The unmistakable stench of death hung heavy in the air.
Not the customary mix of bone and rotting flesh. The gut-wrenchingly distinctive smell rooted several feet beneath the surface was the result of decomposed flesh and body fat coming into contact with water, and there was plenty of that, either from the broken sewer main or the natural water-table.
Senior Investigating Officer Detective Superintendent John Bennett recognised it straightaway. Fourteen years as a police frogman had honed his senses.
He had sampled it the first time as a fledgling police cadet in Stroud.
A suicide on the main rail line to London. Body parts, not found for a week or so, strewn along a quarter-mile stretch, were collected in the paper bags that were all they had in those days and stored in the boot of the patrol car. By the time the coroner and then an undertaker had arrived the bags had all but disintegrated.
‘You’d better get used to it,’ the Sergeant told the raw recruit.
Thirty-two years later in that dingy back garden, the Sergeant’s words came back to him. He knew there were human remains somewhere. He could smell them. Not for nothing was it said in the force he had missed his vocation, that he should have been a scenes of crime officer, a mortician, a pathologist or even a doctor. Dead bodies, human biology and forensic science had always fascinated him, unlike most other policemen for whom attending a post-mortem examination was little more than one step along the investigative highway – an important step, but not one to linger over and certainly not to dwell on.
Often as not, though, it was a duty and sometimes a requirement for identification purposes for police to attend before, during or after a post-mortem. Most did what they had to do and left the rest to a scenes of crime officer, the exhibits officer, senior investigating officer or deputy. Not so John Bennett, or ‘JB’ as he was widely known. JB loved this side of the job and given the chance would be at the pathologist’s side from the first incision to the last. Throughout his career, right from seeing that first death on the railway line, the way the body worked and the clues it offered up in death intrigued him.
Though just why John Bennett was there anyway was a curiosity. Some might call it destiny.
Promoted Superintendent Subdivisional Commander in 1989, he thought his return to uniform after more than twenty-two years meant the end of his days as a detective. Not many were given the opportunity to flit from plain clothes to uniform then back again, certainly not when they’d been in the job as long as he had. What’s more, he’d enjoyed his time in charge of the Gloucester City Subdivision. It had given him responsibility for all aspects of policing the city rather than just focusing on crime as a detective, and everyone agreed he’d done a good job, but the opportunity to return to CID was too good to turn down and in any case, a detective was all he ever wanted to be. Now, after more than three decades in the job, he was at the peak of his powers. What’s more, given his interest in forensic science, fate could hardly have chosen a better man to take charge of what lay ahead, for this was some time before DNA had assumed the importance it has now and if dead bodies could provide a clue to their killer he had always been prepared to exploit any advantage on offer.
It was Saturday 26 February 1994 and the team of police diggers had already been hard at it for a couple of hours. JB checked his watch and mentally marked the time at just after 2.50 p.m. as he and Detective Chief Inspector Terry Moore walked towards a narrow dirt track off St Michael’s Square in Gloucester. It was spotting with rain again, just as it had been the previous afternoon when the digging began, and it looked like there was more on the way. It would make an already testing job even more difficult, Bennett thought to himself.
Moore, whose job it had been to get the operation started, pointed the way across a public car park that was the centrepiece of the square to where a constable in uniform was stationed at the entrance to the path. The constable saluted and made a point of noting both their names on his log sheet. It was no more than Bennett expected but this show of discipline and control of the crime scene pleased him. Acknowledging the constable distracted him from the small number of local news reporters gathered close by.
Walking on another 20yd, he could see off to his right the roofs and upper floors of what he guessed were the backs of some of the odd-numbered houses in Cromwell Street, a terraced row of three-storey Victorian houses now largely given over to flats and bedsits that had clearly seen better days. Many of the tenants were either on low incomes or benefits and didn’t tend to stick around very long. In the ten years or so Bennett had worked in Gloucester he had occasionally gone along Cromwell Street to the city’s main open space – known locally as the Park – but he had never had cause to call at any of the houses and had never realised the path he was now walking along even existed.
To his immediate right, above some fencing, he could see a line of conifer trees about 15ft high that formed a natural boundary between the end house and the adjoining property which was vacant. He realised this was where he was being taken as Moore had already mentioned the trees to him. It was also where the narrow, dirt pathway opened out onto a small piece of waste ground. Parked in the centre of this was a mini digger, scoop down with shovels and waterproof clothing draped over it. Several paving slabs were stacked against a fence.
Looking into No. 25, Bennett’s immediate impression was one of surprise at how small the garden was for the size of the house. He reckoned it could only be 25–30ft long by no more than 15–20ft wide, although the combined effect of a high wall on the left, the trees on the right and the height of the house itself all made it feel more closed in and claustrophobic. His view was also obscured by a pile of brick debris from a homemade barbecue and wood from a shed, as well as more of the paving slabs that once covered the garden but which had now been lifted and stacked against the base of the trees. Some members of the Gloucester Police Division Support Group, a sergeant and six constables who were all specially trained in crime scene search techniques, were slowly digging in that area, every spadeful carefully scrutinised by Acting Detective Sergeant Bob Beetham and Detective Constable John Rouse who were both scenes of crime officers. Other members of the group were removing the remaining slabs by hand.
