The possibility of two graves on the property presented DCI Pascoe with another huge problem.
“Constable, please go and tape up the ground around the suspect areas. At least 5m away from the possible graves. Red tape that and add another yellow ring a further 10m away. And be sure to keep everyone’s size 15s off the yellow area until we can get the scientists involved.”
“Sir,” said the Constable before leaving the Command Trailer.
The DCI sat for a minute, trying to decide what to do next. He was not the sort of person who liked being hands-off.
In the end, he decided to go and inspect the possible grave sites. If they were not likely graves, then nothing would be lost other than some crime scene tape. If they were, then he could report to the Chief Super that he had verified that something might be buried in the garden when requesting extra resources.
He found Constable Packer busying himself with the red tape that signified the inner part of the crime scene.
“Constable, please show me what you think are graves.”
“Sir, there and there,” said the constable.
There were two obvious depressions in the grass. They were about 80cm wide and 1.5m long. They were only a metre apart.
“Constable. Please make one red zone and expand it to 3m. Take the yellow zone out another 3m.”
“Will do, Sir!”
“Good. I’ll go and consult the experts.”
A very thoughtful DCI headed back to the Command Trailer. He was not looking forward to his next phone call to HQ.
“Chief Superintendent Monaghan,” said the DCI
“Yes, sir. The SOCO investigation inside the house should be complete by the end of the day.”
“Sir… that isn’t the real reason for my call. The team searching the grounds have found what could be two burial sites.”
“Yes, the locations are being cordoned off as I speak.”
“Sir, that is what I was thinking. We have used the people from Cambridge University on other cases where we had a possible grave site to exhume.”
“I agree, but Sir… I’m just about out on my feet. I’ve been here for thirty-six hours already.”
“I know that Sir. I would not ask to be relieved if I thought that I could do the job of SIO and not make mistakes, but both you and the chief herself impressed on me that mistakes in this investigation would not be tolerated.”
“Sir, the DCI would make an excellent temporary SIO to wrap things up here.”
“I will wait for her to arrive so that I can hand it over to her.”
“Thank you, sir. If you could give me an update on the team from Cambridge, it would be most welcome.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
DCI Pascoe sat at his desk in the command centre for a good ten minutes before venturing outside.
He saw one of the SOCO teams loading up their van. After a glance at his watch, he decided to let them go back to base and get their reports written. If the depressions did turn out to be graves, then they could wait until the next day. A different sort of SOCO investigation could be needed for the graves if… if they turned out to be graves that were remotely human in form; the coroner would also need to be involved as if this crime scene was not messy enough as it already was.
His mind was already working on the handover to DCI Suzanne Mitchell, who was coming to relieve him as SIO on-site when he smelt a whiff of perfume. None of the SOCO teams wore it or even aftershave for obvious reasons.
“Hello, Suzanne,” he said as he turned around to greet her.
“Hi there, Clive. The chief gave me a heads-up on the scene. This is a rum do, isn’t it?”
“It is not for the faint-hearted, all right. The SOCO team who covered the house apart from the cellar left an hour ago. The team in the Cellar will be… or should be done in a couple of hours. They have already bagged and tagged enough to fill two van loads with from the size of the pile of plastic boxes in the SOCO truck, at least one more full van load to come.”
“And the possible bodies? The Chief gave me a heads-up before I left.”
“We are waiting for the people from Cambridge with their ground-penetrating radar. If the site does contain one or more bodies, I’d like to suggest that we wait until tomorrow to start the dig. We’ll need to get a JCB in to excavate if they are more than a foot or so down.”
“That was my thinking. Whose place is this? Is it anyone we know?”
“If you mean know as in terms of someone with a record, then no, they aren’t. I was told by the big chief to keep their names under wrap, but as temporary SIO… we arrested the well-known if not slightly infamous barrister Jonathon Fox and his son.”
“Fuck…” said Suzanne.
“I can see why this has to be kept quiet. He is something of a media darling, especially with those Sunday Politics shows. The gutter press would go ape-shit for an exclusive on this.”
The shaking of her head told him that Fox was just about the last person to be in the frame for the list of crimes that the Chief Constable had personally briefed her on less than an hour before.
