in order to pay their respects, some breaking down in tears as they left their tributes. Collins and Woods saw the flood of flowers as they passed the house, on the way to the home of Mr and Mrs Hardy, the parents of Sammy, Daniel's best friend.

An hour before Daniel had gone missing, he and Sammy had cycled to the local newsagent's shop to stock upon sweets with their weekly pocket money. Daniel had been abducted soon afterwards, but, if this was no random act, there was every chance that the person who took him had been quietly observing the boys earlier that day. Collins hoped the little boy might have seen or heard something that had been overlooked by Blackwell's team.

‘Sammy's been interviewed before,' said Woods as they walked up the path to the door of the Hardy home. ‘They didn't spend a lot of time with him, because at that point they were focusing on the kidnapping. Although Sammy was the last person to see Daniel, I don't know if we'll be able to get much out of him. And, from what I gather, the parents aren't keen on us having too much access.'

Collins noticed the curtains twitching, but there was no
answer at the door, so she knocked again. ‘Ever get the feeling you're not wanted?' she asked.

Eventually the door was opened but only a few inches. ‘Yes?' a faceless voice said.

Collins introduced herself and Woods, waving her ID through the crack in the door. It opened wider to reveal a middle-aged woman in a plain skirt and blouse. She looked at the officers with suspicion. ‘Mrs Hardy?' Collins asked.

The woman nodded.

‘May we come in? We have a few questions.'

Mrs Hardy held the door open a little wider, and Collins and Woods walked in. The woman led them into an immaculate sitting room where her husband sat drinking a cup of tea. Collins made her introductions once more as Mr and Mrs Hardy eyed each other uneasily.

‘We've already told the police everything we know,' said Mr Hardy.

‘This must be a very difficult time for you,' Collins observed, without really addressing what she had just been told.

Mrs Hardy nodded her head. ‘We're very shaken up. Daniel was a lovely boy.'

Mr Hardy spoke again. ‘It could so easily have been Sammy. We don't usually let him go out by himself. It's only in the past few months …'

‘Actually,' said Collins, grabbing her chance, ‘it's Sammy I'd like to talk to. Is he here?'

Another glance between the two parents. ‘He is in, Miss, er …'

‘Call me Stacey.'

‘He's in his room. But is it really necessary to talk to him? He's a very sensitive little boy, and it's not good for him, having to go through all this. It was bad enough when Daniel went missing, but now …'

Mrs Hardy clenched her hands in front of her and looked appealingly at the two officers.

Collins walked over to the window. She pulled back the net curtain a little, then peered on to the street. There were surprisingly few children around, given that it was a beautiful hot summer's afternoon; but then maybe it wasn't surprising at all, given what had happened a few doors away. ‘It's not the sort of thing you expect to happen in a place like this,' she said quietly.

Mr and Mrs Hardy shook their heads in agreement, and Collins let the curtain fall closed as she returned to the centre of the room.

‘Having said that, it's not the sort of thing you expect to happen anywhere. Tell me, did Sammy and Daniel often play together?'

‘They were best friends,' said Mrs Hardy, slightly avoiding the question.

‘So Sammy spent a lot of time at the Eliots' house?' asked Woods.

Mrs Hardy seemed unwilling to answer, so her husband stepped in. ‘Daniel was a sweet boy,' he explained, ‘and we enjoyed having him over. But we didn't really like Sammy to spend time at that house. Have you met the Eliots?'

‘I have, yes,' said Collins.

‘Then you'll be aware that Mr Eliot is an alcoholic.' He spoke rather primly, and said the word ‘alcoholic' with a good deal of distaste.

Collins nodded but said nothing.

‘A violent alcoholic,' Mr Hardy continued. ‘There have been times when Mrs Eliot has had bruises on her face and arms. You can draw your own conclusions.'

‘Have you ever personally witnessed any violent behaviour by Mr Eliot?' asked Collins.

Mr Hardy shook his head. ‘We try to avoid him; it's not something we want Sammy to be exposed to. But he was insistent that he wanted to play round at Daniel's house on Wednesday. Mr Eliot wasn't around at the time, he was probably out drinking, knowing him, so we made an exception just so long as he came back nice and early.'

