CHAPTER TWO
Julie Kite watched DI Craig Swift scuttle across the office towards her. He only
ever moved as quickly as this when there was something really important to
impart. She was already reaching for her jacket when he approached her desk.
‘A group of school kids have found a body,’ he said, slightly breathless from his exertions.
‘Where?’
‘Above Pont ar Elan, on the Monks’ Trod.’
Julie frowned. ‘On the what?’
‘Follow me, I’ll fill you in on the way.’
She smiled. So much for him being office-based these days. Rhys Williams rolled
his eyes as she passed his desk. One of these days, Swift would let the two of
them out together without him. Julie followed Swift down the stairs and through
the reception area. Brian Hughes, the desk sergeant, grinned at her as she
whizzed past him in an attempt to keep up with Swift. It was amazing how
quickly he could shift if he wanted to.
Swift strode across the car park, dropped into the driver’s seat of his Volvo, waited for Julie to clamber in and fasten her seatbelt and
crunched the gear lever into reverse.
‘Right, so where are we headed, Sir?’
‘Pont ar Elan. Bridge on the River Elan.’
‘And that’s where, exactly?’
‘It’s up above Rhayader on the old Aberystwyth Road.’ Swift steered the nose of the car out of the car park and into the school
traffic – the only sort of rush hour Julie had encountered since her move from Manchester
Metropolitan Police, three months before. She smiled to herself as she watched
drivers politely giving way to each other at a tricky junction, as they did
every day.
‘So, what’s this Trod thing all about then?’
‘The Monks’ Trod,’ said Swift. ‘That’s one for your Adam. He probably knows more about it than I do already.’ He swerved round a campervan which had stopped suddenly. Its occupants appeared
to be arguing over a map.
‘It’s an ancient route up in the hills.’ He nodded towards the north. ‘Apparently the monks used to use it to travel from Strata Florida Abbey in
Pontrhydfendigaid to the sister house at Abbeycwmhir.’
Julie blew out her cheeks. She would never manage these Welsh names with their
convoluted vowels. ‘Yeah, he’s already mentioned something about drovers’ roads. Would that be similar?’
Swift laughed. ‘He doesn’t hang around does he now? How’s he getting on at the High School? Has he settled into the new job by now?’
‘Oh God, he loves it, and the kids, the countryside, the lack of traffic, having
no neighbours, the whole bit. It’s as though he was always meant to be here. He’s got huge plans for the summer holidays.’ She grimaced. ‘But almost all of them involve running and cycling.’ She turned to Swift. ‘I don’t suppose you know of anywhere he could practise his open water swimming, do
you?
Swift glanced at her. ‘Do I look as though I would have the inclination or the ability to squash myself
into a wetsuit, Sergeant?
Julie stifled a smile. ‘Maybe you have a point there, Sir.’
Swift slowed to allow an oncoming lorry to squeeze past and then he accelerated
away round the tight bend, bringing the solid stone walls of the cathedral into
view on their right. ‘Strangely enough, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of anyone wanting to do open water swimming.’
‘What about up at the reservoirs, Sir?’
‘The Elan Valley?’ Swift shook his head. ‘No swimming, sailing or otherwise larking about up there. Not on the water
anyway.’
‘Oh well, it was worth a try.’
‘And what about you, Julie? Are you feeling a bit more settled here now?’
Julie watched through the side window as the houses petered out and the car
headed into open countryside. ‘I’m getting there, Sir. I love the way everybody knows everyone else and the fact
that it’s completely silent at night. I love the views and the rivers and the way people
calculate journeys in minutes rather than miles.’ She thought of home, of the centre of Manchester, the bustle and drive of the
place, the fact that everyone was a comedian. ‘I’m a townie at heart though. I think it may take a little while longer for me to
feel like a total country bump– er, person, Sir.’ She gazed over fields full of sheep and ever-growing lambs. It was a very long
way from the concrete and tarmac maze she had been used to. ‘Would I be right in thinking that this location’s going to be muddy, wet and covered in sheep shit?’
‘See, you’ve cracked it. Spoken like a true local that was. I don’t suppose you remembered to bring your wellies?’
‘Actually, Sir, I didn’t. Give me time, it’s not quite a reflex reaction yet.’
Swift laughed. ‘You’re in luck, Sergeant. Apparently this one’s not too far off the road.’
*
Dr Kay Greenhalgh’s black Alfa Romeo was in the tiny car park at Pont ar Elan. Next to it was a
marked patrol car and a gleaming black van with chillingly dark tinted windows.