Peering into where the digging had already begun, Bennett could see what they were up against. Less than a spade-depth down there was a crusty layer made up of solid ground and gravel. About a foot down, this gave way to a thick, black and brown treacle-like mud, which had the smell of sewage. Even worse, it seemed that the deeper the hole was dug the more this liquefied mud began to seep in until it found its own level. Bennett knew the water-table in the Gloucester area may have been partially responsible and that the conditions weren’t helped by a further layer of dense, dark, impervious grey clay that existed some 6ft below the ground – left there when the River Severn receded thousands of years before. The reason for this water, or where it was coming from, was not important, but to remove it most definitely was. Some form of pump was needed as well as a tent to cover the whole of the area. This would not only protect the men from the weather, it would also mark it out as a crime scene and block out the prying eyes of the media, for he realised now that some reporters had already got into neighbouring properties overlooking the garden in order to get a better view of what was going on. Bennett called over Sergeant Tony Jay, who was in charge of the support group, and told him to contact the fire service, while at the same time instructing Bob Beetham to make arrangements to get the crime scene tenting brought over.
While all this was taking place Bennett said little but his eyes were everywhere. If his outward expression gave nothing away his mind was alert, carefully considering what other problems might have to be faced. As Detective Superintendent Operations, he was there to give advice and take over serious crime investigations when it was appropriate. Today, as before on this investigation, he was acting in an advisory capacity for this was Terry Moore’s case and one that Bennett knew he was perfectly capable of handling. After all, when they analysed it coldly and factually, this appeared to be just another domestic murder. Tragic, of course, like any other, but while the circumstances might be different, it was the sort of thing that happened all too frequently and it was beginning to look like an investigation that would be resolved quickly – once they’d found what they were looking for.
Turning back again towards the house, Bennett saw there was a shanty-looking flat-roofed extension made of brick, built on to the back. Piled on top of it were some old wooden boxes and other sizeable odds and ends and bits of building material. The extension was wider on the left than the house and appeared to be joined to the wall of the adjoining property that towered above it. A pair of double glass doors led into the back of the house and opened out onto concrete slabs, some of which had been removed. The right half of the extension had one window and jutted out onto the patio. Altogether, it was as wide as the garden and went right up to the row of trees, but it was a really ramshackle affair and Bennett doubted whether planning permission had ever been given for it since the work would never have passed inspection.
Moore had already mentioned that the initial removal of the slabs and early digging had uncovered a quantity of small bones and bone fragments. A local anthropologist had examined them and decided they were from dead animals. Some of it could even have been leftover food. In any event they appeared insignificant – unlike one large bone that was uncovered when a slab was raised immediately below the window of the extension. The discovery was made just before Bennett and Moore arrived. One of the diggers saw it sticking up through the ground at an angle. The two scenes of crime officers, Beetham and Rouse, had already had a look and thought it human, but what was puzzling was that it was as far away as it could be within the garden from where they had been told to search.
Bennett and Moore went across to the marked area and saw for themselves the protruding bone just as it had been described to them. Resting just below the surface, it was dirty, on the face of it old, and yes it did look human – maybe from an arm or leg. Then again, many times down the years Bennett had been called out to nearby streets by builders and householders who had discovered human bones in gardens, on wasteland and on construction sites only to find they were Roman in origin. His first thought, therefore, was that the bone they had just uncovered might not be relevant. Nevertheless, it would still have to be checked out.
As the fire service arrived and began pumping, it was clear that the machine would have to remain in place until the search was completed because although it was not a large volume of water that was hampering them, as soon as it was pumped out back came more, probably from a spring or some other source. If that wasn’t bad enough, as the diggers made the hole bigger the foul-smelling treacle substance thinned to a custard consistency.
Bennett turned and went over to where the main excavation and pumping work was going on. The edge of the hole was rimmed with planks. The detective found a spot and peered over, quickly identifying the smell that was now emanating from inside as adipocere. It was little more than a whiff but it was there all right, faint yet unmistakable.
Adipocere is a sickeningly repugnant, nose-clinging stink. It is associated with human decomposition, especially in watery conditions. It results partly from the decay of body fat and is a smell that, once experienced, is never forgotten and one he had encountered many times when recovering decomposed bodies as a police diver. But there was no time to dwell on it. The diggers, who were working with Rouse, had uncovered what looked like human hair.
All the moisture that was around was making the hole very unstable and the sides of it were gradually crumbling and caving in. Even so, more bones were clearly visible now, including a sizeable one that looked like it came from a leg or possibly an arm. The stench of adipocere had intensified considerably. Everyone could smell it right to the pits of their stomach and it made the discovery of the bone near the extension seem even less important.
It was a sickening experience yet one countered by adrenalin as the investigation gained a new momentum.
