‘It does, sir. I retrieved the phone and checked the outgoing calls. The one call made that evening was to another mobile. It was fifteen minutes long and it was to Georgina Bamford.’

  ‘What?’ That was not what Jack had been expecting.

  ‘Yes, sir, I didn’t say anything to anyone as I felt it might be important that Ms Bamford was not aware that we knew she had been contacted.’

  ‘Well, that is very interesting, and good not to tip her off. OK, next on the agenda, I want all the photographs of the victims, as well as the photographs taken from Middleton’s aunt Joyce, the ones from her bedroom wall. We have them all, yes?’

  ‘Yes, we also have the family album taken from the same property,’ Laura said.

  ‘Good. I want those photographs grouped together. Please select any photographs from the album that have Middleton as a child, or any with his aunt, father and mother; these all need to be stacked together in the same folder.’

  Jack checked his notes before continuing.

  ‘Next, I want to get our forensics ducks in a row. Contact Daniel Burkett to compare the amount of DNA evidence from inside the basement flat with the DNA evidence from the coal hole. I also need to know which items of Middleton’s clothing had blood on them. I want photographs of the items in a second file. Laura, can you handle that?’

  ‘Yes. What about the tools?’

  ‘Photographs of any of them that had Middleton’s DNA on them, and any of the victims’. I think there is a wire brush and also the sharpened screwdriver, along with the saw. Plus, details of the company that sold the chemicals and rat poison in a third file, along with Glenda Bagshot’s CCTV footage. That has to be ready to be shown on the small monitor screen inside the main viewing room.’

  Jack glanced up from his notes and nodded to Leon.

  ‘I need all the medical notes that I recorded and statements from Dr Seymour, Dr Donaldson and Dr Burrows. I also need the statement from Mavis Thornton at the hostel, from the probation officer, and from the firefighter we interviewed . . . What was his name, Sara?’

  ‘Er, Brian Hookam.’

  ‘Good, yes. These are to be added to file number three. OK, now last but not least, I want a trace on Middleton’s birth mother. She left the UK when he was seven years old and returned to Ghana; see if there is anything in passport control that far back.’

  ‘Sir, I think we did try a trace weeks ago, but it was unsuccessful,’ Sara said.

  ‘I know, but I want you to have another go. There’s a photograph in the plastic container we removed from the coal hole, so use it to see if anyone remembers her. Also, double-check the previous address for Rodney Middleton, the one before the fire. I also want that photograph to be in file one – it’s very important.’

  ‘We don’t have much to go on as we never established her correct name,’ Sara said, ‘and they never married . . .’

  ‘Well, if you look at the photograph from the coal hole, it’s a young girl in school uniform. The team on the ground bagged it without examining it, but we’ve since discovered that Middleton wrote a message on it which makes me think it’s his mother. It’s in pencil and very faded, but the name looks like Abena Mensah. I did try to trace her but gave up when I found that Mensah is a very common Ghanaian surname. It might be wrong but try your best. Leon, you’re the IT super sleuth, so you take that on as well as the other things I’ve asked you to check out. Start with births, OK?’

  Jack repeated everything again to make sure they knew exactly what they were all doing, emphasising that it was important they delivered everything by the end of the day, so he was ready for Monday morning. He left them sitting in rather subdued silence as they each checked over their notes.

  Laura pushed her chair back and suggested they get cracking. She had found the meeting rather unnerving as Jack seemed to be on speed. He had been impatient and abrupt and a couple of times she felt that he had deliberately undermined her. When Sara asked her if the files should be in different colours, she had snapped at her: ‘How the hell would I know? Do whatever you want.’

  Jack had gone in DCI Clarke’s office to discuss the press coverage. Clarke was fuming, as the phones were ringing non-stop and the press were now gathered outside the station questioning anyone who was entering. Jack smiled and suggested they all say ‘no comment’ but Clarke didn’t find it amusing.

  ‘I’m about to go to Scotland Yard for a meeting with the superintendent and I need every bit of ammunition you can give me, Jack,’ he said.

