The Madness of Well Disguised Mind

Chapter Two

The car screeched to a halt just outside the police cordon and Sam took a moment to flex the life back into his fingers. Try as he might it was still difficult getting used to taking corners on two wheels.

"Come on Gladys, quit checking your manicure and lets go get a peek at our dead girl."

"Right," Sam answered. "What are all these buildings then? Warehouses?"

"Mostly," Guv answered. "Turning the whole area into cheap flats though. Call it neighborhood revitalization."

"Hmm," Sam shrugged. "Might have to come over and check it out. Get out of that crap sit and sleep."

"Need a place of your own Tyler?" The Guv raised an eyebrow and Sam flushed. "How long has it been since you’ve been over to that shitty little rat hole of yours?"

"Went over last week for a few more changes of clothes," Sam smirked. It wasn’t like Gene to tease about their personal life once he’d transitioned each morning into being ‘The Guv’. Sam was prepared to enjoy it, even if it involved a dead girl.

"Well, well!" The Guv announced as he stepped into the group of men huddled around the body. "Forensics has already made it, what the hell?"

Sam followed behind and stopped short just behind the Guv. Forensics was on the scene before they were for once. He tried to hide his smile at the amazement on the other men’s faces. Forensics looked as if she’d come up to maybe his shoulder and a good strong wind would knock her over.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Gene snapped.

"You must be DCI Hunt," the woman nodded her head in his direction. "I’d shake your hand but I think you’d prefer if I didn’t," she glanced down at the blood on her gloves.

"I repeat woman, who the bleeding hell are you?"

"Cynthia Baxter, with forensics, I live down that way a bit. They called me to meet you on the scene. That must be DI Tyler behind you. I was told it was him I should try to work with Sir, since you aren’t a fan of forensics. What did they tell me you called it ‘gay boy science’?"

"But you’re a plonk," Gene stuttered.

"Actually no," she shrugged. "I’m a forensic analyst. Been here about a year. Primarily work in the meager lab facilities we have. Like I said, they called me because I live a few streets over."

"Cynthia Baxter?" Sam repeated. "You’re Cynthia Baxter?" This wasn’t right, he thought to himself. Cynthia Baxter was, well she was old. Well she had been when Sam knew her. He’d worked on the last case she did before she retired. Had been the one to ask her out of retirement to work the Chelsea Wainright case. Sam grimaced at the memory and shoved it from his mind.

The woman kneeling next to the body though, she wasn’t old. She was young, younger than Sam at least. 30 maybe? No black business suits and severe buns either. She looked more relaxed. She looks like one of the analysts, Sam reminded himself, not an administrator. He shook his head and tried to focus.

"And you’re DI Tyler," the woman answered. "That’s right. Now that you’ve caught up with the rest of the class DI Tyler perhaps you’d like me to tell you a little bit about your scene?" No, he amended, it was Cynthia Baxter all right.

"Think the Boss has found himself a girl." Ray whispered loudly to Chris. Sam saw her eyes flick over to Ray and saw the subtle shake of her head. "Bet she’s giving him one hell of a stiffy."

"Right, body." She announced. "If we’re all up to speed on the fact that yes forensics is here, yes I am in fact a woman, and DI Tyler knows his own name and is apparently in need of a girl?" Sam watched her look around and could see the Guv biting his lip. Oh the man wanted to thump her upside the head, Sam could see it in his face. The problem was, technically forensics was not under his command and they were having a hard time getting investigators to the scene because of Gene’s utter lack of respect toward them. Forensics did their jobs, but unless Sam made sure to smooth things over personally there was a good chance that CID’s caseload would be done last.

"Please," Sam nodded. "Tell us about the body."

"Suicide Boss," Chris broke in. "It’s obvious."

"Well you’re a right sharp one aren’t you?" He could hear the sarcasm dripping off her tongue. "What’s your name? Oh genius who is going to make my job redundant with your brilliant insights?"

"DC Chris Skelton," Sam could see that Chris was still trying to figure out if he’d been insulted.

"Well DC. Skelton I’m sorry to disappoint you but no. Gentlemen, meet Jane Doe. No identification on the body. I’m hoping to find something on the roof once the ambulance arrives and I can begin searching up there. A handbag perhaps."

"Cause of death?" Sam asked.

"She fell off the roof," the Guv snorted.

"Sorry no," Cynthia broke in. "She didn’t."

"You’re telling me that she’s lying here with a busted in skull and she didn’t come off that roof?" The Guv argued.

"Oh no," Cynthia corrected. "She came off that roof. Impact with the pavement killed her. She just didn’t fall."

