‘Any idea on the weapon used yet?’ Karen asked. It must have been something heavy to inflict that much damage to his face. The extensive injuries couldn’t have been caused by a fist fight, so the person who attacked him must have used something. Maybe they’d get lucky and find that the killer panicked, dumping a weapon loaded with fingerprints nearby.
‘We’ve found nothing so far,’ Morgan said. ‘But we’ll be expanding the search perimeter soon.’
‘It was some kind of blunt instrument, something heavy,’ Raj said.
‘A branch?’ Karen suggested, looking around at some fallen branches and twigs scattered on the floor around them. ‘I suppose it would have to be a large one.’
‘Unlikely. A big branch could have been heavy enough, but I would have expected to see fragments of bark or wood embedded in the head wounds when I examined him if that was the case, and I didn’t.’
‘So you don’t think the weapon was made of wood?’ Morgan asked.
‘I’m not saying that,’ Raj clarified. His eyes twinkled and he tottered around in a circle, reminding Karen more than ever of Hercule Poirot. ‘It could have been some kind of processed wood, a cricket bat or something similar in weight, or the murder weapon could be made of metal or coated with plastic. I’ll know more after the swabs I’ve taken are analysed at the lab.’
‘I noticed the bite marks on his arms,’ Karen said. ‘What do you think? A scavenger?’
‘No, he was bitten multiple times, likely by a dog. A large one. Either before or immediately after death. There was bleeding from the wounds.’
‘Just the one dog?’ Morgan asked.
‘Hard to say at this stage.’
‘How long has he been here?’ Karen glanced back at the body.
‘A good few hours. At least ten, I’d say.’
‘And was he killed in situ?’
‘In my opinion, yes.’ Raj pursed his lips, causing his black moustache to twitch. ‘There was one thing I noticed that may or may not be relevant – he’s not very clean.’
‘I noticed the dirt on his hands and under his nails,’ Karen said.
‘Well, yes,’ Raj said. ‘But I was actually referring to other areas. He has grime behind his ears and there’s a boil on the back of his neck. Not that boils can’t affect people who keep themselves clean, but his skin is coated with grease and embedded with dirt. He’s probably been neglecting personal hygiene for some time.’
‘So he hasn’t had access to washing facilities,’ Morgan mused. ‘Perhaps he was homeless.’
‘Perhaps.’ Raj glanced down at the body.
A memory of Josh hit Karen out of the blue. He’d been working in the garden, digging holes for a rose bush they’d bought, and had discarded his gloves after he’d ripped one of them. He’d used his bare hands to finish scraping out the hole, creating enough space to plant the rose. Tilly had loved it, joining in by using the hose pipe and making mud pies. The pair of them had come back inside the house, and Tilly had been caked with mud. Karen had argued with Josh. A stupid thing to row about now she looked back on it, but she’d been paranoid Tilly was going to catch an infection from the soil bacteria . . . Tetanus – or something equally nasty. Josh had just laughed it off, saying kids needed to be kids. She’d snapped back, asking him what was his excuse?
Karen shook her head. It wasn’t time to indulge in her past. But the murder victim’s hands reminded her of Josh’s hands coated with dirt after he’d been digging the hole for the rose.
‘Even without washing facilities, I wouldn’t expect fresh earth to be coating his fingernails like that,’ Karen said. ‘Would you? I think he’s been digging for something.’
DI Morgan frowned and then looked at the victim’s hands again. ‘You could be right. I’ll check with the crime scene manager and the officer in charge of the search to see if they’ve spotted anything.’
Karen turned away from the victim. ‘It’s going to be a struggle to ID this chap if we don’t get a hit on the database. Did he have nothing on him at all, Raj?’
‘Actually, he did have something,’ Raj said with a shrug. ‘Though I’m not sure how helpful it will be. We found a beer mat in the back pocket of his jeans.’
‘Can we see it?’ Morgan asked.
Raj led them over to the crime scene manager, who was in charge of filing the evidence collected from the scene. He exchanged a few words with Raj and then held out a clear plastic bag containing the beer mat.
DI Morgan took it and thanked him, turning it over in his hands. Raj excused himself to go and finish up.
When Karen saw the name of the pub printed on the red cardboard square, she bit down hard on the inside of her mouth.
‘The Red Lion, in Canwick,’ Morgan said thoughtfully. ‘Do you know it?’
Karen swallowed hard. ‘I do. I’ve had a few run-ins with the owners. There were no charges filed against them. But they’re a bad lot.’
‘How so?’
Karen wrapped her arms around her midsection and shivered, wishing she was out from under the trees and standing in the sunshine. ‘Nothing I can prove, but I have my suspicions. I haven’t spoken to the owners for over five years, though, so it’s possible the pub has changed hands. At the time, I thought they were exploiting workers. We had reports they were paying less than the minimum wage, keeping things off the books and a high turnover of staff. I paid them a few visits. We got a warrant to search the premises once, but someone must’ve tipped them off because everyone was legal and on the books when we went to serve the warrant. Surprisingly they’d all been officially employed the previous week. Very convenient, wouldn’t you say?’
Morgan frowned. ‘And this was five years ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it was never followed up?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
Morgan turned his attention back to the beer mat, squinting at it. ‘I think there’s something written on here.’
Karen peered over his shoulder. He was right. In tiny printed lettering someone had written a date and time.
22 May, 15.00.
‘What do you think that means?’ Morgan asked.
Karen shook her head. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea.’
‘Maybe the owners of The Red Lion will be able to point us in the right direction. I think we should pay them a visit. Maybe he worked there, or was a regular.’
Karen suppressed another shiver. ‘I suppose he had to get the beer mat from there, so a visit makes sense.’
‘Perhaps he had a late-night disagreement with someone at the pub. You never know, we might have this case solved in a couple of hours.’
‘Why would he come here though?’ Karen looked around. The place was peaceful now, despite the bustling police officers and crime scene team still busy in the area. Birds were singing in the trees and the sun was trying to stream through gaps in the branches. At night it would be a very different story – dark, creepy. The type of place you could arrange a clandestine meet-up away from prying eyes.
As though he could read Karen’s thoughts, Morgan said, ‘Maybe he met someone up here. It’s a good place for a meeting if you don’t want to be seen.’