Page 129 of Worse Than Murder
‘To see what was behind it. I’ve already given a statement to one of your officers. It was Matilda who noticed it was a false wall.’
‘I’m sure it was,’ Gill says, an icy tone to her voice, as she looks over to me again.
‘My husband was an architect,’ I explain. ‘I recognised the brickwork as not being that of an external wall.’
‘You really are a mine of information,’ Gill says. ‘And you are?’ she asks, turning her attention to Adele.
‘Dr Adele Kean.’
‘Oh, you’re the one who’s been pumping Dr Hailstones for information about the girls in the lake.’
‘Dr Hailstones?’ Carl laughs. ‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘It’s Scottish,’ I say.
‘A fount of knowledge on the history of surnames, too, it would seem,’ Gill says.
‘Inspector, could you come downstairs for a moment, please?’ a man in a paper forensic suit asks from the doorway to the cellar.
Gill walks away, a bitter expression on her face.
‘Aww, it’s nice to see you’ve made a friend while you’ve been here,’ Adele says, sarcastically.
* * *
The way to the cellar is lit up with brilliant white arc lights. At the top of the stairs, Gill changes into a forensic suit and walks down with a hand over her eyes to shadow them from the glare. In the windowless room of the basement, the light is more intrusive than usual.
A team of CSIs is gathering any evidence from the floor while a ladder has been placed against the back wall, half of which is lying in bricks on the floor. A head appears from the other side.
‘Ah, Inspector Forsyth,’ Crime Scene Manager Louise Brocklebank says, pulling herself up. ‘Your new friend is certainly keeping us busy.’
‘She’s no friend of mine,’ Gill hurriedly says. ‘What have you found?’
‘Another piece in your cold case jigsaw. There’s a man back here fully clothed with a gaudy gold-plated watch and a wallet full of identification.’
‘Go on.’
‘All signs point to this being Jack Pemberton.’
‘Jesus! So much for all those sightings over the years,’ Gill says, squeezing the bridge of her nose. ‘You’re definitely sure it’s him?’
‘Not at all. You’ll need DNA to confirm that. But there’s a watch engraved with his name and a wallet with a credit card and driver’s licence all bearing his name. I’ve requested a forensic pathologist to come out and take a look, but he’s coming all the way from Manchester so it’s going to be tomorrow before he gets here.’
‘Can you tell how he died?’
‘Not so far.’
‘Was he dead before the wall was bricked up?’
‘You’re asking the wrong person.’
‘Can you tell me anything?’ Gill asks, her voice growing louder with frustration.
‘Yes. I can tell you there is a body back here and all signs point to him being Jack Pemberton. That’s all you’re getting from me,’ Brocklebank says, testily.
‘Shit!’ Gill spits.
‘Brian, where are you with the camera?’ Louise calls out from behind the brick wall.
