Desecration Read online

  Lord Neville nodded. “Of course, we’ll do everything we can to help you. Jenna was our precious angel.”

  Lady Neville’s hand flew to her mouth at his words, and a stricken look passed over her face before her mask returned as her husband’s hand moved to rest on her shoulder. Esther Neville was peaky, sallow-skinned and pale, as if she spent her days away from the sun. Jamie supposed that she did exactly that, shut deep in her lab generating fortunes for the company while her husband was out enjoying its profits. It looked to Jamie as if she would have got up and run from the room, but he imperceptibly held her down. Jamie felt a pang of pity for the woman touching the edges of her compartmentalized grief about Polly. But she couldn’t let her preconceptions of motherhood cloud the investigation and, at this point, everyone was a suspect.

  “We understand that you were both at the gala dinner with Jenna last night?” Missinghall said.

  Lord Neville nodded. “The event was to raise money for the Royal College of Surgeons and we already fund a number of scholarships there. We’re interested in supporting the education of a new generation as well as saving the lives of millions through our genetic and drug research.”

  Jamie thought he was about to launch into some kind of marketing pitch about the company so she jumped in.

  “What time did you both leave?” she asked, pulling out her notebook.

  “We’ve been through this already in the statement,” Lord Neville said, a note of annoyance in his voice. “But Esther felt unwell and left around 9.30 and I am sure I left around 11.”

  Jamie thought she saw a spark in Esther’s eyes at that, but her face remained downcast.

  “And how was Jenna when you left?”

  Lord Neville frowned. “I didn’t see her before I went. She had left the table earlier in the evening to dance with one of her many beaus.” Jamie noted a tinge of anger in his voice and an emphasis on the word many. She would have to investigate Jenna’s love life carefully. Lord Neville paused. “We had an argument actually, I’m sure others will tell you of it, so I may as well. She’d had too much wine, and she said she had something to tell us, something that would change things. But she has said such things before, and nothing has come of it. I don’t know why my daughter couldn’t just leave the company in peace. She took its money easily enough.” He looked away and his voice softened. “I guess it will be left in peace now.”

  Jamie wanted to explore the conflict around Neville Pharmaceuticals further, but she wanted to find out more from other sources first. People lied to themselves most of all. Those lies could hide the truth easily, and this was a family well used to displaying a public persona.

  While Missinghall began to ask questions about Jenna’s home life, her studies and the law firm where she worked, Jamie looked around and began to notice how unusual the room was. Lit only by table lamps, it was hard to see into the corners, but it was as if a veneer of respectability lay over more disturbing aspects. Above the fireplace was a large painting, at first glance just a woman holding her breast to feed an infant, posed as a Madonna and Child, seated with folds of light blue fabric around her. On second glance, Jamie noticed that her belly was in fact cut open to reveal her viscera and the baby in her lap was likewise a partially dissected cadaver. Jamie couldn’t help but stare as it seemed to violate all sense of what would be acceptable to display in a public room like this. What made it all the more macabre was a framed photograph near the painting of a young Lady Neville with a baby, presumably Jenna, in her arms, the pose oddly reminiscent of the painting.

  “I see you’ve noticed our interest in anatomy,” Lord Neville’s voice cut through Jamie’s contemplation, and she turned.

  “I’m sorry for staring,” Jamie said. “But the painting is so unusual.”

  Especially given the location and style of the murder, she thought.

  “I started collecting memento-mori many years ago,” Lord Neville said, walking over to Jamie and looking up at the painting. “Tiny sculptures of skeletons and the dead in coffins that people would use to remind themselves of the shortness of life, the inevitability of death. To see a skeleton is to behold your own death and we all need a reminder that the end is inevitable.”

  A soft cry broke from Lady Neville’s lips.

  “I’m so sorry.” She stood, wiping her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me. My husband will answer any further questions you have.”

