Photographs had already been taken of the body in situ, and bags had been placed over each hand and his head to collect any evidence that may have fallen off when transporting him from the crime scene to the mortuary.
Matilda was surprised to see pathologist Adele Kean bent over the body. Usually it was left to forensics to gather everything and Adele would wait in the relative warmth of the mortuary. During the more disturbing crime scenes Matilda would request that Adele attend.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Sian called and told me how bad it was. I thought I’d put in an appearance.’
Matilda looked at the broken body of Kevin Hardaker. ‘What can you tell me about this poor chap?’
Adele shook her head in disbelief. ‘Where do I begin? Until I get him back to the mortuary I’m not going to make any snap judgements. Firstly, I can only describe the beating as savage. The majority of the blows are to the trunk of the body and head. If you look around, you’ll see sprays of blood; this was a prolonged attack which covered a great deal of ground. It looks like he was kicked around like a football.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Matilda muttered.
‘He was shot twice. One shot to the chest, the second to the head, which practically blew it open at the back.’ She spoke with such nonchalance she could have been reading a children’s story book.
‘Was it the gunshots that killed him?’
‘At this stage I’ll say yes. Although judging by the blows to the face and head I’m guessing he was unconscious before the first shot.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Matilda was rooted rigid to the spot. She was surrounded by death on a daily basis but the level of violence people seemed able to inflict on others never failed to shock her. Adele’s cool, calm presence was astonishing.
‘His left eye is swollen shut. There’s nothing left of his right. My guess is he didn’t even see the gun being pointed at him. I’ll try and get the PM done first thing and you’ll know more then.’
‘Thanks Adele.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, placing a friendly, comforting arm on her best friend’s shoulder. ‘What’s all this about an SOS call?’
‘The woman was beeping SOS in Morse code; that’s how the man who found her came to discover her.’
‘Blimey, I didn’t think people used Morse anymore. The last time I saw it was on Titanic.’
‘Ah, Adele, you’re not that old, surely,’ Matilda said with a hint of a smile.
‘The film, you cheeky cow. Come over to the car; I want to show you something.’
Both front doors of the silver Citroen Xsara were wide open. As Matilda approached she took a long look at it. There were specks of blood on both sides of the bodywork. On the back, full sprays of blood adorned the boot.
Matilda stopped in her tracks. On what was left of the window in the back of the car was a sticker that read ‘cheeky monkey on board’. Kevin Hardaker obviously had a young child, maybe more than one. She closed her eyes tight to banish the image of a small boy in torment over the loss of his father at a young age: a father who called him his cheeky monkey.
‘Right then, Kevin Hardaker was driving—’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Well, for a start I have a wonderful Assistant Technical Officer who spotted what I’m about to show you. He was forcibly pulled out of the car and was still wearing his seat belt at the time. If you look at the body, you can see where the belt cut into his neck and there’s blood on the driver’s side.’
‘OK.’
‘Judging by the spatter patterns of blood on the car he’s punched, kicked, whatever, towards the back of the car; the attack getting more frenzied as he gets to the back, as you can see. If I were you I’d get forensics to get good detailed photos and film of these patterns—’
‘We already have.’ The interrupting call came from one of the forensic officers currently with their head in the back of the car.
Adele shrugged her shoulders and continued. ‘Once he’s behind the car the beating becomes more intense. I mean, look at the state of the car; the bodywork is knackered. When the attacker has finished he throws him to the ground – where he is now – and finishes him off with two bullets at point-blank range.’
‘What about the blood on the other side of the car?’
‘I’m guessing they belong to the wife. Forensics have taken samples.’
‘Do you know what type of gun was used?’
‘No. We’ve found some shells and I can’t see any exit wounds so I think the bullets are still in him. I’m not too hot on guns so I’ll need to do some research.’
‘How long do you reckon the attack on Kevin Hardaker lasted?’
She blew out her cheeks. ‘I’ve no idea. Anything from a few minutes to ten minutes to much longer. If there was a conversation between the attacker and victim it could have gone on for a very long time.’
‘So while he was being beaten, what was Mrs Hardaker doing at the time? Even if the attacker took the key and locked it she could have still got out. A second attacker maybe?’ Matilda was thinking aloud.
‘So far we’ve found no foreign prints or anything on Mr Hardaker, but I may do once I get him back to base. There’s a partial footprint on his chest though. I may be able to work out a shoe size from that, but I’m not hopeful.’
‘So there was either a second attacker keeping her hostage while Mr Hardaker was beaten or she just sat there awaiting her fate.’
‘That’s your department DCI Darke, not mine, thank goodness.’ Adele turned on her heels and headed back to the dead body of Kevin Hardaker leaving Matilda in deep thought.
‘Ma’am?’ DC Rory Fleming interrupted her.
‘Good evening Rory, what … bloody hell, are you sponsored by Calvin Klein or something?’ she asked, wafting away the strong smell of fragrance coming from him.
‘Sorry?’
‘You don’t need to drown yourself in the stuff.’
‘It’s Paco Rabanne, actually.’
‘Is that Spanish for sewer water?’
He pulled out his collar and sniffed himself. ‘I think it smells nice; very sexy.’
‘Since when was attending a crime scene sexy? Look, Rory, do me a favour, go to the Northern General and find out how Mrs Hardaker is.’
‘Will do. I thought you’d want to look at this.’ He handed her a wallet sealed in a forensic bag. It was open and the driving licence was showing.
Matilda studied the photograph. He didn’t look familiar. ‘A good-looking guy.’ There was a trace of sadness in her voice.
‘He used to be.’
‘Where’s Scott disappeared to?’
‘He’s over with forensics.’
‘OK. Tell him to get a car and an FLO. I want to go to the Hardaker home. If they do have kids they’ll be worried out of their minds.’
They were both interrupted by a bright white flash coming from further up the road. They looked up to see a man with a camera pointing at them, obviously a journalist.
‘Shit,’ Matilda said under her voice and turning her back on him. ‘How do they find out so quickly?’
‘I saw the story about you in The Star tonight,’ Rory said.
‘You