The body on the stainless-steel table was almost unrecognisable from the one Phil had seen in the house the night before. It had been wiped clean of make-up, the nail varnish removed from the fingers and toes. The face held none of its previous doll-like features. It had bloated up purple, the eyes and tongue protruding. The bloating was spreading to the rest of the body.
‘I had to start quickly,’ Esme said. ‘The house was so cold – on purpose, I expect – that it had preserved the body to a degree. But as soon as we moved it and a change of air hit it, it began to putrefy. Stage two now. We’ve managed to stabilise it in here, but the damage has been done, I’m afraid.’
‘What have you got, then?’ asked Phil. ‘Time of death?’
‘Difficult to say because of the cold. The body’s decomposition has been deliberately slowed.’
‘Why?’ asked Sperring.
‘Either to stop us guessing when it was done,’ said Phil. ‘Or…’
‘Or what?’ said Sperring.
‘Or there’s another reason we haven’t discovered yet.’
‘Well,’ said Esme, ‘that’s your job. I’d put time of death – and remember, this is only a guess – at somewhere in the last two weeks.’
‘You can’t be more specific than that?’
‘I can run some more tests, see what shows up, but it’ll take time. The cold’s stopped the decomposition.’
‘If we trace the victim’s movements, come back with a timeline, could you fit it around that?’
‘I should think so.’
‘Good. What else have you got?’
‘Well.’ Esme shook her head, continued speaking with an enthusiasm Phil found slightly disturbing. ‘There is so much going on here that you could give this body to trainees and students. If they spotted everything they’d all get A stars.’ Another smile. ‘Lucky for you boys I did get an A star.’
They waited for her to go on.
‘Where to start? Lividity. Good a place as any. He died in the chair we found him in. But the injuries leading to his death were done elsewhere.’
‘And the body was moved,’ said Sperring.
‘Indeed. And judging by the fact that there is no evidence of shifting lividity –the blood hadn’t started to gather anywhere in his body before he sat down – I’d say he was still alive when he got to the chair. But his blood levels are well down.’
‘Cause of death?’ asked Sperring.
Esme pointed to the mutilated area in the corpse’s groin. Discoloration had given it the appearance of rancid mince. There was nothing left to identify it as human. It was almost desensitising to look at. Esme’s words provided the right context. ‘That. Mutilation. His genitals were removed. There’s no evidence of cauterisation, so we can assume that the resulting blood loss would have led to his death.’
‘Signs of sexual activity?’ asked Phil.
Esme gestured to the mutilation. ‘Be my guest. If you think you can find anything. Whoever this was has done a very thorough job.’
‘Professional?’
Esme frowned. ‘I don’t think so. But a very enthusiastic amateur.’
Phil glanced at Sperring. From the look on his face, he guessed the older copper was wishing he was still sitting down the corridor with his Daily Mail.
‘We had a look in the bathroom in the house,’ said Phil. ‘The CSIs are still checking it out but we think that’s where the mutilation was done.’
Esme nodded. ‘Very probably. But that still throws up some questions.’
‘Was the victim conscious when this was done to him?’
‘The first question. And a very good one, Ian.’
Phil glanced at Sperring once more and was surprised to find him blushing again.
‘The answer is yes. As far as I can make out, the victim was fully aware this was being done.’
‘What about painkillers, anything like that?’
‘We won’t get the tox reports back for a few days, so we won’t know. But judging from the look of some of those internal organs, the shape of the liver, I’d say there was something in his body. Just not sure what yet.’
‘Something to induce paralysis?’ said Phil. ‘If the killer wanted him alive when this was done, as seems likely, then maybe look for traces of, I don’t know, Rohypnol? Something like that. I’m not trying to tell you your job, Esme, I’m just attempting to get my head round this.’
‘As are we all. No offence taken. Obviously I’ve asked for that to be done.’
‘Thank you. We think that after the mutilation in the bathroom he was taken downstairs,’ said Phil. ‘We found cleaned-up blood on the floor.’
‘The perpetrator was strong, then. Must have had to carry him.’
‘So let’s get this straight,’ said Sperring. ‘He was chopped about upstairs in the bathroom, then brought downstairs and sat at the dining room table. All when he was alive and dressed like a…’
‘Doll,’ said Phil.
Sperring shook his head.
‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Esme.
‘Anything else?’ asked Sperring. Phil noticed he was turning as pale as the wall tiles.
Esme’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh yes.’
‘I don’t like the way you said that,’ said Phil.
She laughed, slightly embarrassed. ‘I don’t get out much. Please forgive me. When you mostly deal with drunks and car crash victims as I do, being given something like this is like Christmas.’
‘Lucky you,’ said Phil, unsure if he was joking or not.
‘Indeed.’ She crossed over to a trolley behind them, returned holding a piece of wire.
‘What’s that?’ asked Sperring, looking like he was dreading the answer.
‘It’s what was in the victim’s arm and hand,’ said Esme. ‘It’s how he was able to hold the teacup for so long.’
Phil and Sperring exchanged glances. ‘So,’ said Phil slowly, gathering his thoughts as he spoke, ‘the teacup was posed deliberately.’
‘Looks that way,’ said Esme. ‘The wire was inserted post mortem, I’d say. Or at least after the mutilation had been done. The drug, I would think, was administered beforehand to induce paralysis.’
‘But…’ Sperring stared at the wire. ‘Why?’
‘It was a tableau,’ said Phil.
Sperring shook his head. ‘Still haven’t answered the question.’
‘And there’s a question neither of you have yet asked.’ Esme had a gleam in her eye. Phil knew that to a member of the public her enthusiasm might have seemed inappropriate, but to someone else in the job it was a positive sign. It meant she was doing what she was paid to do. And taking pride in it.
‘Probably for a reason,’ said Sperring, with the look of a man who wished he could be anywhere else.
‘Yes. You boys might be squeamish about these things. And I can understand that.’
‘What d’you mean?’ asked Phil.
‘The mutilated genitals. Where are they?’
‘Oh God,’ said Sperring.
‘Good question,’ said Phil. ‘We assumed we just hadn’t found them yet.’
‘You’re right. You haven’t found them yet. I have.’
Sperring and Phil shared a look. For the first time Phil felt united with his fellow officer.
‘I did an analysis of stomach contents,’ said Esme.
‘Here we go…’ Sperring turned away. Phil waited.
‘And there they were.’
Sperring turned back round. ‘You mean… he’s eaten his own cock?’ He almost gagged on the words.
Esme nodded. ‘And there were no signs of trauma, no indication of force-feeding. So you know what that means? He did it willingly.’
‘What?’ said Phil. ‘Ate his own genitals willingly? Or did everything willingly?’
‘The latter, I’d say.’
Phil said nothing. He could find nothing to say.
Sperring ran from the room, hand over his mouth.