Authors: Bill Kitson
As he drove, with scant regard for the speed limit, the removable blue light plugged into the dashboard and flashing, Pearce listened to Nash, who began by calling the pathologist. For once, it seemed that Mexican Pete had foregone the chance to comment on Nash’s cadaver-finding instinct. Nash’s comment that three of the victims were young children presumably scotched any ideas Ramirez might have had on that score. When he had finished with the pathologist, Nash called Superintendent Fleming, then spoke to the head of the forensic section, who promised to have a SOCO team out there as fast as possible. His final official call was back to Helmsdale, where he spoke to Sergeant Binns to explain their hasty exit.
Pearce thought that might have been it, but once he’d got the official calls out of the way, Nash rang Mironova’s home and spoke to David Sutton, her fiancé. He explained the situation briefly. ‘Clara’s going to need some moral support and a lot of TLC, David. Can you make it out to Gorton and take her home?’
‘I’ll be there as quick as I can. This sounds awful, Mike.’
Nash’s last call met with no success. He had tried Lisa Andrews’ home number, hoping to repeat the process with her partner, Alan Marshall, but there was no answer, the call going almost immediately to voicemail.
On their arrival at Gorton, Nash made no effort to inspect the crime scene. Instead, he and Pearce waited outside, talking to Lisa and Mironova. They elicited all the information they needed from the women, before Nash told them what he wanted. ‘You’re going home, both of you. I want you away from this place as soon as possible. I’ve already spoken to David,’ he told Clara, ‘and he’s on his way.’
‘There’s no need, Mike. I’ll be all right, it was just the shock,’ she responded.
‘I’m not listening to any arguments.’ He turned to Andrews. ‘I tried to get hold of Alan, but there was no reply.’
Lisa glanced at her watch. ‘He went to a board meeting in Leeds. He’s either sitting gossiping with Harry Rourke or on his way back.’
‘Give me his mobile number and I’ll call him. He can collect you from Clara’s place, if that’s OK with her.’ He glanced at Clara, who nodded agreement.
Nash spoke with Marshall, who demanded to know if Lisa was all right before explaining his meeting had lasted longer than anticipated and he was about to set off for home.
Nash reassured him and explained the circumstances, before arranging for him to divert to Clara’s house to collect Lisa. After ending the call, Nash reinforced his earlier message that they were to go home and have a quiet night with their partners. He wasn’t sure if their calm acquiescence meant that they had come to terms with what they had seen, or whether they were still
in shock. Although every one of them had witnessed their fair share of the horrific after-effects of violent crime, some things were too terrible, even for the strongest stomachs. The murder of innocent children ranked high on that list.
Even when the pathologist and forensic team arrived, Nash refused to allow any of his colleagues to enter the crime scene. ‘I’ll go in with Mexican Pete,’ he told Pearce. ‘I want you to remain here with the girls until Sutton arrives. After they’ve gone, wait outside for Jackie.’
Having donned protective clothing for the second time that day, Nash joined the pathologist. Together, they viewed the distressing scene. The body of a woman, whom Nash assumed to be Kelly-Marie Kirby, was spreadeagled across a workbench in the centre of the room. In a far corner beneath a duvet were three further bodies; two young boys, the other, even younger, that of a tiny girl, barely a toddler. The children looked peaceful, almost as if they were asleep cuddled together.
‘Madre de Dios, Mike, this is appalling,’ Ramirez said, his voice little more than a shocked whisper. ‘What on earth could have possessed a man to do such a terrible thing?’ The use of Nash’s Christian name, as much as the pathologist’s words, conveyed the level of his distress.
‘It seems to be the act of a man who has lost everything else in his life. When he knew his wife was about to leave him for another man and take the children, he decided to make an end to her, to his family, and to her lover – the man we found at the Golden Bear this morning. I’m going to leave you to it, Professor. I have two very distressed women outside to look after. Clara and Lisa Andrews,’ he explained. ‘They found the bodies.’
‘They have my sympathy. Even after being warned, this was bad enough for us.’
When Nash emerged, he found that Pearce was alone. ‘David’s just left with the girls,’ Viv told him. He looked past Nash at an approaching car. ‘Jackie’s here; and she’s got the chief with her.’
They walked across the road to greet Superintendent Fleming
and Chief Constable O’Donnell. Nash updated the new arrivals. ‘By what Mexican Pete said, in between some fluent Spanish that I suspect was mostly obscene, he thinks the victims were killed between twenty-four to thirty-six hours ago. From that, it does seem to confirm what we suspected, that Kirby sent the text message arranging to meet Jennings in order to trap him.’
