By the time Culverhouse had managed to assemble everyone in the incident room for the briefing on Lindsay Stott’s death, they’d already managed to fast-track DNA testing on the handkerchief which had been found wrapped around her neck. The results showed that — unsurprisingly — the blood on the handkerchief matched that of Lindsay Stott, but also that large amounts of saliva on it also belonged to her, indicating that the handkerchief had perhaps been used as a gag or at least inserted into her mouth at some point.
Knowing the identity of Lindsay Stott from the outset had been a bonus. It had allowed them to radio in to the station to have her details run through the Police National Computer. This would show them any details the police had on file for her.
Frank Vine had run the PNC check and was looking pretty proud of what he’d found.
‘No convictions, but a fair few incidents. Four calls to a previous address related to domestic incidents. All involving a Paul Stott, her husband. The last time was just over three years ago, by which time they’d apparently separated and were going through a divorce. The husband had apparently come to pick something up from the house and things had turned violent.’
‘Did they get divorced in the end?’ Culverhouse asked.
‘No idea. Nothing on our records. Would have to check Births, Deaths and Marriages.’
‘Right. Either way, he’s got to be our first suspect.’
‘I wouldn’t say so, guv,’ Frank replied, chuckling to himself. ‘He died a year and a half ago. I thought the same thing as you, so I looked him up. Died in a skiing accident in Saalbach-Hinterglemm in Austria while he was on holiday with his new family.’
‘Blimey. There’s a family that attracts good luck,’ Culverhouse replied.
‘I don’t think Paul Stott’s new family would have been all that close to Lindsay, guv. Not looking at our records. Apparently she was a heavy drinker. They both were, but it seemed to cause more problems for her. Indications of violence on both sides. He believed she’d been sleeping around and that seemed to cause most of the fights. Looks like one of those couplings that should never have been allowed to happen.’
Culverhouse nodded. He knew exactly the sort of one he meant. ‘So who’s left family-wise?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. Looks like she lived alone, though. According to the electoral register, anyway.’
‘Right. Keep digging,’ Culverhouse said. ‘Luke, Debbie, can you start door-to-door enquiries with the neighbours? Find out if anyone was seen coming or going from her house over the past couple of days. See what you can find out about her work. Steve, I’ll get clearance for a search on her house. See what’s there in terms of payslips or any indication of regular connections. We need to build up a picture of who Lindsay Stott was and what sort of life she lived.’
‘Will you need me in contact with the Vincents, too?’ Debbie asked, knowing the poor unsuspecting couple would need a family liaison officer to help them come to terms with finding a mutilated dead body in their pristine back garden.
‘Yes,’ Culverhouse replied, bluntly. ‘It’s only round the corner from James Street. And from here.’
Before anyone could say anything else, Luke Baxter jumped in. ‘Are we looking at any connection between Lindsay Stott and Keira Quinn, guv?’
Culverhouse sighed. ‘In terms of whether they knew each other? Worth looking into, but where do you begin? But I presume that wasn’t what you meant, was it?’
Luke Baxter simply returned a cheeky smile. Wendy knew that any other superior officer would’ve wiped the smile off his face, but Culverhouse’s infuriating soft spot for Baxter meant otherwise.
Culverhouse continued. ‘There’s nothing at all, concrete or otherwise, to link the two. Absolutely nothing. I don’t even want the possibility mentioned outside of this room and any press enquiries or anyone asking about links, just play dumb. Shouldn’t be too tricky for some of you. But within these four walls? Two single women being killed within ten days of each other and dumped in residential areas? Well, it doesn’t take fucking Einstein to find that a bit weird, does it?’