Stacey considered her next move. They were protective parents and justifiably so. If she wanted to get anything out of Sammy, she would have to get him on his own, and that meant winning over the parents.

She smiled at them. ‘I wish all the parents we saw were as conscientious as you.' Woods took her lead and nodded his agreement. ‘I used to run wild when I was his age,' he said. ‘Of course it was a different world back then. You can't be too careful now. I think you play it just right.'

Mrs Hardy seemed almost to preen herself.

‘Sammy must have gone through an awful ordeal,' Collins continued. ‘It must have been very difficult for all of you.'

‘It has been,' Mr Hardy agreed.

‘I understand why you don't want to expose him to too
much questioning. Police officers can be a little abrupt at times, especially when it's such an emotive case. They can be under a lot of stress.'

‘I'm sure that's true,' said Mr Hardy.

‘But I do need to speak to Sammy just one more time. He was the last person to be with Daniel …'

‘But that was before Daniel went missing,' said Mrs Hardy. ‘The boys were both home safely. It's his parents you should be talking to.'

‘And we have,' said Collins firmly. ‘But I need to make sure I've dotted every “i” and crossed every “t”. If I'm going to find out who did this terrible thing, I just need fifteen minutes with Sammy. Please, Mr Hardy, I wouldn't be asking unless it was absolutely necessary.'

Another nervous look passed between the parents. ‘Fifteen minutes, no more,' the father finally said with reluctance, and he nodded at his wife to fetch Sammy from upstairs.

He was a handsome little boy with ruffled light-brown hair and wide brown eyes.

‘Hi, Sammy, I'm Stacey.' She held out her hand, and the boy took it to shake rather uncertainly. He wore a short-sleeved blue-and-white T-shirt, a pair of jeans and white trainers with a logo that Collins recognized instantly.

‘K-Swiss! They're the best,' she said, crouching down so that her face was level with his. ‘I've got a pair of those in black. Of course, mine are a little bit bigger than yours.'

The boy smiled.

‘Have you got a bike, Sammy?'

The little boy nodded.

‘Do you want to show it to me?'

Sammy smiled without looking at her. ‘Okay,' he said.

Collins stood up again. ‘Is that all right?' she asked Sammy's parents. They nodded their agreement. ‘Tony, perhaps you could just run through Mr and Mrs Hardy's version of events one more time.' She knew Woods would not get anything new, but the parents needed to be kept out of the way.

She took hold of Sammy's hand. ‘Come on, then,' she said, and he led her through the kitchen and into the small back garden.

Sammy's bike was lying on its side in the middle of the lawn. The blue paint was scuffed, and one of the pedals looked like it had recently been replaced, but he presented it proudly. ‘Nice bike,' she noted. ‘Did you and Daniel go out on your bikes a lot?'

Sammy's head fell. ‘Sometimes,' he muttered.

She went over and picked up the bike. ‘I bet you can go really fast on this.'

‘Really fast,' Sammy agreed with the seriousness that only an eight-year-old talking about his bike could muster.

Collins pretended to examine the bike in more detail. ‘Does it make you sad that you won't see Daniel again?' she asked obliquely.

Sammy nodded.

‘Would you like to help me work out what happened to him?'

Again he nodded mutely.

‘I bet you would. I've got a feeling you'll make a great policeman when you grow up.'

Sammy glowed at the compliment.

‘The last time you were with Daniel, the two of you went to buy some sweets. Is that right?'

‘Yes. He only had 90p, and I had two pounds, and so I gave him some of mine so we could have the same.' The words tumbled out of the little boy's mouth.

‘That was really nice of you, Sammy. Do you want to show me where the sweet shop was?'

‘Okay.'

They left the garden by a gate at the back that led to a narrow alleyway and, hand in hand, started to make their way down to the road. ‘We came along here on our bikes.'

Collins bent down so that she was face to face with him. ‘I want you to try to remember everything you can about the day you and Daniel went to the shops. Do you think you can do that for me?'

