It was not even half an hour later, and I was already approaching the south lanes. I wanted to grab a cup of coffee, but I was not sure what kind of forensic restrictions would be in place, so I decided to skip any drinks. The call had already been enough to wake me up and give me the energy to jump into the shower, get myself ready and head out. My mind was working at 150%, trying to recall all I knew so far about the case. And all I could remember was the postcode, and where it was located.
I arrived at the cordoned area, which started in the roundabout connecting East Street and North Street, identified myself and got through. I’ve been instructed to follow the side path adjacent to the roundabout, as the other routes have been closed off and access was restricted to this path. As I walked, I noticed that the area covering the postcode was even smaller than it looked when I checked it in the online map. It started with a small alley, no longer than fifty metres in length, and that alley opened into a wider, semi-closed street in a T shape. The bottom part of the T was about half the length of the alley, with a few restaurants and a cafe, and it ended at the back of a pub. At the bottom left corner there was a small passageway that connected to East Street, and at the bottom right corner there was a lonely door, with a faded beige coating, squeezed between the back of the pub and the cafe. The door was on top of maybe four of five steps, and there was a metal fence protecting what looked like an underground level. I had walked through this area many times before, and up to this day I had never really noticed that door, or that there was actually a flat in there.
As I got closer, I could clearly see someone laying down by the side of the steps, in front of the metal fence, with some people standing around them. I wondered if this was the body, or if this was someone who was injured and in need of care. I thought it could be the latter, as the forensics team would normally build a tent around the body, but they might not have had the time to do it. I came even closer, so I could have a better view of the situation.
The person laying down seemed to be a young man probably in his late twenties, with light brown hair that did not seem to have been cut in a while. The beard seemed to follow the same pattern of the hair, both in colour and in length and shape. His jeans looked worn out, and the T-Shirt did not look like it had been washed for a while. From the distance I was, I could not see many details, or look for many signs which might have indicated what happened to him, and one could easily mistaken this person for a rough sleeper. I could see that everyone seemed to take an interest in something placed beside the body, but I was not able to discern it from where I was standing either.
I couldn't get much closer than where I was already, without getting in the way of the officers working in the area, so I decided to look for Hildegard. I spotted her around the passageway to the right, so I walked towards her. As I was walking, I noticed she had a sombre look on her face, and one who did not know her could have imagined that she was either a friend of or related to the victim. I gave her a hug, and none of us spoke for a good five minutes. She then broke the silence.
“This is not OK, mate. Someone is dead, we have been warned about it, and there is nothing we could do! It’s so unfair.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to say that I was sorry, but I was not sure if this would be appropriate. What would I be sorry for? Hildegard usually did not get personally involved with cases, but this time a letter had been addressed to her, personally. This might have been the reason she was so upset. But one question lingered in my mind.
“Are we sure this is the one? Could this maybe be a coincidence, something that is not related to the message?”
“This is the one. A postcard was found right beside the body, the exact same one that I received. This one only had one thing written at the back: ‘#1.’”
“Ok, yes, that seals it. And do we know anything about the victim?”
“The police are doing their investigation, checking everything that is to be checked, and we will undoubtedly receive a briefing from Detective Debowski as soon as they have gathered more information. Normally I would not come into the scene, as you already know well. There is not much that we can do, at least not now. The police have way more resources, both physical and intellectual, to deal with this. But you know, I have been dragged into this, so I thought it would be better to be around.. And I can tell you, years doing this, and it doesn’t get easier. Come on, let’s get a coffee, have a change of scenery, there is not much for us here now.”
We started moving towards the intersection of the street, where the little alley ended, and I saw Philski coming over in our direction. He met us just as we reached the perpendicular street.
“Hello, my loves. Not the best way I wanted to see you two again, I guess. It’s an interesting case, this one. Nothing like I have seen in my years dealing with this. Are you getting something to drink? I will join you, if that’s ok? The forensic team is about to start, they will be busy with it for a minute. I can spare some time for a good cuppa.”
We kept walking towards the seafront, without leaving the isolated area, which ended at the end of the street, across from the Brighton Town Hall building. We found a franchise type of coffee shop and entered. The detective kept talking.
“We talked to the manager here today, and explained to them that they would need to be closed for a while, but everyone in the area would end up here, as the other café right beside the scene is completely shut. These guys are not really losing any business. So, what are you having? Latte for you, if I remember from the days of the academy, and Mrs. Hildegard will have a Chai Latte, if my sources are to be trusted?”
Hildegard and I nodded, thanked him for the offer and found a seat in a more isolated area - not that it mattered, as the place was very empty. The detective came back with the drinks and started talking about the case, but Hildegard expressed her concerns. I listened to their conversation, without interrupting.
“Detective Debowski, do you think it’s prudent for us to discuss the details of the case here, in public, within earshot of the staff?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about them. We had a good chat with the manager, this is their best employees, and they have been instructed to keep everything confidential. I reminded them that anything they would say to someone else could be construed as an attempt to interfere with an ongoing investigation, and I don’t think they would like that kind of trouble.”
“Well, you are the lead detective, and you represent the police. If you think this is appropriate, I will follow your lead.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Now, Sanjay has been around and had a quick look. You met Sanjay, right? He’s the best in the game, we are lucky to have him around. Of course, these things take time, but he thinks this can be some kind of poisoning, maybe overdose. He thinks the guy’s been dead for a good few hours, probably one or two in the morning. We haven’t had a formal identification yet, but we think this is Johnny Smith. He lives in the flat, and he’s well known by the police. Rowdy chap, been brought in a few times for drunk, disorder, drugs… All sorts of colourful behaviours. Was probably out with his lot for the football yesterday. Funny thing, this postcard business.”