‘How can you be sure? Perhaps she sent it and Kirby intercepted the message, or read it,’ Jackie Fleming suggested.
‘The timescale doesn’t fit,’ Nash explained. ‘If Mexican Pete’s estimate of the time of death is anything like accurate, Mrs Kirby was already dead before that message was sent. From the previous text messages between the two, which I believe
were
genuine, it seems she was on the point of scarpering and taking the kids with her. That must have been the last straw for Kirby. He’d lost everything else, and decided to kill himself after dealing with Jennings and his wife. The children had to go too, but they were secondary, I guess. Collateral damage. I think he disposed of them, sent Jennings that text, then went to the Golden Bear. After he killed Jennings, he drove out to Stark Ghyll, drank a full bottle of whisky and then this morning drove his car over the edge. The fact that he survived the fall is incidental, he obviously didn’t intend to. Whether that’s a good thing or not is open to question.’
‘I know it’s a bit early to ask this,’ O’Donnell spoke slowly, choosing her words with care, ‘but do you think there will be sufficient evidence to charge Kirby? And, will he be fit to plead? Given what he’s done, I wouldn’t be surprised if the psychiatrists decide he’s not mentally capable.’
‘I’m not at all sure it will come to that,’ Nash told her. ‘I haven’t had chance to get an update on his condition from the hospital as yet, but there’s no guarantee he’ll survive. From what Clara told me, the doctor at the scene was none too hopeful.’
‘I know this is going to sound terrible’ – the chief constable glanced round as she spoke, presumably to check there was nobody else within earshot – ‘but in one sense, perhaps it would be the best solution to the whole sorry business if he didn’t.’
She could tell by Nash and Fleming’s calm acceptance of her outrageous suggestion that they had both come to the same conclusion.
Nash was not surprised when both Andrews and Mironova reported to the CID suite in Helmsdale soon after his arrival the following morning. In truth, he was somewhat relieved, both for their sakes, and because with DC Pearce scheduled to give evidence in Netherdale Crown Court that day, their small team was in danger of being badly overstretched. Both women assured him they were fit for duty, whatever that entailed, although Nash thought he could detect a little nervousness that he might ask them to perform one particular task. He thought it better to clear the air on that matter immediately.
‘OK, here’s the situation. I’m going to be tied up all day. Mexican Pete has rescheduled a meeting in favour of the postmortems. And with there being four, I can’t see me being clear until very late this afternoon. As Viv’s in court, that means the rest of the jobs plus anything new that might come in will be down to you two. There are a couple of specifics to deal with. We need someone to return to Ivy Cottage, I’m afraid, to be on hand until SOCO have finished. I also need someone to phone Netherdale General and check on Kirby’s condition. They could do that whilst remaining here holding the fort.’
‘Couldn’t you check up on him whilst you’re attending the post-mortems?’ Mironova asked. ‘After all you’ll be almost in the same building.’
‘In theory, yes,’ Nash agreed. ‘But the way I feel about Kirby at the moment, after what he’s done, I’d not trust myself near him. And I don’t think we want word of any of this getting out to the staff.’
‘I’ll go back to the cottage, Mike,’ Lisa said.
Nash was surprised at her offer. He hadn’t expected her to volunteer after the shock she’d suffered the previous day. ‘Are you sure? Will you be all right with that? I know how distressed you were. I can get someone from Netherdale to go.’
‘If I don’t do it, I’m not sure I’d ever trust myself in a situation like that again.’
‘A bit like getting back on a bike after you’ve fallen off, you mean?’
She nodded agreement.
‘That leaves me here with only the hospital to phone,’ Mironova said. ‘A whole morning with next to nothing to do. A bit like your normal working day, Mike.’
She thought Nash had ignored her jibe, but his riposte was suitably cruel. ‘I wouldn’t say that exactly, Clara. You’ve still got that computer scam inquiry ongoing and there are reports to write up from the Stark Ghyll incident and the holiday cottage murders.’ He gave her an evil smile. ‘They call it the art of delegation, I believe.’
