Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [25]
ELEVEN
Goodhew later drove DI Marks to Addenbrooke’s Hospital. He already had questions to ask his superior, but Marks was preoccupied with making notes on the murder scene. Goodhew had made his own before they left the station, and he knew that the post-mortem would shortly take them from a passing acquaintance with the woman to a most intimate relationship.
He chose the most direct route, and was surprised when Marks glanced up and directed him down the next right-hand turn. ‘Then pull over in the lay-by this side of the lights.’
The car stopped outside the Big Teas Café, and Marks had opened his door even before Goodhew had a chance to cut the engine. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘there’ll be at least half an hour before the pathologist is ready for us.’
The café was deserted, but as soon as the door rattled, a skinny guy with grey hair and a grease-splattered apron emerged from the kitchen. Marks ordered a mug of tea and a bacon sandwich and sat at a table near the door. Goodhew decided to order the same, and joined him.
‘Let’s see if you’re still good at keeping your dinner down.’
‘Breakfast actually, sir. Any idea who the corpse might be?’
‘Female, twenties, that’s all I know too. What about the lad who found her?’
‘Poor kid, he’s really shocked. Kincaide arranged for someone to pick up his mum so he’s got company while he makes his statement. He’s only ten, and he shouldn’t even be doing a paper round, but he lied to get himself the job. He was even worried his boss would get in trouble. But, despite his age, he gave very clear descriptions of the route he took, and the times it took too. Hopefully the details will still stack up when it’s all written down.
‘What did you notice about the crime scene?’
Despite having seen the body itself close up, Goodhew began instead by describing its location in relation to the road. ‘Assuming it doesn’t turn out to be a bizarre suicide, then I’d also think this is a premeditated attack.’
‘Why?’ Marks asked sharply.
‘The attacker was in possession of both a carrier bag and something to tie it with.’
Marks tutted and opened his mouth to speak, but Goodhew continued to explain. ‘I know, sir. On their own, those factors don’t mean much, but it occurred to me that there are plenty of more secluded locations where the body could have been left, yet there she was, right by the footpath where the first passer-by was likely to find her. But that was not likely to be dawn or soon after; even vehicle headlights would have had trouble picking her out.’
Marks was frowning. ‘I still don’t . . .’ he began.
Goodhew raised a hand and carried on talking. ‘She would have been particularly hard to spot before dawn, even though she was in the open, because she was mostly concealed and wearing black amongst all those black sacks.’
‘I spotted that fact myself, believe it or not.’
Goodhew ignored the sarcasm. ‘Well, I checked around, and all the nearby houses had similar sacks waiting outside, so I asked the dustmen whether the spot where the body was found was a regular place for rubbish to accumulate. They said this was the first time it had ever happened, which makes me think someone shuffled them there ready for her.’
Marks’ eyes were now closed and his head made a small rocking motion, back and forth, in a slow rhythm.
Goodhew kept quiet, realizing that interrupting the inspector at such moments was never a good idea.
Finally Marks raised his eyebrows, which had the simultaneous effect of heaving his eyelids open. He inhaled a long, slow breath through his narrow nostrils. ‘Assuming it is murder – and, for the record, I think it is – I will want you on the investigating team. I’d be pleased for you to take more of a role than in previous cases because I think you’re ready now but . . .’ he paused to pick his words. ‘I’d like you to work closely with someone more experienced, just so you’re not unnecessarily exposed if you find yourself in unfamiliar territory. I hope you get on OK with Michael Kincaide?’
‘Fine,’