Page 35 of Murder in Shades of Fire and Ash

Eddy stepped forward. “If you were thinking of delivering them to the car parts place, it’s gone.” He showed the driver his ID and ushered him to where the destruction could be seen. The driver’s face dropped open in shock.

“I must deliver things,” he said, when he had himself back under control.

“There’s nowhere to deliver them to,” Eddy said. “You’ll have to take them back.”

“He can’t,” said a voice from the other side of the gate. Charlie saw a man wearing a pair of black trousers and a T-shirt with the sloganMo’s Autoparts: Cheapest and Best. “The wagon is loaded in order. If he doesn’t unload our stuff, he can’t get at the next lot.”

“I hate to tell you,” Eddy said, “But that really isn’t something I can help with. The gate stays closed. This area is a crime scene, and you need to give me your names and addresses.” He produced his tablet to start noting them down. Both the driver and the man in the T-shirt looked worried, as did the four other people in the same T-shirts who arrived over the next few minutes. Eddy took all their names and addresses and ignored all the requests for information.

“If you don’t let us in, we won’t get paid,” a middle-aged woman said.

“I can’t help you with that, either,” Eddy said. “No one gets through the gate.”

26

Tuesday morning

Hector Powell, the pathologist, arrived less than an hour after the delivery wagon, together with a scenes of crimes team and a recovery vehicle for the burned-out van. The man with the camera tried to slip through the gate in the confusion, but the uniformed policeman had his wits about him. He did let their bacon sandwiches through though, for which Charlie was very thankful. The woman with the tray should be getting a bunch of flowers at the very least. Hector looked enviously at their sandwiches and muttered something aboutbloody dietsas he shuffled himself into a white suit, overshoes and a less-than-flattering mask and cap. Charlie chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could.

Eddy went to collect Kev Watchet to show the pathologist and his assistant where he had found the body. There was no avoiding it this time, and Charlie followed. His leg had become a form of torture; he’d had to lean the crutches, and himself, against a wall so that he could eat and drink.

“That is indeed a body,” Hector said. “And he or she is most certainly dead. Probably he, from the size, but I can’t be sure.”

Charlie flicked a few glances towards the remains of what had been a person but was now nothing but a charred lump of … something he didn’t want to think about. He cleared his throat.

Hector looked up.

“Can’t tell you anything, Charlie. I’ll do the PM as soon as I can, but for now,it’s probably a man and he’s definitely dead,is as good as it gets.”

“We need to know who he is — or rather was,” Charlie said.

“If he or she had any ID, it’s gone now,” Hector said. “Though if it comes to it, we can probably get DNA. Can’t you identify the van?”

Without licence plates or a Vehicle Identification Number, the answer wasnot yet.He and Eddy watched as Hector and his assistant delicately removed the remains from the van into a body bag. There was a collective sigh of relief from firefighters and police alike as the body bag was put into the mortuary van and driven away from the site. Charlie could hear shouted questions from the gate. The press were still there, then, and they would recognise the mortuary van. Dammit. He called Mags at the takeaway.

“We’ve got the press down here,” he said.

“Same,” Mags said, “and there’s only me. It’s all taped off, but they’ve taken lots of pictures. We need help, Sarge, or they’ll be in the building, collapsing and dangerous or not. I can’t keep them out on my own. The gas safety people are here now, but they are making noises about leaving soon.” Charlie heard the desperation in her voice.

“I’m sending Eddy,” he told her. “And ringing HQ for more bodies. Hang in there.”

Eddy had overheard the conversation, and headed towards the gate, ignoring the shouted questions from the media, who had increased in number. The sun had now well and truly risen, and Charlie could feel the heat beginning to build. A glance at hisphone told him it was time to update Mal Kent, but he decided to organise the recovery of the burned-out van first, and that meant clearing the press and the lookie-loos from around the gate. It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that a mortuary van, followed by a low loader carrying the remains of a camper van, were probably related. And to get the gate area cleared meant getting more officers, which meant ringing Kent. With a sigh — instantly regretted as his chest twingedagain— he got out his phone.

“We can’t cope,” he said, when Mal Kent answered. “We’ve got the press hanging round both crime scenes, a lorry full of car parts trying to make a delivery, and half a dozen workers demanding to be let in. Plus, a body with no identification, on its way to the mortuary. We can’t identify the burned-out van, because, well, it’s burned out.”

“But apart from that, everything is fine?” Kent said.

Perfect, just peachy, thanks for asking.

“We need this body identified, and that means recovering the van, so we can get the chassis number,” Charlie said.

There was a silence from the other end, and then: “Just look underneath.”

“Leave it with me,” Charlie said.

“I’ll send everyone I can find,” Kent said. “Get that address.” And ended the call.

Charlie gave himself a mental kick for thinking he would need to take the burned-out van back to the police yard before they could find the chassis number. He beckoned to one of the scenes of crimes officers, already dressed in his white suit, and explained what he needed. In turn, he called the driver of the recovery truck.

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