Swift slid the Volvo to a halt. Just up the lane, a white Mountain Rescue Land
Rover was tucked into the bank, from which a pair of deep and grass-filled
vehicle tracks led sharply uphill.
‘Who found the body?’ Julie asked, as Swift pulled on a pair of battered black wellingtons. He
slammed the boot lid, hitched up his suit trousers and set off up the lane
towards the Land Rover.
‘It was a school kid on a practice run for a Duke of Edinburgh expedition.’
‘Kids? Out here on their own?’
‘They had a teacher with them, thank God. He phoned it in from the bus, but he
insisted on taking them back to school once he knew we were on our way. They
had parents waiting to collect them, so he thought it would be better to get
them out of the way. He said he didn’t want them to see anything they shouldn’t.’ Swift’s breathing became more laboured with the gradient of the hill and he waved
Julie past him as they drew level with the Land Rover. ‘Up that slope and turn right at the top.’
Julie followed the line of the track as it disappeared round the curve of the
hill. Away to her left, the river Elan bent left and right then broadened into
the beginnings of what looked like a lake. Bog cotton waved in the breeze, the
white heads reminding her of enthusiastic and exhausting trips to Hayfield and
Edale with Adam. At the top, she waited for him to catch her up.
‘It’s a godforsaken spot, Sir. He probably died of hypothermia.’
‘In July, Sergeant?’
Julie laughed. ‘It’s July, Sir, but it feels like February in Urmston.’ Despite the heat of the sun, the wind felt as though it came straight from the
Arctic. Overhead, a buzzard circled and she shivered. ‘Do we know who he is?’
‘Not yet, but no doubt the good doctor will have a theory.’
Despite Swift’s assurances, Kay Greenhalgh was a good ten-minute muddy walk from the road. As
they climbed over the brow of a rock-strewn bank, they saw her and her
entourage of Scene of Crime Officers, starkly obvious against the unrelenting
greens and browns of moorland, in their light blue paper suits. Outside the
locus, there were two uniformed PCs, and two men dressed in black who stood
motionless, their hands clasped and heads slightly bowed. Four members of the
Mountain Rescue team, in their bright orange suits and white helmets, waited on
the other side of the cordoned-off rectangle, with a sled-like stretcher on the
ground between them. The scene beneath her reminded Julie of watching a play
from the front circle, with the brightly coloured costumes of the actors
brilliantly lit in the dark theatre. This production needed no words.
Julie squelched on down the track through puddles with their iridescent surface
indicative of peat. She attempted to wipe the worst of the mud from her shoes
on a tussock of reeds. ‘I thought you said it wasn’t far off the road, Sir.’
‘It could have been worse, Julie, this track goes on for miles.’
The doctor greeted Swift with her stock opening line. ‘Good afternoon, Inspector. Nice of you to join us.’ Kay Greenhalgh smiled at Swift. ‘I’ve almost finished here. I need to get him on the slab before I’ll be able to tell you anything useful. It looks as though he’s been dead for five or six days at most, judging by the maggot activity. There’s no rigor and apart from the head, the skin has a marked green tinge. He also
has a catastrophic head injury, but that’s all I can say for now.’
The bloodstains on the rock showed that the man had probably been in a sitting
position originally, with his back leaning against the rock and his legs
straight out in front of him. Now he was slumped forward into a dark tidy heap.
Dr Greenhalgh lifted the shoulders. The skin on his face was dark – almost black – and there were maggots weaving their way in and out of every facial orifice.
‘Why is the skin on the face at a different stage of decomposition to the rest of
him?’ Julie asked.
‘Well observed, Sergeant. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea. I’ll know more once I’ve done some testing.’
‘This is probably a daft question, but do you think he could have been a rambler?’ Julie asked.
‘It’s not a daft question. In my experience, there are very few daft questions. He
was wearing boots and they were fairly old ones by the looks of the sole
pattern, though he didn’t have a rucksack.’
Greenhalgh leaned back and took a long look at the body. A frown flitted across
her face. ‘He didn’t have a map or satnav either. Would you walk out here without bringing anything
with you?’
‘Did the head injury kill him do you think, or could he just have fallen and then
been caught out by the weather?’ Swift leaned over the blue and white incident tape to get a closer look at the
face and grimaced.
Greenhalgh gently released the shoulders. ‘He could have died of exposure of course, but it’s unlikely at this time of year, even up here.’ She turned to gather up a sheaf of evidence bags. ‘And I’m not even sure yet that he died in situ. Those boots are a pretty common make
but there are a surprisingly large number of other types of boot print on the
ground for such a godforsaken spot.’ Kay stepped under the tape. ‘Although I’d not fancy carrying a body so far from the road, even one this slight.’ She crouched suddenly, beside her bag, and looked at the corpse from her new
location. She shook her head, filed the evidence bags and snapped her briefcase
shut.