Despite her brave words to Nash, Lisa Andrews had serious reservations about entering the holiday cottage again, let alone the garage. After speaking to the officer outside the door, she made her presence known to the SOCO team in the house. She then plucked up courage to join the second set of forensic officers inside the garage and found that, with the corpses removed, it was just a garage again, despite the unmistakeable evidence of police activity. In fact, as she watched the SOCO team at work, she was able to look round the room for the first time and realized that it was far less of a garage and more of a workshop. Lisa found this rather surprising, as the building formed part of a property that was leased by people wanting to enjoy the beautiful countryside of the Yorkshire Dales. She could not imagine someone taking their holidays and spending their time doing DIY. She could only assume that the workshop had been in situ before the property was acquired for its present purpose.
After a lunch of sandwiches from the village shop taken in the fresh air, the senior forensic officer told her their work in the garage was almost complete. They had documented the scene, found some fingerprints and had collected several tools from the rack for closer examination.
They returned to work and as Lisa moved to one side to allow working space, a random thought crossed her mind. If the owners had set this space aside as a workshop, why had they moved the workbench from its original position against the wall to the middle of the room? Perhaps Kirby moved it in preparation for killing his wife? But that didn’t make sense: it would take more than one man to move the heavy object. From her vantage point, Lisa could clearly see the grimy mark along the opposite wall where the workbench had originally stood; cobwebs hung in its place. Moving it to the centre would give anyone wanting to work far less room. Besides which, the wall where it had been was the site of the only window. Even with the solitary strip light, the bench’s new position would give the worker far less illumination.
She mentioned this fact to the technicians. Two of them seemed uninterested in her comment, but the third nodded his agreement. ‘You’re right. I thought that as soon as I came in. I’ve a workshop at home that’s about the same size as this room, and my bench has to be against the wall otherwise I’d never get past it. And the light’s all wrong too, just like you said.’
Encouraged by the man’s support, Lisa prowled slowly round the bench. She had reached the far end when she noticed something, even in the shadow cast by the large wooden structure. She looked across at the forensic team leader. ‘Lend me your torch for a moment, would you?’
She shone the beam down to illuminate the floor alongside the end of the bench farthest from the door. ‘That’s odd,’ she muttered, ‘very odd.’
‘What’s odd?’ The SOCO member with a workshop joined her.
Lisa pointed to the area lit by the torch. ‘Look there. See that crack? That’s all newer concrete than the rest of the floor. Now why would anyone re-concrete just one section of the floor?’
She moved to the side of the bench, and on the far side was able to see where the join ended. ‘It goes the full length of the bench. I think we should move the bench and see how wide the new section of concrete is.’
Lisa eventually managed to persuade them to shift the bench back to its original position. Now that it was no longer concealed, the officers could see that the newer section of concrete was approximately six feet long by three feet wide. The SOCO team leader gave voice to the thought that was in all their minds. ‘That’s just the right size for a grave. What do you want us to do? We could take a pickaxe to it and dig it up, only to find the pet dog buried underneath. It’s your decision.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’ Lisa grimaced. ‘Let me have a think about it.’
The decision wasn’t an easy one. Digging up a large patch of concrete was likely to prove extremely unpopular with the owners of the property. On the other hand, Lisa could not think of an innocent explanation for the placement of the workbench in such a bizarre position. Certainly not something as innocuous as the burial of a pet. If it had not been done to conceal the concrete below, then why leave it in the middle of the floor? And just what was beneath? ‘Do you think it could be drainage repairs?’ she asked.
‘No, if it were new pipework of some sort, the size and direction would be different. It would go through the building and continue on outside.’
What Lisa really needed was guidance from someone senior; Mike, for example. But she knew he was unavailable at the mortuary. She plucked out her mobile and pressed Clara’s number. There was no response. She stared at her phone in dismay. She looked round at the technicians. ‘Have any of you got a phone with a signal that works out here?’
A couple of the men shook their heads, the others checked their phones. They both had the same network. ‘Is there a phone in the cottage?’ one of them asked.
‘No, we had to use DS Mironova’s mobile to report in yesterday.’
‘In that case, it looks as if it’s down to you.’
‘All right. Let’s go for it. We’ll make a start. I just hope we’re not going to end up with hundreds of old copies of the
Beano
or something equally bizarre.’
It was nearly time for the shops to close before Nash emerged from the mortuary. He had planned a trip to the supermarket on his way home that evening, but food was the last thing on his mind. The post-mortems had been a harrowing experience, particularly those of the children. Even Ramirez had been subdued, and had kept what few remarks he had to make strictly businesslike. Nash switched his mobile phone from silent and saw he had a text from Mironova asking him to call her. He pressed her speed dial number and waited.
‘Mike, thanks for calling back. How did it go?’
‘About as grim as you’d expect. Have you got news on Kirby?’