Chapter 19: Body of Evidence

1000hrs Wednesday 10^th March 27 Castle Road

DAY 10

Flesh-clamped, we gasped into each other’s mouths as the aftershocks of simultaneous orgasms lanced through our shuddering bodies. It had started off as an after- breakfast shag on the living room carpet after an earlier pre-breakfast shag in Molly’s king-sized bed. Our mouths had started the proceedings, tongues being sucked ferociously and lusciously, then, mouths sated, Molly’s soaked sucking slit ingested my iron firm cock. Our conjoined sex glands had melded into a nexus of unbelievable delight, extracting ecstatic gasps and groans from us both. Lust bites decorated my neck and chest where Molly’s voracious mouth had branded me. She had love bites on her neck and breasts, and nipples swollen by my suckling.

My faulty mobile, fortuitously nearby and connected to a charger, chirped, and without thinking I reached out a hand and brought the phone to my ear.

“Yes?”

“It’s Bill Clark, Sarge,” he paused. “Are you OK; you sound a bit out of breath?”

“I’ve just done some push-ups.” Reaching for the phone had caused me to partly withdraw from Molly’s quim. She tightened her muscles to prevent any further departure and then sucked on my neck. I only managed to half stifle my gasp of pleasure.

“You sure you’re OK, Sarge?”

“Yes I’m fine; it’s only a touch of cramp. Why have you rang, Bill?”

“A body has been discovered at Gazeley. The DI wants you to take charge of the...”

“I’m suspended.”

“You’ve been reinstated. The DI has your warrant card, and I’m to bring it to you and then take you to Gazeley, a small village to the west of Bury. I can be with you in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it half an hour. I need to shower after my morning exercise.”

Molly chuckled and then kissed where she had just sucked. I rang off before Bill twigged I was entwined with a hot, passionate, woman.

“I’m afraid my holiday is over, Molly. It’s back to the day job.”

I got to my feet and put on my underpants that had been tossed onto the settee. My trousers were in an untidy heap by the TV.

Molly sighed and rose gracefully to her feet and retrieved her knickers from under the armchair. She stepped into them daintily, obscuring from my gaze what had been the object of my attention, affection, and severe sexual activity since arriving back from Rougham Airfield. After smoothing her skirt over her hips she re-buttoned her blouse and transmogrified from a degenerate, near-naked, shag bunny to a fully dressed, decent, and demure housewife.

“It has been absolutely fantastic, but even I need a rest, and Guinevere’s Balm will certainly come in handy again,” she said.

“Leave some for me. I’m sure its aphrodisiac properties helped make it such a marvellous night, and morning.” We hugged, and she nuzzled my neck. “I thoroughly enjoyed my stay in Molly’s Magical Grotto and will be making another visit later today.” I said, and gave her a length of my tongue on account.

“What is going on? I gather you have been called back into work, has Fuller reinstated you?” She asked after regaining her breath.

“A body has been discovered at Gazeley and DI Warren wants me to head the investigation.”

“Is it one of the missing girls?”

“I suppose it could be. Bill didn’t say if the body was male or female.” I sniffed my armpit. “I reek of sex. I’ll need to shower before going in.”

“I need one too, but we’d better not share a shower else you will never get to Gazeley.”

“But I would reach Paradise,” I said.

“You say the nicest things, Joshua, although some of the things you do are decadent, depraved and degenerate, and bloody marvellous.”

“You are a fine one to talk, Missus Miller. Who arranged the mirrors on the dressing table so that anything on your bed is reflected onto the mirrored walk-in-wardrobes?”

Molly has a kinky thing, a fetish I suppose it could be called. She likes to see her lover’s cum face, as she calls it. That was why the mirrors on her dressing table are so aligned that the couple copulating on the bed are reflected in the mirrors of the walk-in-wardrobe. No matter in which sexual position the couple on the bed attain their bodies, and faces, are kaleidoscoped in the floor to ceiling mirrors lining two sides of the bedroom. This enabled me to shag Molly doggy style and still have her see my cum face, as I could see hers reflected many times in the mirrors. Actually, it was extremely erotic; seeing many images of our entwined bodies writhing, and then convulsing when reaching a climax, our faces grotesque as gargoyles when reacting to our orgiastic release. The sights were accompanied by grunts, moans, groans and shrieks counterpointing the wet squelching sound of searing sex.