  ‘Well, we have Amanda Dunn arrested and charged, so that’s a plus. By the way, as a matter of interest, sir, we have proof that she called Georgina Bamford on a mobile she swiped from one of the nurses at the safe house. She had a fifteen-minute call with her the night before she came in for her interview.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘Interesting, isn’t it? And as yet she doesn’t know that we know. It confirms that they’re in cahoots and is further proof that Miss Dunn is a devious bitch.’

  Clarke nodded, but he clearly wasn’t sharing Jack’s confident mood.

  ‘I see you had the team in a conference this morning?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Preparing for tomorrow. I don’t want anything falling through the cracks.’

  Clarke grunted. ‘Well, I need to get myself over to Scotland Yard. I’ll see you here first thing tomorrow. I’ll have Middleton brought in a van, and make sure his face and head are covered. He will travel with two outriders and drive straight through the back gates. And I want to vet anyone in the viewing area . . . there were too many in there during the Amanda Dunn interview.’

  As they walked out of his office, Jack could feel the DCI’s tension and hoped he would be calmer in the morning. It was another reminder of how much Ridley’s calm presence was missed, making everyone around him feel relaxed.

  While the team worked flat out on acquiring all the material he had requested, preparing the files and putting them in the order he wanted, Jack remained available for them until after lunch. He was impressed with the way Laura was overseeing their work with calm efficiency. If she had been disgruntled at the start of the day, she was now working at full steam. She had only one query for Jack and that was about Leon as, due to it being a Sunday, he was having problems making any headway with tracing Abena Mensah. Immigration had not been at all helpful.

  ‘Yeah, I had the same problem,’ Jack acknowledged. ‘I think the people who have the answers are Joyce Miller and her husband.’

  ‘If I manage to get everything done here, would you mind if I paid them a call, just to see if I can get anything more from them?’ she suggested.

  He gave Laura one of his warmest smiles.

  ‘If anyone can get them to talk, Laura, you can. Go for it and just let me know the outcome.’

  ‘There is something else,’ Laura said. ‘Anik is due in this afternoon, and his nose is pretty out of joint, so could we maybe do the interview together? I think he would appreciate it if you suggested it.’

  ‘Yeah, why not. I’ll leave a memo on his desk, asking if he could give us a hand.’

  She was about to walk off when he caught her hand.

  ‘Thank you, Laura, I really appreciate yours and the team’s efforts. I need it, and I’m grateful.’

  She flushed, and he could see how much it had meant to her. Her support meant a great deal to him as he felt confident he could leave the station in her hands. He needed space to make himself completely ready for the ensuing combat with Rodney Middleton.

  He also couldn’t wait to get back into the Tesla and to give Maggie a spin in it when he got home.

  *

  Laura and Anik had to exit the station through a throng of flashing cameras, before arriving at the Millers’ council estate just before 7 p.m. Laura pressed the bell and after a few minutes Harold Miller eased open the front door.

  ‘Sorry for the intrusion,’ Laura said pleasantly, showing her ID, ‘but we just have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind.’ Anik held up his own ID as he also reintroduced himself.

  Harold was not eager to let them in. ‘At this time? On a Sunday? I’ve just given Joyce her supper, you know. It’s not a very convenient time.’

  Laura kept her pleasant smile in place. ‘It won’t take long, I assure you. And it is important.’

  ‘You have already been here and have taken personal items, as well as my mobile,’ Harold grumbled. ‘I just don’t understand why you have to come unannounced on a Sunday. My wife isn’t going to be happy about this at all.’

  Anik decided to take the reins. ‘You could always come back to the station with us, if that would be more convenient,’ he suggested.

  Harold stepped back, and Anik and Laura stepped further into the hallway. He then closed the front door behind them.

  ‘I’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I don’t want any trouble. My wife won’t want you in her room. She’s having her supper and doesn’t like anyone with her; this is very distressing for her.’

