pointed to the picture of the teacher behind her. ‘Victim, Matthew Tulley, age forty-two, deputy head master at St Columbus Roman Catholic High School in Whalley Range. Wife, Lesley Tulley, age twenty-eight, both lived at Ashgrove, Barnes Lane. Last alleged sighting of Matthew Tulley, at home about nine this morning when he left Mrs Tulley to go to his allotment.’
She referred again to the display where there was a sketch of the allotment and nearby streets. ‘Deceased discovered and reported at eleven a.m. by a Mr Simon who has the adjoining plot.’
Janine’s stomach took a dive as she realised that there were no scene of crime photos up. Oh, hell! ‘Where’s scene of crime shots?’ she said irritably.
DC Chen answered. ‘On the way, printer’s playing up …’
‘The white heat of technology, eh?’
That won her a laugh.
‘Okay. Mr Tulley was prostrate, face down, feet in the shed, torso and head out. Waiting for confirmation on the weapon, some sort of knife.’
‘We heard it was a ritual killing, boss – he was disembowelled,’ said Shap.
She raised her eyes to heaven. The men and women here, like any other people, were quick to spread rumours and latch on to any opportunity for sensationalism. ‘Bollocks.’ A ripple of laughter. ‘No, they were intact, actually.’ Janine continued. ‘The wound was large enough to release the intestines, that’s all. I’m off tripe for the duration.’
‘Besides,’ Grassmere chipped in, ‘looks like he moved after the attack. There was no ritual positioning of the body post mortem, no tokens removed, no paraphernalia. Nothing like that.’
‘Carry on, Miss Grassmere.’
Janine sat down, allowing the forensic scientist to take the floor. Grassmere outlined their initial findings and some of those assembled made notes in their books, and murmured comments that only their immediate neighbours could hear. ‘The post mortem is underway now, fingerprints have gone off so we should have both those by the morning. PNSC have arrived,’ Grassmere referred to the Police National Search Centre, ‘and they are carrying out a detailed search of the allotments and environs. All sealed off till they’re through.’
Janine thanked her.
‘House-to-house, you know who you are?’ Eight heads nodded in response. ‘Carry on till dusk. Cover any sightings of people going to the allotments or coming away, any time before eleven o’ clock. Also recent disturbances, unusual events in the area and any information on the victim.’
As she spoke a part of her was observing her performance, assessing her choice of words, her manner, her gestures and identifying areas for improvement. She had to be good, twice as good.
‘Reports here for tomorrow morning, eight a.m. sharp.’
A couple of half-hearted groans greeted the announcement of an early Sunday.
‘I could make it earlier?’
‘No, boss, eight is fine.’
‘Friends and associates,’ she moved on. ‘Inspector Mayne?’
‘Appointment arranged for the morning with the Headmaster, Mr Deaking.’
‘Good.’ She referred to her notes. ‘We’ll be getting a list tomorrow morning from Mrs Tulley of other friends and associates and we’ll be establishing her movements this morning as well as talking to her sister. Emma is staying at Ashgrove with Mrs Tulley. Any questions?’
‘Deceased have any form, boss?’ Shap put in.
‘Nothing on HOLMES so far.’ She referred to the national computerised database that the police forces share. ‘At this point no known suspects. As far as the Press goes, we’ve issued a statement. Word travelled fast and they’re camped outside the Tulleys’ at present. Two officers are there to keep an eye on things. If nothing emerges in the next 24 hours we will ask Mrs Tulley to make an appeal for information. Anything else? Right, then …’
Her closing of the meeting was interrupted by the arrival of an officer with a box of ten by eight digital computer prints from the
She referred again to the display where there was a sketch of the allotment and nearby streets. ‘Deceased discovered and reported at eleven a.m. by a Mr Simon who has the adjoining plot.’
Janine’s stomach took a dive as she realised that there were no scene of crime photos up. Oh, hell! ‘Where’s scene of crime shots?’ she said irritably.
DC Chen answered. ‘On the way, printer’s playing up …’
‘The white heat of technology, eh?’
That won her a laugh.
‘Okay. Mr Tulley was prostrate, face down, feet in the shed, torso and head out. Waiting for confirmation on the weapon, some sort of knife.’
‘We heard it was a ritual killing, boss – he was disembowelled,’ said Shap.
She raised her eyes to heaven. The men and women here, like any other people, were quick to spread rumours and latch on to any opportunity for sensationalism. ‘Bollocks.’ A ripple of laughter. ‘No, they were intact, actually.’ Janine continued. ‘The wound was large enough to release the intestines, that’s all. I’m off tripe for the duration.’
‘Besides,’ Grassmere chipped in, ‘looks like he moved after the attack. There was no ritual positioning of the body post mortem, no tokens removed, no paraphernalia. Nothing like that.’
‘Carry on, Miss Grassmere.’
Janine sat down, allowing the forensic scientist to take the floor. Grassmere outlined their initial findings and some of those assembled made notes in their books, and murmured comments that only their immediate neighbours could hear. ‘The post mortem is underway now, fingerprints have gone off so we should have both those by the morning. PNSC have arrived,’ Grassmere referred to the Police National Search Centre, ‘and they are carrying out a detailed search of the allotments and environs. All sealed off till they’re through.’
Janine thanked her.
‘House-to-house, you know who you are?’ Eight heads nodded in response. ‘Carry on till dusk. Cover any sightings of people going to the allotments or coming away, any time before eleven o’ clock. Also recent disturbances, unusual events in the area and any information on the victim.’
As she spoke a part of her was observing her performance, assessing her choice of words, her manner, her gestures and identifying areas for improvement. She had to be good, twice as good.
‘Reports here for tomorrow morning, eight a.m. sharp.’
A couple of half-hearted groans greeted the announcement of an early Sunday.
‘I could make it earlier?’
‘No, boss, eight is fine.’
‘Friends and associates,’ she moved on. ‘Inspector Mayne?’
‘Appointment arranged for the morning with the Headmaster, Mr Deaking.’
‘Good.’ She referred to her notes. ‘We’ll be getting a list tomorrow morning from Mrs Tulley of other friends and associates and we’ll be establishing her movements this morning as well as talking to her sister. Emma is staying at Ashgrove with Mrs Tulley. Any questions?’
‘Deceased have any form, boss?’ Shap put in.
‘Nothing on HOLMES so far.’ She referred to the national computerised database that the police forces share. ‘At this point no known suspects. As far as the Press goes, we’ve issued a statement. Word travelled fast and they’re camped outside the Tulleys’ at present. Two officers are there to keep an eye on things. If nothing emerges in the next 24 hours we will ask Mrs Tulley to make an appeal for information. Anything else? Right, then …’
Her closing of the meeting was interrupted by the arrival of an officer with a box of ten by eight digital computer prints from the
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