The Samsara Project, David Burgess [most popular ebook readers txt] 📗

leads for us.
“That’s the thing I’m finding a bit strange sir, according to the CSI’s who ever committed this crime has left forensic evidence all over the scene. The tape used to bind the victim is still there, fibres from their clothes have been found on the body. Hairs not matching the victim have been found. The rock used initially to render the victim unconscious has been found. There’s sweat from the attacker on the victims clothes. At some time the attacked wiped their sweat onto a cloth and that cloth is over there. We have been able to lift clear fingerprints from a number of different places. This perpetrator is either very confident, very stupid, wants to be caught or simply has no idea of forensic evidence. Then there is the ‘calling card’ the cross.
“That’s the main reason why I’ve come down here Inspector. How many people know about this cross?”
Just ourselves and the CSI team, Morgan found it when he turned the body over onto its side.”
DCS Hughes nodded at little. He started to stroke his chin with his right hand. “Anyone outside of the immediate investigation team know about it?”
“No sir,” replied Bales, “No one.”
“Good, OK. That’s how it has to stay. Under no circumstances are any details about the cross to be given out to anybody outside of the immediate investigation team. Inspector, I’ll hold you personally responsible if there is any leak from anywhere and anytime about the existence or significance of this cross. Make sure everyone knows. I’ll say again, no leaks, no hints, and no exceptions. To the outside world the cross does not and never has existed. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
There was a slight pause, an uneasy moments silence, not too long but enough for both men to notice. Hughes sighed then said.
“Look Inspector, I’m sorry if I seem a little off handed about this but if anything about the cross leaks we’ll have every weirdo, crackpot, evangelical supremacist and religious nut claiming they had carried out the murder after being told to do so by whatever god they believe in. We’ll be told that this is a warning for humanity to change its ways or the wrath of the almighty shall bear down upon us.” He then looked up to the sky, “Please God, spare us from that.”
Bales nodded, “This is a very unusual case sir.”
“It is Inspector, it is. Now then we have two main priorities. Firstly get one of your men to find out if, or when a press officer will be here. We have to tell the press something about what’s going on here. You know the press Bales, if they’re not told something before their precious deadlines then they’ll just make up something just to fill the column inches. I think I’ll give the briefing together, just a statement for now, and no questions. In the morning we’ll arrange a full press conference, nine thirty, New Scotland Yard Media Centre.”
Bales waved over Sergeant Williams, quickly explaining what he was to find out and to get back with some news ASAP.
DSI Hughes then continued, “Secondly, this cross, let’s have a look at it.”
“It’s safe in MOSCOW,” said Bales.
DC Peter Malone, the junior detective on DCI Bales team, walked over to the board room area. DC Malone was twenty four years of age, five feet seven inches tall and slim build. He had medium length blond hair, slightly longer than police regulation length, blue eyes and a number one length blond moustache. Malone looked more like a teacher than an up and coming Scotland Yard detective wearing light brown corduroys, brown loafers, a beige shirt with brown check tie and a casual jacket.
“Sorry to interrupt sir but the men from the Coroner’s Office wanted to know if they can take the body?”
“Have anyone checked with the crime lab people, do they have any objections?” asked DCI Bales.
“No sir, they’ve said it’s OK with them,” replied Malone.
“Give them the OK then,” said Bales.
“Yes sir.” Malone turned around and walked back to where the three men were standing. After getting the OK the three men place a large blue plastic sheet onto the ground. Gently, they picked the body up and placed it on the plastic sheet. The bottom of the sheet was then lifted over the body’s feet, the sides pulled across. The two sides were then fastened together with a full length zip that finally completely covered Suzie’s head. The three men then lifted the body onto a gurney, fastened Velcro straps around the feet, waist and chest area. After a final check everything was secure the body was wheeled out to a waiting black Ford Transit. The large gold lettering on the rear door read “Private Ambulance.”
The body of Suzie Reeves would now be examined in minute detail to see if there were any other clues or secrets that could be revealed.
“I’ve had a change of mind Inspector. I think it would be better if we got the press statement out of the way now. Most of the press will then leave. They’ve just watched the body being taken away so there’s not going to be much for them to stay around for.”
DCS Hughes rubbed his hands together and then ran them through his hair clasping them together at the back of his head. Looking down he lowered his hands. He looked up at Bales and said, “Come on Inspector, let’s get this terrible business over with.”
The two detectives then walked out of the tent towards the press area. John Reynolds had a good vantage point at the front of the main press core. From here he had an excellent view of the tented area, ‘Mo’ and the main road running past the common. John also followed the journalist’s number one rule, ‘When you have a good vantage point, never give it up.’