‘Could he have been dumped from a vehicle?’ asked Julie.
Swift shook his head. ‘They’ve banned vehicles up here, blocked off the access with boulders. The illegal
off-roaders have caused so much damage it’s made it impassable in places.’
Kay Greenhalgh raised her head and then her eyebrows. ‘Are you really saying there’s no way to get out here in a vehicle now that the path’s blocked?’ She snorted quietly. ‘The weekend warriors might not manage it, even the ones with upswept exhausts
and impressive sticker collections, but a good quad bike or tractor driver with
local knowledge would get you out here, no problem, wouldn’t you say?’ She looked back at the corpse. ‘Or what about a pony? There’s nothing of him, you could easily sling someone that size over a pony’s withers.’
Julie also raised an eyebrow. Every time she met the pathologist, she was
impressed by the breadth of her knowledge.
‘Fair point.’ Swift tugged at his ear. ‘Can we tell if he dumped?’
Greenhalgh shrugged. ‘It’s too sodden for there to be any tyre tracks, but the position of the body would
suggest he’d been carefully placed, leaning against the rock.’ She looked at Swift. ‘Or he could have just banged his head on the rock, managed to right himself and
then expired of course.’
Julie noticed the suspicion of disappointment cross Swift’s face at this possibility. ‘Do we know who he is?’ she asked the doctor.
‘There’s absolutely nothing to identify him. Nothing at all in his pockets, and he wasn’t even wearing a watch. There’s a signet ring but there’s nothing inscribed on it, no initials.’ Greenhalgh jiggled a plastic bag. ‘At least we think it must be his, although it’s not very big and it’s not actually attached to a digit. Could be a pinkie ring?’
‘Had the hand dropped off?’ Julie took the bag from Kay and examined the grisly contents. Along with the
ring were several small bones.
‘Nope, too soon for that, and judging by the marks on the bones in the wrist, it
looks as though a fox has had a go at it. Most of it was down there on the
ground next to him.’ Greenhalgh retrieved the bag and held it up for Swift to see. There were
several pieces of finger in the clear plastic bag. Flaccid skin still clung to
the bones and the nails that were visible were bitten down to the quick. ‘I’m guessing the damage was post mortem.’
‘Thank goodness for small mercies,’ muttered Swift, dabbing his mouth with a large white handkerchief. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to fit him in for your ministrations?’
‘Seeing as it’s you, Craig, I’ll get it started first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got anything – unless you’d rather be there for the main event? I know you like a hands-on approach.’ She jiggled the evidence bag and Julie laughed
‘I could go, Sir?’
‘Ah yes, you and your gruesome penchant for a good PM, Sergeant.’
‘It beats paperwork, Sir.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being interested in watching science at work, Craig.’ Greenhalgh stepped well away from the locus and removed the shoe covers from
her wellingtons. She dropped them into a large evidence bag, which was being
held open by one of the uniformed constables. ‘You might even learn something.’
‘I think I’ll leave it to the sergeant, if it’s all the same to you. It’s a relief to finally have a member of the team who enjoys all the blood and
guts.’
Greenhalgh shook her head and began to walk away from them. ‘Oh,’ she said, turning back to face them. ‘There was one odd thing. His good hand is twisted slightly as though he’d been holding something. It might be nothing, it could have happened as he died
– some sort of reflex action or spasm – or it could have been caused by a pre-existing condition. Anyway,’ she pushed back the hood of her SOCO suit, ‘Sergeant Kite and I can discuss it in more detail tomorrow.’
Swift and Julie watched Greenhalgh walk away.
‘So where does this bewildering love of necrotising flesh come from eh, Sergeant?’
Julie shook her head. ‘It’s not that ghoulish, Sir. I just find the whole forensic pathology thing
fascinating. You can find out so much more about some people after they’re dead than when they were alive. There’s nowhere to hide anything, is there, on a slab?’
‘That’s far too much information for my liking.’ Swift curled his lip.
The two dark-coated men zipped the corpse into a black body bag and slid it onto
the stretcher, and the Mountain Rescue team lifted it carefully between them.
The entourage was moving en masse off the hill now, leaving the two uniformed
PCs to carry out a final check and remove the tapes. A huddle of mountain sheep
watched them approach. All but one fled. She looked up briefly, considered them
carefully then put her head down and carried on grazing.
‘Given what we’ve got to go on, it might be an idea,’ said Swift, nodding towards the sheep, ‘to bring her in and take her hoof-prints.’