Chapter 3 - Saturday 2nd January 2010

Detective Chief Inspector David Marsden stood in the bedroom doorway, his tall broad figure diminishing the natural light from the main room. He took in every detail as he stood, feet apart with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket; the congealing blood, the spread-eagled naked corpse, the ropes that anchored it in one position, and the absence of certain parts of the man’s anatomy. The addition of Mike, the Chief Pathologist, and his forensic team all in white body suits, gave the scene a surreal quality. Mike looked to see his friend and colleague quietly observing, continuing his examination of the silk ropes, which bound the victim’s hands.
“You can come in David. We’ve marked the area covered so you’re okay.”
David Marsden pulled on a pair of plastic gloves that he kept in every jacket he possessed, in case of an emergency call out, and wandered over to the blood soaked bed,
“What kind of sick bastard would do this?”
Mike looked up, his face totally obscured by protective glasses and a white facemask. He was in the process of using tweezers to place a minute particle of something into a small plastic evidence bag.
“Not exactly your run of the mill murder is it?”
“You can say that again. Where’s his … tackle?”
“They were in the toilet. Our chappie tried to flush them down the loo – didn’t work though. I’ve bagged them separately. Luckily for our witness out there, the body was covered with a sheet when we arrived, so she was saved from seeing the more gory evidence.”
DCI Marsden turned his head to one side whilst keeping his eyes on the corpse, mesmerised by the shocked expression on the victim’s face,
“I wonder if he was still alive while his pride and joy were being removed.”
“Judging from the amount of blood here I’d say – probably.”
Marsden slowly shook his head. Even after nearly thirty years on the job, he was still amazed at the depravity that some human being would stoop to,
“Do we know who he was Barnes?”
“Yes Sir. Arthur Kingsward, Chairman of Excelsior Trust Ltd. Or should I say Sir Arthur Kingsward. He keeps this flat in town, but he has another address in Surrey.”
“Married?”
“Yes, to Lady Penelope Kingsward.”
“We’d better go break the news then.”
He turned and shouted,
“DC Wright?”
Terri hurried in from the hallway,
“Yes Sir?”
“You can stay here and get a formal statement from the lady out there and we’ll send Wallis over to assist with the door to door enquiries.”
“Yes Sir.”
Terri’s true feelings about this order were very evident in the tone of her reply. She never relished working with DC Wallis, who would take every opportunity to make sure she did the lion’s share of any assignment.
DCI Marsden turned back towards her as he and Barnes prepared to leave the flat,
“Oh Wright, don’t let him give you any shit, you’re both Detective Constables, just you remember that.”
Terri smiled,
“I will Sir.”
As David Marsden and Rosie Barnes walked to the car he said,
“I’ll need to make a stop before we go to see Lady Kingsward, drive to my house first will you Barnes?”
“Certainly Sir.”

Terri had taken her time with Mrs Burdock’s statement, but once the formalities were over, the shocked witness gained some confidence and confided in her,
“He was a good man Sir Arthur, always paid me on time and usually there was a little extra at Christmas. I think it was his way of making sure I didn’t gossip about this place. Some of the things I found when cleaning up, you just wouldn’t believe.”
“What sort of things?”
“Women’s knickers for one, those frilly little things that look more like an eye patch than a pair of drawers; tiny scraps of material with red or black lace on them. Mind you with a wife like his, you can’t blame him wanting to let his hair down sometimes. She’s a sour puss that one. Came here once when I was cleaning – good job I’d nearly finished on that day. She walked in here as bold as brass, pulling open drawers, and searching wardrobes. It was very embarrassing for me because I didn’t know who she was, having never seen her before. I told her she had no right to go rummaging around someone’s flat, and then she came up to me, this close she was,” Mrs Burdock held her hand six inches from her face, “and said in a hissing whisper, ‘I am Lady Penelope Kingsward and I have every right to be here, so you can leave now. I will lock up when I go’.”
“That must have been awkward for you. Did you do as she said and leave?”
“Yes I did, but I hung around in the café opposite just to make sure she did.”
“And did she?”
“Yes. About twenty minutes after me, carrying an old suitcase he kept in the wardrobe. God knows what was in that.”
“When was this, Mrs Burdock?”
“Oh it was months ago, towards the end of last summer.”
“Are you okay or would you like a lift home?”
“That’s very kind of you my dear, but my hubby’s coming to fetch me.”
Terri escorted Mrs Burdock to the lift, and as it opened, DC Wallis emerged. He nodded tersely at Terri Wright, completely ignored Mrs Burdock, and wandered into Arthur Kingsward’s flat.
When Terri returned, he was leaning over the bar examining all the expensive alcohol on display. The large lounge was free of men in white suits, as they were concentrating on the bedroom and bathroom.
“Christ, there’s some good booze here. He must have been loaded. Who was he?”
Terri tried to remain professional but it was always a strain with Wallis. He showed little respect for anyone – dead or alive. She glanced across at him, wondering why he ever joined the police force. She despised his attitude, which was normally hidden behind a silky mop of wavy fair hair and a little boy smile which could be flashed on demand at whoever he wanted – usually young, blonde, and impressionable. His long rangy body leaned casually over the granite bar as he examined the contents a little too closely. As he picked up a bottle of wine to read the label, Terri noticed he wasn’t wearing gloves,
“His name was Arthur Kingsward - and shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?”
Wallis glanced sideways at her, turning his body away as he attempted to wipe the bottle clean without her noticing.
“So where’s the body?”
“In there,” she said pointing to the bedroom, and knowing his squeamish disposition, found it difficult to keep a smirk from lifting the corners of her mouth.
He sauntered over towards the bedroom, and as he passed her whispered,
“Don’t get any ideas about telling your mate Detective Sergeant Rosie Barnes about what just happened either. I can make your life very unpleasant if I want to, just you remember that.”
He was invading her personal space; she smelt garlic on his breath and wanted to heave.
Terri hated the way Wallis acted when their boss wasn’t there. All cocksure and confident, but, on this occasion, it didn’t take long for all his bravado to evaporate. One glance at the carnage in the bedroom was enough to catapult him out of the flat and into the stairwell. Terri smiled to herself as she heard his breakfast making a quick exit.
In his efforts to get away, Terri wondered how many surfaces he had managed to touch without his gloves on.
“I won’t need to tell anyone about your stupidity, old chum. You managed to do that all by yourself.”