“You don’t think I’m a pervert do you?” Her question was asked with an anxious look on her adorable face.

“Not pervert but perfect,” I said, taking her into my arms. We shared another interlude of tongue sucking before I reluctantly broke away for a shower. Bill Clarke arrived thirty minutes later.

Molly saw me off with a warm kiss. “Give me a call when you’re on the way home and I’ll have something hot and tasty for you when you arrive.”

“I’m already slavering thinking of it, Molly,” I said.

Bill had a smile on his face as he drew away from the house.

“Looks like you have enjoyed your time off, Sarge. Your eyes are like piss holes in the snow. Could it be a case of too much bed and not enough sleep!”

“You have a dirty mind, Detective Constable Clark,” I said in mock anger. I looked at him more closely. He was freshly shaved, his hair fashionably cut and his suit looked new and expensive. “You appear to have metamorphosed into a prince. Did some beautiful princess kiss you?”

He grinned. “Not ‘arf she did. Megan and I are soul mates, and I talk with the experience of three failed marriages behind me. She is the one, and I will be moving in with her when the lease of my place expires next month”

“Along with all those sexy female students? Surely that’s a recipe for disaster?”

“No, Sarge. I know the difference between a real woman and a sexy young girl. I will have the stimulus for giving Megan a good seeing to without the hassle of trying to keep up with a sexually hyperactive millennial. Megan and I will have the main bedroom with en suite so there should be no unexpected meetings with half-naked young females on the way to the bathroom. In any case, Megan has warned me that if as much leer at one of her girls she will cut off my penis and stuff it up my arse. I believe she would; those girls are like daughters to her so I suppose I will have to act like a father to them.”

We drove for a minute or two while I reflected on what Bill had said. Should I regard Debs as a daughter? Molly and I were certainly getting close, although she might only be a substitute for Maddy.

“What info’ have we regarding the body at Gazeley?” I said coming back down to earth.

“The body was discovered on a building site. Sammy is there getting statements, and Forensics are collecting DNA and stuff.” My eyes lit up at that news, but my hopes were dashed by Bill’s next words. “Allison Gerkane is on site. She is the Senior Forensic Officer at Western Division in Cambridge. She is a real hard case and is known as Gurkha Ali as she takes no prisoners, but for God’s sake don’t let her hear you call her that, and if she does don’t tell her it was me who told you her nick-name!”

We drove westwards along the A14 to the Higham interchange where we followed the road into Gazeley village. Bill followed the signs to the building development and as we drove up to the police-taped cordoned-off area I saw Sammy. She gave me a brilliant smile as I got from the car.

“It is good to see you back at work, Sergeant.”

“It’s good to be back, Sammy; what have you got for me?”

She pointed to a worried-looking young man in a hard hat standing by a JCB.

“Mister Robert Ford was the operator of the JCB that was picking up aggregate from that heap over there.” She indicated a large mound of aggregate, chippings and grit, about twenty yards away. “He had picked up one load and on lifting a second load he noticed some fabric in the JCB’s bucket. On closer inspection, he saw bones and flesh and called his foreman over, who then informed the local police.”

“How long had the heap of aggregate been there?”

“It was replenished at eight-thirty on Monday morning. It is the central point, where aggregate for the entire site is dumped. Three JCBs are working here, one for each of the smaller sub-sites.” She pointed to the three partly made-up roads, each one lined with the footings and foundations of a half dozen houses.

“Was aggregate taken from this pile before today?” I asked.

“No, the concrete mixing machine was offline until this morning. Mister Ford’s vehicle was the first to start shifting the new batch of aggregate.”

“Is it possible the body was in the load of aggregate delivered on Monday?”

Sammy shook her head. “No, Sergeant. I have spoken with the manager of the local firm that delivered the load, and he says there is a sieve on top of all their vehicle that prevents any rubbish from getting loaded in with the aggregate. I will have a transcript of his statement typed up by tomorrow morning.”

