Frozen Grave (Willis/Carter #3)(7)

Robbo turned to Willis. ‘What were your thoughts when you saw the body?’

Willis was standing in the centre of the room. She hadn’t moved since she put the boxes down on Hector’s desk. She looked as if she were in a world of her own.

‘She was never meant to be in there,’ she replied.

‘What are we saying? Drugged, drunk, you think?’ asked Robbo looking at Carter.

Carter shook his head. ‘Our only suspects and witnesses are the people who sleep in there. They are not going to be the most reliable. We have to look to Olivia’s lifestyle for answers.’

‘I hear you had a run-in with one of the men?’ Robbo said, looking at Carter.

‘Willis did.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘He looked freaked out,’ she answered. ‘He was scared, hurt.’

‘Did he look like he slept rough every day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well he won’t be able to get into most of the hostels with a dog so he’ll be on the streets somewhere. The Dogs’ Trust care for the dogs on the street. They might know this man,’ Robbo said. ‘Did he say anything?’

‘Nothing. He ran for it when I tried to approach him to bring him in. I pushed too fast. I was trying to catch him off-guard. I messed up.’

‘No, you misjudged – you didn’t mess up,’ corrected Carter.

Robbo was making notes as they talked.

‘We don’t know if he speaks English then. We need to find him and to know exactly who uses that building,’ he said. ‘There must be a mainstay of sleepers in there.’

‘The foreigners tend to stick together. The drinkers do too,’ said Hector.

Robbo made notes. ‘Right. People stay in their social groups,’ he said. ‘I’ll get hold of Social Services for the area and see if they have had any information about Parade Street.’

‘Hannover Estate is a rough one,’ said Carter. ‘Looks like the gangs are rife in there. There was graffiti everywhere.’

‘We know them,’ Robbo agreed. ‘The Hannover Boys are a well-established gang. There are sparodic outbursts of trouble in there. There has been a lot of activity there recently. Robbery around the neighbouring streets and the usual muggings, phone theft.’

‘What about the serious stuff?’ asked Carter.

‘They are thought to be responsible for three murders in the last two years – gangland turf wars – a beef about territory. Twelve rape charges down to them but didn’t make it to court. Gang rapes are their speciality. Five of them are in prison for the rape of two girls held hostage in a flat in the tower block. They were kept for thirty-six hours. Both families had to be given witness protection and moved out of the area. The girls were thirteen. Mahmet Balik is the man behind most of these attacks.’

‘Jesus – well within their capabilities then: murder, rape. Balik seems to be unchecked,’ said Carter.

‘Mahmet Balik and his deputies,’ said Hector. ‘I was part of the Met’s drive to sort out the gangs on that estate when the Trident Operation changed brief to include the gangs. I had to help a family there. The fourteen-year-old daughter had been caught carrying weapons for male gang members. She’d been passed around as a piece of meat within the gang, sexualized from the age of twelve. She was in a mess. Already on crack. We had to relocate the whole family because they lived in fear of reprisals. Mahmet Balik was the main one they were scared of. He’s escaped a murder charge a few times now. There’s been insufficient evidence to get him but he’s getting cockier all the time.’

‘Okay. We need house-to-house in there then. Let’s see what people are saying on the estate,’ said Carter. ‘We also need to find Olivia on CCTV on her way there, if we can.’

‘We have her car reg now,’ Robbo said as he went across to pour coffee into five mugs. ‘We have patrol cars looking out for it.’ He handed the mugs out.

Carter took his coffee and sipped appreciatively. Robbo was a coffee connoisseur. He had been given a machine that made it from pods for Christmas but it was still unopened in its box. He preferred to grind his mix of coffee beans and brew it in a cafetière. That and Haribo gummy bears were his biggest weakness, and added to his thick waistline. It didn’t help that he never wanted to move from his office. His agoraphobia was never completely under control. It took managing – it didn’t like surprises.

‘So . . .’ said Robbo. ‘Not only did she come to a derelict building in a condemned street, she came in a suspender belt and stockings.’ He turned to Willis. ‘She went in there by mistake? Was she meeting someone? Did someone take her in there?’

‘We looked in the drawers in her bedroom,’ said Carter. ‘Bondage gear and ball gags and some sort of complicated-looking harness.’

‘That’s why she went in there then, was it? The thrill of a lifetime?’ asked Robbo.

‘Maybe . . .’ said Carter. ‘She wasn’t careful what she wished for.’

‘What about the body itself?’ Robbo turned to ask Willis.

She walked across to the whiteboard and the crime-scene photos. A map of the area was pinned up and a close-up of Parade Street.

‘The area around the body was heavily scuffed – marks associated with kneeling, stamping, bootmarks, palm-prints, belonging to several different people,’ she said as she pointed to the diagram on the board. ‘Her collarbone was broken. Her jaw too. She had genital lacerations, not sure how deep they went – probably caused by an instrument. The amount of blood at the scene indicates that she was alive, her heart was still pumping blood around, for the duration of the attack. Large deep head wound, fractured skull and possible brain damage.The ligature around her neck was probably not sufficient to kill; although it might have cut off the blood supply to her brain and caused her temporary unconsciousness.’ The office went quiet.