Authors: Cath Staincliffe
Janine steadied herself.
‘So, we’re not looking for a weapon as such?’
‘
No.’
‘
Any sign of sexual abuse?’
‘
No.’
‘
The other damage?’ Janine said.
‘
I’ve more tests to do but I’d say almost certainly post-mortem, and all consistent with the site where the victim was found, the sewer.’
That was something,
Janine thought. Whoever had snatched Sammy Wray had not tortured or raped him.
‘If you find any trace material on the body that might be significant, will you let me know straightaway?’ Janine said.
But
chers had only nipped out for a butty but when he returned his heart sank. His desk was decorated with helium balloons, a joke gallows and noose and an inflatable plastic diamond ring. It was common knowledge then.
He should never have mentioned it to
Shap. In fact he never intended to but Shap had a way of worming things out of a person, tricking you into saying more than you intended. A handy talent for a copper, but a pain in the arse when you were the fall guy who found all your best kept secrets dragged into the light for all to see.
Shap
’s eyes lit up as he saw Butchers was back and he said, ‘She called it off yet? You wanna get the rock back if she does, mate. Stick that in the pre-nuptials.’
‘
Who’ve you told?’ Butchers said. ‘Have you told everyone?’
DI Mayne and DCI Lewis chose that moment to walk through the room. Butchers sat down quickly hoping to evade attention but he heard
Richard Mayne say to the boss, loud enough for the whole room to hear, ‘Someone finally said yes to Butchers.’
‘
Anyone actually met her?’ the boss said.
‘
Mail order, eh, i’nt she?’ Shap cackled. ‘Twenty eight days money back guarantee.’
Butchers grinned, feeling sick.
Brilliant. Totally. Brilliant.
Bang on time at ten-thirty and Janine’s boss, Detective Superintendent Louise Hogg came in, Millie Saunders at her elbow. Janine glanced at Richard in curiosity. He gave a shrug, no idea why his new squeeze was at the briefing. Staff were still busy setting up computers and extra phone lines.
Detective
Superintendent Hogg stepped up to the boards, which contained photographs from the scene at Kendal Avenue, notes of evidence, summary of the post-mortem report, a map of the area, pictures of the sheet and the clothes. At one side – linked by a dotted line – were the details of Sammy Wray’s abduction, nine days earlier, and a question mark beside his photo.
‘
A small boy, killed and left in a drainage tunnel. It’s the sort of case we pray won’t happen,’ Hogg said. ‘If anyone needs to step down at any point – do it. Counselling likewise. I don’t want to lose you.’ She surveyed the team for a moment. ‘Now, most of you know Millie Saunders, press office. It’s a high profile case, and Millie will be developing and managing our press strategy.’
Millie gave a nod of the head, by way of greeting.
She was slim, dark haired, extremely attractive and always impeccably turned out. She was bright too, quick thinking, Janine knew. She had to be in her role – a link between the media who were always ravenous for news and the police inquiry. As press officer she had to act quickly to make sure the right information reached the right people at the best time and that adverse publicity was kept to a minimum.
‘
Janine?’ Louise Hogg stepped away, inviting her to take over.
‘
We have three lines of inquiry,’ Janine said, ‘the family, the park and the crime scene. The post-mortem shows death due to a fractured skull consistent with a fall or collision with a large flat surface, a wall for example. There’s no sign of sexual abuse. The child was wrapped in a sheet, generic poly-cotton, chain stores carry them, catalogues. Clothes as per description: popular high street range.’ Janine pointed to the photograph from the poster-appeal and to the recent images of the tattered T-shirt taken from the child’s body. ‘But footwear, socks and trousers are still missing. Estimated time of death is at least a week ago but that is only an estimate. We do not at present know where the primary crime scene, and by that I mean the site of death, is. The property at Kendal Avenue is being examined. The pathologist reported two hairs found on the body, short, straight, brown so not belonging to the boy,’ Janine said. ‘ OK, ideas: family?’
‘
The Wrays kill him then they report him missing as a cover up,’ Shap said. ‘Kendal Avenue, that’s only a few streets away from the Wrays’ house.’ Everyone knew the statistics, inside out and upside down. Eighty-eight percent of victims knew their killers. For kids it was even higher.
‘
But Claire was seen at the park with Sammy,’ Janine said.
‘
Clive’s got a dodgy alibi though: no-one to verify where he was,’ Richard said.
‘
Claire didn’t see anyone making off with the child,’ Janine said.
‘
She was distracted and whoever did it moved quickly and had the advantage of the slide obscuring them from view,’ Richard pointed out.
‘Unless she’s covering for him,’ said Shap.
P
eople did sometimes, Janine knew only too well, they were persuaded into deceit because they were too fearful to tell the truth, or because they were complicit in the behaviour that led to a death, or because they believed the murderer, who said it was an accident, or a mistake, or a moment’s folly. But a child, an only child, she found it hard to credit that Claire Wray would do such a thing. The woman was heartbroken, it didn’t seem plausible that she’d be able to maintain any fiction about events.
And
Clive? Clive felt harder to read. Janine sensed something off-key, small but resonant when they talked to him, as though there was some other business claiming part of his attention.
‘
Then why draw attention like that?’ Janine said. ‘Why not hide the whole thing instead of crying abduction? If she was colluding, she wouldn’t have raised the alarm.’
‘
Perhaps Claire only discovered later that Clive was involved. Yet chose to stand by him,’ said Butchers.
Janine shook her head. It didn’t mesh with what she’d seen of Claire so far.
‘So Clive does it on his own.
