The Nail Collector by M.L Rose

Author:M.L Rose [Rose, M.L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hard Wire Publication
Published: 2019-05-23T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 31

Rochelle Griffiths arrived with a uniformed sergeant from the West Midlands Police. Arla was waiting for her and wasted no time in introducing her to the detectives and also to Johnson.

Rochelle still had her left arm in a sling, and although she had fixed herself up nicely, Arla could see her wincing subtly whenever she moved. She had a lucky escape, Arla thought and should recover soon. The mental scars, she wasn’t so sure of.

“Can I see the evidence you have gathered so far?” Rochelle asked. “By that, I mean the pathological evidence.”

“Of course,” Arla said. “Rob will show you around.”

When Rochelle left, Arla sat down in her office and shut the door. She opened up the case reports that she had written, along with the notes left by SOCO and Pathology. Something about the MO was bothering her. She felt like she had overlooked something.

Arla had to work backwards, which was routine in her line of work. She started with where the body was found. To lay the body down there and then to slice the major arteries in those places, the murderer had to be sure of what he was doing. Firstly, the body had to be still. Almost passed out.

No. She tapped a pen on the desk. Not almost passed out, totally passed out. Why? Because the body had to be transported in the car. He couldn’t risk the victim waking up en route. She could scream the place down once the boot was opened. Bruises in the victim’s faces meant they were hit, but would those hits be powerful enough to kill them?

Arla didn’t think so. More importantly, it wasn’t the killer’s MO to murder them just by assaulting. He wanted them to bleed to death slowly like Kevin had done.

Hence, this guy did something to the women when he first encountered them. If he assaulted them suddenly, they would fight back. Sure, this guy was stronger, but the victims were young, physically fit women.

Arla picked up the phone. She asked switchboard to put her through to Banerjee’s office.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite detective inspector. Have I got news for you, by the way.”

“You do?” Arla answered with a smile she knew Banerjee would hear over the phone. “I have a question for you, but I’ll wait till I hear what you have to say.”

The older pathologist’s voice dropped an octave. “It’s not good news I’m afraid. But I suspect it’s news that you were waiting for.”

He paused, and Arla said impatiently, “Go on then Doc. Sooner the better.”

“The sperm found inside Jane Crouch has no DNA match from the database. Sorry, Arla.”

Arla digested the news in silence. Banerjee was right, of course; she had expected this. But to hear it from his mouth was depressing. A numbness spread in her mind, fighting with the neurons that were spiking all over the place.

Eventually, she asked, “Which brings me to what I was going to ask you. Did the toxicology reports come back? Any other drugs in their bodies?”

“Tox reports always run late but let me check.

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