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the birds. We don’t even know the eye colour, and the lips have been pecked as well. It’s difficult to visualise.’
    She turned to the assistant. ‘Did anything show up in the clothing?’
    ‘No. Nothing in the pockets of the jeans. Like the trainers, they’re cheap ones that could have come from anywhere. There were no other clothes, just the jeans and shoes. We’ll be doing a full forensic analysis of them this afternoon.’
    ‘Well, here’s a puzzle then. A body with no identification whatsoever. Benny, I’m not staying for the messy bit. Will you let me know as soon as possible if you find anything of interest?’
    * * *
    ‘What do you think, ma’am?’ asked Marsh, as they drove back towards the coast.
    ‘It looks as though he was beaten about the head, his tongue cut out, then his throat cut. Probably fairly close together, although we’ll need Benny’s final confirmation of that.’
    ‘Do you think it was some kind of punishment killing?’
    ‘Nothing else makes sense, Barry. And putting the body up on top of that rock is significant. They were broadcasting it, saying to other insiders, “look what we do to anyone who crosses us.” But the tongue removal is important. I’d guess that the victim tried to talk about something that he shouldn’t have. Punishment for talking was removing the ability to talk. It’s brutal, particularly since he was killed straight afterwards. It was done to hammer home the message to other potential waverers.’
    ‘So who would do this type of thing? It’s beyond my experience, ma’am.’
    ‘Extreme gang culture. You wouldn’t believe what they can do to someone who breaks ranks. They’ll be out there now, watching the press, waiting for it to hit the papers and the TV news. As I said, it’s a warning to all the others on the inside. The thing is, Barry, that young lad couldn’t have been more than twenty. I’d put him in his late teens. How could he possibly warrant all that being done to him? It’s vile beyond words.’
    She paused. ‘If he is from Eastern Europe we need to think about where he might have been working. The hotel trade, catering and agriculture seem the obvious places to look first. Also the local colleges and the university in case he was a student. This area is awash with hotels, so that’s where I want you to start. Get Jimmy onto it as well. Then move to local farms. I’ll get in touch with the colleges and university.’
    ‘Will Lydia be joining us, ma’am?’
    ‘Not immediately, Barry. She’s on a course this week, and I’m not pulling her out of it. We’ll try and cope as we are. I’ll send for someone else only if I think it’s necessary.’
    * * *
    Jimmy Melsom was coordinating the visits to the farms. They were all scattered across the northernmost part of Purbeck, between the ancient chalk ridge and the waters of Poole Harbour. Some of the farms had been worked by the same family for generations, with the owners well known in the local community. Melsom knew some of the farmers himself from his involvement in local sports and charity fundraising events. The officers making the visits had been told to ask about any suspicious sightings in recent days, and were also on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. The job was over by late morning, just as Sophie and Marsh returned from Dorchester.
    ‘Anything useful?’ Sophie asked when they joined Melsom.
    ‘Officially, no. No one has seen anything suspicious either on their land or nearby. But one of the teams was a bit uneasy about one place they called at — Brookway Farm. I asked them to stay around. I think they’re out at the cars. Shall I get them?’
    Sophie nodded. The farm in question was isolated and close to the harbour. It was reached via a long track that wound across the fields from the nearest public lane. Melsom returned with a tall, thin policeman of late middle age and a younger, woman colleague.
    ‘Jack Holly and Jen Allbright,