The skirt was long and flowing, a gypsy skirt formed of vertical patterns up to the elasticated waistband. Kim took a closer look. The skirt rested just above the sandals all the way around, as though placed with care. A lilac vest top with thin straps showed the absence of a bra. The slight frame didn’t require one. A simple chain with a gold cross hung below the neck, falling on the breastbone.
Her arms were placed a couple of inches away from her torso. The wrists were barely discernible from the rest of her arms. A thin strap of white showed where her watch should have been on the left wrist, but it was the right wrist that caused Kim to pause.
A perfect line encircled the wrist and a graze had removed some of the skin from the top of the hand. Kim needed no more information to deduce the mark and the graze were from the presence of handcuffs.
Her heart beat faster for just a few seconds as her eyes lingered on the injury. She remembered how that same red ring had looked on her own six-year-old hand. The memory of soreness from the scraped skin passed fleetingly through her, causing her to rub the top of her own hand. Sometimes she needed to remind herself that it was long gone; although new flesh had grown and healed it away she would still be able to draw its shape back onto her skin twenty-eight years later.
She shook her head to release her mind from the past.
Her gaze travelled up to what used to be a head. The skull was distorted as though someone had taken a bite out of it like an apple. Dried blood covered every inch of the skin and had formed rivulets over the woman’s jaw and down her neck. The right-hand side of her hair was coloured red from blood and the left was blonde. Kim guessed it was where she had turned her head slightly into the ground to try to avoid the blows.
The nose appeared to be pointing to the left. The flesh would have swollen immediately upon impact. Injuries inflicted after death didn’t swell, indicating the victim had been alive during the beating.
‘What the…?’ Kim said, leaning down. Her attention was drawn to the line between the upper and lower lip. A brown substance had rested there.
‘Easy, Inspector,’ Keats warned, watching her every move.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, tipping her head to get a better look.
Keats leaned down from the other side of the body and took a deep breath before placing his face next to to the victim to get a closer look. He didn’t want to exhale and blow away valuable evidence.
‘Looks like dirt,’ he said, meeting her gaze.
‘In her mouth?’ Kim asked.
Keats pressed a single finger to a couple of areas of the woman’s swollen face. How he knew what he was touching was a mystery to Kim.
‘Don’t quote me until I get her back but I think her mouth is full of it.’
Kim stood and looked around. ‘Here,’ she called, spotting an area that had clearly been disturbed. A tech marked where she pointed as she moved out of the way. If the killer had scraped at the ground to loosen the dirt he could have left something behind.
Bryant appeared beside her and held out a cardboard cup. She took it and sipped as she turned her attention to Keats. ‘I already know she’s been here less than twelve hours and there’s no other wound, so…’
‘Hear that, guys? The detective inspector knows it all so let’s just pack up now and bury her tomorrow.’
For a split second Kim wondered if he was referring to the victim or her.
Both she and the technicians ignored him.
‘The professor was very informative while we were waiting for you.’
‘So you won’t be grilling me for an early post-mortem then?’ he retorted.
‘You wish. Speaking of which…’
‘Tomorrow at nine and I’m not budging.’
‘Fine.’
‘Bryant, feel her forehead. No fight. She’s sickening for something.’
She offered him a brief smile.
The timing of the post-mortem suited her perfectly. There was no handbag close by or pockets in the victim’s clothing so identification would be the priority of the day.
Kim took one last walk around the body, committing every detail to memory. She paused. There was something she hadn’t noted before. She reached towards the left hand, but Keats swatted her away.
‘Don’t even think about it. They need to be bagged.’
Kim raised an eyebrow. This was not her first dead body.
The hands were one of the most important elements of a body at a crime scene. There could be anything under the fingernails: skin, a fibre, a clue.
She moved along the body to the feet and found the same clue there.
She touched the nail of the big toe gently, rubbing the tip of her finger back and forth.
She felt footsteps approach behind her as she knelt down and brought her face closer to the toes.
‘Well… Detective Inspector, it appears we meet again.’
Kim’s eyelids snapped open at the voice she recognised all too well.
Six
‘Doctor Bate,’ she said, raising herself to a standing position.
‘Surely it’s Daniel by now,’ he said, offering his hand.
Kim touched his hand briefly.
Now she understood Keats’s amusement and Bryant’s collusion at her anticipated discomfort.
She and Daniel had met the previous year during the Crestwood investigation. He had been the forensic osteoarchaeologist despatched from Dundee. They had not hit it off initially. They had shared three shallow graves and a stirring of fascination. But the case had ended. He had left. End of story.
His hair was slightly lighter than she remembered it. Possibly bleached by the sun. His eyes were the same green that seemed to brighten at times with mischief and yet darken behind the thin-rimmed glasses he normally wore while at work.
He wore light jeans and a khaki T-shirt. The muscles in his arms from his love of outdoor activities remained the same, although there was a fresh scar just below his left elbow.
Suddenly she felt like the main event of a boxing fixture. The first punch had been thrown and now three interested people awaited her reaction.
She smiled brightly. ‘How lovely to see you again, Doctor Bate. I hope you’re well.’
Keats stroked his beard and Bryant coughed into his fist.
She looked at the pathologist. ‘Are you ready to move her yet?’
In terms of importance, nothing trumped her victim. Amongst the other bodies placed at Westerley, this one didn’t fit. The woman was no experiment, either gifted or donated.
Despite his faults, Kim always felt relieved when the victims were back with Keats. He treated all of his charges with respect.
‘As soon as I can, Inspector.’
She returned her gaze to Daniel. The amusement lit up his eyes. If he wanted to come here and play games he’d be playing this one on his own.
She turned and waded through the water before turning back.
‘Keats, I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.’ She glanced to his right. ‘And it was nice to see you again… Doctor Bate.’
She stormed up the hill and didn’t slow as Bryant appeared beside her.
‘Judas,’ she spat.
It all made sense now. His gaze lingering on the pickup truck. His smug smile, his lengthy chat with the visiting consultants. If she remembered correctly, Bryant and Daniel had got along very well.
‘You knew he was here and didn’t bother to tell me?’
He shrugged without apology. ‘I like my knackers where they are, thanks. And anyway, why is it a big deal? It’s not like anything happened when—’
‘It isn’t a big deal,’ she snapped. Yes, there had been a brief attraction between them but they had both been too busy to acknowledge it.
‘Yeah, clearly. But, er… guv, more importantly, why were you peering at the dead girl’s feet?’
Kim lifted her hand and rubbed her forefinger over the nail of her thumb.
‘The nails on both hands and feet were dull and rough. They felt like matte paint.’
He shook his head. ‘No, still not getting it.’
‘Nail-polish remover. It takes the shine from your nails. Recently done.’
‘And you think that means something?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Bryant, I would have thought you’d have learned by now that everything means something.’
Seven
Kim replaced the receiver and stepped out of The Bowl into the main office.
‘Okay, Stace, get the board. Kev, get the coffee poured and Bryant, get the window open.’