Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best large ereader .TXT] 📗

he could now see the logic. However, his belief in his ability to do it and the actual act of pushing a knife deep into another body, into a living human being, had proved easier than he had anticipated. To him she was not human, she was a thing, a sack, inanimate.

Maybe it was the drugs, the high he was on. He had looked into her eyes; he had seen her fear and her uncertainty. It was the final moments when he witnessed her sadness that seemed to linger; that was the image that was burned into his memory. That is what led him to lose discipline and panic. He threw the knife to his left into what looked to be an overgrown garden, an action he immediately regretted whilst leaping to take hold of the top of the wall. Shuffling over, he dropped into the cemetery, his feet hitting and sliding on the sloping surface. Collecting himself he began to run.

‘Come on, Hoover. Fucking now!’ The two at the other side of the gate had gestured frantically whilst calling in lowered voices. He joined them before all three were swallowed into the darkness.

They had planned to stay together until reaching the cemetery wall next to the supermarket carpark. There they would split, avoiding the CCTV cameras at all costs. They would wait and take the wall in turn, listen for any signs of the emergency services warning them she had been discovered, before moving. They believed it would be some time before the crumpled body was found.

‘Get rid of the knife as we discussed and dump all your clothing … burn it or river them, whatever is best, but get shut!’ the lad sitting next to him instructed, his voice calm and precise. ‘It’s now a case of walking out of here without making stupid mistakes.’ He did not wait for a response. ‘You’ve got it, the knife, yes?’

Hoover said nothing, he nodded knowing that he had made a huge error. Looking at the blood on his gloved hands he felt an immediate remorse and began to wipe them frantically on the grass.

‘You did good. Pity you couldn’t take her fucking scalp! To think I shagged her once. Fucking cost me a couple of packets of the good stuff, but that was before she went to the dark side.’ He chuckled. ‘Didn’t prick her like you though, bro. She didn’t scream like that when I screwed her.’ He laughed again and grabbed his crotch.

Hoover turned his head and vomited into the grass, resulting in even more laughter from the other two.

As in most cases, if a body is left in an isolated spot it is usually found in the early morning, often by a dog or the person walking a dog. Beverley Gittings proved to be no exception. It was just coming light when Ben, an old black Labrador, paused by the cemetery gate and barked once. The gates should be unlocked and normally he would squeeze through the turnstile and relieve himself on the first tree to the right. It was a ritual. Today, he did not move. He stood his ground.

‘Come on, Ben, I have to get to work.’ Sarah Mott paused and looked in the direction of the right-hand portal. There was somebody there. She first noticed some dumped cushions just below the wall but then her eyes alighted on something crumpled in the right gate. Bending, she attached the lead to Ben’s collar before moving closer. The body was slumped as if propped up by the central post of the stile. Sarah did not need to go any further, she could see the mass of congealed blood that had puddled the step on which the body rested. Removing her phone, she turned away before dialling 999. Ben, now desperate, simply cocked his leg and urinated on the dead girl.

Within five minutes the lights from the van lit the road running through the centre of the cemetery on the far side of the gate. Thankfully, she would no longer be alone. The security officer was eventually coming to unlock the gate.

Chapter 17

It was still early as Lucy and Brad parked as close as possible to the crime scene. The blue lights within the grille and on the dashboard of their car left nobody wondering as to their role. The paramedic’s vehicle was further up Arundel Road and within the taped boundary. Both officers produced their ID, ducked beneath the tape and were directed to the end of the passageway. Sitting on a chair to the right was a middle-aged woman attended to by the paramedic. To her right lay a Labrador.

A warm light had now crept into most of the passageway as the early sun tracked along Lancaster Avenue, and with it, neighbours had started to congregate. Brad immediately focused on the crumpled figure contorted within the right cell of the gate. Some discarded cushions from what could have been a settee were dumped and rested against and near the centre between the two towers. A secondary line of tape crossed the passageway and Brad could make out Crime Scene personnel on the far side within the cemetery itself. Speaking to an officer who was leaning against a privet hedge, he pointed to the woman.

‘Sarah Mott, she found the body this morning. The chap who opens the gates, one of the City Watch lads, was late owing to an incident elsewhere. He stayed until we arrived. Have his details.’ He offered the electronic pad.

Brad took note and then allowed his eyes to fall on a camera dangling vertically from the gable end of the right-hand building that formed part of the passageway.

‘Take it that’s knackered?’

The officer turned and smiled. ‘According to the students living there it’s always been like that. People who use this passageway at night are obviously shy.’

‘Do we have any details?’

‘Nothing. Paramedic did a check but she was obviously dead. Awaiting the doctor and then CSI can do their stuff