“I fully expect that the NCA will be managing the show soon, but it is our job to make their job as easy as possible. Given what I have seen here, I am in no doubt that the Foxes are, in my opinion, two sick bastards. The two child victims we rescued will never be fully functioning humans again. Someone mutilated two boys and turned them into women, minus a vagina. But… we have to be impartial while we collect the evidence.”
Suzanne looked very pale.
“Then we must not give that Fox bastard any room for wiggling out of this one. That man is as slimy as hell in court. My old superintendent in the Met received a reprimand from a judge after calling Fox an ignorant lying SOB from the witness box.”
“Ouch. Did if affect the case?”
“Fox got his client off only for him to be arrested as he walked out of the court and charged with witness tampering. He’d been blackmailing one of the witnesses who had gone to the CPS. The client was sent down for five years.”
Clive smiled.
“Then we are on the same wavelength.”
“Get off home and let me manage the scene until the morning. Get some rest. This should get you the promotion you have been angling for recently…?”
Clive shook his head.
“No way. I’m nowhere near the next in line for a Super’s job. Besides, I’m too old for it. I only have three years to go before I retire.”
Suzanne laughed.
“You are only as old as you feel, Clive.”
“This case has already put 10 years on me. Read the preliminary SOCO report on the cellar. That bastard Fox allegedly tried to blow us all to kingdom come with a bomb yesterday.”
Suzanne shivered. The thought of the place being booby-trapped gave her some horrible flashbacks. As a former Territorial Army Officer, she had seen the effects of IEDs and booby traps in Iraq. To have had that sort of device in place showed a coldness that would, in her opinion, make an iceberg seem warm.
“Are there no limits to the depths that scumbags like Fox would descend to?” said Suzanne.
“I’ll forget that I ever heard that. Fox is innocent until proven guilty by a jury. Given the truckloads of evidence, I have little doubt that an honest jury will convict him, but until then, it is all alleged crimes.”
Suzanne grinned.
“That’s Superintendent talk if ever I hear it?”
DCI Pascoe shook his head.
“The job is yours if you want it. I’m certainly not going to stand in your way. I would have just enough time to get my door nameplate put in place before it was time to retire. I’ve done my time, and now I’m looking forward to retirement.”
“And endless rounds of golf then?”
He shook his head.
“Not me. I’ve been working with the restoration people up at Duxford at weekends for a few years, researching parts and the like. That’s where I’ll be when my time in the force is up.”
“Good for you. Those Golf bores are just moaning shops. Could have, should have and all that crap… besides, they don’t like women, especially if they can play better than them.”
“Does that mean that you have been taking lessons?”
Suzanne laughed.
“No. My dad was the club pro at a course just outside Harrogate. I hit my first hole-in-one before I became a teenager. I play over at Woburn Sands off a three handicap.”
“Ouch, that would not go down well with the male members of their Golf Bores Club. They all think that women should not play the game especially if they are that good.”
“Exactly.”
The DCI gathered his things and signed out of the crime scene.
“Take your time in the morning,” said Suzanne.
“I’ll keep the site safe for your return.”
Clive ducked out before he said or did something that he’d regret.
Clive had seen far too much depravity at that house for him to relax much, and the thought of hitting the bottle appalled him. He’d seen far too many colleagues end their careers and even lives thanks to drink and drugs. His drug of choice was to run. Not long after getting home, he went out for a run. He only returned close to midnight, having covered more than 20km. Even being physically tired, he could not sleep very well. The hideousness of the case was affecting him right to his core. He kept wondering how low people could get to treat other human beings in such a sadistic and cruel way. Then there was the little matter of the bomb. That was even more evil than the child abuse. It was designed to kill anyone within the house and close by.
[The following morning]
DCI Clive Pascoe arrived back at the house late the next morning, fully prepared for the bad news about the possible graves.
Those fears were realised when DCI Suzanne Mitchell showed him the results of the ground-penetrating radar survey of the area. Two skeletons were clearly visible on the radar display.
“Have you informed the big chief?” he asked, referring to the Chief Constable.
“I finished the call with her less than five minutes ago. She’s given the go-ahead for us to get a JCB in to speed up the excavations. She’s also working with the forensic archaeologists from the Home Office to get them on-site ASAP. We are to turn everything we did up over to them.”