  Jamie watched Lady Neville leave and heard her suppress a sob as she walked briskly up the stairs. The woman was clearly distraught, and for good reason, but she would have to find out more about Lady Neville. The interview would have to wait. She turned back to the room as Missinghall continued to ask about Jenna’s life. But Jamie was impatient now and she wanted to get past the preliminaries. For a moment, she let Missinghall continue with his line of questioning and then allowed herself to interrupt.

  “Did you agree with Jenna’s career choice, Lord Neville?” Jamie asked. She was aware from the case notes that Jenna had started to specialize in the increasingly complex legal issues around tissue and DNA ownership, animal experimentation and other areas that could directly impact the practices of Neville Pharmaceuticals. There was also some photographic evidence that Jenna had participated in activist marches against the company and others labeled Big Pharma.

  Lord Neville frowned and ran his hand through his thick dark hair.

  “No, but my daughter was headstrong. She didn’t want to come into the family business and in fact, she seemed determined to break it apart. I know she disagreed with some of the ethics of the company, but the money paid for her education, her prospects.” Jamie could hear the disappointment and anger in his voice. “For some reason, she chose to leave us and live with that awful girl in a terrible part of town, getting into all sorts of trouble. I warned her, you know …”

  His voice trailed off.

  “And Lady Neville, did she support Jenna’s choices?” Jamie asked.

  Lord Neville paused, grasping for the right words. Jamie watched as he wrestled with what to say, finally settling on platitudes.

  “Esther works too hard, spends long hours at the lab,” he said softly. “She’s wedded to the company, but she loves Jenna and she only wanted the best for her.”

  “Do you have any enemies?” Missinghall asked, changing tack. “Have there been any threats against you or the company, your family?”

  Lord Neville walked to the other side of the fireplace and waved his hand dismissively.

  “Of course, we get so many threats that we have a full-time staff member who goes through it all and decides which ones to forward onto the police. Not that you lot ever do anything. My legal team has restraining orders on a number of individuals, but in this country, the right to protest runs deep. There are ringleaders, of course, and I’ll get everything forwarded onto you for the investigation. I personally get several death threats a week related to the business, but it’s my life, Detectives, and not something I expected to impact my daughter, especially given her activism. Do you think her murder was related to the protests against the company?”

  “The violation of the body didn’t suggest a crime of passion or an unskilled criminal,” Jamie said. “In fact, quite the opposite. We’re looking for someone with surgical knowledge. What about any disgruntled employees, people who have worked in your labs who may hold a grudge?”

  “Again, I’ll have the files sent on but the nature of our business attracts a fair share of crazies and psychos. To us, the human body is a treasure trove, an addiction and a fascination. The way my daughter’s body was displayed was not unlike the models I have in my collection, and so I can see it as a warning of course. But of what? I have already left my body to science and it will be cut up the day I die, but for someone to do this to Jenna … It’s unthinkable and I will see that person punished.”

  “Of course, Lord Neville,” Missinghall said, a curious deference in his voice. Jamie could see that he felt the class difference
keenly. “We’ll be working hard to pursue the leads around the case.”

  “Did Jenna still have a room here?” Jamie asked. “Or did she leave any personal items with you?”

  Lord Neville shook his head. “No, she was quite determined to prove her independence. Anything she didn’t want to take, she gave to charity. An animal rights charity, can you believe it?”

  Jamie pulled out her smart phone to show him the photo of the ivory anatomical Venus found by Jenna’s body.

  “Do you recognize this, sir?”

  Lord Neville looked at the photo and his eyes narrowed with interest. He hesitated just a fraction too long before handing it back.

  “No, but I have similar pieces.”

  “It was with Jenna’s body, wrapped in her clothes. We think she might have had it with her that night.”

  Lord Neville’s expression was guarded and Jamie saw a flicker of doubt there. Was it guilt or just the devastation of a parent whose child had suffered too much?

  “I don’t know why she would have that with her.”

