Ridpath arrived at the house in Northenden just as some of the CSIs were packing up to go. He’d already signed the register before being allowed to enter the cordoned area around the crime scene. ‘Hi, Hannah, long time no see.’
‘Hiya, Ridpath, this one of your cases?’
He had worked with Hannah before on a few investigations. She was an excellent crime scene manager; meticulous, thorough and, best of all for a detective, quick. Haloed by her Tyvek suit with its mask and cap, her face looked tired and careworn.
‘The coroner asked me to look into it. Who’s the SIO?’
‘Dave Connor, but his boss is lurking around somewhere too.’
He remembered Dave Connor from his time in MIT. A good detective, dogged and determined, but not the sharpest tool in the shed.
‘The boss is helping, is he?’ Ridpath formed quotation marks with his fingers.
‘Like a brewer at an AA meeting.’
Ridpath laughed. ‘That helpful. Give me the lowdown.’
‘Three hands from three different people, found in a backpack on Monday night or Tuesday morning by a film crew. It was hidden in a room at the back of the house in a wooden compartment, We searched the rest of the house but found nothing of interest except some graffiti and a few needles and burnt spoons.’
‘From the local druggies?’
‘Probably. Apparently, the house has been unused since it closed in 2006 and has gradually fallen into disrepair.’
‘Have the hands been there long?’
‘I dunno, Ridpath, you’ll have to ask the pathologist, Dr Schofield. But they weren’t skeletal, they still had flesh on them. The woman who found the backpack said she didn’t notice it in the morning when she did the recce.’
‘Right. Did you find the rest of the bodies?’
‘No bodies anywhere in the house, nor any signs of blood or violence. A herd of uniforms from Stretford are just assembling to perform a search through the grounds now it’s light enough. I think the hands were cut off somewhere else, placed in a bag and then transported here.’
‘Why?’
She smiled. ‘I just collect the evidence, Ridpath, I don’t try to interpret it. Your job, remember?’ Tiredness was making Hannah a little snappy. ‘Speak of the devil…’
A small rotund detective was approaching them, his hands in his pockets. ‘Ridpath, good to see you again.’ He looked around and surprise crossed his face. ‘Where’s the rest of the MIT mob?’
‘Dunno, Dave, I’m here from the coroner’s office.’
The little man’s eyes screwed up. ‘That’s right, you were transferred across there a couple of years ago. I remember hearing about it.’
‘Seconded, Dave, not transferred.’
‘That’s what they all say. Anyway, my boss, Chief Inspector Holloway, is not going to be a happy bunny. He thought he was getting the full support of MIT, not one man from the coroner’s office. No disrespect meant, Ridpath.’
‘None taken, Dave. When does the search of the grounds start?’
‘As soon as we can get all the plods and CSOs organised. A couple of years from now, at this rate.’
‘Right…’
‘I presume you are from MIT?’
The man who spoke was wearing a chief inspector’s uniform and walked as though a broom handle had been inserted painfully into one of his orifices. His shoes and buttons were polished and shiny, glistening in the early sun of what looked like a beautiful Manchester day.
‘Detective Inspector Thomas Ridpath, sir, from the coroner’s office.’
‘Where’s the rest of your unit?’
‘I am the unit, sir. I’m the coroner’s officer for East Manchester.’
‘What? MIT was supposed to send me help. I was promised full support.’
‘I know nothing about more people. The coroner has asked me to attend as the representative of her office as this could be a possible murder. I am seconded from MIT to her, but I haven’t heard anything from them.’
‘This just isn’t good enough. I have two CID self-isolating after positive Covid tests, another on a series of burglaries and one more following a fraud. Dave Connor is the only senior man who is free.’ He glanced disdainfully at the round detective as if to say ‘this is what I have to work with’.
Ridpath stayed silent. Then his phone rang loudly.
Holloway frowned as Ridpath reached into his pocket to check the caller ID. Jenny Oldfield.
‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you,’ sniffed Holloway.
‘Sorry, sir,’ said Ridpath, declining the call.
‘This is most unsatisfactory. I’m getting on to the ACC and Claire Trent. It’s unsupportable.’
He turned and walked away, bringing out his mobile phone.
‘Hello, nice to have you here, welcome to the investigation.’ Ridpath mimicked the chief inspector’s voice.
‘He’s not great at welcomes, is Holloway. Not great at anything, actually,’ whispered Dave Connor.
‘Right, I’m off to check in the evidence bags back at the lab. Who are you going to appoint as pathologist, Ridpath?’ Hannah Palmer picked up her evidence tray.
‘You’re sure this is a crime scene, Dave?’
‘Three human hands in a backpack? We have to look into it, Ridpath.’
‘And the medical examiner was John Schofield?’
Both Hannah Palmer and Dave Connor nodded.
‘I’ll call him and let him know he’s to proceed with the post-mortem.’
‘I already had a phone call from him. We’re booked in at five p.m.,’ said Hannah.
‘He’s moving quickly.’
‘You know what he’s like. Told me he was looking forward to this one.’
‘Only he could look forward to a post-mortem. Before you go, Hannah, could I take a quick shufti at the backpack?’
‘Sure, Ridpath.’ She pulled out the clear bag from the evidence tray.
Inside, Ridpath could see a small green backpack, with white and red stripes. It was conventional in design, with a big ‘CLAK’ logo in red on the side. It was covered in a fine white powder. ‘Any fingerprints?’
‘None we could find. But we’ve just done a quick check. We’ll go through it properly under lab conditions.’
‘When can I get a report, Hannah?’ asked Dave Connor.
‘I’m knackered, Dave.’
‘But you know the first week is key to cases like this. Once it gets stuck, it will just go on the back burner.’
‘As soon as I can.’
‘As soon as I can, when? Tomorrow?’
‘Don’t push. I’ll try my best.’
‘But—’
Ridpath stopped Dave Connor from speaking by putting his hand on his wrist. ‘Thanks, Hannah, you’re a star. Whenever you can will be great.’
She picked up her evidence tray and walked slowly back to the CSI van, tiredness evident in every step.
‘Is that how you butter up the CSIs, Ridpath? “You’re a star”?’
‘A word of advice, Dave. The sooner you get some forensics to work with the better, and you don’t get the reports by nagging tired CSIs. Otherwise this investigation is going to be quickly dumped over to the cold-case unit.’
‘I know, I know, but I’ve been here since two a.m. My brain isn’t working.’
‘You’ve no support?’
‘You heard Holloway, we’re short-staffed.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘I could do with some help, Ridpath, I haven’t done one of these investigations for a long time. The most we usually deal with is vandalism or burglary. And Holloway’s on my back…’
Ridpath went to put his arm around his colleague’s shoulders, then remembered the bloody Covid restrictions and stopped, simply saying, ‘You’re made from tough Salford stuff, Dave, you can handle it. Now, do you want to walk me through the scene so I can help with some pointers?’
‘You’re a star, Ridpath.’
‘That’s my line, remember?’