Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(18)

‘About one in five of these texts is sexually explicit,’ said Hector. ‘And they’re from different men.’

‘Did you have trouble getting into the phone?’

‘No. I managed to bypass her code easily. It looks like she gives several men the same surname: Naughties. So we have Peter Naughties, Mark Naughties, JJ Naughties. I Googled Naughties. It’s a website for swinging Londoners.’

‘I know it. Naughties is the one advertised on the Tube, isn’t it?’ asked Carter. ‘The one with the woman with heavy eye make-up saying “Shhh” and the man stripping off in the background?’

‘That’s the one,’ answered Robbo.

‘Start phoning these men – the ones she’s been texting,’ said Carter, looking at Hector. ‘No – on second thoughts, ring all of the male contacts you can find on her phone. We need to know if they met her, if they had sex with her and, if so, then we need the details. Check out where they were on Sunday evening. Tell them Olivia Grantham has been involved in an incident and we’re trying to trace her contacts. Try not to give too much away. I want to know exactly who they are, what they do for a living, any previous for anything at all. We need to build up more of a picture of Olivia’s life and we need to talk to her workmates again. Someone must know who she’d been seeing.’

‘Do we need to be discreet?’ asked Hector. ‘They could be married.’ He looked at Carter’s expression. Carter had a face that read: ‘Who cares?’

Carter shrugged. ‘Okay. We’ll be respectful . . . for now.’

Robbo sat forward in his chair and pulled images up on his screen.

‘You attended the post-mortem?’

Carter nodded. ‘Yes. Dr Kahn, Harding’s stand-in, performed it. Have you got the post-mortem report yet?’ he asked.

Robbo pressed the download button on the screen and Willis came round to his PC to view it.

He brought up the photos of Olivia Grantham’s body on the mortuary table, then zoomed in and scanned down the photo of the first overall view of the body. Willis sat down in front of the screen.

‘Three cracked ribs, broken humerus.’ Robbo said, bringing up the X-ray. ‘Several bite marks,’ he added as he continued to study it. ‘Kahn says here that she died from a brain injury caused by a head wound, but that there was internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen. Beaten to death, basically.’

They took a few minutes to look through the photos. Carter sat back.

‘Mob frenzy that someone paid for.’

‘Gang rape can’t have been what she was looking for or buying in to?’ said Robbo. He looked at the photo of Olivia that was on the Linkedin site. It was the profile of a family lawyer. ‘She was headed for great things in her company: ambitious and bright. All the things you’d expect.’

‘Except her sex life was lacking and she was looking to spice it up,’ said Carter.

‘You think of lawyers as cautious types,’ said Pam. Her desk was neatly divided into piles of files. She was the senior researcher in the room. She spent her time trolling through details on websites and checking facts.

Carter shook his head. ‘Not this one, Pam,’ he said as he continued looking through transcripts of the texts. ‘Her bucket list was getting longer by the minute.’

‘She had plenty of sex equipment in her flat,’ said Carter. ‘She’d already tried more than the average person.’ He looked Willis’s way. She was quieter than he liked her to be. He wished she’d spend more time speaking her thoughts.

‘Detective Willis?’

‘Yes, guv?’

‘The sex equipment in Olivia Grantham’s flat. Is she a giver or a taker?’

‘The hood with the mouthpiece was definitely a woman’s. I think she must have been submissive.’

‘Yeah . . . submissive but not suicidal, huh?’ said Carter, turning round to Robbo. ‘I think she must have been still learning – she was pushing the boundaries of her sexual experiences . . .’

‘Any good photos of her on the phone, Hector?’ asked Robbo. ‘Anything we can give Intel, to try and spot her on CCTV in the area around? She may have checked out this place before she went there on Sunday evening.’

Hector smiled, embarrassed. ‘Brings a whole new meaning to selfies. But yeah . . . a few headshots, normal ones. I’ll download her photo library and see who she’s with in them.’

Carter leant back in his chair to think. ‘Pam – your comment about her being a cautious type – you’re right. It had to have been someone she trusted enough. She wouldn’t have met someone in there that she didn’t know, that she hadn’t had sex with before. She was a bright woman – calculated-risk taker. How far are you on the list of phone contacts, Hector?’ Carter looked across at him.

‘I’ve phoned three so far. Haven’t been able to get hold of two others. Just about to try this one now.’

‘Okay, I’ll give it a go. Pass me over your list. I want to ring the Mr Naughties myself.’ Hector handed Carter the sheet of names. ‘Can you give me a line that can’t be traced?’ Hector nodded. Carter read off the first number on the sheet and rang from the phone on the desk. He put it on speaker. The first two numbers went to voicemail. The third call was answered.