‘That’s a sloppy way of thinking, John.’
‘You also say that we shouldn’t underestimate people. Just because he hasn’t done it before doesn’t mean he isn’t capable.’
Erika nodded and looked back at his record. ‘I dunno. It’s not even my bloody case.’
‘Boss, I don’t mean to hassle you, but did you get the chance to look at my application?’
‘Sorry, John. It’s on my list for today. I promise.’
John nodded, looking doubtful, and left her office.
Erika looked through her bag and pulled out the notes she’d made after her visit with Doug Kernon at the morgue. She brought up the police crime database and did a general search on victims with a femoral artery incision, including details of the crime scene and the victim’s age and sex.
The results which came up stopped Erika in her tracks.
Chapter Ten
Forensic Pathologist Isaac Strong lived in a smart terraced house on a quiet street in Blackheath, South London. It was dark, and snow was falling softly when Erika knocked on the door. She stood tapping her feet impatiently, and a moment later heard a creak of floorboards before it opened. Isaac was a tall, handsome man with close-cropped dark hair and a high forehead. His eyebrows were thin and arched, and he was looking tanned and relaxed.
‘I’ve got the file here,’ said Erika, bustling past him and into the warmth of the elegant hallway. ‘I ended up having to drive over to the nick in Croydon where they kept the original records. And you know what the one-way system is like and the traffic from that bloody IKEA…’ She shrugged off her coat and hung it over the end of the polished bannister. Isaac was staring at her with wry amusement. ‘What?’
‘Hello, Isaac. That would be a nice start, and then you could ask if I had a good Christmas?’
‘Sorry,’ she said, catching her breath and shrugging off her shoes. ‘Hello. Did you have a nice Christmas?’ She leaned over and gave him a hug. His body was thin and she could feel his ribs.
‘Not really. Remind me never again to book a holiday in such a… remote place.’
They went through to the kitchen, and Erika sat down at a small dining table. Isaac moved to a dark blue Aga and, using a tea towel, crouched down and opened one of the doors.
‘Where was it you went again? Thailand?’
He stood back as steam rushed out from the door. ‘No. The Maldives. Six little huts perched on a finger of sand surrounded by miles of endless ocean. I ran out of books.’
‘Was there anyone interesting to talk to, or…?’
He shook his head. ‘All couples. Five Russian businessmen with their wives. The wives had had so much plastic surgery that when they went sunbathing, I thought they’d have to prick themselves with a fork.’
Erika laughed. He closed the Aga and went to a cupboard, taking out a couple of wine glasses.
‘Red or white wine?’
‘Red, please,’ said Erika, placing the file on the kitchen table.
‘How was your Christmas?’ he asked.
‘Fine. It was great to see my sister and the kids. Her husband is still mixed up in all kinds of dodgy dealings, and she feels trapped… But I don’t think Lenka will ever leave him.’
‘What does he think of having a police officer for a sister-in-law?’
‘We actually get on quite well. I’m just an ordinary citizen back home, and he told me I make the best kapustnica.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A meat and cabbage soup we have at Christmas. Soup is a big deal in Slovakia.’
‘You should make it for me some time.’ He grinned, placing a glass of red wine in front of her. She took a sip, feeling it warm through to her cold bones. ‘What about James?’
She shook her head. ‘I think that should remain a fling. It’s too complicated to try and have a relationship with him…’ She placed her hand on the grey file next to her wine glass. ‘Anyway, as I said on the phone…’
‘Erika. When did you last eat?’
‘Breakfast.’
‘Which was?’
‘Biscuits…’
He tutted and shook his head. ‘An army marches on its stomach. You seem to think you’re a one-woman army, so you should at least eat properly. We’ll have dinner, and then we’ll talk about this case.’
‘But Isaac, this case…’
‘Can wait. I’m bloody starving, and by the looks of it, so are you. We eat, and then you have my attention.’
He held his hand out for the file, and in turn handed her a warm plate.
‘Okay, but you know I’m a quick eater,’ she smiled.
* * *
After a delicious meal of cottage pie and steamed greens, Isaac cleared the plates and Erika regained custody of the file. They settled down at the table and she brought him up to speed on the case.
‘I ran the details of Lacey Greene’s murder through the system, looking for similarities,’ she said. ‘And this came back: twenty-ninth of August last year, the body of twenty-year-old Janelle Robinson was found in Chichester Road in Croydon.’ Erika took out a crime scene photo and slid it across the table to Isaac. The girl in the photo lay on her side in a dumpster. Like Lacey, she had long brown hair, she was naked from the waist down, and her face was battered so badly that her eyes were swollen shut.
‘Hang on, I recognise this case,’ said Isaac.
‘You should. You did the post-mortem.’
He stared at her then pulled the file across the table and started to sift through the papers. ‘Yes. I remember. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, cheek and orbital bone, her vagina had been mutilated, and the femoral artery had been sliced through,’ he said. ‘Although, butchered is more the term I’d use. Where the artery meets the groin it looked as if it had been hacked at crudely…’
‘But the police report questions if this was a sex game gone wrong,’ said Erika.
‘I didn’t write that. Did I?’
‘No, the SIO at the time did. A DCI Benton; he retired three weeks later.’
Isaac looked up at her again with his thin eyebrows raised. He held up a school photo of Janelle Robinson, taken when she was around sixteen. She was a rosy-faced young girl with small piercing blue eyes and long brown hair. She smiled into the camera and wore the uniform of a blue blouse with the embroidered crest of her school, the Salt Academy. The stitching was surrounded by a circle of thistles.
‘Didn’t Janelle’s case come up when the Lacey Greene case was created on the system?’ he asked.
Erika shook her head. ‘No. Janelle Robinson was never reported missing.’
‘Why?’
‘No one missed her. She had no family. Was brought up in a children’s home near Birmingham, and moved to London when she left school. For the past year, she’d been living and working in a youth hostel in central London. The manager was tracked down and interviewed a week after her body was found. She said it wasn’t unusual for Janelle to go AWOL for a few days. It’s also wrongly stated in the police report that Janelle’s body was found in a car park, but the crime scene photos show that she was found, like Lacey, inside a dumpster in the car park.’