First they had to notify the coroner for the city, David Gibbons, who would decide whether he or one of his officers needed to attend. Either way his authority would be sought to call out a Home Office pathologist. The man they were expecting was also the man they wanted on the job. Professor Bernard Knight, colloquially and respectfully known as ‘the Prof’, was the head of a consortium of Home Office pathologists based at Cardiff University. Sensing his skills might be needed, Moore had already been in touch with him.
The site was now definitely a crime scene and had to be made secure until the Prof arrived. Only then could all the officers involved, diggers and supervisors, return to Gloucester Police Station for some food and rest. There was nothing more they could do at 25 Cromwell Street for the time being.
Acting Detective Sergeant Beetham had decided to remove the bone found near the extension. He put it in a brown paper exhibit bag and took it to the station so that the Prof could take a look at it before they did any more digging at Cromwell Street. Showing the complete bone to Bennett and Moore before the pathologist’s arrival, it was evident to them all it was a human thighbone – a femur.
As promised, Professor Knight arrived at Gloucester Police Station within an hour and a half and there, over coffee, Moore, Bennett and Beetham outlined what had taken place so far, including the conditions he would find at Cromwell Street. Beetham then handed him the bag and asked him to look at what was inside. The professor removed the bone and, holding it in both hands, first made as if to smell it, though it was known he had all but lost this sense years before, then turned it in a circle at arm’s length. Within seconds he confirmed it was human and almost certainly female. His initial view was that it had not been in the ground that long – and certainly wasn’t there in Roman times! The slight curvature, which was a recognisable feature, meant it probably came from a young woman – at least that’s what he thought. To be sure and in order to age it more accurately he would need to take it back with him to his laboratory at Cardiff and do more tests. Measuring the bone as he spoke he added that he thought it came from quite a young person who was possibly aged 15–25 when she died.
It was a startling revelation and not at all what they had expected to hear. The likely age of the bone raised new questions.
Darkness had started to fall and the rain had turned to a drizzle when Bernard Knight was taken to Cromwell Street just before 7 p.m. Entering from the rear pathway, he paused to pull on his wellington boots but refused the overalls offered to him, preferring his own anorak.
The garden area was now covered in well-used, crime scene tenting that formed a canopy over the pathway. Power for the bulbs that hung from the ceiling of the tent came from a generator. The more intense light that illuminated the area where the professor was headed came from movable electric arc lamps.
It was damp and cold. A mist of condensation formed around the lamps which was added to by the condensing breaths of all those in the hole and looking on. No one spoke unless spoken to first by the professor. A video camera operator had been arranged to work alongside the scenes of crime officers and the Prof, who would each take still photographs and video as the work progressed so that between them they would produce a complete record of the excavation and what was removed.
Bennett and Moore had positioned themselves alongside the video cameraman on the relative dryness of the wooden boarding from where they had a clear view of what the pathologist was doing. Crouching to examine the excavated area, he immediately confirmed the presence of what appeared to be human skeletal remains. In the wet and filthy conditions, the ‘grave’ parameters and its sides formed a sort of small quadrangle, the sides falling away to where the remains could be seen. Working to instructions agreed beforehand by Bennett and Knight, the video camera recorded and stopped as the painstakingly slow and methodical operation of excavating and removing the remains continued.
It was a grisly task carried out in the most relentlessly appalling conditions.
Each bone was handed to a scenes of crime officer to be recorded and prepared for removal so it could be examined again in greater detail later. The visible part of the remains was found around 2ft below the surface and had been pushed down to a depth of another foot or so.
Knowing that Bennett and Moore would appreciate it, the Prof gave a running commentary as to what he was finding and his initial opinions. As he continued, the smell of adipocere was even more evident – not that he was concerned, having lost his sense of smell many years before. This time, though, he didn’t have to smell it because he could see it in the form of traces of a soapy, off-white liquid and traces of it were easily visible. The surrounding mud was also darker, no doubt due to further decomposition.
While the leg bones they had recovered were in some semblance of anatomical order, they appeared to have been separated from the torso and placed on it. Further down in the ground, a black polythene bin liner was found partially underneath the torso. Close by were two lengths of cord. The head also seemed to have been separated and was found with its hair still in place, though by now heavily matted in mud. According to Knight, the ground conditions must have somehow helped preserve it. By the time he had completed recovering what bones there were, there appeared no evidence whatsoever of any clothing. No material, no buttons, no zips. It seemed the girl had been buried naked.
Bennett and Moore watched intently, detached from emotion by their professionalism. Each stood on the boarding, hands in their anorak pockets, a posture they had both learned to adopt over the years, not out of slovenliness but because it helped to preserve the integrity of evidence by removing the temptation for them to touch things. On this occasion, too, both had their collars turned up, more in a vain attempt to keep warm than anything else.
Warm, cold or otherwise, they were about to get another shock to their senses.
Professor Knight leaned forward and pulled out another bone. It was part of a left thighbone – another femur. He could see it was obviously broken, though how he couldn’t readily tell because of all the dirt that covered it. Then he pulled out another, longer portion that had a number of cuts near to where it had been broken. Moments later, another bone, this time a complete right femur.
‘Well,’ he said dryly, ‘either we have found the world’s first three-legged woman or there’s another victim around here somewhere!’