  Jamie nodded. “Of course.” She hesitated, looking at the painting of the dissected woman behind him. The similarity to the museum exhibits in the Hunterian was too much of a coincidence to pass over. “May we see your collection? It might help us understand more clearly the artistic value of this piece.”

  “Of course, I’ll have Matthews take you through. Is there anything else, or I will see to my wife.”

  Jamie shook her head. “Thank you for your time. We may be back with further questions.”

  Neville called for Matthews, the butler, who showed them through the library and out into another hallway, then up a staircase to the next floor. He led them into a salon that had been set up as a small museum with glass cabinets and even tiny handwritten labels. It was full of old anatomical teaching devices and artwork around the subjects of death and the human body.

  “I’ll leave you here to browse,” Matthews said. “Can I bring you some coffee or tea?”

  Jamie shook her head, walking further into the room.

  “I’d love a cuppa, thanks,” Missinghall said, then Jamie saw his face fall as he realized that he hadn’t escaped the macabre by leaving the Hunterian. She looked into the nearest case as Missinghall walked around the room, his body arching instinctively away from what he saw.

  Jamie found herself next to an anatomical model of a female torso, her face turned into the room. Her perfect eyelashes lay on wax cheeks, one blue eye gazing into the distance. She had perfectly kissable lips and skin like alabaster but one side of her face was deconstructed down to bone and tissue. The jaw was opened up to display tongue and teeth, the veins in the neck exposed, and her internal organs opened to the air. The model was more disturbing because the limbs had been cut off, legs sawn through so the bones protruded through the middle of steak-like fleshy rings. Between the stumps, a vagina complete with pubic hair was expertly modeled. Like some kind of sex doll for necrophiliacs, Jamie thought, wondering where the line between teaching and pornography lay. Anatomical Venus indeed. She found herself wanting to hide the woman from view. This room was a testament to the development of science, but at the expense of human dignity.

  “What do you think of all this?” Missinghall asked, his voice tinged with disgust. “I just don’t get why people would want to look at this stuff?”

  Jamie stared at the case with the dissected woman. Jenna had clearly inhabited a world where this was considered normal, where the human body was part of study and work. Jamie was sure that this had played a part in her death.

  Chapter 4

  Leaving Missinghall to return and process what they had so far, Jamie rode slowly through the streets of Rotherhithe towards the City Farm, where Jenna Neville had shared a flat. It was a strange suburb, a bleak, cornered world with houses crowded together, densely populated but seemingly empty. The area had missed out on the recent revival of the East End of London. Whereas the north side of the Thames had caught the imagination of the public and was now culture and party-central, this little corner of South London was concrete and unwelcoming.

  Jamie parked the bike and walked to the end of Vaughn Street, looking out across the river towards Canary Wharf, the heart of London’s modern financial district, and famed for obscenities of wealth. Some people lived in this area for the ease of commuting by ferry across the water but others, perhaps like Jenna, were here to protest against the high-rises and cocktail bars, six-figure bonuses and hedonism that thrived on the bank opposite. For a second, Jamie thought of Polly’s impossible future, what she could have achieved in this city of potential. Feeling tears well, she sighed and pushed the thoughts away. She couldn’t let her emotions leak into this investigation.

  Turning back, Jamie walked down to number 15, knocking on the door of the little terraced house, unremarkable in a sea of similar properties. The door opened and Jamie showed her warrant card.

  “Miss McConnell?”

  Elsa McConnell was petite with a tousled head of ginger curls that she wore tied up with a lavender checked headband. Her face was clean of makeup, a few freckles were scattered across her nose and cheeks, and her blue eyes were red and raw.

  “Yes, Detective. The police said you would be coming over … Please come in, and call me Elsa. Excuse me, I’m just so …”

  She broke off to blow her nose as tears started to flow again. Jamie contrasted her genuine emotion with the strange stunted response of Jenna’s parents.

  “I know this is hard for you, Elsa, but I wanted to ask you some questions and have a look at Jenna’s room, if that’s OK.”

