‘Do you have a card?’

  ‘I don’t. We’re all so used to seeing TV cops handing out cards, but actually we usually just show our ID. My name is Angus Seymour.’ It was the first name that came into Jack’s head as he took out his leather ID wallet, flipped it open quickly, then put it back into his pocket.

  ‘So, what do you want to ask me? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been questioned, and I’ve told each officer everything I know. I have to say that this whole thing is very distressing, especially in my line of work as we go to such lengths to protect our clients.’

  Jack knew that Eva was in her late fifties, but she definitely looked younger. Her makeup was expertly done; she wore false eyelashes with shadowed cheek bones, and a deep red lipstick that matched her long fingernails. Her curly, shoulder length reddish-brown hair gleamed so perfectly, Jack wondered if it was a wig. She put the dog down on the settee and sat down beside it, reaching for the glass of wine as Jack spoke.

  ‘I’ll try not to make you repeat everything over again,’ Jack said. ‘I am aware that you’re very protective of your business, and rightly so. To have a client found dead in such horrendous circumstances could be very damaging. Luckily there has been no publicity about the case so far.’

  She frowned. ‘So far.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope that can continue. Right, first I need you to tell me how the woman known as Sandra Raynor first approached your agency.’

  ‘By the usual means. She had seen an advert and requested an interview, which we arranged.’

  ‘This was all done by phone?’

  Shay sighed with impatience. ‘Yes, but we explained that, when she came to see us, we would need her CV and some personal data before we could agree to take her onto our books.’

  ‘So, tell me about when she came to see you.’

  ‘I have described this over and over . . .’

  ‘One more time please. Perhaps you could start with how she was dressed?’

  ‘Very smartly, wearing a fitted suit, a white bow-tied blouse, high-heeled Jimmy Choo shoes, and an elegant handbag. She had some nice pearl earrings, with a large signet ring on the pinkie finger of her left hand. She was very well made up and her blonde hair was nicely styled.’

  ‘So, she gave you her age, her previous employment, and bank statements?’

  ‘Yes, it all seemed legitimate, and both my partner and I felt she was suitable to be put on our books.’

  ‘Are you aware she was lying about her age?’

  Shay frowned, and Jack wondered if she had been told about the post-mortem report. He sensed that she probably hadn’t as she turned away and picked up her wine glass.

  ‘The woman you knew as Sandra Raynor was estimated to be nearer sixty than the age she gave you.’

  Shay sipped her wine, then carefully placed the glass down.

  ‘Well, I’d like to know who her plastic surgeon is.’ She gave a brittle laugh.

  ‘So, she lied to you and your partner,’ Jack continued. ‘But I’m sure that’s not the first time that has happened. On the other hand, you obviously need to be extremely careful about taking on someone with criminal intentions.’

  Shay’s lips tightened. ‘Excuse me? I’m not sure what you’re insinuating.’

  ‘I am not “insinuating” anything, Ms Shay. But the fact is that Sandra Raynor was using a false name, and you arranged a meeting, a date, and a dinner for her with a person now accused of her murder.’

  ‘We went through the same strict procedures we go through with every one of our clients,’ she protested.

  ‘Did you do a criminal check on Sandra Raynor?’

  ‘No, but we do if we think it’s necessary. In this instance there was nothing to make us suspicious.’

  Jack nodded. ‘How do you select a match? Show them photographs and do it a bit like an identity parade? We show someone six faces and ask them to pick out the criminal.’

  Shay licked her lips and took another long sip of wine. Jack could see she was becoming anxious.

  ‘We have our clients’ photographs with their ages, previous work experience and hobbies. And if they are retired professionals then we also include a bit of a CV.’

  ‘So, Sandra came in to go through your client photographs in order to pick out the one she wanted?’

  ‘Yes, that is it exactly what happened. We then submitted her photograph to the person she had chosen, and when it was accepted, we arranged for them to meet in a location suitable to both parties.’

  ‘How long did this take?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘How long was it from when Sandra came to see you before you got her a date with the man she had chosen?’

  ‘It was unusually quick, just under a week.’

  ‘A week, and during this time did she return to your office? How did you contact her?’

  ‘She did come back into the office, but we also had her mobile number. I gave this to the officers, straightaway.’

  Jack knew that the phone in question had turned out to be a burner that was no help in tracing who she really was.

  ‘How well did you know the gentleman she chose?’

  She shrugged. ‘As much as we know any of our clients. We had already organised two dates for him that proved to be unsuitable.’

  ‘Did Sandra Raynor know the identities of the unsuitable clients?’

  ‘Oh no, we never disclose anything like that.’

  ‘OK. So, just let me go back to the beginning. In Sandra walks, looking very presentable and glamorous, with an impressive CV and a healthy bank balance. She pays the fee, chooses her date and they appear to get along well. They then go on a second date for drinks and dinner, and before you know it . . .’ Jack frowned. ‘Something about it doesn’t sit quite right with me.’

  Shay pursed her lips. ‘We have a number of clients who have become more than just friends very quickly, and in many cases have got married. I don’t know what you are referring to.’