  Laura smiled. ‘If you’d prefer, my colleague can sit with you in the kitchen while I talk to your wife.’ They had actually already discussed this between them before they arrived and felt it would be more beneficial for them to ask their questions separately.

  Harold knocked on his wife’s door and opened it a fraction. They could hear him saying that a lady detective wanted a few words, then Joyce angrily saying she was not going to talk to anyone.

  Laura moved forward, pushing the bedroom door open wider.

  ‘It is imperative that you do give me a few moments of your time, Mrs Miller. Step away from the door please, Mr Miller. The sooner I talk with your wife, the sooner we’ll leave.’

  He slunk away, and Laura closed the bedroom door behind her. Anik then accompanied Harold to the kitchen.

  Despite having seen Joyce Miller on a previous occasion Laura was still taken aback by her extraordinary bulk. The trolley beside her was stacked with cartons of Kentucky Fried Chicken, bowls of macaroni cheese and plates of chocolate cake, as well as ham rolls. A gardening show was playing on the huge plasma TV screen and Joyce picked up the remote and turned it off.

  Laura moved closer to the bed, pulling up a small hard-backed chair. Joyce was using a plastic fork and spoon, as well as her fingers to split apart the fried chicken sections. She ate remarkably daintily, with her tiny hands and painted fingernails, popping sections of the chicken into her mouth. Her lipstick spread over her chin as she dabbed her lips with paper napkins.

  ‘I want to ask you about your nephew’s mother,’ Laura began.

  Joyce appeared not to be listening as she started eating forkfuls of macaroni cheese. Laura waited a few moments before she repeated the question.

  ‘I’ve been asked about her before, but I can’t tell you anything,’ Joyce said eventually.

  ‘Do you recall her name?’ Laura persisted.

  ‘No, why would I? But she was no good, let me tell you. My brother was a very handsome man, with a good job and earning good money.’

  ‘She was never married to him?’

  ‘No, thank goodness. But she got him because she was pregnant and he, like a fool, let her move into the house. The whole family was against her because it was obvious she was using him.’

  ‘What if I was to tell you that her name was Abena Mensah?’

  ‘Well, if you know her name, why did you ask me?’ She took another forkful of macaroni cheese.

  ‘I just want you to confirm it,’ Laura said.

  ‘It could have been,’ Joyce said non-committally. ‘Her nickname was Beanie, that was what Anthony called her. She was out for what she could get.’

  ‘She was very young, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Old enough to know an easy target. It broke me and my brother up because he was such a fool about her. Then when the baby came, she couldn’t look after him, not to mention cooking or doing any housework. She was a right slut.’

  ‘How often did you see her?’

  ‘As little as possible. But I worried about the baby, and sometimes I’d take him and give him a bath and cut his nails. She never changed his nappies and he’d be stinking.’

  ‘So Abena was with your brother for quite some time?’

  Joyce plucked off a bit of the chicken wing and sucked at the bone.

  ‘I don’t remember. Like I said, I never went round there much. A few years, maybe five or six . . . Until he met Karen, anyway. Then it was clear to him what a big mistake he’d made. Karen was a lovely girl. Why are you asking me about that wretched Abena? He threw her out.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I had Rodney here for a while. Harold wasn’t comfortable with having a youngster around, and he was a bit of a handful.’

  ‘We’ve not been able to find out when Abena left the UK, so if you could try and recall the dates when you say your brother threw her out.’

  ‘Went back to Ghana, that’s where she went.’

  ‘You say it was after five or six years of living with your brother?’

  Joyce had begun to sweat profusely and was using the paper tissues to wipe her face and neck, leaving grease marks from the fried chicken.

  ‘So, it would be around 2006, is that correct?’ Laura asked.

  Joyce shrugged, so Laura continued.

  ‘Your nephew is now twenty-four, isn’t he? And we have been told he was seven years old when she left.’

  Laura was beginning to lose her cool, as Joyce had now started enthusiastically on the chocolate cake.

  She took a deep breath. ‘It must have been difficult for you to take care of him, considering your situation; you’re not very mobile, are you?’

