CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As Jack was heading towards the A3 he received a call on his mobile from Laura, which he switched to speaker phone. She was talking very fast and was obviously excited.

  ‘I came in a bit earlier for my shift because so much has been happening. You were right about Joyce’s husband having supplied Rodney with a mobile. It was in Harold Miller’s name. He paid the bills, but it was only used by Rodney. We also have another phone, brought in by Nadine O’Reilly’s mother; you won’t believe it, but Amanda Dunn used Snapchat, so they knew each other from that. One other thing that just cropped up. Amanda is actually now eighteen years old! I have a feeling that DCI Clarke is going to put her into protection with 24/7 monitoring before he brings her in to interview her. It’s all happening, Jack. Maybe you should come in a bit earlier so that we can catch up. Anik is very much the DCI’s sidekick and loving it.’

  Jack said he would be heading in from home straightaway and ended the call. He drove onto the A3 and put his foot down as he still wanted to visit the Pimlico flat before going to the station. He pulled over into the slow lane as a police patrol car with lights flashing passed him, but they signalled for him to pull over onto the hard shoulder. Two uniformed officers got out and signalled to Jack to get out of the car. Jack lowered his driving side window.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you know the speed limit, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but I am . . .’

  Before he could finish, the officer opened the driver’s door and told him to step out. Jack got out, then put his right hand into his jacket breast pocket to take out his ID.

  ‘Both hands on the bonnet please, sir.’

  Jack could hardly believe it. ‘I’m a police officer. DS Jack Warr,’ he snapped as he complied with the instruction.

  ‘Is this your car?’

  ‘Yes, it is my car.’

  One of the officers returned to the patrol car to run the number plate while Jack stood with his hands on the bonnet.

  The second officer returned to say that the car was registered to a Doctor Janakan Narajan.

  Jack sighed with impatience.

  ‘My wife, Doctor Margaret Warr, bought it from him. If you look in the glove compartment, you’ll find the insurance certificates. This is bloody ridiculous! I told you I’m a detective. . .’

  ‘He stinks of booze,’ one of the officers said.

  It was a further ten minutes whilst the officers checked the insurance and ascertained that the car had been sold, but somewhere along the line the vehicle registration papers had not been filed. To Jack’s fury he was then asked to take a breathalyser test. He swore as he snatched it, but then he tried to slow things down. He had consumed two sherries and half a pint of beer and had only eaten one bite out of the sandwich.

  ‘You do know you were doing over seventy in a fifty-mile zone?’

  Jack reached into his pocket for his ID.

  ‘I am a detective sergeant with the Metropolitan Police on an urgent call out to get to my station. DCI Clarke will verify this.’

  One officer checked his ID while his partner gestured for Jack to breathe into the bag. He did as he was requested making sure he held his breath in his chest for a moment before blowing into the tube. He was just over the limit.

  The two officers conferred, then one of them returned to the patrol car and called in. He spoke for a few moments before he returned to the now very irate Jack.

  ‘I’m going to let you go, sir, but take my advice and keep your speed down. And please stop at the next service station to get a black coffee. We’ll have to report this as it’s protocol.’

  Jack had to take a few deep breaths when he got back into his car. He had now lost valuable time, and there was no way he could get to the Pimlico flat before going to the station. He knew the patrol car was following him so, as requested, he stopped at the next service station and bought a black coffee, then continued on to the A3.

  Laura was at her desk checking through statements. They had brought in Mrs Delaney’s husband, and he had identified Jamail as the girl he had seen at the basement flat on a couple of occasions. He also confirmed that he helped Rodney carry the bins up the stairs. He described them as often being very heavy, so it required two of them to manoeuvre them up the steps. He said the bins were used by all the tenants so he never queried why they weighed so much, and as he had a bad back, he could not cope lifting them on his own anyway. He described Rodney as being very strong and always very helpful, but if he was not there then one of the other tenants would assist him. When he was asked if the bins were as heavy on the occasions when Rodney had not been available to help him, he said that as far as he could remember they were much lighter.

