back and that’s when I saw there was a body in there. Didn’t half make me jump back, I can tell you! I only saw part of it, but it looked to be naked. I tell you I’ve never seen anything like it before. Proper shocked, I was. I didn’t even look to see if it was a man or a woman. As soon as I saw what it was I rung the police.”
Scarlett reached in and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing, Mr Linane. Now I can see this has been pretty traumatic for you, but I need you to hang around for just a while longer. I’m going to arrange for someone to take you to the police station, where we’ll get a statement from you.” Then, switching her gaze, she made eye contact with the policewoman. “Now, I need to take a look at what we’ve got and make contact with my DCI.”
The PC extended an outstretched arm toward the coppice. “They’re about fifty yards in, Serge. We’ve set up an inner cordon around it. And, there’s a line of tape to lead you in. Just keep to the side of the main path.”
Scarlett nodded a thank you and set off into the mist-shrouded belt of trees.
Nineteen
It was almost four p.m. before the briefing got underway in the Major Incident Suite. In the thirty-foot-square air-conditioned room the two syndicates of the HSCU sat on identical padded chairs, resting their major incident notebooks on attached side tables, facing a state-of-the-art interactive whiteboard. Standing before it on a raised rostrum was Detective Chief Inspector Diane Harris. Fussing with her light-brown hair to restore it back into a pony tail – a style she’d been forced to resort to, having been turned out straight from her bed that morning – she looked jaded. She had been on the go now for almost nine hours and had had very little opportunity to do anything with her appearance, except apply a little eyeliner and lipstick to add some colour to her tired-looking face. Her white blouse was rumpled and dark-blue slacks heavily creased. She finished coaxing her hair into an elastic hairband and shuffled her gaze among her seated team. Diane Harris deliberately and loudly cleared her throat.
The detectives’ excited chatter died away and a hush fell across the room.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Sorry it’s taken so long for this briefing to get off the ground, but this is not one of our normal run-of-the-mill murders. All will become clear very soon.” She pointed a hand-held remote up towards a projector hanging from the ceiling and an image flashed up on the whiteboard behind her. “The scene of our murder.” Taking up half the screen was an aerial shot, consisting of a section of river running from the top middle of the image down to bottom left. Above the top-left bank of the river was a strip of land incorporating trees and houses. In the middle of the river was a tiny rectangular island, comprising wholly of trees, and from the bottom bank of the river down to the right-hand corner of the picture was an area of woodland, a large field and a few large detached houses in their own grounds. A track separated the woodland from the fields. “For those who are not familiar with this area, or not yet had the opportunity to go to the scene, what you are looking at is an area of Ham. The island you can see is Glover’s Island and these woods at the bottom of the picture, which will become highly relevant in a few seconds, are accessed via River Lane, which is off the A307. Just so you can get your bearings, to the left-hand side of these woods is Ham Polo Club.” Diane Harris caught sight of a number of nodding heads. “Okay. At approximately six-fifty this morning, a witness walking his dog in these woods came across a suitcase wedged beneath a tree by the banks of the Thames, here.” She aimed the remote toward the projector again and the image contracted. Within a few seconds the view homed in on a section of the wooded copse and part of the river. Individual trees could now be picked out
Scarlett reached in and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing, Mr Linane. Now I can see this has been pretty traumatic for you, but I need you to hang around for just a while longer. I’m going to arrange for someone to take you to the police station, where we’ll get a statement from you.” Then, switching her gaze, she made eye contact with the policewoman. “Now, I need to take a look at what we’ve got and make contact with my DCI.”
The PC extended an outstretched arm toward the coppice. “They’re about fifty yards in, Serge. We’ve set up an inner cordon around it. And, there’s a line of tape to lead you in. Just keep to the side of the main path.”
Scarlett nodded a thank you and set off into the mist-shrouded belt of trees.
Nineteen
It was almost four p.m. before the briefing got underway in the Major Incident Suite. In the thirty-foot-square air-conditioned room the two syndicates of the HSCU sat on identical padded chairs, resting their major incident notebooks on attached side tables, facing a state-of-the-art interactive whiteboard. Standing before it on a raised rostrum was Detective Chief Inspector Diane Harris. Fussing with her light-brown hair to restore it back into a pony tail – a style she’d been forced to resort to, having been turned out straight from her bed that morning – she looked jaded. She had been on the go now for almost nine hours and had had very little opportunity to do anything with her appearance, except apply a little eyeliner and lipstick to add some colour to her tired-looking face. Her white blouse was rumpled and dark-blue slacks heavily creased. She finished coaxing her hair into an elastic hairband and shuffled her gaze among her seated team. Diane Harris deliberately and loudly cleared her throat.
The detectives’ excited chatter died away and a hush fell across the room.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Sorry it’s taken so long for this briefing to get off the ground, but this is not one of our normal run-of-the-mill murders. All will become clear very soon.” She pointed a hand-held remote up towards a projector hanging from the ceiling and an image flashed up on the whiteboard behind her. “The scene of our murder.” Taking up half the screen was an aerial shot, consisting of a section of river running from the top middle of the image down to bottom left. Above the top-left bank of the river was a strip of land incorporating trees and houses. In the middle of the river was a tiny rectangular island, comprising wholly of trees, and from the bottom bank of the river down to the right-hand corner of the picture was an area of woodland, a large field and a few large detached houses in their own grounds. A track separated the woodland from the fields. “For those who are not familiar with this area, or not yet had the opportunity to go to the scene, what you are looking at is an area of Ham. The island you can see is Glover’s Island and these woods at the bottom of the picture, which will become highly relevant in a few seconds, are accessed via River Lane, which is off the A307. Just so you can get your bearings, to the left-hand side of these woods is Ham Polo Club.” Diane Harris caught sight of a number of nodding heads. “Okay. At approximately six-fifty this morning, a witness walking his dog in these woods came across a suitcase wedged beneath a tree by the banks of the Thames, here.” She aimed the remote toward the projector again and the image contracted. Within a few seconds the view homed in on a section of the wooded copse and part of the river. Individual trees could now be picked out
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