Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(30)
Clearly, he was turning soft.
“Whoever put her inside the wall cavity wasn’t fussed about returning the stones back to where he found them, because they were dumped on the ground beside it. We could speculate that whoever did this wanted her body to be found, because she’s been open to the elements for most of the night,” MacKenzie continued.
“I bet Professor Freeman wasn’t happy,” Ryan said mildly.
“No indeed,” MacKenzie replied, only just managing to rein in her glee. “She was doing her ends about the damage to the wall. I took the trouble to remind her that the damage inflicted on the person found inside the wall was a more pressing matter.”
Ryan flashed a grin.
“Anyhow, after I rang you, the area was cordoned off and I contacted Doctor Pinter to examine the remains. Faulkner’s team arrived around the same time, at nine-fifteen. You and Phillips arrived shortly after then.”
“Out of interest, when did the press hounds turn up?”
MacKenzie consulted the logbook entries from that morning.
“Early. The first one arrived just after eight, before we’d even discovered Claire’s body.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed darkly.
“Name?”
MacKenzie consulted the log again.
“Ophelia de Lacy-Brown, from the local news.”
“Are you kidding me with that name?”
Denise laughed.
“I thought the same myself, sir. I hope it’s a professional pseudonym.”
“If it isn’t, then her parents should be reported,” Phillips mumbled as he bit off a chunk of ham and pease pudding stottie.
“Have a word with her, MacKenzie. I want to know who tipped her off to get up there so early. The press already had their interview with Freeman last night, so why the urgency this morning? As far as they knew, we would be picking over the scene from yesterday, which is old news.”
MacKenzie nodded and made a note. Watching them, Phillips felt an odd twinge of envy at the easy manner of exchange that his SIO enjoyed with Denise. In fact, with any woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty. If Ryan weren’t such a decent bloke, he’d be minded to hate him for it.
“Claire was identified quickly, as well,” Ryan continued. “She wasn’t reported as missing until her landlady called in this morning, by which stage we’d already found her.”
“The body matched the description from the landlady,” MacKenzie nodded. “After then, it was an easy job.”
“What’s the word from Pinter?” The pathologist had spent the morning compiling a report on Claire Burns’ remains.
“He hasn’t completed the post mortem yet, but he’s sent through some observations. Other than the dismemberment, there’s no obvious head trauma or other major impact, as there was with Amy,” MacKenzie supplied.
Phillips replaced the flapjack he had just unwrapped. His appetite had vanished as quickly as it had come.
“Do you have any idea what sort of timescale we’re looking at?”
“Taking into account ambient temperatures overnight, the condition of the body and early stages of decomposition, he seems to think that she had been dead between eight and ten hours when she was found.”
Ryan took a pen and drew a long line beneath Claire’s image. He added the time that she had been found and the time they thought she had died.
“Here’s what we know about Claire,” he flipped the pen from hand to hand, feet planted firmly on the thin brown carpet.
“She was an attractive girl,” he noted, taking in the sleek dark hair, simply cut and pulled away from a face that was a perfect oval with smooth, caramel-toned skin and big, dark eyes. “Aside from the colour of her skin, she conforms to the same physical type as Amy, and Edwards’ previous victims, for that matter.”
“Next of kin?” This, from one of the constables.
“Her family moved to the Isle of Man while Claire decided to stay here. I notified her mother and father earlier,” Ryan thought briefly of that difficult telephone call. “They’re travelling over later today. She had some friends at the bar where she worked. We’ll be speaking to them by close of play today.”
“D’ you reckon it’s a copycat?”
“The style doesn’t ring any bells with Amy’s murder, except the similarities in physical type and the fact that her body was dumped in the same place. At this stage, it could easily have been some crackpot looking to make a name for himself.”
Ryan thought of all the men and women who answered public appeals for information, claiming to be murderers and rapists. Often, they were sad, unwell individuals who lived mundane lives. Their claims to a morbid kind of fame only hindered police investigations, wasting hours of police time. It was possible that one of them had taken their opportunity to bask in the limelight, turning fantasy into reality and picking on an unsuspecting young girl as their vessel. Had one of them tipped off the local press, to ensure the story was covered? It was worth looking into.