  There were also statements from various hardware stores describing the purchase of bleach, sacking, bubble wrap and a large amount of sturdy black bin liners by Rodney Middleton, who paid in cash, and CCTV footage from the stores clearly showed that it was him. The rat poison had been acquired from a pest-control company. They described Rodney Middleton and were able to provide the number plate of his vehicle, which was registered to Harold Miller, who they now decided to bring in for questioning.

  It was like an enormous jigsaw puzzle slowly being pieced together, but DCI Clarke knew it was getting close to the time they would have to bring Rodney in for interview. He was obsessive about every detail, compiling notes for himself and double-checking everything to build the strongest possible case before they questioned him. He knew the biggest outstanding problem was they had no bodies, only DNA matched to three victims. The forensic department were still working on separating other DNA blood samples and the consensus was that other victims had been killed in the coal hole. Clarke had therefore ordered that the families of the missing persons of a similar age and background to the confirmed victims, Jamail, Trudie and Nadine, should be tracked down and tested.

  Jack had only just sat down at his desk when DCI Clarke opened his office door and gestured for him to come in. ‘I cannot believe it,’ he fumed before Jack had got through the door. ‘In the middle of a huge case, one of my leading officers is pulled over for drunk driving. What in God’s name were you doing, Warr? And why were you on the A3 when you should have been here at the station?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I needed to get a breath of fresh air, a walk by the sea. I admit I did have a half pint, but the officers were real assholes about it. I just needed to clear my head, sir. I apologise . . . but we’ve made great steps forwards. I was right about Harold Miller providing Middleton with a mobile phone, and it seems he was also handy in transporting the acid and the rat poison, so I hope they’re being fingerprinted.’

  ‘Yes, Jack, obviously,’ Clarke said with a scowl. ‘The tech division are working on it right now. Give it another 24 hours and we’ll be bringing Middleton and Miller in. But that bloody Georgina Bamford woman has been bending my ear two or three times a day.’

  ‘What about his legal aid lawyer? Has she replaced him?’

  ‘Of course she has. She knows that legal aid wanker Colin Marshall can’t handle this. It’s going to hit the press any minute and I have to be ready. It’s taken a lot of work to keep a lid on it.’

  ‘Good work on that front so far, sir,’ Jack said, hoping to mollify him.

  ‘It’s not going to be easy, but I have to say the superintendent has been behind us one hundred percent. I’m still hoping we’ll find some remains, but it’s not looking likely. We need to get that Amanda Dunn talking. Anik is working on collating all the evidence against her ready for interview.’

  Jack said nothing. He knew he should be the one to interrogate Amanda, as he had had more dealings with her than any of the others. But after his dressing down about being breathalysed, he wasn’t in a good position to argue. Clarke sighed and told Jack to get back to work, opening his office door.

  ‘Disappointed in you, Warr. There isn’t an officer on this investigation that wouldn’t mind a walk on the beach to get some fresh air, myself included.’

  Jack returned to his desk, not exactly with his tail between his legs but certainly not in a very ebullient mood. He had a stack of statements that needed to be checked over and written up on the crime scene board. Laura called over to say that Maggie had rung a few times and that his mobile had been ringing. He checked his mobile and muttered to no one in particular that he was going to get something to eat in the canteen. He was starving hungry, having only had a bite of the ham sandwich in the car. He filled a plate with sausage, mash and baked beans and grabbed a bowl of apple pie with custard, eating quickly as he rang Maggie. She didn’t answer so he texted her to say he hoped to be home in time to kiss her goodbye before she left for work in the morning. He then sent a second text to say he loved her.

  He finished eating, got a coffee and headed back to the incident room. The next couple of hours were spent making copious notes to be used for the interview. He then looked back at the notes he had taken on his original interviews with the probation officer and the various psychiatrists.