  Elsa nodded, stepping back into the hallway and turning towards the small kitchen. As Jamie followed her in, she caught sight of the back of her neck, crosshatched in a complicated geometric tattoo that wound beneath her clothes.

  The flat was brightly lit, with all of the main lights and side-lamps turned on, almost blinding with intensity.

  “I can’t stand the shadows right now,” Elsa whispered almost apologetically.

  Jamie nodded, her eyes scanning the place for indications of Jenna’s life. There were People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals posters on the walls and eclectic Indian throws over the furniture. The young women were clearly not into mass-produced goods, for the apartment was furnished with artisan products, all recycled and hand made.

  “So, how did you and Jenna meet?” Jamie asked, while Elsa put the kettle on and pulled out organic peppermint tea from a cupboard.

  “I’ve worked at the Surrey Docks City Farm for four years now, and about 18 months ago, Jenna started working there as a volunteer some weekends. She’s a lawyer - I mean, she was a lawyer.” Elsa wiped her eyes, sniffing. “She was so passionate about animal rights, as well as human rights. She wanted to learn more about the way animals could live within a city, and how the farm could benefit the community.”

  “And when did you move into together?”

  “Pretty soon after we met. Before that she’d been living at her parent’s London home.” Elsa’s voice became a sneer and Jamie sensed the undercurrent of resentment. “You must know of the Nevilles’ place in Chelsea. But Jenna had become increasingly angry about the family business and just couldn’t live under the same roof as her parents any longer.”

  Elsa passed Jamie a mug of steaming herbal tea. Jamie took it, then placed it back down on the counter top as she pulled out her notebook.

  “Did she tell you any specific details of her work?”

  “I know she was looking into the treatment of experimental subjects and tissue usage at the Neville labs.” Elsa paused, looking a little guilty. “To be honest, I didn’t pay too much attention to the detail. I’m not as - technical - as Jenna, so much of what she told me went over my head.”

  Jamie nodded. “Did she have a partner?”

  A brief flash of anger passed over Elsa’s face before she recomposed it into that of the grieving friend. Jamie noted that with interest.

/>   “Rowan Day-Conti,” Elsa said. “I guess he’s her boyfriend right now. He was actually a friend of mine from way back, we were at Uni together, but he and Jenna have been seeing each other for almost a year now. They’re a funny couple though, since he’s so mod and she is - was - pretty vanilla.” Jamie raised an eyebrow, her look clearly confused as Elsa continued. “You’ll know what I mean when you meet Rowan. He indulges in body modification and believes in the use of the body for expression and pleasure. He says it’s the ultimate canvas for art. Jenna, on the other hand, was pretty squeamish, despite the detailed investigations she had going into animal experimentation. I know he wanted her to start experimenting more but she wasn’t keen. In fact, they had a huge argument only a few nights ago, lots of screaming and banging doors.”

  Jamie noted that down. “I’ll be visiting Mr Day-Conti later today. Is it OK if I see Jenna’s room?”

  “Of course,” Elsa nodded. “I haven’t been in there … I was waiting for her mother actually. I thought she might come for Jenna’s stuff.”

  “Were they close, Jenna and her mother?”

  Elsa shook her head.

  “Not at all. But I thought she’d come since the bitch would want to make sure there was nothing left of the Jenna she disapproved of. You know they do animal experiments at the Nevilles’ lab, right?”

  “I’d heard something about it,” Jamie replied and added a visit to the lab to her list.

  Elsa pointed to the stairwell. “Her room’s the one on the right at the top of the stairs. I’ll let you go up alone if that’s OK. Here, take your tea, it’s soothing.”

  Jamie took the pungent brew, and carried it carefully up the stairs. There was a bathroom directly at the top and then two rooms, one to the right and one to the left in a compact, modern design. Jamie ducked into the bathroom and poured most of the tea away, hating the hippy stuff. Give me black coffee any day, she thought, especially on days like these.