Grab the kid, turn and walk away. Pretends it’s a game: let’s hide from mummy,’ Shap said.
‘Suppose he was involved – why bury Sammy so close to home?’ Janine indicated the locations on the map.
‘
Opportunistic?’ said Lisa.
‘
Perhaps,’ Janine said. ‘Can we examine that lack of an alibi? Shap, get onto the wardens, park rangers whatever. See if they can help. CCTV between here and Hayfield, speed cameras. Anything that’ll flag up Clive Wray.’
Shap
gave a groan and Janine saw Butchers gloat at the mention of CCTV, it was a tedious task at the best of times.
Janine
saw Louise Hogg nod approval and gave herself a mental pat on the back. She didn’t usually have the boss in on her briefings and it always unsettled her, though of course, Hogg was a far better prospect than her former boss Keith Hackett who had taken great delight at undermining her at every turn.
Janine gestured
to the whiteboards. ‘Moving on – the crime scene. The Kendal Avenue property is being refurbished. We’ll be talking to the contractors. Butchers, you lead door-to-door with the neighbours. Why this place? We know the child was already dead when he was put in the drain. Was it simply handy? People panic when they kill. Most murders aren’t meticulously planned and executed, people have to improvise. Perhaps the manhole on Kendal Avenue is simply the first hiding place the killer found for the body.’
Richard
held up a report. ‘From CSIs, a screw from a pair of glasses fell from the sheet as the body was recovered. We also have fragments of optical glass on the pavement near the manhole cover.’
‘
Sammy had his glasses on at the park,’ Janine said.
There was a moment
’s quiet as everyone absorbed that – the evidence reinforcing the possibility that this child was the missing boy.
Janine looked at the
boards, the photograph of the child, the round glasses.
‘
The sheet,’ Lisa said, ‘well, it’s like a shroud, isn’t it?’
Janine
considered this, nodded at Lisa to elaborate.
‘
Not just dumped in a bin bag.’
‘
A mark of respect?’ said Janine.
‘
Or he just grabbed what was at hand,’ Richard said.
‘
Yes. OK, now the park,’ said Janine, one eye on the clock. She had a press conference to front. She gestured to the section on the whiteboards that detailed information on the abduction. ‘Sammy Wray was abducted, on Saturday the nineteenth of April shortly after one pm. Plenty of reports of Sammy and Claire, of him playing on the slide. Claire stops to help a child who’s tripped up and that’s when Sammy disappears. All this is confirmed by independent witnesses. Butchers?’
‘
We’re reviewing eyewitness statements but to date no-one saw the actual abduction.’
Richard check
ed the board. ‘Three sightings were cross-referenced but not yet traced?’ he said.
‘
Yep,’ said Shap, ‘we still need to trace a woman on her own, an elderly couple with a dog and a bearded man seen acting strangely by the swings.’
Somebody
groaned and Louise Hogg spoke up, ‘I know there’s always a bearded weirdo acting strangely but don’t dismiss it completely.’
‘
You all clear what you’re working on?’ Janine asked. Nods and agreement. People were eager to get cracking, to get the investigation up to full steam. ‘As always details remain confidential and we’ll be keeping to the basic known facts for this morning’s press conference. Lots to do,’ she said, ‘let’s get on with it.’
P
eople dispersed. Millie whispered something to Richard and he roared with laughter. Janine tried to hide her irritation. ‘Millie?’
Richard hesitated a moment but Janine waited until he moved
away before speaking. ‘Can we avoid sensationalising it?’
‘
Do my best,’ Millie said, ‘but the nationals will be onto it, the Sundays. Big story.’ She checked her watch. ‘You ready?’
In the conference room, Millie stood at the front observing while Janine stepped up to the table to address the journalists. As soon as Janine opened her mouth, a battery of flashlights went off.
Janine
took a breath and then spoke directly to the crowd. ‘At approximately eight o’clock this morning, police were called to Kendal Avenue, in Withington, where the body of a young child was recovered from a drainage tunnel. Cause of death was a fracture to the skull. We are not yet in a position to confirm identity.’
‘
Is it Sammy Wray?’ one of the journalists called out. Not local, perhaps up from London.
‘
We’ve not made a positive identification yet but we are investigating that possibility,’ Janine said, choosing her words with care. ‘We still have individuals we would like to talk to who were at Withington Park on the nineteenth of April and who we have not yet spoken to. I would ask those people to contact us as soon as possible. We would also ask anyone with information, anyone who saw or heard anything on Kendal Avenue, anyone who thinks they know something, no matter how small, that might help the inquiry, to please come forward, contact your local police station or ring the police helpline. In cases like this the help of the general public is invaluable.’
Hands went up and people shouted questions but it had already been made clear that Janine would not be answering any questions after the official statemen
t. She nodded by way of thanks, turned and followed Millie out of the room.
Butchers, on door-to-door, had spoken first to the Palfreys at number 14, across the driveway from the empty house where the body had been found. They had reported the flood but had absolutely nothing else to offer, though they were helpful as could be. Both retired local government workers, they were distressed at the events unfolding on their doorstep and appeared guilty that they hadn’t seen or heard anything untoward that Butchers could write down.
Second on his list were t
he Staffords number 18, the property adjoining the house. It was mid-afternoon and Butchers knocked several times before the door was opened by a middle aged man with a monk’s tonsure and a sour look on his face. The householder was in pyjamas.
‘
What?’ he demanded.
‘
Mr Ken Stafford? DS Butchers, you’re aware of the incident nextdoor?’
‘
Yes.’