‘What do we know about Albert Johnson’s private life so far?’ Karen asked.
‘He lives alone,’ Sophie said. ‘He’s owned the house and lived in it for fifty years. His wife lived with him until she died ten years ago. He went to Cambridge University, then became a teacher. He taught at Greenhill Secondary School from 1970 and retired from his position of headmaster twenty years ago.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘That’s about it so far. Although, I should add that all signs point to him and his wife having a happy marriage.’
‘Okay, good. We’re going to need to expand Albert’s family tree. Can you follow up on that, Sophie, as Rick is heading to the hospital?’ Karen asked.
Sophie bit her lip. ‘I will, just as soon as I get back from my appointment, if that’s okay.’
‘Appointment?’ DI Morgan frowned.
‘Yes, remember I told you I had an appointment with a mortgage adviser? I’m going to find out today whether I can afford the house I want.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ DI Morgan said. ‘Good luck.’
‘Yes, good luck. I’ll get started on the background, and you can take over when you get back,’ Karen said.
After Sophie and Rick had left, Karen and DI Morgan went over their notes, brainstorming and making sure they hadn’t missed anything. Karen was scribbling down a quick reminder to contact Greenhill Academy when the phone on her desk rang.
She picked it up. ‘DS Hart.’
‘Karen, it’s Raj. Could you come down to the lab?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll be straight down.’
She hung up and smiled at DI Morgan. ‘That was Raj. They’ve found something.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Karen and DI Morgan found Raj downstairs in the main lab. The air smelled of antiseptic, and the air conditioning unit buzzed in the corner.
‘That was quick, Raj. This has to be a record, even for you,’ Karen said. ‘What have you got for us?’
The pathologist looked up and smiled. ‘Don’t get too excited. I haven’t even performed the post-mortem yet. But we thought you’d be interested in this.’
It was brighter in the lab than elsewhere in the police station. The work surfaces seemed to reflect and intensify the light. All the benches were made of stainless steel, for ease of wiping down and to minimise the possibility of contamination. Raj stood in front of a light box that was nestled between a rack of pipettes and a small, bench-top centrifuge.
On top of the light box was what looked like a very old, disintegrated piece of leather and some stained papers.
‘It’s an old driver’s licence,’ Raj said, using a pair of tweezers to straighten a fragment of paper. ‘It was partially encased in a protective plastic sleeve.’
Both Karen and DI Morgan stepped closer to the light box, intrigued.
‘Can we get an ID from it?’ DI Morgan asked.
‘Not yet.’ Raj set the tweezers down on the bench. ‘We’ve scanned the licence, and with a bit of luck, we should be able to enhance the text using a computer program. We might not be able to read it all, but I hope we’ll have enough to provide some clues to our victim’s identity.’
DI Morgan stared intently at the fragments of paper. ‘That’s excellent work, Raj. It looks indecipherable to me. If you can get a name from that, I’ll owe you a pint.’
Karen found it hard to believe they would be able to extract any information from the tattered paper. It didn’t have the usual greenish hue of a driver’s licence. Instead, it was stained with yellow and brown splotches. Karen felt her stomach churn as she realised the colour change would be due to the cadaver’s bodily fluids soaking into the paper as the body slowly decomposed.
‘Who’s running the computer program?’ DI Morgan asked.
‘Harinder. If anyone can get a result from this, it’s him,’ Raj said, taking a pen from his lab coat pocket and making a note in an A5 pad. ‘I was in the pathology lab at the hospital when I discovered the licence, and brought it straight here myself. I haven’t started a full examination of the body yet.’
‘It’s a shame you didn’t find any bank cards,’ Karen commented.
Raj slipped the pen back into the breast pocket of his lab coat. ‘That would have made life easier because the plastic wouldn’t decompose as easily.’
DI Morgan turned to Raj. ‘Do you still think we’re looking at twenty to forty years ago for our time of death?’
Raj nodded. ‘Yes, I should have more for you by the end of the afternoon. I’m going to get back to the pathology lab now and Harinder will update you when he’s got a result on the licence. As I extracted the body from the suitcase, I did notice a fracture on the left side of the skull. That could have been what killed him, but it’s not easy to identify a definite cause of death when the body is in such a state.’
Karen felt a little dizzy. The lights were too bright, and the reflections on the stainless steel had a dazzling effect. It was horrible to think that a selection of bones, fabric from a garish tracksuit, and this stained, tattered driver’s licence were all that remained of a person’s life.
‘We’re assuming it was the victim’s licence . . .’ Karen said.
‘It’s pretty likely, don’t you think?’ Raj asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘I suppose, but we can’t say for sure. Do you still believe the victim was male?’
Raj pulled a face, showing his reluctance to answer the question. ‘I’m not willing to go on record yet, but I’d say our victim was a man between the age of thirty and his mid-fifties. But that’s it for now. I really need to examine the bones further before I can tell you any more. If we can get an ID from the driver’s licence, then we should be able to confirm identity with dental records, or even DNA if it came to it.’
‘Do you think you’d be able to extract DNA from the victim?’
Raj smiled and his moustache lifted. ‘Yes. Of course.’ His smile disappeared. ‘The problem will be trying to find a match in the database.’
‘Thanks, Raj,’ DI Morgan said. ‘We should let you get back to the pathology lab. I don’t suppose you have any idea how long this program of Harinder’s takes to run?’
Raj smiled as he began to meticulously remove the fragments from the light box and transfer them to an evidence storage box. Karen thought he looked more like Poirot than ever.
‘It should be finished within the hour,’ he said, and switched off the light box.
Sophie glanced at her watch and tried to hide her irritation. Her meeting with the mortgage adviser was meant to have started ten minutes ago. The delay was especially annoying today, as she needed to get back to the station as soon as possible. She crossed her legs and tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair.
All her paperwork, including the multitude of forms the bank required to be filled in, was in a single file resting on her lap. Sophie was not one to come unprepared. She had all her bank statements as well as a selection of utility bills, and a budget and expenses accounting sheet. By her own calculations, she could afford to buy the house she desperately wanted. Of course, it would mean cutting back here and there and tightening her belt, but it would be worth it.