LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER 9

      Jessie pushed open the door to Jones’ office. She was too excited to notice the black circles under his eyes, the papery look to his skin, the slight yellow tinge to his fingers. Her jellyfish was back from the lab and her suspicions were confirmed. Her mud bath had been rewarded.

      ‘Great, you’re back. Can I show you something?’

      Jones pushed himself up from his desk without a word and followed Jessie down the corridor to an evidence room. He was lagging behind.

      ‘What’s the hurry, Detective?’

      Jessie turned back. ‘It’s about the bones we found on the Thames. I think I can identify them.’

      ‘What bones?’

      ‘Didn’t you hear about the …’ Jones was frowning at her. ‘Are you feeling okay, sir?’

      ‘How?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘How can you identify these bones?’

      ‘Oh,’ Jessie smiled, extremely pleased with herself. ‘I found a jellyfish. Let’s just say it didn’t look indigenous to the sullied waters of London. Turns out I was right.’

      Jessie led Jones to one of the tables where her jellyfish lay, oozing over a square glass plate. A borrowed microscope stood close by. Jessie got the equipment in place, then stood back.

      ‘Have a look.’

      Jones came up shaking his head. ‘I hate to tell you this, but that is no jellyfish.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘What is it then?’

      Jessie stepped back and crossed her arms. ‘A partially dissolved silicone implant.’

      ‘Breasts?’ he said incredulously.

      ‘One breast, to be accurate. And, being pedantic, a fake.’

      Jones closed one eye and lowered his head back down to the microscope. ‘What are the letters and numbers on it?’

      ‘Part of a security barcode. It’s an American brand. A very recent model. Cosmetic surgeons started coding silicone implants several years ago after too many went missing. Can you imagine – a black market in fake boobs? Anyway, to have got to its current skeletal state, the body this belonged to would have had to start decomposing eighteen months before this type of implant was even invented. This is not a typical river DOA.’

      Jones frowned.

      ‘At first the pathologist thought the body had been cleaned, or preserved. Possibly even left as a joke.’

      ‘Joke?’ asked Jones suspiciously.

      ‘By med students,’ said Jessie quickly. She was no snitch. ‘Now I am convinced it was acid we could smell. It explains the disfigured implant and the fact that the bones were so clean. This is a serious crime.’ She handed Jones the preliminary photos. He held one up. It was an aerial view taken from the helicopter. The white arch of the ribcage rising up from the mud, the dirtier leg bones splayed wide, covered in silt.

      ‘But you didn’t know that when the body was called in. What were you doing on the river, Jessie? Hardly a stiff for the murder squad, was it?’

      The pause was a fraction longer than a second. Too long. ‘I had nothing else to do,’ said Jessie. ‘Thought I needed to accumulate some field experience.’

      ‘Nothing to do? What about the Mills case?’

      ‘I thought that’s what you were doing. I couldn’t reach you all day.’

      Jones involuntarily rubbed his hand over his chin, feeling for bristles. Jessie had never seen him with anything resembling a five-o’clock shadow. He was the closest-shaved copper she knew. He was studying her. Closely.

      ‘So this,’ he said, waving the photo in the air, ‘has nothing to do with the five calls from Mark Ward yesterday?’

      She retrieved the photos and put them back in her file. ‘I thought you said you didn’t speak to anyone.’

      ‘I didn’t.’

      ‘Oh, well then, no, I doubt it.’

      He nodded in that all-seeing all-knowing way of his. Jessie held her ground.

      ‘So what now?’ he asked.

      ‘See what the lab results tell us, then try and match the part of the code that hasn’t been destroyed with the manufacturer. They will know the surgery it went to, and we can take it from there.’

      Jones looked exhausted. ‘What about the Mills case?’

      ‘I’m on that too, sir. Did you know that Raymond Giles has a cable show?’

      He nodded. Jessie was put out.

      ‘We concentrate on Frank,’ said Jones sternly. ‘Not Raymond. He’s done his time. Am I clear?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      The door to the evidence room opened. It was the PC from the river. ‘Morning, ma’am, sir. I thought you might want these before I resume my post on the river.’ PC Ahmet passed her the Personal Description Forms. ‘I think this will turn out to be more helpful, however –’ He held out a Tupperware container. ‘I put it in my sandwich box.’

      ‘What?’ asked Jessie.

      ‘The jellyfish I saw. Those SOCOs didn’t pick it up, so I thought I would. Call me particular, but since when did you find jellyfish in the Thames? They are saltwater creatures – medusoid coelenterate, to be precise.’

      Jessie smiled at Jones, took the box from Niaz, emptied the deformed implant on to another glass plate and brought the magnifying glass over it. Finally she looked up, smiling.

      ‘You are brilliant, Niaz.’

      ‘So it isn’t a jellyfish?’

      ‘No. It’s one of a pair of silicone implants. With the two, I think we now have the full barcode.’ She took a pen from her back pocket and wrote out the number from the first and then added the one from the second. The middle three numbers overlapped. She stood back. ‘We’ll soon know who she is.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘How behind is LA?’

      Jessie’s mobile rang. It was Sally Grimes, the pathologist. ‘Sulphuric acid. The bones were drenched in it.’

      ‘Jesus.’

      ‘Will that wipe the smile off your DI’s face?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Congratulations, Detective Inspector.’

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