The mortician used a saw to cut a circle around the top of the skull, and then removed it with a T-shaped bone chisel and hammer. Next came the brain, which he took over to Professor Martin who was still examining the internal organs and weighing them.
Oh my God, Jane said to herself, and unable to watch shut her eyes. She took a few more deep breaths and sniffed. Contrary to what she had been told the VapoRub did in fact help keep her standing upright, but the overpowering smells and sights were making her feel sick.
‘There may be another reason your victim wanted to get herself off heroin. I have discovered a dead foetus in the uterus. She’s about 2.9 inches long, weighs .81 of an ounce and some teeth have started forming – so I would estimate Julie Ann was twelve to fourteen weeks pregnant. The child could have died at the same time as the mother, or possibly as a result of the earlier beating.’
Hearing this new information made Jane open her eyes, and she was so taken aback by the fact that the victim was pregnant her dizziness went. Martin placed the foetus in an airtight container filled with formaldehyde, and although Bradfield and Lawrence both looked, Jane could not bring herself to do so.
‘My God, it doesn’t even look human, more like a baby monkey,’ Bradfield whispered in shock.
‘It is human, believe you me, and sadly perfectly formed for the time of the gestation,’ Martin said quietly.
*
The post-mortem examination of Julie Ann Collins lasted nearly three hours and DS Lawrence took extensive photographs of all her injuries. As he packed his camera in its bag he leant over to Jane.
‘You did well, luv. Most probationers keel over as soon as they see the body on the slab – and good spot about the bra being strapless.’
Jane smiled. Bradfield told her to get a move on and she dutifully followed him out of the mortuary. She thanked him for letting her attend the post-mortem.
He stopped and cocked his head to one side, looking down at her.
‘Congratulations, Tennison. You impressed me – very attentive and you asked intelligent questions. But I’ve never had anyone thank me for allowing them to attend a post-mortem before.’ He hesitated before he asked what she felt about the fact that their victim had been pregnant.
‘So sad – perhaps she didn’t even know?’
‘Maybe, but it makes me want to catch the bastard even more. She was only seventeen years old, and now it’s a waste of two lives, not just one.’
‘Do you think Eddie Phillips killed her?’
He didn’t reply and remained deep in thought as they crossed the station yard. Jane asked him if she could be excused now the post-mortem was over as she was on late shift.
‘What time is it?’
‘Three o’clock, sir.’
‘Is Sergeant Harris on duty?
Jane nodded. Bradfield handed her a £1 note and told her he needed to talk to him. In the meantime he wanted her to go to the canteen and get him a coffee and a ham sandwich then bring them to his office.
Jane went to the washroom first as she could smell disinfectant on her hands and clothes. It was so strong she realized she’d have to get her jacket and skirt dry-cleaned and her shirt washed. She scrubbed her hands over and over, but the smell persisted and she wished she’d kept some decent soap in her locker.
Looking in the washbasin mirror Jane smiled at herself and swore she’d never be silly enough to lie down on a mortuary floor again. She removed the Vicks VapoRub from her handbag and, deciding to forget about the two embarrassing incidents altogether, dropped it in the bin. But she could not forget the sight of Julie Ann on the mortuary table, nor the terrible beating she had suffered.
In the station yard a Leyland Sherpa ‘paddy wagon’ parked up. Kath climbed out of the back with a detective, escorting a young man who was clearly under arrest and, with his frizzed hairstyle and clothing, obviously a fan of Marc Bolan. He was dressed in high-heeled platform boots, skin-tight flared jeans and a Moroccan-style fur- and-embroidered sleeveless jacket. The uniform driver of the van assisted the detective with the prisoner while Kath, who had a chuffed-to-bits look on her face, went to get some paperwork from the CID office.
Jane took Bradfield his coffee and sandwich, but after the post-mortem the sight of food made her feel queasy. He barely looked up as he was reading a report. Twice she started to ask him if she could go, but he held his hand up and told her to be quiet, so she just stood and waited for him to finish reading.
Two detectives had spent the morning with Mr and Mrs Collins taking a background statement. It transpired that Julie Ann was three months from her eighteenth birthday and had not been living at home for a year and a half. During that time they had not seen or heard from her. They explained that their daughter had started to abscond from school at the age of fourteen, and that no matter how hard they tried to reason with her she still played truant. She had started to mix with an unsavoury group of boys she’d met in the West End one weekend. They discovered her smoking cannabis and constant arguments followed as she became more and more difficult to handle. She had run away numerous times since she turned fifteen and had either been brought back home by the police, or turned up dishevelled and belligerent.
Her mother described how she had discovered injection marks on Julie Ann’s arm whilst she was sleeping, and how the heroin usage had made her a totally different girl. The Collinses’ grief and shock were compounded when they were told by the detectives that Julie Ann had been arrested and convicted for prostitution six months ago. Mrs Collins could not understand why her daughter would do such a thing, but it was explained that it was to feed her heroin addiction. When asked if they knew Eddie Phillips and were shown a Polaroid picture of him, they responded that they had never seen or heard of him before, nor did they know anyone who owned a red Jaguar.
Bradfield looked at Jane. ‘You still here? Do me a favour and get me a fresh pack of Woodbines, will you, as I’m out of cigarettes.’ He placed a 50p coin on the desk.
Jane wished she’d just left the sandwich and coffee on his desk. She begrudgingly picked up the coin and set off for the newsagent’s opposite. On her way downstairs she bumped into Kath, who was in a buoyant mood.
‘How did it go at the post-mortem? I can smell you from here – I bet it wasn’t very pleasant,’ she said.
Jane told Kath how interesting it had been, but decided not to mention the dead foetus in case it was something Bradfield didn’t want people outside his team to know about yet. However, she did explain how DS Spencer Gibbs’s Vicks-up-the-nose was a practical joke intended for Kath.
‘The little shite! Typical – but I’ll get him back somehow.’
‘You got your burglar then?’ Jane asked, having seen Kath in the yard.
‘It was bloody brilliant, Jane. We were parked up on the estate watching from the spy hole of the obo van when the little scrote burglar turned up. He saw an old lady come out of a flat, waited till she’d gone and then knocked on her door. When he got no answer he pulled out a jemmy from under his swanky jacket and prised the door open. I was shaking with excitement and we caught him red-handed in the bedroom with notes in his hands, and more stuffed in his pockets. She kept her life savings in a shoebox and we recovered the lot for her. I’m even listed as nicking him on the arrest sheet and I’m going to be interviewing him with a detective. There’s been quite a few old people’s flats turned over and I reckon he’s done ’em all. You know what really makes me sick? He had a wedge this thick.’ She indicated with her finger and thumb before continuing.
‘He’d got hundreds on him he’d nicked . . . Still, the cocky bugger won’t be swaggering around like he’s some rock