Chapter 22
THURSDAY
‘Another body. Burntisland beach this time. Same signature.’
Brodie was already swinging his legs out of bed, reaching for the clothes he’d laid out the night before – a habit from years of early morning call-outs. ‘When was it found?’
‘Dog walker, just after six. Uniforms secured the scene, and Dr Holmes is en route. I need you there.’
‘Give me forty minutes.’ Brodie ended the call and moved quietly through the flat, not wanting to wake Ruth. But she was already stirring, sitting up in bed with that knowing expression of someone who’d been through this routine too many times.
‘Another one?’ she asked softly.
‘Burntisland.’ Brodie leaned over to kiss her forehead. ‘I’ll call you later.’
‘Be careful, Liam.’
The drive from Newhaven to Fettes station took twenty minutes through the early morning traffic, which was already building despite the hour. Brodie had arranged to pick up Lucy Warren from the office, and it made sense to travel together rather than take separate cars.
Lucy was waiting outside the building when he pulled up, carrying a travel mug of coffee and looking alert despite the early hour. She’d tied her dark hair back in a practical ponytail and wore a dark suit that somehow managed to look both professional and ready for tramping across a beach.
‘Morning,’ she said, sliding into the passenger seat. ‘Thanks for the lift. My car’s making a weird noise, and I didn’t want to risk it breaking down halfway to Fife.’
‘No problem. Coffee any good?’
‘It’s caffeinated, which is all that matters at this hour.’ Lucy settled her bag at her feet. ‘What do we know about the body?’
‘Almost nothing yet. Found about an hour ago, positioned like The Embalmer’s signature. That’s all Breck told me.’ Brodie merged onto the A90, heading north towards the Queensferry Crossing. ‘We’ll know more when we get there.’
They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the radio playing softly – some early morning news programme discussing politics that Brodie wasn’t really listening to. The sky was overcast but bright, that peculiar Scottish morning light that could mean sunshine or rain within the hour.
They crossed the Queensferry Crossing, the steel structure gleaming in the morning light, the water below grey and restless.
Brodie found himself thinking about The Embalmer’s psychology – the need to display, to arrange, to create these tableaux of death.
Gabriel Kane had called it artistry, but it was something darker than that.
It was possession, control, the ultimate expression of power over another human being.
They drove through Burntisland, a coastal town that had grown up around its harbour and beach. The High Street was still quiet, just a few early risers heading to work or walking dogs. Brodie followed the blue lights towards the links, where a collection of police vehicles marked the crime scene.
The beach at Burntisland was similar to the beach at Pathhead Sands where the first victim had been found.
Access tunnels ran under the road and railway line, dark Victorian passageways that locals used to reach the shore.
It was through one of these tunnels that Brodie and Lucy would need to walk to reach the body.
As they parked and got out, Brodie saw a familiar figure emerging from his car – Dr Ronald Holmes, carrying his medical bag and wearing his usual expression of professional focus. He quickly pulled on his white forensic suit, then raised a hand in greeting when he spotted them.
‘DCI Brodie, Lucy.’ Holmes’s voice carried that characteristic blend of competence and regret. ‘I understand we have another one.’
‘So it appears,’ Brodie replied.
The three of them walked together towards the nearest access tunnel, showing their identification to the uniformed officer maintaining the perimeter.
Rust-covered girders carried the railway line above, and the rust bled down the white-painted walls.
Their footsteps echoed in the confined space as they made their way through, emerging onto the promenade.
The smell of the salt water hit Brodie’s nostrils, not a bad smell, he thought.
It brought back memories of his childhood when his parents would bring him and his sister over here for a day at the beach.
No bodies back then, just playing with a bucket and spade and eating candyfloss afterwards.
The forensic tent had been erected about thirty yards from the waterline, its white fabric stark against the grey sand and darker rocks.
More uniformed officers maintained the inner perimeter, and Brodie could see the scene of crime team already at work, photographing the scene from multiple angles.
DS Cameron Reid emerged from the tent as they approached, his face showing the same grim recognition they were all feeling. ‘Sir. Dr Holmes. Same as before – young woman, positioned carefully, no obvious signs of violence. The only difference is, she isn’t naked like the last one.’
‘Really?’ Brodie said. ‘This might not be our killer then.’
‘Any identification?’ Lucy asked.
‘There was a driving licence in her pocket. Claire Nisbet. Twenty-seven. Address in Dundee. DI McKenzie and DS Munro are up there now, liaising with the local force, and they were on their way to her house.’ Cameron glanced back at the tent.
‘She hasn’t been here long – body’s still in good condition, probably placed sometime in the early hours of this morning. ’
Holmes moved towards the tent with practised efficiency. ‘I’ll need to conduct my examination. If you’ll excuse me?’
As the pathologist disappeared inside the forensic tent, Brodie stood with Lucy and Cameron, looking out over the Forth.
The tide was low, exposing rocks covered in seaweed and the debris that accumulated at the high-water mark.
A few dog walkers stood at the edge of the cordon, curiosity and concern on their faces.
‘How many does this make?’ Lucy asked quietly.
‘Nine that we know of,’ Brodie replied. ‘Seven from the original spree seven years ago, Emma Richardson, and now this one. But I’m starting to think there are more we haven’t found yet.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Lucy asked.
‘Everyone assumed The Embalmer stopped killing, but what if he just changed his methodology? What if the beach displays were only ever just a small part of his work?’
‘That would make sense,’ Cameron said.
‘Exactly. And if that’s true, we’re not looking at nine victims. We could be looking at dozens.
’ Brodie’s voice was grim. ‘Which means we’re not just dealing with a serial killer.
We’re dealing with someone who’s been murdering with impunity for years.
’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about. ’
Holmes emerged from the tent after about fifteen minutes.
‘Preliminary findings confirm what we suspected,’ Holmes reported.
‘She was positioned in The Embalmer’s signature style, but she is fully dressed.
She looks like she’s been killed like the others, with blood drained from her neck.
I’ll know more after the post-mortem, but this is consistent with the previous victims.’
‘Time of death?’ Brodie asked.
‘Difficult to say precisely without laboratory examination, but based on body temperature and lividity, I’d estimate between midnight and 3 a.m.’ Holmes set down his medical bag.
‘DI Warren, have you had much experience with serial murder cases?’
‘I’ve been involved in a few.’
‘Then you’ll understand who we’re looking for. Somebody who has to be taken off the streets as soon as.’
‘We’ll do everything possible.’
‘We’ll need that post-mortem as soon as possible,’ Brodie said. ‘Priority scheduling.’
‘Of course. I’ll begin this afternoon once the body’s been transported to the mortuary.’ Holmes picked up his bag. ‘I’ll send my preliminary report by this evening.’
As Holmes walked back towards the access tunnel, Lucy turned to Brodie with a thoughtful expression. ‘He’s very knowledgeable about serial killer psychology.’
‘He’s one of the best pathologists I’ve worked with.
He used to work in Dundee before here. The professor there was Dr Fred Hart.
I met him when I worked The Embalmer case last time.
He was in Fife for a meeting. Nice guy. Probably retired by now.
But Fife lucked out when they got Sherlock.
He was taught by Fred. They were a good team. But let’s get back to the station.’
They walked back through the access tunnel just as Sherlock was about to get into his car. Brodie leaned on the open door.
‘I’ll have the original pathology reports faxed over to the mortuary, now that we have a second victim,’ he said.
‘Terrific, thanks,’ Sherlock said. ‘It will be handy to compare them to our two new victims.’ He got in behind the wheel. ‘I’ll call you later, Liam.’
Brodie nodded as Sherlock closed his door and drove away.