“That’s good news. Our SOCO teams are pretty wiped out by this case. There is so much evidence to process that when I spoke with one of the leads on my way in just now, they think that it is going to take at least a week, if not two, for a full report to be generated.”
“The CPS isn’t going to like that one little bit. They’ll want to charge them sooner rather than later, won’t they?”
“They will. Then I think we should get enough evidence together for a charge that is serious enough so that any right-minded magistrate won’t even consider the subject of bail.”
Suzanne nodded.
“Then I think the charge of unlawful imprisonment of two minors should be the one to go for or, the weapons charge. Finding a gun in his bedroom is in my opinion a slam dunk especially if his prints are all over it which from the report, puts it as being in his bedside cabinet drawer alongside two boxes of hollow point ammo. That alone should be enough for ten years in a Cat A prison.”
Clive wasn’t so sure.
“I can see that you are not happy?”
“I couldn’t sleep very well last night, so I went digging into Fox’s old cases where he was the lead defence barrister. Two of them involved unlawful imprisonment, and he got them both dismissed for lack of evidence. One of them is very similar to this case.”
Suzanne looked surprised.
“Did they involve children?”
“No. While it shouldn’t make a difference, it can only work in our favour. I hope that the CPS are aware of them and how he conducted the defence in that case.”
“Let’s hope so… for everyone’s sake,” said Suzanne.
Clive decided to change the subject.
“Did you get any media incursions last night?”
“Only the one. Some slimeball from one of the gutter press tried getting into the cellar by posing as a SOCO team member an hour after the last one had gone home. He’s in a cell in Hertford as we speak, charged with impersonating a police officer, assault and resisting arrest. One of the SOCO team got the drop on him and will have a black eye for her troubles. This is not the first time this scumbag has tried this trick. He got 6-months suspended for two years last time and…”
Suzanne smiled.
“That two years is not up until the end of next month.”
Clive returned the smile.
“He’s going down for the full six months regardless. Good work, Suzanne.”
“Just a small dent in the number of crimes that we are dealing with here. From what he claimed, he was acting on a hunch, given all the police activity at the house. The Custody Sergeant will be presenting a deaf ear to his requests for the next 12 hours. That gives us a window before he spills the beans to the world.”
“Then, we’d better get it done, or we’ll need to call in the army to stop some of those media types. This is one heck of a case,” she commented.
“True, but it beats the run-of-the-mill knife crime that seems to dominate our caseload these days…”
“I’ll agree with you on that one.”
Suzanne handed Clive a sheet of handwritten notes.
“That is the current state of play. Nothing has been done inside the house since you and the SOCO teams called a halt yesterday. The Radar people found an anomaly near the house when they were setting up and calibrating their GPR kit. The image they identified is on the board.”
Clive read through the list. Nothing was much of a surprise to him, given their recent discussion. To him, that was a sign of a good officer. Talk about the situation and have the paperwork to back it up.
Then he turned to look at the image of the anomaly. He’d watched far too many episodes of ‘Time Team’ to get excited by a GPR anomaly, but the shape of this interested him.
“They had calibrated their device on the drains from the house. Then they moved towards the red zone and had only gone a couple of steps when they saw this. They think that it is metal and buried less than 10cm down. The location is marked by a single paving slab half buried in the grass. If I were a betting woman, and I’m not, I’d say that the slab is a marker for whatever is underneath it.”
“Thanks, Suzanne. I’ll get the experts to have a look at this first. We don’t want some sodding great JCB obliterating this location just to get at the skeletons.”
“It sounds like you are back on board. I’ll relieve you at six this evening. I’ve been assigned to shadow you until you are happy that we have investigated every possible bit of the house and grounds. The last thing we need, according to the big chief, is another bomb hiding away, just waiting to kill a few officers. That would not look good on her retirement clock when she goes at the end of the next year.”
Clive managed a chuckle.
“Gotcha on that. We are due to get the plans for the house from the architects later today. The place is almost identical to a dozen or more that they built in the 1910s over in Metroland [2].”
“I didn’t know that. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thanks, Suzanne.”