  Jack smiled. ‘You, Ms Shay. You are a very intelligent woman, running a very successful business, and yet you are completely taken in by this woman. I think she may have made a mistake, and I think you caught on to it.’

  Shay looked flustered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve answered all your questions to the best of my recall and, repetitive as they’ve been, I’ve been very patient.’

  ‘Did you not question her about her previous employment as an accountant?’ Jack persisted.

  Her false eyelashes fluttered, and she took a large gulp of her wine, draining the glass.

  ‘You were also an accountant, so surely it would have been natural to question her.’

  ‘I think I have spent enough time talking to you. I’d like you to leave, please.’

  Jack didn’t move. ‘I know about your bank account in Monaco, Ms Shay, and I know that recently there were two large sums deposited there.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘My ex-husband has property there. And yes, I also have an account, but . . .’

  ‘I just need some answers,’ Jack continued, ‘because it looks to me as though you might be creaming off money from your agency, and I don’t think Mrs Da Costa is aware of it. Of course, I’m not about to share that information unless I have to do so.’

  Jack watched her get up and cross over to a silver tissue holder. She pulled out a tissue and returned to sit beside her dog.

  ‘Alright. She did come back to the office. It was early evening, and I was there alone. We take it in turns to stay late. I didn’t like the fact she just walked in without an appointment. We take a lot of precautions for our own safety, but she was very insistent and wanted to find out when the date she had requested would be organised. I told her that we had to wait for her selected man to get back to us to confirm if he wanted to go ahead. We don’t like to put pressure on anyone.’

  ‘Get to the point please, Ms Shay,’ Jack said.

  Shay licked her lips. ‘She went to wait in the small reception area whilst I made the call to the client, as I obviously didn’t want her to overhear me. There was no response. I glanced at her CV again, as I was becoming slightly irritated by her manner. I knew the accounting firm she had listed – to be honest anyone in the accountancy world knows them. I was attached to a very small firm but hers was top of the range. I knew someone who worked there, who’d previously been a colleague of mine.’

  Eva got up again, opened a small fridge and took out the bottle of wine to pour herself another full glass without offering one to Jack. She was very tense, almost sitting on her dog when she went back to the settee.

  ‘My contact, Debra, said she would run a check but that it would take a while. So, I went into the reception area and told Sandra that I was just waiting for him to call me back. I offered her a drink, and just out of curiosity I asked about what it was like working with such a high-powered company. She said it had been a big learning curve as they were very competitive and rather discriminating. My desk phone rang so I went back into the office and Debra told me that there was no present or past employee of that name working with the company.’

  Jack leant his elbows on his knees, waiting whilst she drank more wine. Her hand was shaking.

  ‘I went back and faced her, telling her that I had discovered she was lying and that for us this was unacceptable, and . . .’

  She blew her nose, her eyes brimming with tears.

  ‘I couldn’t admit this to Mrs Da Costa as she’s been a lifeline for me, but that woman wasn’t fazed by what I’d found out. She just dismissed it as over-eagerness to find a man who would respect her. She then offered me the money. Two cash payments: one when I organised the date for the first drink and the second when they went out for dinner.’

  Jack leant back as Shay blew her nose again, becoming more tearful. He decided he had heard enough and stood to leave.

  ‘One last thing . . . it may mean something, I don’t know . . . she was very keen to have that date, but it was the way she organised the money transaction. If she wasn’t an accountant, then she certainly knew her way around banking, telling me how long I could keep it in my account to avoid tax. It made me think that perhaps at some time she had worked with an accountancy company.’

  ‘When previously questioned, did you disclose that you knew she had been lying?’

  ‘No, I did not. I assumed they would look into it themselves.’

  When he returned to his car, Jack jotted down the name of the woman who had checked out Sandra Raynor. He wondered if Debra Smith might be able to give them an insight into her real identity. Jack found it strange that such a seemingly intelligent woman would have taken the risk of lying on the CV she submitted to the dating agency. He was also certain that it was no coincidence that she had chosen Ridley, and that there had to be some kind of link between them in the past.

  That link was what Jack now needed to find.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was not yet 8 a.m. but the incident room was a hive of activity. Laura and Anik had taken over the boardroom to empty the large plastic container full of Rodney Middleton’s effects. When Jack joined them, the tables were lined with neat rows of receipts, outstanding bills, documents relating to benefits, and medical data. There was a stack of personal letters to him from his aunt and his father, as well as some worn letters from his biological mother, posted from Ghana.

  There was also a photo album containing pictures of Rodney as a child and as a teenager, with numerous photographs of the two little girls who had died in the fire. Some loose photographs had also been piled up beside the plastic-covered photo album, including several of his stepmother, Karen, their wedding and a few of Rodney and his father fishing and roller skating.

  ‘You’ve been busy,’ Jack said, taking off his coat. Laura turned to him and smiled. She was wearing latex gloves and pointed to a box for him to put on a pair.

  ‘Yeah, we both came in at six to get cracking, but we’re still just sorting everything out to get it into some kind of order. The reports from Middleton’s probation officers and the various psychiatrists are in one pile, though I’m not sure how he came to be in possession of them as they were all internal reports. It might be due to him or his lawyers being given access to them the last time he went on trial, and there’s a couple of letters from the legal firm that represented him.’