“What do you mean, detective?”
“If it was not for the postcard, it could have easily been an overdose, or a rival gang doing him in. But I don’t know, a gang wouldn’t send this postcard, right?”
“I also find it unlikely, but we should not disregard anything at this stage. Do you know if there is any family? Parents, siblings, a partner?”
“Because of his brushes with the law, we know a few bits about him. No partner, he’s been involved with some women here and there but nothing serious. Don’t have any parents alive, no brothers, sisters. There’s a cousin, Kim something, she lives in Ipswich with a man. Sometimes she comes in to bail him, but I don’t think they are the most united family in the world. We are trying to find her, she’ll probably have to identify him. Really sad, a young lad, already a nobody, wouldn’t be surprised if nobody shows up to cry at his funeral.”
“Which was exactly the point that this messenger wanted to get across - not everyone has a purpose in life, I believe is what they wrote me?”
“Yeah, I guess. We cannot judge, we don’t know what’s going on in someone else’s life. Or why this poor bloke ended up like this. Nasty business, this whole thing.”
“This cousin, I would like to have a chat with her. Do you think, my dear detective, that I can have some time with her? I believe I qualify as a part interested in the case, since I was the one who received the letter.”
“Of course, Mrs. Hildegard. You two can have full access, once the police have done all our official process with everyone. Three heads work better than one, for sure. The same way, I hope you’ll keep me up to date with your ideas and theories?”
“I agree with you that working together always brings multiple perspectives to a case, and cooperation is key to good teamwork. Sharing ideas is very valuable when one’s trying to catch a murderer.”
“I also think this is a murder. But we will see how it goes. I need to head back, feel free to stick around if you want to, if not, come by the station after three and I will give you an update on everything. See you both in a bit.”
Philski got up and left. I felt really good about this conversation - it was nice to have the police on our side, giving us free access to everything. But one thing stuck to my mind, one little detail, which I wasn’t sure if I got it right.
“Hildegard, why do I have the feeling that you did not agree to share information? You said a bunch of vague words about working together, but you never said yes to his request.”
“You are a good observer, my friend. I know you are quite fond of detective Debowski, but I have fallen prey to this trap multiple times to know better. Not him, specifically. But ultimately, you and I are civilians. We have a personal interest in the case, so the police have no obligation in making any concessions to us both. They might be doing this because they are genuinely welcoming our help. I hope this is the case. But I won’t put all my eggs in this basket, at least not yet.”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t be nice, what he would gain with it.”
“Neither do I, but right now, there are a few things I don’t see. I am not expecting the worst either. I am just trying not to expect anything. To keep all my options open at the moment.”
“I guess it makes sense.”
“Now, you heard the detective. There’s no real need for us to stay over, so I will head to the office. You can stay if you want, might be good to see a bit of police practice, forensics work, procedure… I’ve seen it thousands of times.”
We left the coffee shop and she headed towards North Street, on her way to the office. I decided to stay behind. I found Philski and asked him if I could stay and observe - he was once again extremely kind, saying he’d trust me not to get in the way of anything, and suggested that I took some notes. I got myself closer to the scene, and observed the work of the forensics team. They built a protection around the area, which was already closed off to the public anyway, and inside they proceeded with the collection of clues, photography, examinations. It felt like I was inside a detective movie, where people did not see me, but I could see them. Finally, after all the work was done, another team came over to remove the body.
I had a little chat with Dr Parkheet, the principal forensics analyst of the case, where I was able to ask a few questions and clarify a few points. At the end, he offered to give me a lift to the police station, but I decided to walk. It would be a very short walk, less than ten minutes, and I still had some time until when the detective asked to come by, so I took a small detour to the seafront.
The breeze was a bit fresher than the last few weeks, as the fall was starting to show its face. It was still relatively warm enough not to be wearing a jacket, and I wanted to enjoy the warmth for as long as I could. I got closer to the beach, still at street level, and walked by the fence that separated the street level from the lower level, where there were bars facing the sea.
I could hear some voices talking down below, approaching from the opposite side to which I was walking. I was walking eastwards, whilst they were heading to the pier. It sounded like a man and a woman, talking in a happy tone. I could not hear everything they said, and I was not really paying much attention anyway, but I could still pick some words up, which made more sense the closer they got from me.
“Finally free… Useless…”
“Bless… Really sad…”
“Deserved...”
As they were down by the beach level, we did not pass by each other directly. I had a glimpse of them both through the fence, but I could not make out much about their appearance. She had golden blond, curly hair, and he was ginger haired, with a goatee that matched the colour of his hair. Once they passed, I did not look anymore, and their voices got fainter and fainter until I could not hear them anymore.
I did not look back until I had walked much further down, and by this point I started to walk back. About forty five minutes later I was entering the police station. Hildegard was already there, talking to the detective, but she told me she arrived very shortly before me. We sat down and the detective offered us something to drink. We both asked for some water, and his assistant went to get it. When she came back, she told him 'they are here', to which he replied to let them in. Once the people entered the room, he spoke to them.
“Please, Mrs Campbell, Mr Campbell, do come in, make yourselves comfortable.”
And then he turned to us.
“Mrs Kimberly Campbell is the cousin of Mr Smith, the deceased. She’s also his next of kin. And this is her partner, Mr George Campbell.”
As I watched them enter the room, I instantly recognised them both: a woman with golden, curly hair, and a man with ginger hair and goatee.
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