  ‘Listen, I was never like this in those days. I was always a size twelve, dear. What happened to me is not your business. I had a band fitted and it was the worst thing I could have done. I had a terrible time, and it got infected, so I had to have it removed. I was bedridden and depressed about being so poorly.’

  ‘I understand that often your condition can be caused by experiencing a tragedy or witnessing a violent act?’ Laura said, hoping that might trigger something.

  But Joyce just continued eating without taking the bait. Laura began to feel nauseous at the amount of food being consumed, albeit in delicate mouthfuls.

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ she said. ‘Abena Mensah left your brother around 2004 to 2006, when her son Rodney was seven years old. Is that correct?’

  Joyce reached to her bedside to pick up a large bottle of Coke.

  ‘Mrs Miller, would you please answer my questions? I need to know exactly when Abena Mensah left your brother’s house.’

  Joyce unscrewed the Coke bottle and took a long drink. The sweat was now rolling down her face.

  ‘I was told she did come back, and said she wanted to take Rodney.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I was ill. But that’s what I was told.’

  ‘By your brother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was he with Karen when Abena returned?’

  ‘No, he was living on his own with Rodney. Then he bought a new house.’

  Laura decided to change tack. ‘Did your brother love Rodney?’

  ‘Yes, of course he did.’

  ‘Did you love him?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Did Rodney like Karen?’

  Joyce shook her head, and for the first time appeared caught off-guard. Laura decided to go for the jugular.

  ‘His own mother left him and his father then marries a very pretty young blonde woman and they move into a new house. How did he react to that development in his life?’

  Joyce started to eat again, as if she hadn’t heard.

  ‘His two half-sisters, those adorable little girls, burnt alive . . .’ Laura said, in a desperate attempt to regain Joyce’s attention.

  She stood and picked up the chair, putting it back against the wall.

  ‘You know what I think, Joyce? Something happened that was so awful, so hideous, that it’s made you hide in here. I believe it’s connected to your brother, and I think that’s why he pays to keep you in this state.’

  Joyce drank from the Coke bottle again, then screwed the top back on.

  ‘Or it is connected to Rodney, who is going to be charged with three murders. You have an opportunity to tell me what drove that young man to kill three innocent girls, Joyce.’

  She unscrewed the Coke bottle again and took two gulping mouthfuls.

  ‘Something happened at the house with Abena, didn’t it? Were you there? Did you witness what happened? Was Rodney with you? Why don’t you answer me?’

  Joyce pursed her lips. ‘Leave me alone. Go away. I have nothing to tell you.’

  ‘Detective Jack Warr, who you met, spoke to two different psychiatrists, who both described Rodney as a lost soul. Perhaps at one time he was, but I think you know what turned the lost soul into an evil one. Now I will leave you in peace to finish your supper.’

  Laura walked out as Joyce sat with tears streaming down her cheeks, still unable to face what she had buried in her bulk for years.

  Laura stood in the hall, her hands clasped together in frustration. Anik saw her from the kitchen and closed his notebook. He thanked Harold for his time and walked out as Harold scurried behind him to open the front door. Laura hurried out and he followed her to the car.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really. I tried every possible way to get her to tell me the truth, but I couldn’t make her talk. She knows something, though. I have a feeling her brother did something horrendous to Abena Mensah, or maybe Rodney did something to her, or he was a witness. I just found it so obnoxious watching her eating and refusing to answer.’

  Anik opened the car door for her, then walked round to get into the driving seat.

  ‘So, how did you get on with Harold?’ Laura asked. ‘If you had seen what he had given her to eat . . . talk about being a – what’s the word they use to describe someone who is giving an alcoholic drink? An enabler. She’s eating herself to death with his help.’

  Anik started the engine. ‘Her brother pays Harold to care for her, and the rest is claimed on benefits. Two carers split the washing and dressing chores, but not on Sundays, when he has to do it, and that includes changing her incontinence pads, which he hates doing, as you can imagine.’