  Jack was certain that Georgina Bamford would attempt to use Middleton’s spurious mental health issues, just as Middleton had done to hoodwink the judge and jury at every previous court appearance.

  Jack was also attempting to match the dates of the previous assault cases with the murders of the three missing girls. It proved an impossible task, because they couldn’t be sure exactly when the murders had occurred. But he was convinced that Rodney Middleton was timing the assaults deliberately. He had dismembered the bodies, dumped them in the rubbish bins and then made sure he was incarcerated around that time by way of an alibi.

  Jack rocked back in his chair, flipping a pencil up and down on his desktop, as he tried to make his theory fit the facts as they knew them. Then it hit him: Middleton might have been in prison or in mental institutions, but Amanda was at home. He matched the dates of the CCTV footage when she had been seen emptying clothes into the charity clothing bins. He began to believe that Amanda had played a significant role in the crimes.

  ‘Laura, do we know when they’re bringing Amanda in?’

  She shrugged her shoulders and went back to selecting photographs and gathering them into a folder.

  ‘She’s in protective custody, apparently. She’s feeling fine, getting bored and wants her mobile returned. They’re arranging some clothes for her, so I would say the boss is getting ready to bring her in. Hard to believe, but as all her clothes were removed to be tested, she’s just been wearing hospital-issue gowns and dressing gowns this entire time. Apparently she said unless we buy her new clothes and shoes, she won’t be questioned!’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jack. I just told you, she’s in protective custody.’

  ‘I know she is, but she has to be questioned soon, for God’s sake,’ he said irritably.

  ‘I think the boss is waiting for the tech team to analyse the contents of the mobile phones.’

  Laura glanced towards DCI Clarke’s office as he came out and clapped his hands.

  ‘OK, everyone, as you know, the forensic teams have been working 24/7, and the tech support officers are coming in tonight to give us an update. I’ve ordered the canteen to remain open and I suggest everyone gets something to eat. I want a meeting in the boardroom in forty-five minutes. Glenda Bagshot, our CCTV investigator, is setting up a screen so we’ll be watching footage from mobile phones, plus any new video footage she thinks might be important to our enquiry. I wanted you all to be the first to see what we’ve got, and obviously it will also be accessible for the day shift tomorrow.’

  Clarke paused to smile.

  ‘It goes without saying that I am very grateful to you all for all your hard work. I know these long night shifts aren’t easy, but I believe we’re very near to the interview stage with Rodney Middleton, and I feel we have a strong chance of a positive outcome.’

  Clarke returned to his office as the team of officers began standing, stretching and leaving their desks to head to the canteen. Laura looked over to Jack who was staring into space.

  ‘You coming?’

  He turned and smiled.

  ‘Yeah, but I might wait until the line thins out. I’ll see you up there.’

  He rubbed his hair making it stand up on end. He had often been reprimanded for not being a team player because he had not shared information with his colleagues. He had always preferred to handle things himself, and time and time again it had proved beneficial to the case they had been working on. The fact was, if he had not persisted in investigating the Rodney Middleton case, none of them would be here working their bollocks off. He felt angry that nobody seemed to give him any kudos.

  Fifteen minutes later Laura waltzed in with a tray of shepherd’s pie, swimming in gravy with carrots and peas and a custard-covered pudding.

  ‘You should go to the canteen. It’s a feast, thanks to Glenda Bagshot. She’s ordered everything in herself, and there’s fresh coffee, tea and a massive chocolate cake.’

  Jack pushed his chair back and walked out, banging the door behind him. He went into the canteen to survey what was left of the spread and managed to grab the last piece of chocolate cake. Standing behind him was Hendricks, who had already had one serving and was back for more. He smelt like stale fish and Jack glared at him.

  ‘I know, I can’t get rid of it . . . even wearing protective clothes. It seeps into your skin and hair . . . it’s disgusting. I’m not going back to that bloody tip. I never signed up for this, and I’ve now been on it for two days straight.’

  Jack raised his eyebrows, passing by him to get a mug of coffee.