“OK, so we can surmise that someone dumped the body on the heap before the arrival of the aggregate lorry on Monday morning?”

Sammy nodded, and I continued. “If the body had been left on top of the pile, surely someone, the driver of the lorry or workers on site, would have noticed? Therefore, I assume the body was buried under whatever amount of aggregate was already in situ.” I was talking to myself and Sammy wisely let me continue. “Was anyone working on site Saturday or Sunday?”

“Men were working until midday Saturday, and the site was secured, or rather tools and equipment and vehicles were secured. There are no security guards but there is a CCTV camera covering the building site equipment park but...”

“Not the aggregate heap,” I finished for her. She nodded.

I looked about the area. Gazeley was a small village in the depths of the Suffolk countryside, with no traffic cameras nor any business or domestic buildings in the immediate vicinity to show any camera footage of the site, should they be so equipped.

On our arrival, Bill had gone to speak with forensics and now he re-appeared. “Forensics says that the body is female, and they are still working on determining her age and height, etc, Sarge.”

“Well, that narrows down the field,” I said ruefully. I waved my arm about “There are no CCTV cameras around to give us any clue as to when and how the body landed up here.”

Bill gave a wide smile. “Au contraire, Sarge.” He pointed south to a collection of buildings on the far side of a large field. “That is Hazelmere Farm. They had a combine harvester stolen last year and have since invested in a top of the range CCTV security system. A camera monitors all traffic going past their farm gate.”

“What if the body arrived from the other direction?” I said.

Bill’s smile got wider. “Beck House, that large white building we passed just before reaching this new development, is the home of Greg Storrow, who owns a CCTV security company, the same firm who installed the system at Hazelmere Farm. Mister Storrow has a super-duper CCTV system installed that he uses to impress future clients.”

“So we will have first-rate footage of anything passing those two properties?” I turned to Sammy. “Can you deal with Mister Storrow and view and or collect footage for the weekend and Monday morning?” I then turned to Bill, “and you can do the same for Hazelmere Farm, and thanks for the welcome information, Bill.”

The two detective constables hurried away and I walked over to the Forensic team busily combing through the aggregate tip.

I picked out Gurkha Ali by her name tag, which actually read ‘Dr Allison Gerkane’. The tall, angular woman in her sixties eyed me dispassionately.

“I can’t give you an approximate time of death as the body has been embalmed...”

“Embalmed!”

“Yes, embalmed. The art and science of preserving human or animal remains by treating them to forestall decomposition.”

“I know what embalming is, Doctor. I was expressing my surprise rather than my ignorance.”

Gurkha Ali grinned. “I was taking the piss, Sergeant. I’m assuming you are the famous Detective Sergeant A.J Dolihaye?”

“I’m Dolihaye, but I’m not famous.”

“Indeed you are. You’ve labelled our beloved Detective Superintendent Fuller with an unforgettable appellative. He already has the sobriquet of Percy Filth, to which you have added ‘the superannuated lounge lizard’. On top of that, you made Michelle Devereaux laugh like a schoolgirl, or so I’m told. Michelle doesn’t laugh often, especially since taking up with that Swiss glacier Peregrine Lindt.”

My surprise that the Cambridge based Doctor Gerkane should know of my breakfast meets with Maddy must have shown on my face.

“Forensics has an intelligence network the CIA would give their eye teeth for,” she said with a grin.

“You know Mad ... Doctor Devereaux, Doctor Gerkane?”

“Indeed I do, Sergeant. I was her tutor at Caius when she first came up to Cambridge. Ambitious, brilliant, and beautiful. A heady mixture of talents. But you didn’t come here to talk to me about the luminous Michelle, but rather of the unfortunate female found buried under twenty tons of aggregate. The body does not tell us much because of the damage done by the JCB and being embalmed. She was in her early twenties and stood about five feet ten inches tall, or one point seventy-seven metres if you wish to be metric. We also recovered the remains of a garment.” She held up an evidence bag with some fabric inside. “This is easier to identify. It is a ladies’ swagger coat; sold by Marks and Spencer and retailing for one hundred and forty-five pounds. I have a similar coat in my wardrobe but not so garish.”