Aftermath by Peter Turnbull Read Free Book Online Page B

younger . . . well, sir, to get to the point, this is the missing persons file on one Veronica Goodwin.’
    â€˜Goodwin?’ Hennessey commented. ‘As in Goodwin Sands?’
    â€˜Yes, same spelling . . . an “I” not a “y” and just one “n”, so Goodwin . . . not Good wynee . Just plain Goodwin, nothing fancy.’
    â€˜Very well.’
    â€˜Well, she was twenty-three years of age when she was reported missing, about eighteen months ago. She was a Caucasian, or northern European, and stood six feet tall.’
    â€˜It’s worth a bet. If I were a betting man, I would say we have the identity of one of the victims. What were the circumstances of her disappearance?’
    â€˜According to the file, sir, she went out for the night with her girlfriends and didn’t come home. This was eighteen months ago . . . so winter before last . . . in the January of the year.’
    Hennessey leaned forward, rested his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together. ‘You know, I think you’re right, I think that we have found Veronica Goodwin, local girl, right height and age. We should have an EFIT soon; Dr D’Acre has sent her skull . . . and will doubtless be sending the other four skulls to Wetherby so a computer generated likeness can be developed. But, if there are living relatives the DNA will confirm her ID.’
    â€˜As will her dental records, sir.’
    â€˜Yes, as you say, as will her dental records. What was her home address?’
    â€˜Cemetery Road, Fulford, sir.’
    Hennessey raised an eyebrow, ‘Well, how appropriate.’
    â€˜Yes . . . thought that, sir.’ She took a photograph from the file and handed it to Hennessey, ‘Veronica Goodwin in life, sir.’
    Hennessey took the photograph and studied it. He saw a thin-faced, but quite attractive, young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, smiling confidently at the camera. The eyes seemed to exude a sense of warmth and sincerity. Importantly, her smile revealed her teeth. He handed the photograph back to Carmen Pharoah. ‘Get that photograph to Wetherby by courier.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜They can compare the teeth to the teeth in the skull. If they match, we have a result, a definite, positive identification of the last victim. Do that immediately.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ Carmen Pharoah stood.
    â€˜Do you know when the photograph was taken?’
    â€˜Just a day before she was reported missing, sir.’
    Hennessey and Pharoah fell silent and the poignancy reached them, being that the confident, attractive, smiling Veronica Goodwin, twenty-three years, was to be murdered within a few hours of that very convenient photograph being taken. Carmen Pharoah spoke, saying what they were both thinking, ‘We just never know the minute do we, sir? None of us.’
    â€˜No . . .’ Hennessey sighed, ‘we never do.’ Then he recovered focus. ‘So who is in CID?’
    â€˜Detective Sergeant Yellich and Detective Constable Ventnor, sir.’
    â€˜All right, take Ventnor with you, go and knock on the door of the house in Cemetery Road, see what you see. Remember, no positive ID has been made yet, you’d better emphasize that. See what you see, find what you find.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜I’ll see what Webster comes back with before I find a job for DS Yellich.’
    â€˜Mr Yellich seems to be fighting his way through a mountain of paperwork at the minute, sir.’ Pharoah turned to leave Hennessey’s office.
    â€˜Imagine he is . . . but the Bromyard investigation has to take priority.’
    â€˜Two p.m. tomorrow.’ Sydney Canverrie, by the nameplate on his desk, seemed to Webster to be doing very well out of the undertaking business and he further seemed to be untouched by the ever-present presence of death. He was a