  ‘Found a dead dog yesterday, wrapped in a duvet. But those are the only remains we’ve found.’

  Jack left the canteen and was just about to take a bite of chocolate cake at his desk when there was a shout for everyone to be in the boardroom. He saw DCI Clarke hurrying out with a tray of half-finished fish and chips and a custard sponge.

  There had been a lot of activity in the boardroom. The chairs were stacked up and the boardroom table had been pushed back almost to the far wall. A trestle table was in the centre of the room, covered in files, with a large screen at the far end of the room. There was a high-powered laptop linked to a projector to show the footage.

  DCI Clarke took a seat at the end of the trestle table, close to Glenda Bagshot. The front seats were occupied by the team, with a lot of complaints about Hendricks’ smell. Everyone seemed in good spirits, possibly due to the decent dinner they had all just consumed.

  Clarke waited for the last of the stragglers to fill the room, which by now was standing room only. He stood up and waited for everyone to go quiet.

  ‘Right, everyone, first off, I want to thank Glenda Bagshot for organising the dinner tonight. I know everyone is getting very tired working the split week, so my thanks to all the officers from the different departments who are working flat out to get the results we need. We all know that time is of the essence. I am going to ask Daniel Burkett, Head of Forensics, to start off this meeting.’

  Burkett was a short, square-faced man with iron-grey hair. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt showing off his muscular arms. He took out a pair of half-moon glasses from a leather case and picked up a file.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have had our work cut out in the lab due to the number of items brought in for examination. As you know, we have already identified three victims by matching DNA samples provided by their families. One sample taken from a wire scrubbing brush had such deep indentations of blood and skin, it was ascertained that this was taken from a cadaver, specifically internal human debris. In layman’s terms it means that what had been congealed came from internal lacerations, so the victim was already dead.’

  Burkett then nodded to his assistant, an attractive Asian girl, who was preparing to project images onto the large screen from a laptop.

  ‘As you all know, we have been testing the various tools and instruments and have discovered blood from a screwdriver which does not match any of the three victims identified. We also have blood from the various rubbish bins that again wasn’t found to be a match. We have managed to raise DNA profiles from these samples to be used for identification comparisons at a later date, if and when you discover other victims. We then began to concentrate on the garments brought in for testing. Regina will now begin to show the footage on the screen.’

  Regina tapped the keyboard and the image of a pair of jeans pinned out on white paper appeared on the screen.

  ‘As you can see by the white chalk marks and small flags,’ Burkett continued, ‘we found three pin-head-sized droplets of blood . . . please continue, Regina’

  The film footage continued, showing images of clothing that had belonged to Rodney Middleton, including shirts, underpants, vests, more trousers, and trainers, all with tiny droplets of blood on them.

  ‘We have been able to match more than ten samples to each of your three identified victims, but we also sadly have a number of unidentified samples. Now, the footage will show our work on the bedding.’

  Jack nodded to himself. This was good and getting better.

  The images of the bedding showed semen, blood, pubic hairs, and three long blonde hairs. The film continued, showing the discovery of the blood and hair clogging the drains. Some of the DNA matched the three identified victims, but, chillingly, there was also blood and hair they could not yet match. Lastly, and shockingly, were images of the pink bed socks Amanda had worn. Matted into the soles and the heels of the thick fabric, there was blood identified as belonging to Nadine O’Reilly.

  Jack leaned forwards, listening intently. He knew the socks had belonged to Trudie. He took out his notebook and jotted a few things down, before turning his attention back to Burkett.

  The next batch of film showed the interior of the coal hole. It showed the moment the luminol had revealed the blood splatters. The team allocated to this work was led by a tall, blonde woman who took over from Burkett. She explained how they had dug up sections of the coal hole and moved blocks of heavily stained sections to the lab. The footage showed the bloodstains which matched the identified victims. Again, they had also discovered further blood samples they had no match for, and the consensus was that dismemberment of all the bodies had occurred inside the coal hole.