IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery, Ray Clark [classic books for 10 year olds .txt] 📗

He glanced at Reilly. “Best guess, Sean, how long would you say he’s been like this?”

Reilly shook his head. “At least a month, boss.” He glanced around and further down the street to the surveillance car. “How the hell did he get here, with those two on duty last night?”

“I have no idea but when we’re finished with the shop assistant we’ll go and ask them.”

“We should really try and find some ID,” said Gardener, “but what’s going to happen if we move him?” He was convinced it was connected to yesterday’s victim but realised it wasn’t Zoe Harrison. It could be James Henshaw or Anthony Palmer, but the man was too far damaged to recognise from the incident room photos.

Gardener tried to talk to the victim again but there was no reply. He touched the man’s hand. It was cold and pale, and he didn’t even attempt to recoil from it.

“I don’t think it will make much difference, Sean.”

“We’re not going to save him, are we?”

Gardener was about to answer when he heard an ambulance siren in the distance. He had no idea where it was but hoped to God it was the one they wanted. He stood up. “Sean, see if you can find something out from him; see if he’ll talk. I’m going to speak to the shop assistant.”

“Good luck with that one, she looks like she’s in a trance.”

Gardener walked over to the fencing, by which time another woman had joined the first one. Gardener stepped through the small gate.

“Elaine Kirk?”

The lady nodded but it was the other assistant who spoke. “She is.”

“And you are?”

“Jean Lawford.”

“Is she able to talk, do you think?” asked Gardener. He’d seen people in shock before.

“I’m okay,” said Elaine Kirk. She was young, thin, late twenties, blonde hair, brown eyes, large nose, and wore round, wire-rimmed glasses. She had a North East accent. Jean Lawford was the opposite: twice Kirk’s age, black hair tied up, plump, thirty years her senior, and spoke deep Yorkshire; not Leeds, maybe Sheffield.

“What time did you find him?” Gardener asked.

Kirk glanced at her watch and threw the unfinished cigarette on the ground. “About eight thirty.”

“What made you come out at that time?”

“We hadn’t been here long, got here about eight-fifteen. I’d had no breakfast so I decided to come through the back and put the kettle on before Jean got here, make us a cup of tea.”

“What time did you arrive, Mrs Lawson?” Gardener guessed her marital status because of the wedding ring.

“Five minutes after. I’d brought a couple of bacon sandwiches in with me from Greggs. Can’t say I’ve got the stomach for one now.”

“Did you hear anything before you came outside?”

“No,” replied Elaine Kirk. “Is he dead, like?”

“Surprisingly, no. So you only came out for a cigarette, no other reason?”

“No. Crafty fag while the kettle boiled. I’ve been trying to give them up but I don’t think I’ll bother after seeing him.”

Elaine Kirk suddenly started shaking. In an effort to try and control it she immediately reached into her jacket and pulled out the cigarettes. “Oh, Jesus, I can’t believe the state of him. What’s happened?”

“Come on, Elaine,” said Jean Lawford. “Let’s get you inside.”

“If you can bear with me, please, Mrs Lawford, I do have one or two more questions.”

“Can’t you see how traumatised she is?”

“It’s okay, Jean,” said Elaine Kirk. “I prefer to be outside. It’s colder here. With the heat in the shop I’ll faint, or throw up, and old misery guts won’t want that.”

Gardener continued while the going was good, aware that the emergency vehicle siren was much louder now. “Did you see anyone around, walking or driving?”

“No, nothing like that. Place was quiet as the grave…” Elaine Kirk stopped herself, realising what she’d said.

“And this was where he was; he hasn’t moved at all?”

“What do you think? He hasn’t got the strength to fart, never mind move.”

“Has he said anything?”

“Not to me.”

“Was there anything with him: bags, bottles, papers of any kind?”

“No, that was how he was, poor bastard. Anyway, I didn’t check. You don’t think I was going to approach him, do you?”

The ambulance drew up and the medics jumped out of the vehicle. One was tall and old with thinning grey hair. The younger one was stocky and balding, and immediately forgot his manners, or where he was. “Fucking hell.”

“I’m going to have to leave you two ladies now, but I’d appreciate it if you stay around, we will need to take a statement.”

“Doubt I’ll be going anywhere,” said Elaine Kirk.

As Gardener exited the fenced area, he heard Reilly explaining what he knew, which was very little.

The medics took over and both officers stood back. They asked routine questions – to which they received no answers.

The older man said he would retrieve the stretcher and a saline drip from the ambulance, whilst the younger one stood and spoke to Gardener.

“Where did you find him?”

“Here,” replied Gardener.

“We think he was dumped during the night,” said Reilly.

“We can see that he’s been starved,” said Gardener, “would you have any idea how long for, or what shape he’s in; is he likely to make it?”

The medic whistled through his teeth. “Hard to say. Without water, he’d die after only a few days, three at the most, depending upon the temperature and other conditions. Starving someone but giving them just water, may well keep them alive for weeks; be bloody painful.”

“Looks like that’s what’s happened,” said Reilly.

The medic nodded. “It depends how fat they are to start with, and how well they metabolise their body fat. Using your own body fat to keep you alive makes you feel nauseous, because you can’t replenish minerals like sodium. A