Paper Soldiers

CHAPTER 2

 

DCI Priest sat in his car for a moment, looking out of the windscreen towards the sky. It was daylight for sure, but the sun was never going to break through those dark stormy clouds.

He hoped that he would be finished here before the rain came, but as he pulled on his heavy waterproof coat, and swapped his comfortable leather shoes for his green wellies, he was going to ensure that he stayed dry, whatever was to come. He checked his watch…. nine-forty a.m.

Priest was met at the start of the woodland trail by a uniformed officer, who had been stationed there by his sergeant, specifically to guide the numerous expected attendees and to ensure that they didn’t take the wrong trail, wandering around aimlessly looking for and hoping to stumble across the crime scene. Although having only been at the scene for fifteen minutes himself, guiding people down the correct route was a big ask of the young officer. The walk was fairly brisk, and they reached the fork in the trail much quicker than the usual Sunday morning rambler would. Not that there were to be any more ramblers or further dog walkers this Sunday morning. The woods could be accessed via three main entry points, and unformed officers had been positioned at each, apparently already busy turning away those that had arrived for their weekly dose of fresh air and exercise. Sorry, the woods are closed today was all that the officers would, or could, say to those they had watched pull up into the car park and spend ten minutes dressing appropriately for the elements before walking over to the start of their nearest trail. It was to be almost two hours before anyone used their initiative and closed the entrances to the car parks.

As Priest rounded the corner, his eyes expected to meet with what he would call a ‘usual’ crime scene: the immediate area around the body would generally be cordoned off with a large white tent to protect the scene from further forensic contamination, or at worst, total loss of any forensic evidence should the impending torrential rain wash it all away. However, there was no obligatory pitched tent this morning; the area, the body, was covered by a large screen that extended some ten feet in height, and had been erected using metal poles, made sturdy with heavy bases, and tarpaulin hooked and wrapped around the poles. There was a uniformed officer standing next to the tarpaulin screen, and numerous SOCO officers, some huddled in a group talking, others nipping in and out of a gap in the tarpaulin. He caught the eye of two of his detectives; DS Stephens and DC Simkins.

‘Bloody hell, are you sure that you are wrapped up enough?’ asked a cheeky Stephens. Simkins joined in with the brief chuckle at their boss’s expense.

‘All you’re missing is one of those oversized, rubber-looking fisherman’s hats with the large brim,’ she added.

‘You won’t be laughing in an hour or so when the heavens open and it starts to bucket down. Have you seen those clouds?’ He comically pointed to the sky, like the detectives needed help in understanding where to find the clouds. ‘This whole place will become a bloody quagmire, and you will be wishing that you were wearing wellies and a thick waterproof coat.’

Simkins tugged at his own lightweight navy jacket. ‘I’ll be fine, guv, and don’t you worry about me.’ His jacket was so lightweight it could have easily have been one of those kagools that can be folded away in a handy sized bag; the ones that your mum bought for you and made you take with you on your school trip to Twycross Zoo, even though the weather presenter on the morning television breakfast show was predicting twenty degrees and sun all day. It was the kind of jacket that ‘went missing’ on school trips, never to be seen again; dunno, Mum, I probably left it at the zoo, sorry.

‘Funnily enough, Robert, I don’t tend to waste time worrying about you,’ he smiled at them both and tugged at his own coat, then turned his attention back to the situation, ‘so, I only received a very short brief over the phone, but tell me what we have.’

‘Good morning, detective chief inspector.’ DS Stephens hadn’t managed to commence her update for Priest before the police doctor came rushing in, and crashed their threesome. ‘What do you have for me, on this bright spring morning?’

Priest looked up towards the grey clouds and the rapidly darkening gloomy sky, before returning his gaze to the doctor. ‘I have no idea, doctor, I have only just arrived myself. Why don’t you go with my detective and find out, and I’ll join you shortly.’ He motioned to DC Simkins to escort the doctor towards the body.

‘Sorry, Nic, you were saying?’