The low loader with the JCB on the back arrived a couple of hours later. Once it was unloaded, Clive supervised the archaeologists, and they began to gently dig down to the GPR anomaly. Right from the start, one of the archaeologists, Dr. Brian Palmer, said,
“That soil is not compressed and is more like compost than anything. I’d like to suggest that this thing was not buried that long ago. 1-2 years at most.
The two other experts did not disagree. Clive’s hopes of finding something significant grew.
The object turned out to be a metal box about the size of an old-time biscuit tin. It was wrapped in several black plastic bags. When the tin was opened, everyone stepped back.
They stepped back in surprise because the tin was full of gold coins.
“I’ll call the coroner,” he said after he’d recovered at least a little bit. The coroner deals with treasure trove finds.
“We called him as soon as we saw the GPR images. He’s due here later for when we unearth the skeletons, but with this find, I’ll get him here as soon as possible, some of those coins are Roman in origin while others are recent issue Krugerrands,” said Dr Palmer.
Clive lifted up the tin. He guessed that it weighed at least 20 kilos. 20 kilos of gold, was worth more than he’d earn several lifetimes as a police officer.
He made a decision.
“Constable Petrie, when the photos of the tin and its contents have been taken, I want you to bag it up and take it into the command trailer and stand guard on it as if your life depends on it. I’ll send Sergeant Dunn to assist you shortly. It is to be handed to the coroner and only the coroner. Then you are to escort him and it to safekeeping at Police HQ. We do not want even one coin going missing. Understood?”
“Sir,” said the rookie constable.
The archaeologists took a lot of photos of the tin and its contents before the constable carried the tin towards the command trailer.
After the excitement of finding a hoard of gold, the next hour was something of an anti-climax. The Archaeologists and the JCB operator worked together very closely and slowly. As every bucket of earth was removed, it was gently piled onto a large groundsheet. One of the teams from Cambridge checked it over before another bucket was removed from the ground.
The leader of the Cambridge team, Professor Trevor Young, commented after the dig had reached 1 metre,
“This soil has been removed and replaced within the last ten years. The subsoil and topsoil are all mixed up. Then, there is the presence of leaves in the spoil heap. Leaves that have fallen from an oak tree and dried out take a lot of time to rot down. I’d revise the time since this was last dug as being approximately four years ago. The other thing is that this hole was dug by hand. A machine such as a JCB leaves a distinct pattern on the edges. This is different from a pickaxe and spade. I can see those artefacts clearly where the undug edges have collapsed into the hole.”
“Thanks for that,” said DCI Pascoe.
They’d gone down almost 1.5 metres when Professor Young called a halt to the mechanical digging.
“The Radar trace indicates that what we are after is just 50mm away. We will dig out the rest by hand when we have excavated the other grave to the same point.”
The DCI was about to question this but remembered that the Cambridge team had done this sort of thing before. The Professor saw the frown on the DCI’s face.
“Once we get to the same spot with the other grave, we can erect a tent over the area. That will keep the prying eyes off what we are doing besides, the weather forecast for tonight is rain. We have to keep that off the evidence.”
“This bit of the crime scene is your show. You won’t have any pushback from me about protecting the evidence,” said the DCI, hoping to appear professional.
The tent went up a little over three hours later, and the digger was retired to the driveway. The now white-suited dig team from Cambridge sprang into action. Lights and an evidence table were quickly set up inside the tent before the first member climbed down into the first grave.
More than an hour passed before the team emerged from the hole. Several buckets of earth had been removed for a more detailed inspection.
“It is the body of a child. We estimate that the age is around ten years old. The corpse is wrapped in black plastic bags, but the process of burying the body caused some tears in the plastic.”
One of the team was busy photographing the grave.
“I’d better call the coroner. They are expecting a callback. He was here earlier to collect the coins,” said the DCI.
“I’d hold off on that until we have uncovered the other body. We should only be an hour or so.”
DCI Pascoe looked at his watch. Any thoughts he might have had about getting an early night were fast disappearing.
“Ok. I’m going back to the command centre to report to the Chief Constable. What time do you think that you will be here too tonight?”
“Well, past Chinese time? I hear that there is a good place in town?”
DCI Pascoe managed a smile.
“I’ll arrange for some food to be delivered in about an hour.”
