Perfect Remains: A gripping thriller that will leave you breathless. Helen FieldsЧитать онлайн книгу.
in Ravelston Park just radioed in about a statement he’s taken from a man who regularly cycles home along that route. Give me five minutes and I’ll get you the details.’
Callanach went back to his office and phoned Jonty Spurr. The pathologist sounded gruff and hassled, the phone obviously on speaker as he continued working while they talked.
‘Do you have time to talk?’ Callanach asked.
‘Four dead teenagers in one car. They’d taken ecstasy and were racing. Never ceases to amaze me how people can be so careless with their lives.’ Callanach said nothing because there was nothing to say. ‘So come on then, what do you need?’ Spurr asked.
‘I have an abducted woman who, I believe, was taken by Elaine Buxton’s killer. She was subdued with chloroform when he took her. Is there any method for tracing chemicals from Elaine Buxton’s remains?’
‘Not from the bones or the environment, no. Normally it would be easy if we had organs to screen but the only soft tissue cells we have are from the tooth found near the baseball bat. I’m not promising anything but I’ll run a tox screen. The results will depend on how recently she’d inhaled the chemical and in what amount.’ Callanach could hear the metallic rattle of tools being picked up and put down.
‘One more thing. How long before the effects of the chloroform would wear off after she was first abducted?’
‘Number of variables with chloroform, such as size and weight of the victim and quantity of the dose. Assuming he didn’t overdose her and she survived, it’s minutes rather than an hour, maybe fifteen if he was being careful not to harm her. It can cause burns to the skin, as well as liver and kidney damage if too much is used. You can’t use it safely for long-term sedation.’
‘Where would someone get chloroform?’ Callanach was pushing his luck and he knew it.
‘That’s two things and you have a pathologist of your own in Edinburgh. The answer is the internet but probably sent from abroad. It’s a commodity in certain eastern European countries, otherwise it’s a common industrial agent. Difficult to pinpoint sources, I’m afraid, but it’s easy to get hold of if you’re determined.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I will repay the courtesy.’
‘Holding you to it,’ Spurr replied before the line cut off abruptly.
Tripp was standing outside his door waiting for the call to end. Callanach shouted at him.
‘I’m not your headmaster, Tripp. You don’t have to wait in the corridor. What have you got?’
‘Uniform says there’s no detailed description, but Liam Granger was cycling home from work down Orchard Road South, just off Ravelston Dykes and went past a man who he noticed because he was talking to himself in quite an animated way. Granger took a second look and saw the wheelie case. Didn’t notice his face or clothing. It was too dark for anything other than an outline. The cyclist assumed he was either mentally ill or drunk.’
Callanach strode over to the map on his wall clutching a red pen. He traced a line from Jayne Magee’s house into Orchard Road South.
‘He must have parked around this area here.’ Callanach pointed. ‘That walk would have taken five minutes pulling a heavy case. If he only had a quarter of an hour until she regained consciousness, he couldn’t have risked parking too far away.’
‘It’s a densely populated area, cars parked along that road all times of the day. We’ve knocked every door. No joy with anyone noticing unusual vehicles,’ Tripp added.
‘Send uniformed officers to knock doors in the vicinity of Elaine Buxton’s home. See if anyone noticed a man with a large wheelie case at about the time she got home. This is something he practised. He knew how to fold the body so it would fit, had the chloroform ready. And would you retrieve the photos of Elaine Buxton’s home?’
The photos were on Callanach’s desk five minutes later as Detective Constable Salter found a vehicle to drive them to Albyn Place.
‘Any news on DI Turner’s baby case?’ Callanach asked.
‘No, sir,’ Salter answered.
‘What’s on at the cinema at the moment?’ he asked. Salter blushed. ‘I just need something to take my mind off this case,’ he said, praying she hadn’t misinterpreted his question as an invitation.
‘I don’t know. My boyfriend downloads everything these days.’ Callanach offered up silent thanks for the mention of her partner. ‘You don’t seem the cinema type, if you don’t mind my saying,’ she noted.
‘What is it you think I do at weekends, then, Salter?’
‘Eat out at nice restaurants, drink wine, read newspapers, go to dinner parties. That sort of thing? I should probably fetch the car, sir.’ She fled and Callanach realised he’d put her on the spot. Still, her answers told him a lot about how he was perceived. Part of it was the stereotype attached to his nationality, he supposed, and too close to the truth of his old life for comfort. Not so for the past year. He’d closed every door, with only the ghosts of parties past for company.
Elaine Buxton’s apartment came into view with a ‘For Sale’ notice displayed prominently in front of it. Callanach guessed Elaine’s mother could neither afford to keep it nor wanted any reminder of the place from which her daughter had been taken.
‘Drive around the back,’ he directed Salter. He identified Elaine’s garage and studied the crime scene photos. He’d visited her home to get a sense of who she was, but hadn’t been inside the garage. Using keys taken from the evidence room, he clicked the automatic door and went inside. ‘The keys were found inside the hallway that leads to her apartment, correct?’ Salter checked the log and nodded. ‘Suggesting she’d dropped them there, that whoever took her was waiting for her inside but no one let him in or saw him there. No sign of a struggle, no noise, no trace evidence. It’s too clean. I think he took her from the garage, opened the door to the hallway and deliberately threw the keys into the corridor.’
‘Garage would have been locked though, according to her mother. The victim was very security conscious,’ Salter said.
‘There are bushes outside. He would have known her routine. Simple is best. He arrives here before her, it’s dark, he stands in the shadows behind the shrubbery, waits for her to activate the automatic garage door, bends down low and creeps in behind the car.’
‘He’d need to have been sure she was alone,’ Salter commented.
‘She didn’t bring men back here. He’d have known her well enough to be confident about that. By the time she’d stopped the car and the garage door was back down, he was waiting with the chloroform.’
‘You’re saying she couldn’t have avoided it, no matter what precautions she took. That’s not very reassuring for the rest of us. Why throw the keys into the corridor?’
‘To deflect attention from the side path which is how he got out of the garage, through the back door, presumably pulling a large wheelie case behind him. Come.’
He led Salter to a side door, leading directly from the garage onto a mud and gravel path back to the street. She went to walk out until he held up an arm to stop her.
‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Call it in to forensics. I want a team here looking for parallel impressions, gravel stuck deep into the mud in lines. The weight of her body would have made a substantial imprint through the wheels.’
The cinema question had been more than just small talk. He looked up what was on when he got home that evening and texted Ava.
‘Couple of hours paperwork on my desk,’ she replied. ‘If you’re still awake at half eleven, how about the late showing of Ice Cold in Alex at the cinema behind the Conan Doyle?’
He had no idea what the film was. It hadn’t come up in the reviews for the latest releases. As it turned out, the reason