Leyton,
but for a moment some detail on the page detains her and it is a couple of
seconds before she raises her eyes.
‘We found his truck yesterday in the superstore car park on Scotland Road.
His mobile and wallet were locked up inside – looked like he’d put them
out of sight. There was £150 in the wallet, and the phone hadn’t been
used since Friday. Recent calls all appear to be to and from contacts in
the building trade. Monday’s racing newspaper was on the passenger seat.
Keys had been left under the wheel-arch.’
‘Could
he have gone into the store?’
DS
Leyton is nodding. ‘We’re going through the CCTV at the moment –
it’s slow work though.’
‘If he
bought the paper there, they ought to have an electronically timed record
– they can’t sell all that many copies.’
‘Fair
point Jones.’ Skelgill’s interjection is a little terse. ‘But let’s
see what the CCTV brings first.’
DS
Jones nods compliantly. With the back of one hand she taps the reports.
‘What
do you think about the time interval, Guv – I mean between the murders
and the bodies being discovered?’
Skelgill
nods sagely, although his reply does not suggest any private intelligence.
‘What are you driving at?’
‘Assuming
the bodies were dumped in the early hours before they were discovered – it
means they were each kept hidden for the best part of a day and a half.
There must be an explanation for that. It might tell us something about
the killer.’
The trio
sits in silence for a few moments, metaphorically (and DS Leyton literally)
scratching their heads, until DS Jones, who perhaps already has a theory up her
sleeve but has been exercising diplomacy, speaks up.
‘I was
on a forensics course a little while ago, Guv. Rigor mortis sets in three
to four hours after death. Maximum stiffness occurs after about twelve
hours, and then it dissipates from about twenty-four hours.’
Skelgill
seems engrossed by this thought, and it takes DS Leyton to respond in the
vernacular.
‘You
wouldn’t get a stiff in a saloon car boot, or even a hatchback – it’d
take a big estate like yours, Guv.’
‘I’ll remember
that, Leyton, next time you’re paralytic after a police night out.’ Skelgill
projects a reprimanding frown at DS Leyton. ‘Carry on, Jones.’
‘You’d
need transport to get a body to the foot of the fell. Kill someone during
the day. You can’t move them until it’s dark and the neighbours have gone
to bed. But on the first night, you’re too late – rigor mortis
means the body doesn’t fit in a small car, if you could even move it. So
you have to wait until the next night.’
Skelgill
is cupping his chin between upturned palms. He stares hard at DS
Jones. ‘So, your something about the killer – he lives in a
built-up area, probably residential.’
DS
Jones averts her eyes apprehensively. ‘It’s just an idea that corresponds
to the facts, Guv.’
‘It’s
good thinking.’
DS
Jones shrugs modestly. ‘But it does mean keeping a corpse in your house
– that has its complications.’
‘What
if they were killed in an outbuilding, or a garage?’ This is DS Leyton’s
contribution. ‘I’ve been wondering if they went to buy something, Guv.’
Skelgill
sits back in his chair. ‘Leyton – I agree – nine times out of
ten we’d be looking at drugs – but this pair seem as clean as whistles in
that regard. And Seddon’s wallet was stuffed with cash.’
‘So
why did he leave it, Guv – and his phone?’
Skelgill
shrugs.
‘Strikes
me, Guv – you can’t be mugged of what you ain’t got.’
Skelgill
considers this proposition. ‘I’ve obviously led a more sheltered
existence than you, Leyton.’
‘But say
he just took the amount of cash he needed? If it were for some dodgy
deal, he’d maybe think he couldn’t be double-crossed. Look at Harris
– his phone and wallet are gone, there might be a laptop
but for a moment some detail on the page detains her and it is a couple of
seconds before she raises her eyes.
‘We found his truck yesterday in the superstore car park on Scotland Road.
His mobile and wallet were locked up inside – looked like he’d put them
out of sight. There was £150 in the wallet, and the phone hadn’t been
used since Friday. Recent calls all appear to be to and from contacts in
the building trade. Monday’s racing newspaper was on the passenger seat.
Keys had been left under the wheel-arch.’
‘Could
he have gone into the store?’
DS
Leyton is nodding. ‘We’re going through the CCTV at the moment –
it’s slow work though.’
‘If he
bought the paper there, they ought to have an electronically timed record
– they can’t sell all that many copies.’
‘Fair
point Jones.’ Skelgill’s interjection is a little terse. ‘But let’s
see what the CCTV brings first.’
DS
Jones nods compliantly. With the back of one hand she taps the reports.
‘What
do you think about the time interval, Guv – I mean between the murders
and the bodies being discovered?’
Skelgill
nods sagely, although his reply does not suggest any private intelligence.
‘What are you driving at?’
‘Assuming
the bodies were dumped in the early hours before they were discovered – it
means they were each kept hidden for the best part of a day and a half.
There must be an explanation for that. It might tell us something about
the killer.’
The trio
sits in silence for a few moments, metaphorically (and DS Leyton literally)
scratching their heads, until DS Jones, who perhaps already has a theory up her
sleeve but has been exercising diplomacy, speaks up.
‘I was
on a forensics course a little while ago, Guv. Rigor mortis sets in three
to four hours after death. Maximum stiffness occurs after about twelve
hours, and then it dissipates from about twenty-four hours.’
Skelgill
seems engrossed by this thought, and it takes DS Leyton to respond in the
vernacular.
‘You
wouldn’t get a stiff in a saloon car boot, or even a hatchback – it’d
take a big estate like yours, Guv.’
‘I’ll remember
that, Leyton, next time you’re paralytic after a police night out.’ Skelgill
projects a reprimanding frown at DS Leyton. ‘Carry on, Jones.’
‘You’d
need transport to get a body to the foot of the fell. Kill someone during
the day. You can’t move them until it’s dark and the neighbours have gone
to bed. But on the first night, you’re too late – rigor mortis
means the body doesn’t fit in a small car, if you could even move it. So
you have to wait until the next night.’
Skelgill
is cupping his chin between upturned palms. He stares hard at DS
Jones. ‘So, your something about the killer – he lives in a
built-up area, probably residential.’
DS
Jones averts her eyes apprehensively. ‘It’s just an idea that corresponds
to the facts, Guv.’
‘It’s
good thinking.’
DS
Jones shrugs modestly. ‘But it does mean keeping a corpse in your house
– that has its complications.’
‘What
if they were killed in an outbuilding, or a garage?’ This is DS Leyton’s
contribution. ‘I’ve been wondering if they went to buy something, Guv.’
Skelgill
sits back in his chair. ‘Leyton – I agree – nine times out of
ten we’d be looking at drugs – but this pair seem as clean as whistles in
that regard. And Seddon’s wallet was stuffed with cash.’
‘So
why did he leave it, Guv – and his phone?’
Skelgill
shrugs.
‘Strikes
me, Guv – you can’t be mugged of what you ain’t got.’
Skelgill
considers this proposition. ‘I’ve obviously led a more sheltered
existence than you, Leyton.’
‘But say
he just took the amount of cash he needed? If it were for some dodgy
deal, he’d maybe think he couldn’t be double-crossed. Look at Harris
– his phone and wallet are gone, there might be a laptop
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