‘It’s a bugger, Ridpath.’
‘I know, Dave.’
‘I mean, how are we supposed to deal with a case when the only clues we have are three embalmed hands and an old backpack?’
They were walking out of the Science Park building and crossing Lloyd Street to get to Ridpath’s car. ‘It’s going to be difficult, Dave, but I’m meeting Claire Trent in half an hour and I’m going to try to get more resource for us.’
‘We could do with some help. I’ve got Holloway breathing down my neck on costs and asking when are we going to get a result. At the same time, he takes away my DC for a day to work on a bloody burglary.’ He shook his head.
‘Nothing we can do yet, Dave. The real work will start once we get DNA and fingerprints back from the lab. At least we’ll know whose hands they were.’
‘They might not be on NDNAD.’
‘If they are not on the National DNA database, we try others, like the Vulnerable Persons or Missing Persons DNA database.’
‘What if they are foreigners?’
‘I don’t know, Dave. After Brexit we don’t have access to SIS or PRUM any more.’
‘What are they?’
‘Haven’t you been keeping up, Dave?’
‘I’m two years off retirement, Ridpath, give me a break. I need this case like I need a new arsehole.’
‘They are EU police reporting and DNA sharing schemes. We don’t have access any more.’
‘So if any of the hands used to belong to a foreigner, there’s nothing we can do?’
‘We have to go through “channels”.’ Ridpath made two marks with his fingers. What used to take a couple of days could now take a couple of months. ‘Let’s hope we don’t need to check.’
They were passing the Ducie Arms. The early drinkers were already sitting outside in the spring sunshine enjoying a pint.
Dave Connor licked his lips. ‘Fancy a quick one?’
‘And walk in to see the boss reeking of beer?’
‘It was an idea, Ridpath, no need to go all Salvation Army on me.’
‘Listen, Dave, unless I can get us more resource, we are going to be stuffed on this investigation. I gave a list of things for Oliver Davis to do. Any progress on checking with local hospitals, universities, funeral homes and labs? We need to know if any human hands have gone missing recently.’
‘I haven’t heard anything other than his report on the post-mortem. Do you want me to ring him? He’s somewhere in the dark heart of Urmston at the moment.’
‘What about finding reports of bodies without hands using HOLMES?’
The detective shook his head again. ‘I know nothing.’ Dave Connor did a passable impression of Manuel from Fawlty Towers.
‘Jesus, Dave, you’re supposed to know what’s going on in the investigation. You’re the SIO.’
‘Sorry.’ He stopped for a moment. ‘There’s too much to do and too little time to do it. Do you get there feeling everybody is watching, waiting for us to fail? Or is it just me being paranoid?’
‘No, it’s not you being paranoid, I feel we’re being set up, too.’
‘We need more help, Ridpath.’
Ridpath sighed. ‘I’ll see if I can get it when I meet Claire Trent. In the meantime, start ringing around the local hospitals, universities and funeral parlours. OK? The first thing we have to do is check this isn’t some enormous schoolboy prank.’
‘OK. Will do.’
‘I’ll ask Chrissy to check HOLMES for us. See if any bodies have been found without hands anywhere in England or if other hands have been discovered. It’s the best we can do until the DNA and fingerprints come through. I’ll follow up myself on the backpack. Oliver can check on hand operations in the last twenty years.’
Dave Connor didn’t answer, staring at a man sitting outside reading an early edition of the Manchester Evening News. ‘Shit,’ he said loudly, pointing to the newspaper headline.
Ridpath looked across. In big, black letters, the headline shouted:
THREE HUMAN HANDS FOUND IN MANCHESTER HOUSE