‘We meet again,’ Chris Douglas, the forensic pathologist said as he gowned up outside the address of the semi-detached property on Greenwood Road.
‘It’s becoming a bit of a habit, isn’t it?’ Ruby replied, ramming her foot through the paper suit. Her mood was steadily going downhill. After no response from the phone number, she was beginning to regret her meeting with Lenny. With the discovery of another body things were taking an ugly turn. She looked up to see Chris regarding her with some curiosity.
‘Are you alright?’ he said, handing her a paper mask as he followed her to the crime scene. The late afternoon sun beat down on Ruby’s back, and she was growing more irritable by the minute.
‘I’m fine.’ Ruby pulled the elastic over the back of her head. ‘They said the body appears staged?’
‘Yes. Complete with crepe on the door. Given its connection to Emily Edmonds I thought I’d take a look.’
Ruby ducked under the flapping crime scene tape. She wanted more than anything for Chris to be wrong. At least the Emily Edmonds’s case had been contained. Emily, Harry, and even Charlotte all belonged to the same story. But an unrelated victim meant the potential for future bloodshed was strong. The length of black crepe billowed on the front door, acting as a warning for those who entered.
She gazed around the property. A four floor Victorian home. It was currently vacant, having been placed up for sale the month before. Just like the last time, DI Downes had beaten Ruby to it, but on this occasion the body was situated in an upstairs bedroom. She craned her neck as she followed his voice, being careful not to touch the banisters while she climbed the narrow stairwell. Spread out over four floors, the rooms were small and box-like, but lavishly furnished. Once again, Ruby found herself comparing it to her poky little flat, but consoled herself that at least her flat did not currently house a corpse.
‘There ye are,’ Downes said. ‘Any luck with your enquiries?’
Ruby shook her head. She’d barely had time to drop Luddy off at the station before being made aware of another body.
The team were working flat out, but here she was, concealing intelligence about a possible lead. A lead which could provide vital clues to the team. But questions would be asked about its origin, and after this afternoon’s encounter she did not trust Goldie not to squeal. She wanted to believe that the person claiming to be her daughter was not the same Lucy responsible for the murders, but the email address suggested otherwise. And now there was a new victim to add to the list. The weight of responsibility never felt heavier.
‘May I?’ Ruby said, switching on the light with her gloved hand. The thin curtain fabric did little to blot out the strength of the late afternoon sun, but Ruby wanted the clearest picture possible of the crime scene before her. She gazed at the mirror which was shrouded in a thin veil of black gauze. On the dresser, a small quartz travel clock lay devoid of batteries like a creature with its internal organs removed. Ruby turned it over. ‘One p.m.: the same time that was on the clock at Emily’s dump site,’ Ruby said. Somewhere in the corridors of her mind she felt a whisper of familiarity to this scene, yet it was faint: too faint to draw upon as she tried to drag it into her mind.
‘They’ve unplugged the digital clock too,’ Downes said. ‘Did you catch the briefing on the victim?’
Ruby shook her head, having missed radio updates during her heated debate with Luddy.
‘Her name’s Monica Sherwood. Works in banking. Her husband reported her missing yesterday. He came back from a conference to find the house empty. Her phone, wallet, everything was at home, which is several miles from here, by the way.’
‘No sign of forced entry?’
‘Nope, neither here or at home. Like Emily, she gave a daughter up for adoption over twenty years ago.’
‘Which means we’ve got a serial killer on our hands,’ Ruby said solemnly, approaching the body.
Monica’s hair was draped over the pillow; her lips coated in what looked like a fresh application of red lipstick. Her long brunette locks appeared recently brushed, but the clump of matted hair at the back of her skull suggested something more sinister. An application of ivory foundation masked the bruises darkening her skin. Her face lacked the terrified expression of her predecessor, Emily Edmonds, which still haunted Ruby’s nightmares.
‘Death was quicker for this one,’ Ruby said, voicing her thoughts aloud. She cleared her throat, realising that the forensic pathologist was staring at her. ‘Any idea of cause?’
Chris bent over the body, lightly moving Monica’s head to one side. ‘There’s obvious trauma to the back of the skull. She has ligature marks to her wrists, and from the lesions around her mouth I’d say she was wearing a gag. She doesn’t seem to have the same lacerations to the tongue as the previous victim. Body appears to have been washed and staged like before, which won’t help with forensic recovery. I’ll be able to tell you more after the post-mortem.’
‘And there was no sign of forced entry here either? Just how are they getting in?’ Ruby said, wracking her brain for a connection.
‘Someone from Crosby’s Estate Agents came upon her when he was showing potential buyers around. Not something you’d expect to see during a viewing,’ he chuckled.
‘Indeed,’ Ruby said, although it was hardly the time to be cracking jokes. People like Chris seemed immune to the horrors of death, as it was thrust upon them day after day. Ruby strived to cling to that semblance of her humanity no matter how grim things became. Unease crept over her at the mention of the Crosby family name. Was it a coincidence that the victim had been dumped in one of their properties? Or was there something more sinister at play?
‘Are we pulling this duvet back, or what?’ Downes said, receiving the thumbs up from Emma, the crime scene investigator, as she turned to reload her camera. Taking a corner each, Downes and Ruby pulled the top half back, revealing Monica’s torso. Despite the questionable smell the long white Victorian nightgown was spotlessly clean.
‘Looks like Monica has been given a change of clothes too.’ Ruby peeped under the bottom half of the duvet to see that her feet were bare.
‘Well, they’ve gone to a lot of trouble,’ Chris replied.
‘This was the result of long-term planning,’ Downes said. ‘It wasn’t an act of impulse.’
Chris turned to look at the mirror. ‘Very curious. I’ll do some rearranging, try to have this lady on the table this evening.
‘Best I’d be off,’ Ruby said, bemused, as she watched Emma walk DI Downes out to the front door. She was yet to finish photographing the scene, but as the young girl chatted happily about some pub she frequented, her mind appeared to be on other things.
‘Oh and Ruby, count me in the next time you’re organising a shift drinking session. All work and no play and all that,’ Chris said.
‘Will do,’ Ruby replied, wishing there was something to celebrate.