‘Sure; we have a woman out walking her dog this morning, she found the body about twenty minutes into her walk. She called 999; the call was logged at eight forty-two this morning. The first uniform arrived on the scene at eight fifty-five, and Robert and I arrived a few minutes later. The body was found by Mrs Sproston.’ DS Stephens pointed towards where she was standing with a uniformed officer. ‘I’ll introduce you in a minute.’

‘That’s fine, Nic, thanks. Let’s have a look at the body first shall we?’

‘Sure. I have to say, Jonny, I haven’t seen anything quite like this before.’

‘Really…Why?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Okay, let’s have a look.’

They walked over to the area underneath the large oak tree, and the officer held open a gap in the tarpaulin screen, through which Priest and Stephens stepped. There were three people to be found within the cordoned off area; the two SOCO officers were standing to the side, temporarily keeping out of the way of the police doctor as he was making a preliminary assessment of the body.

But it wasn’t the three erect, moving, and very much alive people that caught the attention of Priest. His gaze fixed squarely on the mature oak tree, which had to be a good two metres in diameter, but on which was….and there was no better way of describing it in his mind….a man, crucified.

The man was black, of Caribbean origin, although Priest’s knee-jerk assessment of his nationality or parental heritage, was borne solely from the sweeping generalisation of seeing his impressive set of dreadlocks and mature, yet neat, beard. He had been stripped naked, and a quick scan of the ground showed there appeared to be no clothes visible in the immediate area, although they might have been inspected and cleared by the SOCO team already. His arms were bound together with rope, one hand pressed firmly against the other with a large iron nail protruding from his wrist. The resultant blood loss had seeped from his wrist and created a trail that snaked its way down his arm and his torso, dripping onto his slightly outstretched right knee before running down his shin and foot, and finally creating a small pool on the woodland floor. The blood loss had ceased some time ago, and the wound on the wrists had clearly started to congeal, turning from a bright red into a dark crimson oak red.

His legs had been bound in rope too. Multiple lengths of the thick double braided rope around his thighs, and more around his ankles. One ankle had been placed in front of the other, and a large iron nail had been driven, with the massive force it would have needed, through both feet.

His body didn’t appear to exhibit any further signs of trauma, not that being crucified was a lightweight way to die by any stretch of the imagination, but there were no other wounds immediately visible – knife or bullet; his face didn’t appear to have been comparable to ten rounds in the ring with Mike Tyson. As best as they could see at this point with his dark skin, there were no bruises or other lacerations.

‘Well,’ said the doctor as he turned from the body to face the detectives, ‘shall I tell you the bleeding obvious, or do you think that you probably have that covered already?’

‘Let’s go through the motions please, doctor,’ affirmed Priest.

‘Okay. Well, from my initial assessment, I would say that he has been dead for between eight to twelve hours, and whilst I cannot be certain at this stage, it appears that death was due to suffocation.’

Despite not being medically qualified in the slightest, Priest felt the need to challenge the doctor in his statement. ‘Suffocation? Are you sure that death wasn’t caused by exsanguination, doctor?’

The doctor was about to respond and explain that, in his opinion, the detective had misunderstood the medical terminology, either that or he was overtly surprised that Priest knew any words with five syllables. But Priest jumped in. ‘Yes, massive blood loss, and thank you, doctor. I do listen and learn sometimes to the medical terminology.’

They all shared a smile.

‘Surely the nail, however large it is, and with whatever force it was driven through both his hands and feet, wouldn’t be sufficient to bleed him dry?’ asked Stephens.

‘Very observant, sergeant. Top marks.’

‘Teacher’s pet,’ Priest murmured under his breath. She smiled back at him.

‘The crucifixion would, and did, result in significant blood loss, but the act itself would not have led to his death, even after several days.’

‘Go on…’ Priest prompted the doctor to elaborate further.

‘Exsanguination, or significant blood loss causing death as you correctly defined, chief inspector, has very rarely been the actual cause of death following someone’s crucifixion. It is the injuries and exposure that generally determine the cause of death; either the body loses so much oxygen that the person...