Sammy nodded in agreement, his little face serious.

They continued in silence as the alleyway joined the main road to the side of the terraced houses. They turned right and followed the road as it curved round towards a small parade of shops: a dry-cleaner's, an off-licence and a newsagent's with a red awning on which a Coca-Cola logo was emblazoned in big, swirling letters. Sammy pointed at it. ‘That's where we went,' he explained.

‘This is important, I really need you to think hard. Did anyone talk to you on the way to the shops?'

His brow crumpled in thought. ‘No.' He paused. ‘But we heard a dog crying down there.' He pointed to a long alleyway at the side of the shop. ‘There was this little puppy limping and crying. A little brown thing. It was a bit scary, really. Daniel went and stroked it, but I didn't in case it tried to bite me.'

‘Do you like dogs?'

‘Nah, not really. But Daniel always wanted one for his birthday.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘We went in and got a packet of crisps and a bag of sweets, then we stood outside and ate them.'

‘So what happened when you finished your sweets?'

‘Daniel wanted to go back and see the dog again, but it was gone.'

‘Had it run off?'

‘Couldn't have. It was tied to the white van.'

‘What white van?'

Sammy looked at her as if she was being stupid. ‘The one the dog was tied to!'

As they reached the entrance to the newsagent's, Sammy blurted out the one question he had been dying to ask. ‘Do you have a gun?'

Collins smiled. ‘Not today, Sammy. Come on, I'll treat you to something.'

Sammy's eyes lit up. He quickly selected his assortment of sweets and presented them on the counter. As the young Asian man counted them up, Collins tried to imagine the scene on Wednesday afternoon, the two boys on their summer holidays, deciding which treasures to spend their few pennies on. She remembered the feeling well from her own childhood.

‘Ninety pence,' said the man behind the counter. Collins reached into her bag to retrieve her purse.

‘Do you own a dog?' she asked.

The man shook his head. ‘Never much cared for pets. Don't see the point.'

‘How about the other shopkeepers on the parade, any of them own dogs?'

The man shrugged. ‘The bloke that owns the dry-cleaners, Ray, he used to have a pit bull, but it had to be put down. I don't think anyone else has one now.'

‘Does anyone on the parade own a white van?'

‘Well, I do, and Ray does, and the off-licence does. We all do.'

Collins and Sammy walked back outside, blinking in the bright sunshine after the dimness of the newsagent's. Sammy was totally absorbed in the process of consuming his sweets. Stacey allowed him to finish before asking her next question.

‘What are Daniel's mum and dad like?'

‘His mum's all right; his dad gets angry a lot.'

‘What happens when his dad gets angry?'

‘Daniel would sometimes sleep over.'

‘Do you think he was scared of his dad?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was his dad there when he got home?'

‘Dunno. I went to my house, and he went down the alley to his.'

‘And that was the last time you saw him.'

Sammy's bottom lip quivered as the loss of his best friend started to hit home. ‘Yes.'

She could see he was starting to become uncomfortable with her questions. ‘Come on, Sammy,' she said, offering him her hand again. ‘Let's go home.'

Mr and Mrs Hardy were waiting anxiously at the window; as soon as Collins and Sammy came into view, Mrs Hardy
went to open the door. ‘You didn't say you were taking him out of the garden,' she said accusingly.

‘We just went to get some sweets, didn't we, Sammy?' Collins replied. ‘He's been very helpful indeed.'

‘Stacey thinks I'll make a good policeman, Mum,' Sammy told his mother brightly.

‘Come on,' she told her son, struggling not to seem cross. ‘Inside.' She directed her conversation back to Collins. ‘Is there anything else?' she asked rather coldly.

‘No,' Collins replied. ‘Nothing else. I've got everything I need. Thank you very much, Mrs Hardy. If there's anything else, I'll be in touch.'

But the woman made no acknowledgement and just slammed the door behind Woods and Collins.

‘Christ, it's not much.'

Woods was driving north, back towards Peckham, and Collins had just filled him in on what she had learned from Sammy.