Ruby undid the top button of her shirt, sticky from the heat that showed no signs of abating. If it was this hot in the car, she couldn’t imagine what the crime scene was like, and she wondered how long the body had been left to ferment. She had a reasonably strong stomach for such things, which was just as well given she mostly ate on the go. But, at night, the faces of the dead came back to haunt her, and a stiff drink was the only thing capable of quieting their pleas for justice. Ruby didn’t believe in the supernatural, but she did believe in torment: each brutal act locked in time until answers were found. Who needed ghosts when the family of the dead begged for answers, unable to move on from their loss?
Downes had marched on ahead, leaving her to speak to the force press office who had called to speak to him with some enquiries about the case. The king of delegation, he was always passing on his little jobs, knowing she respected him too much to refuse. She turned the corner, impressed to see so many uniformed officers knocking on doors. The five-bedroom semi in Canonbury was situated on a nice leafy suburb unaccustomed to police officers and CSI. Ducking underneath the police tape, Ruby flashed her badge and joined her colleagues, gowning up under the watchful eye of Bones. She recognised Detective Chief Inspector Worrow underneath the suit: rigid, stiff, and stick thin. Her black bob was cut with precision, too severe for her youthful face. She was chatting to Chris Douglas, a trim, effeminate-looking man, with sandy blonde hair. She liked Chris, he had a dry sense of humour that took the darkness from his role. Forensic pathologists often attended murder scenes to gather evidence and examine the body in situ before it was transferred to the mortuary.
‘Morning, Ma’am, Chris,’ Ruby nodded, realising they were both leaving the scene rather than going in. ‘I heard the owners called it in?’ Traffic was good and the drive had been short, depriving her of a full briefing of events.
‘They got back from holiday today,’ Chris said. ‘Bit of a shock to find Emily Edmonds helping herself to cucumber sandwiches, draped on their chaise longue.’
Ruby frowned, wondering if she had heard right. Chris touched her arm to rescue her from her confusion. ‘You’ll see when you go in there. Lovely property; although I think it’ll be a while before they get the smell out of their chintz furnishings. Will we see you at the post-mortem later?’
Ruby caught the wicked gleam in his eye. He knew how much she hated PMs, and took great delight in her discomfort. It wasn’t the smell that bothered her, although that was bad enough. It was the bone saw; the high-pitched drilling sound that reverberated through her brain. Her last attendance had given her a phobia of the dentist and now she brushed her teeth three times a day rather than face the sound of a drill again. She turned her eyes on Worrow who was daintily stepping out of her oversized suit.
‘I was going to ask Jack, but he’s got a lot on.’ She nodded her head in agreement with herself. ‘Yes. It would be good to have you present.’
‘See you at the mortuary around six,’ Chris said, looking amused.
Ruby forced a smile before turning to leave. She approached the house, her temperature rising as she re-evaluated her fondness for the pathologist.
It was an impressive semi; another building the likes of which Ruby could only aspire to own. Dream on, she thought, her eyes creeping over the length of black ribbon tied to the door knocker. The hall was wide and airy, but not airy enough to dispel the stench that greeted her as she passed through the front door. Her footsteps echoed on the gloss timber floor. She took in the family photographs, peering at the private school uniforms. She imagined their names as Rufus and Hermione. Ruby liked her own name. It was down to earth. Stoic.
She did not need the stepping plates or the sound of Downes’s voice to guide her to the body. All she had to do was follow the smell. She fixed the mask over her nose: an instinctive measure which did little to block the stench assaulting her nostrils. Downes was standing in the living room, hands on hips as he spoke to Katie, an attractive young crime scene investigator who was new to the role.
‘Ah, Ruby,’ he said, tearing his eyes away. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I got cornered by Ma’am Worrow. She wants me to attend the PM this evening. Looks like you’re off the hook.’
Downes clapped her on the back. ‘Well, that’s super so it is, just super. Sure you’ll have a grand old time cosying up to the boss.’
‘Thanks,’ Ruby said flatly, trying to make sense of the scene before her.
The corpse of Emily Edmonds was seized by rigor; her knees drawn up to her chest in a foetal position on a very expensive-looking chaise longue. Her head lolled to one side, and her skin had taken on a mottled grey hue. Her long brown hair was tied in a ponytail, eyes open, an expression of terror relaying her final moments. The pretty floral dress she was wearing was too big for her body, and Ruby frowned, wondering at what point she had been changed. On the coffee table lay a teapot, sugar cubes, a jug of milk, a teacup and saucer, and an uneaten cucumber sandwich on one side.
