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March 2016
Sand blew across the beach in skittish waves encouraged by a fresh breeze. Soft, wet patches and the odd isolated ‘pond’ of water glinted in the near distance as the sun broke through the clouds like a searchlight cascade but he just stood and stared out to sea.
With a deep breath, he looked at his watch - 9.10 then turned back to the body of a naked female which lay face down alongside the detritus washed in by the last high tide.
“What can you tell me, Doctor?” Thurstan asked the FME.
She adjusted her glasses and looked up from the body; her brown, pony tailed hair, partially hidden by a grey bobble hat. She pressed her finger into the body’s back.
“See that? No change in colour but it hasn’t progressed to the usual darker colouration so, taking the current night temperatures into account, the height of the tide, the rigor mortis and the fact that she’s been lying on her back somewhere before being dumped, and I say dumped because it’s obvious she wasn’t washed in with the tide seeing as she’s above the high water mark,” she waved her hand over the debris. “I’d say she’s been dead approximately ten to twenty hours. I’d be happy to put money on maybe eleven to fifteen.”
He wasn’t an expert but he did know the discolouration on her back was due to livor mortis, gravitational pooling of the blood, which was supposed to begin within 4 to 6 hours after death. With the stages of rigor mortis appearing from 2 to 6 hours in the head, it worked its magic until you had a prize-winning stiff somewhere near the 12-hour mark. Maths had never been his best subject so it all sounded reasonable to him.
She was right. The tide wouldn’t have brought her in, certainly not this far. He looked again at the discolouration. Definitely been on her back somewhere, the bobbies and the finder hadn’t turned her over and anyway there was no sand on it. When you got to body level the wind was only perceptible by sight.
“How old and means?” He gave her a smile as she stood up.
She glanced down at the still form. “Twenty to thirty and manual strangulation. I rolled her over and had a good look. No other signs.” She paused. “Do you need me further? I’ve got a dog to walk.”
He smiled again and shook his head. She stripped her glove off and they shook hands. He briefly watched her walk away before turning to the crime scene manager.
“Carol, she’s all yours now. Make sure you get me some decent pics of that tattoo on her wrist.”
She shook her head, slowly, and threw him a look of mock remonstration. “You do know I’ve done this before, don’t you?”
He waved her away, smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
Loose sand filling his shoes, he trudged between the dunes towards his DI, who was speaking with a couple of uniforms. Degsy shook hands with the older bobby and turned to greet him. “I’m up to speed now, Thurstan. Sorry about that but the bloody car wouldn’t start.”
“I told you yesterday, Derek, it’s the battery. You need to get it sorted. Anyway, she wasn’t washed in with the tide, so what do you think?”
“In that case, I can’t see them carrying her all this way. Even with two of them, it would be a struggle. Why not just dump her in the woods or bury her in the nearest dune?” He hesitated. “Do you think it’s possible they drove along the beach?”
The DCI nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” He glanced back at the seashore. “No obvious signs of sexual assault either. If it was pre-planned they’d have had the disposal boxed off, not this. Maybe some interaction went wrong, they panicked, got rid of anything that would identify her, overlooked the tattoo, or got squeamish, then tried to distance her from where she was killed.”
He hesitated. “And you wouldn’t risk anything other than four-wheel drive down here, not with the incoming tide. Maybe they thought it would take her out, expected it to be higher, who knows.”
Using the DI as convenient support, he pulled his shoe off, emptied it and shovelled his foot back in. Then, the other. “They did know something though. They knew their tracks would be covered.” He patted Degsy’s arm. “Come on, let’s get back.”
They swept into the office to be hailed by Chalkie. “What was your day at the seaside like?”
A forced smile then Thurstan swung round to his DS, Sammy Nolan. “Get those statements on Niche before you go for a cuppa, Sammy, and get someone to trawl through the Misper system and liaise with our neighbours, if necessary.” He turned back to his oppo.
“It was a little windy and gritty, Chalkie. It’s a tricky one as well. We’ll have to go straight for a press release and see what comes back. The only ID on her is a tattoo of a thin chain on her left wrist.”
“Do you need any of my syndicate? We’re just tidying up the Page Moss job at the moment, so it wouldn’t be a problem.”
Thurstan smiled. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it sometime but for now, we’re ok.”
They were interrupted. “DCI White?” It was a young uniformed bobby. Chalkie nodded.
“I was told you wanted to see me, Sir?” The bobby looked worried.
As Thurstan wandered off to his office, a smile relaxed the officer - a little. “Yes, I do. It’s nothing to worry about. I just need a quick continuity statement from you and wanted to say you did a great job at the scene. I was very impressed.”
The officer smiled back. “Thank god for that. I thought I was in the shit again.”
****
Looking out onto the beach and the Dee estuary, Donny Mostyn sat in his car and flicked the butt of his spliff out of the window. Sun bounced off the water, occasional white caps emulating floating seagulls. A smile consumed his lips. It was one of triumph.
At this time of the day, there were never many people here. The fact his was the only car there didn’t disturb him at all.
Once more the bizzies had tried their ‘best’ and once more they’d failed. Absolute bunch of muppets. It paid to have a clever lawyer and his was a master of the dark arts. It was no wonder she was Liverpool’s most popular, with the ‘bucks’ that is.
The couple in front of him held his attention. Hair fluttering helplessly around her face serving only to make her more alluring to him, the dress clung to her buttocks. Great figure, wonderful arse. What she saw in the mook she was with was baffling. A voice at the window startled him.
He looked up. A scruffy guy waved a cigarette at him. “Got a light, Boss?”
Normally, he’d tell him to ‘fuck off’ but the spliff and his recent victory had left him somewhat mellow. His thoughts still on the girl, he absently lifted the lighter from the seat next to him and turned back to offer it.
The bullet drilled a neat hole in his forehead.
Unhurriedly, ‘scruffy guy’ stepped back, clicked to full auto and emptied the magazine into the body of the car. What noise there was, as the rounds punctured the bonnet, door and windscreen, found itself carried away by the stiffening breeze. A quick reload and seat foam filled the vehicle interior as Donny’s body shuddered under the onslaught. The young couple walked down the ramp to the beach, seemingly unaware.
He tucked the Skorpion VZ 61 back under his jacket as the Fiat 500 glided effortlessly from the sailing club car park and halted on the exit road.
Nicks walked across the grass and gravel and slid into the passenger seat. “Couldn’t you get any further away?” he said, sarcastically.
“Nope, those boulders stopped me.” Simon smiled.
Weapon unloaded, he removed the suppressor and stuffed everything in the compartment hidden in the base of the glove box.
“Any requests?” Simon threw him a glance as they calmly departed.
“I fancy some decent fish and chips, to be honest.”
“Parkgate then. We can sit on the benches and take in the view.”