He retired to the command centre and organised the delivery of food by a police car when Suzanne arrived to take over.
“Two bodies and around 20 kg of gold coins so far,” said the DCI.
She shook her head.
“I have some news. Fox and his son were charged with illegal weapons possession and illegal possession of C4 explosive material and the means to make an explosive device earlier this afternoon. They were remanded in custody to Belmarsh. A press release was made available just before the six o’clock news. The media is going bonkers. Some are calling it all a hoax and a stitch-up. Fox is too honest to be guilty of anything like this,” she commented.
DCI Pascoe sighed.
“That is just the start, or I hope that it is.”
This job was proving to be far bigger than anyone had expected. Dealing with paedophiles was one thing, but this was in a different league. There was so much about the victims that even he didn’t know. In his mind, this need for secrecy was way overblown, but he was prepared to go along with it. If it kept the media away, then he was happy… for now.
The team from Cambridge took a break from the food that one of the constables had gone into the nearby town to collect. They’d just finished when the coroner from Hertford arrived.
Dr Joseph Wiggins was not happy at being called back to the house long past his normal quitting time. Even the prospect of two bodies that had been buried in suspicious circumstances failed to pique his interest. In his mind, they were dead and were not going anywhere fast. It could have waited until normal office hours, but here he was on a cold night with a steady drizzle now falling, staring down into two pits at two dead bodies. The hoard of gold was, to him, far more interesting, especially the Roman coins. He’d been examining them in the dry and warm of Police HQ when the call back came in. As it was from a Chief Superintendent, he could not ignore it. Now, coins would have to wait until he’d dealt with the dead bodies.
It was wet and cold, but there were procedures to follow before he could get one of his staff to perform post-mortem examinations on the deceased.
One glance at a leg that had been exposed told him that they had been in the ground for at least four years. The only thing that got to him was the small size of the bodies. Children deserved a proper burial and not being stuffed in the ground like this. At least once he had finished with them, they could be laid to rest properly. It was his job to make that happen as smoothly as possible.
He donned a crime scene white suit and climbed down into the first grave. The glare of the arc lights cast some dark shadows. Thankfully, he came equipped with a good head torch.
After kneeling beside the first body and crossing himself, he gently eased back the now ripped black plastic bags that had encased the body. The first thing he saw was the lack of genitals. That caused him to stop dead. What the hell had he been dragged into?
The long hair and facial features indicated that the deceased was female, but the length of the femur was all wrong for someone of that age. He estimated that the person was about ten years old but had almost fully developed breasts. It was all wrong. He tried not to use the word that came into his mind. Rule 1 for coroners was never to jump to conclusions.
The plastic had preserved the skin around the head. There were clear ligature marks on the deceased’s neck. He shook his head and covered up the body as best he could before standing up and extracting himself from the grave.
“I’m not saying anything until I have examined the second body,” he announced firmly.
No one quibbled. This was his scene at the moment.
After putting on a new pair of latex gloves, he climbed down into the second grave. It told him the same story, which deepened the mystery.
Once out of the grave, he addressed DCI Suzanne Mitchell.
“The bodies appear to be of two young girls around the age of ten or eleven. I say appear because both have almost fully developed breasts, which, under normal circumstances, is unlikely to happen. There are other factors that lead me to believe that they were both born male. Until I get a post-mortem carried out, I can’t say more. The bodies can be removed… carefully and taken to the Morgue at Stevenage Hospital. I will perform a PM tomorrow. I will be assisted by Dr Moore.”
The DCI didn’t look happy, so Dr Wiggins took her aside and said,
“Those poor creatures have been mutilated. They have no genitals. Instead, there is a tattoo of a flower where their pubic hair should be. There is evidence of surgery in that area that is fairly recent, as in less than two years before their passing. Naturally, until I perform the autopsy, I can’t confirm that.”
The DCI could only utter two words.
“Fucking Hell.”
Being told about the mutilation was one thing, but being in the presence of not one but two mutilated bodies was a whole new level … of loathing for those responsible.
[1] GPR: Ground Penetrating Radar
[2] Metro-land: In the early 20th century, the Metropolitan Railway promoted development alongside their railway that ran north-west out of London.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro-land