‘I take it that’s Emily then,’ Ruby said, feeling a surge of pity for the remains of the woman before her. But she did not feel surprise. Emily’s death was something her gut had forecast from the first day she saw Harry Edmonds’s body; although she was yet to ascertain why.
‘Afraid so,’ Jack said, his suit rustling as he folded his arms.
She took in the room, which was the same size as her whole flat. She doubted they would ever get rid of the smell. Even when the cleaners had removed all traces of the body, its presence would still be felt, and nobody would want to sit in the room alone. ‘Who found her?’ she asked, taking another step towards the body. Even without the facial bruising and cuts to her lips, Ruby could tell by the tortured expression that death had not come peacefully.
‘The man of the house. Him and his missus came back from their holidays with the kids to find some black ribbon tied to the front door. There was no sign of forced entry, but he told them to wait in the hall while he checked the house.’
‘I saw the ribbon on the way in. The children. What’s their names?’
‘Why?’
‘No reason.’
‘Felicity and Jasper.’
‘Oh. He looked more like a Rufus,’ Ruby said, stepping back to allow the CSIs to continue their work. She could see why the pathologist had come to the conclusion the body had been moved. Apart from the lack of evidence at the scene, the position of the body suggested it had been stored in a cramped space. The boot of a car, a large kitchen cupboard, or even a suitcase would produce that boxed-off shape. ‘Very mumsy,’ she said, pointing to the old-fashioned floral tunic dress. ‘You know what I think?’ she continued, not bothering to wait for a response. ‘Lucy’s turned up at Emily’s door to confront her. There’s been a set-to because Harry’s a controlling sod and didn’t want to know. Either Emily or Lucy decides to answer back. Harry ends up dead. Both women do a Thelma and Louise and run for the hills. But the reunion doesn’t go as planned, and Emily is murdered. Charlotte sticks her beak in, and she gets killed too. Lucy regrets her actions. She dresses her, does her hair, and lays her to rest in the nicest place she can find.’
‘So we’re dealing with a hot-headed individual who will stop at nothing to get what she wants,’ Downes said, stepping back to allow the crime scene investigators to finish their work. ‘It looks like whoever dumped the body closed the curtains and stopped all the clocks.’
‘Mourning traditions,’ Ruby said, remembering her mother doing the same thing after her father died.
‘Indeed, although they’re dying out now… no pun intended.’ He nodded to Ruby. ‘Seen enough?’
‘More than,’ she said, wondering how long she would smell the dead body on her skin, in her hair, her clothes. The fresh air was a gift as she stepped out of the house. Funny how she had never valued it until she was forced to inhale that rotting corpse smell.
Ruby rested her blazer on her chair, giving it a final sniff. It was no use. It would have to be dry-cleaned before she could wear it again. An expense she could barely afford. The home was due to put its prices up soon, and it was hard enough getting her brother to contribute at all. She thought of her mum and wondered what the chances were of getting in to see her for a visit. Minimal, given briefing was due in five and she had just been passed some vital information. Information that changed everything she knew about the case. The lunchtime special wafted through her window from The Eagle pub next door. Today it was curry. Ruby’s stomach rumbled.
‘I got you a sandwich, Sarge: chicken mayo,’ Luddy said, dropping a Tesco bag between the piles of paperwork on her desk.
‘Cheers, mate, and call me Ruby, for God’s sake? Everyone else does,’ she said, taking a peek inside the bag. ‘Ooh, and Coke too; how much do I owe you?’
‘My treat,’ Luddy flashed a smile, his hand resting on the back of her chair. He had nice teeth, Luddy. Clean, even and minty fresh. Bit of a mummy’s boy. He had a habit of lingering a bit too long, but Ruby was too indebted by his sandwich to ask him to leave.
She cracked open the can of Coke and took a swig. Then taking the sandwich in her left hand, she bit off a chunk of wholemeal bread. ‘We’ve just located Emily’s daughter,’ she said, quickly chewing half her sandwich.
‘Seriously?’ Luddy said, his eyes widening at the prospect. ‘Are we bringing her in then?’
‘All will be revealed in briefing. But first, there’s somewhere I’ve got to be.’