  Anik was emptying the last of the contents, including a few small, dirty boxes that contained bits of jewellery. He placed them in a row and then picked up a clipboard.

  ‘Right, I’ll have a look through these and take photographs, then they can be sent to the lab for DNA testing. I’ve made a list of everything as, you never know, they could be sick tokens that he’s kept from his victims. That’s often what happens, isn’t it?’

  ‘You talking about serial killers?’ Laura asked, reading the back of a photograph.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the thought process, isn’t it? I mean, we’re looking at the possibility of three missing girls, but there could be more.’

  Jack made no comment and pulled up a hard-backed chair to begin sifting through the stack of letters.

  ‘Take a look at this, Jack; I think it’s a photograph of his mother, but read what’s written on the back of it,’ Laura said.

  She passed him the black and white photograph. It showed a very young Ghanaian girl wearing a school uniform, dated 1981. Written on the back in a childish print were the words, Mama, I miss you. You should have taken me with you.

  Jack turned it over in his mind, trying to think if she could have given birth to Rodney. He knew that Middleton was seventeen when the fire happened. He estimated from the photograph that the girl looked no more than about ten or eleven years old. He took out his notebook to remind him to check the dates, recalling that Joyce Miller had remarked that his mother had been very young.

  The three of them worked together, tracing the large number of benefits paid to Rodney over the years. It appeared that he handled his own admin very efficiently, copying forms and applications, submitting doctors’ letters and psychiatric reports, and managing a Post Office savings account. They found warranties for the TV and stereo equipment, as well as an estimate for a new shower and a receipt for a power-jet cleaner. Jack read the various personal letters, some sent to Rodney when he was detained in the young offender institute. The correspondence was mostly from his aunt, but there were a couple from his father, one saying he was enclosing five pounds. Jack suddenly sat bolt upright.

  ‘Hey, listen to this. Written from Wandsworth prison: “Rodney, I have tried my very best for you under difficult circumstances, but this is the last time I am writing to you. I blame you for my beautiful girls’ deaths. Now Karen’s gone, so I went off the rails and I got into trouble. I can’t blame you for what I done, I was stupid and needed some ready cash for your aunt; she’s in a bad way and I am still paying Harold to look after her. They don’t want to see you, same as me. I hope you rot in hell for what you done.”’

  ‘You interviewed him, didn’t you?’ Anik said.

  ‘Yes, he was even hoping Rodney would be sent to the same prison as him so Anthony could beat the shit out of him.’

  ‘And you interviewed the firefighter who attended the scene of the fire, so do his accusations have any credence?’ Laura asked.

  ‘They investigated the possibility of arson, but no accelerants were found,’ Jack told her. ‘The fire started in the kids’ bedroom, from a duvet that was left hanging over one of the gas heaters.’

  Laura reached across the table to a folder that was full of newspaper cuttings. She cleared a space in front of her and took out the cuttings, all neatly held together with a paper clip.

  There was a loud rapping on the boardroom door. All three of them stopped what they were doing as Sara opened the door and stepped in.

  ‘The guv wants you to get over to the basement flat, sarge. The forensic team have called in to say they’re ready to do the luminol testing. He’s outside waiting in a squad car.’

  Jack sprang to his feet, as Sara asked if she could stay with Anik and Laura to help them out.

  ‘I think I’d like to accompany Jack,’ Laura said sharply.

  ‘DCI Clarke stipulated that only Jack should accompany him and the fewer people there, the better. He’s waiting for results to come in from the lab and . . .’

  Laura waved her hand to show she’d heard enough and sat back down, then held the latex glove box out towards Sara.

  ‘Put a pair of these on. We need to itemise everything on the table. Anik, have you sorted out what’s in all the small boxes yet?’

  ‘Sorry, no, I got side-tracked by the letters. You can do that, Sara.’

  Jack left quickly, finding their competitiveness irritating. Nevertheless, he was pleased that Clarke had requested his presence and he was keen to get to the flat. He ran out to the squad car, which was waiting with the engine running.

  Clarke was sitting in the front. ‘Let’s hope we get a result, Jack. There’s nothing confirmed from the tests on the tools that were taken, and the lab is now checking out the contents of the two drums they removed. There’s oil in one and it appears the entire house had an oil central heating system which was changed seven years ago, but there was a waste section containing the stuff used in fertilisers. Superphosphate of lime is non-flammable but phosphorous sulphur when heated can produce toxic gases.’

  Jack nodded. ‘We’ve found a lot of interesting material amongst Middleton’s personal belongings, including photographs and letters.’ Jack was about to continue when the DCI’s phone rang. He listened to the caller before checking his watch to say they would be there in fifteen minutes, and then said that he had it with him so was ready for any eventuality. Clarke ended the call and turned to Jack.

  ‘I’ve decided to arrest Middleton on suspicion of murder and abduction, but we need to be prepared for that bloody woman Georgina Bamford to stick her oar in. The surveillance team are still on standby, but as yet Middleton has made no move to leave the property. He had a delivery of hamburgers and chips last night.’