As soon as the detectives exited the tent and started walking towards the press area there was an immediate buzz of excitement. TV crews immediately turned on the cameras. The bright lights needed by the cameras lit up the whole area. Photographers, balancing precariously on small extendable ladders while trying to hold their cameras still, tried to get the best shots of the two detectives. Radio journalists, earpieces in place, had their portable recorders held at the ready. The majority of the press though, like John, were print journalists. They were jostling with each other to get a better position in the hope of hearing better what would be said. Nearly all the journalists knew what would happen. The police would give a statement, request no questions, at the end of the statement everyone would start to shout out as many questions as they could just in the hope of getting that one ‘off the cuff’ sound bite. It hardly ever worked, modern police officers all go on extensive ‘How to handle the media’ courses, mostly run by ex journalists mainly to give the course some credibility and themselves some extra income.
The two detectives stopped behind the cordon tape just in front of the journalists. DCS Hughes spoke. “I have a short statement. Earlier this afternoon a body of a woman in her mid to late thirties was discovered on the common. Police and Crime Scene Investigators were called to investigate and as you can see the investigation is still ongoing. I can confirm that due to the nature of the injuries the woman suffered we are treating the death as suspicious. A full press conference will be held at New Scotland Yard’s media centre at nine thirty in the morning when we hope to be able to give you more details. Thank you for your time.”
As expected everyone wanted to have at least one question answered.
“Have you identified the victim?”
“How was she killed?”
“Have you any leads?”
”Have you made any arrests yet?”
DCS Hughes held his hands up at shoulder level and gestured slightly forward with them. “I can only reiterate what I said before. There is a press conference tomorrow morning and I hope to have more details for you then. Thank-you all for your time and patience and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at half nine.”
At that both men turned around and walked towards ‘Mo’. Behind them the press were still shouting in a last, vain attempt to find out something else.
“Inspector, Chief Superintendent” They could hear as they walked into the sanctuary that was ‘Mo’.
“I know we need the press on side Inspector but sometimes I just wish they would go away and let us get on with our job.”
“I understand what you are saying sir,” replied Bales, “The fact is though we live in a media age, an age of instant communications, twenty four hour news channels, satellite and cable TV in every home. The Internet even keeps ex-pats living in all four corners of the earth up to date with live real time news. Like it or not this is the modern age, and I’m sorry to say sir I don’t like it.”
“You and I both Bales, you and I both,” DCS Hughes replied. “Isn’t there a kitchen of sorts in this thing, you’d think so with all this equipment”
“Yes, there is sir,” Said Bales, “Tea or coffee?”
“I don’t mind Inspector so long as it is hot, sweet and has two sugars, preferably in a mug.”
The two men sat down, drinking their tea. “This is going to be a right mess Inspector,” DCS Hughes said, “I can feel it in my water, and, between you and me I don’t think this is the last we will hear of the ‘white cross killer’.
“Don’t let the press get wind of that name sir, they’ll have a field day. …It is a good one though.” Inspector Bales said, then after a short pause and a large gulp of hot sweet tea, “I wonder what the press will christen him, bound to give him a catchy name of some sort. Bet that’ll make him feel good…Shall I get the cross sir?”
“Best had Inspector.”
DCI Bales shuffled along the cushioned bench seat, swung his legs from underneath the fixed tables. Walked over to a safe fixed underneath one of the small worktops, keyed in the electronic lock security code and opened the safe. He took out a vacuum sealed plastic bag containing the white cross. A white bar code sticker was on the outside of the bag. This code linked to the Metropolitan Police’s crime scene database that contained the crime scene details surrounding the cross. Bales then carefully carried the cross over to DCS Hughes and laid it gently down on the table in front of him. Bales then walked back, locked the safe and re-joined DCS Hughes.
Hughes studied the cross, the concentration on his face was clear to see. He handled the cross as though it were a new born baby, as if it was the most precious item in the world. To DCS Hughes and to the case, it was.
“Any prints Inspector?”
“As many as you could wish for sir, the crime lab has lifted three different prints from the cross. They have also taken samples of the ink and card. They seem very confident they can identify the type of card and certainly the ink. Maybe even down to a supplier.”
“I have to admit Inspector I’m worried by the amount of forensic evidence. There’s too much. Psychologically, Inspector, most serial killers want to be caught. Deep down in their psyche there is a tiny glimmer of light. Imagine a forty watt light bulb trying to light the inside of a large warehouse in the middle of the night. It’s almost insignificant but it is there shining away, trying to