"You’re saying she was pushed."

"More likely she was thrown. Angle of the body is wrong for a push. Whoever he is, she got a piece of him. We have skin under the nails and specks of blood on the fingers."

"There’s blood everywhere," Ray argued.

"Not around the hands," she answered. "All the blood is at the head, where she bled out. There’s blood on her fingertips though and it’s dry. Blood behind her head is still sticky."

"So?" Chris asked.

"So that means," Sam broke in, "that the blood on her fingers is not splatter from the head wound."

"Exactly DI Tyler," she nodded. "Now DCI Hunt if you could indulge me."

"Feeling a bit light headed sweet heart?" The Guv asked as he reached for a flask. "Take a quick nip, it should do the trick. First body is always the worst."

Sam watched as Cynthia slid her surgical gloves off and took the flask from him. "It’s not my first body and I wasn’t going for a quick nip." Sam watched as she took just that. "Good single malt," she shrugged. "Thanks. What I was wondering is if you’d give me permission to try an experiment."

"An experiment?" Gene stared.

"Whoever threw our Jane Doe," she started. "They had to touch her. I’d like to check her body for fingerprints."

"You can’t get daubs off skin," Ray protested.

"Actually you can, in theory. Friend of mine in California sent me a journal article about a new technique they’re doing there. They’ve had good results. It won’t take more than a few hours but I understand if you refuse."

"Don’t know what we’re going to get from it," Guv answered.

"Of course," she agreed. "DCI Litton feels the same way. Perhaps when the science is more advanced."

"Litton?" Gene scowled and Sam just smiled. She’d certainly known how to get at the Guv. "A few hours?"

"A day at most," she confirmed. "I’ll just need one of the rooms in the morgue and since we know the cause of death the coroner can do an abbreviated autopsy once I’ve finished."

"Done," the Guv agreed.

A few minutes later, once the body was packed up in an ambulance Sam found himself walking the roof with Cynthia Baxter while the others did a fingertip search of the street. "So how do you propose to get fingerprints off skin then?" Sam asked her.

"Epoxy steaming," she answered as she moved slowly around the roof. "I’ll seal the room off like a fume hood, dust the body down for prints and then I’ll place a large bucket of epoxy under the table on top of a hot plate. As the epoxy heats it will turn to a gas, rise, and then once it cools in the air above the body it will attach to any oils on the skin. After that, I simply go through and peel the epoxy off, preserving any layers that have fingerprints on them."

"Does that work?"

"Appears to," she answered. "I’ve never actually done it mind, but the science makes sense. I have a handbag here."

Sam heard the snap of gloves and walked over to where she was standing. "Found it here next to the ledge. Looks of it this is where everything took place."

"Right," Sam agreed. "No signs of a struggle near the door. She came up here willingly."

"Means she knew her killer." Sam watched as Cynthia walked back to the door. "I’m Jane Doe, I come up on the roof with a man. Why?"

"Privacy?" Sam suggested. "Sex in public without actually being seen?"

"No doubt you’re a man is there?" She snorted. "No, he’s convinced me it will be romantic. Come up on the roof and look out at the city lights. Closest thing to stargazing you’re going to get in Manchester."

"Does it work?" Sam asked.

"Ask my husband," she smiled. "Anyway, they’ve gone on a date, they’re up on the roof and she," Sam watched as she mimicked sliding a handbag off her shoulder. "Handbag gets in the way, besides it’s a bloody nuisance, so she sets it down there."

"How’s she end up on the ground then?"

"Come here," she beckoned. "Stand there, facing me. They’re having a romantic evening, something happens, they start to fight," she reached out a grabbed Sam’s hands placing them on her arms.

"He gets angry, throws her over the edge." Sam finished. Turning both of them look down at the blood stain beneath them on the sidewalk.

"She ends up at this angle, face up, down there." Cynthia agrees. "He flees, forgets about the handbag so he leaves it. That’s how your murder happened DI Tyler. Now all you need to do is find out who he is, who she is and why."

"Well there’s an easy way to answer one of those questions," Sam responded and handed her back the handbag. "Probably has a wallet inside."

"It does," she said as she rifled through it. "According to the license it’s Myra Tiggs. Oh shit."

"Know her?" Sam asked.

"Should ask you the same thing Inspector." Cynthia answered as she reached into the handbag and pulled out a black leather warrant card, almost identical to his own. "WPC Myra Tiggs. License gives an address here in Manchester."

"She’s a police officer?" Sam asked.

"That would be what the evidence suggests," Cynthia agreed.