Backlash

Chapter Twelve

Langton had set the table in the living room, even if the cutlery did look as if he had half-heartedly thrown it onto the cloth. Napkins, wine glasses and an open bottle of Merlot had been dumped alongside HP and tomato sauce.

The main front door had been buzzed open, and the flat door had stood ajar for her to walk in.

‘Get a glass of wine, won’t be a minute.’

She was surprised that his voice came from the kitchen. ‘Anything I can do?’

‘Nope, I’ll tell you when I need you.’

Anna poured two glasses and arranged the cutlery and napkins into place settings, turning as Langton appeared. He looked remarkably well, shaved and wearing a grey loose tracksuit; he smiled, and lifted his walking cane.

‘Plaster’s off, but the worst part, and I’ve never felt such agony, was bending the leg. Bloody hell, Travis, it was excruciating, but hardly a twinge now.’

‘That’s marvellous.’

‘Stuff ’s on a tray if you could just carry it in.’

He walked a trifle unsteadily, but considering how he had been when she last saw him it was obvious he was well on the road to recovery.

‘Stairs are still hazardous but I’m doing exercise gradually.’

He eased into one of the hard-backed chairs at the table. Anna found the kitchen is some semblance of order, and a tray with a Pyrex dish of shepherd’s pie and a bowl of vegetables.

‘Don’t tell me you cooked this?’

‘I’d be lying if I did. I’ve got a freezer full of easy meals, but I have to watch it as I’ve put on weight.’

She put the tray on the table, and returned to the kitchen to collect plates and serving spoons. By the time she had filled first his plate and then her own he was already wading through his portion, eating with his usual haste.

‘Right, let me have it, cheers to you, Travis.’ He lifted his glass and she raised hers.

‘To recovery,’ she said.

He almost drained his entire glass, topping it up as she ate, with his trademark tangible impatience. Slowly she gave him the update, between mouthfuls of food and sips of her wine. He helped himself to another serving of the tasty shepherd’s pie, squirting ketchup over it, and listened attentively without his usual interruptions. As Anna described the task of tracing the owner of the gold bracelet he let out a sigh, shaking his head.

‘Dear God, you know it could open a can of worms. If this is a collection of sick tokens it’ll be weeks of work. What’s happening with Oates?’

‘Suicide watch is about to be lifted but Kumar wants him reassessed. Mike’s going to get him back in police custody any day now.’

‘The two of you need to sit down and go over all the evidence you have so far.’

‘We’ve already agreed to do that and prepare the interviews together.’

‘Good. You see, you don’t need some prick profiler or behaviour adviser thingy as you call them.’

‘No, I guess not,’ Anna said, avoiding eye contact by looking down at her plate of food.

‘I used a profiler on a stranger’s murder a few years back. He was a useless self-opinionated pain in the arse. Made the evidence fit his bullshit theory and sent us miles off course, then to top it all the bastard had the cheek to hit us with a three-grand bill.’

‘I can guess what you told him to do with his bill.’

‘Too right. Samuels, I said, go fuck yourself! Enjoyed saying it but still had to pay him in the end.’

Anna nearly choked on her food and gulped her wine to clear her throat.

‘You all right?’

‘Sorry,’ she gasped between breaths. ‘Food went down the wrong way.’

Langton poured himself another glass of wine, offering to top hers up but she refused as she was driving.

‘So nothing new with the Rebekka Jordan enquiry?’

‘Well, I have confirmation that Oates was living in the basement at the time Rebekka went missing. The search team are still working on the three houses but they haven’t found anything other than the jewellery.’

‘But nothing has come up evidence-wise that could actually move your enquiry forward?’

Anna hesitated, and then described how Oates had looked on the night Mrs Murphy had seen him returning home. This possibly around the date Rebekka Jordan went missing.

Anna got up and showed Langton her notebook of dates. The Murphys knew when Oates had helped with the gates because they were delivered in the last week of March 2007, and this was when they got to know him because he had helped to put them up. Mr Murphy was certain that it was two weeks before when Oates was seen by his wife.

Langton looked at the scribbled pages and shook his head.

‘Well this is all very crossword puzzle, you seem to have a lot of cryptic clues but nothing that fits right in your time frame.’

‘I know, but-’

‘The forensic lab has found no blood or DNA of Rebekka’s on any clothes or shoes from Oates’s basement.’

‘Well he probably threw away the clothes he wore when he abducted her.’

‘He worked odd jobs on building sites, which could account for any chalk on his clothing.’

‘That’s my point. If the Murphys are right about the gate delivery date, then the time she saw Oates covered in chalk was the same week Rebekka went missing. If he was working on another site at the time he could have buried her there during the night.’

Langton closed his eyes and yawned. ‘Sorry if I’m boring you!’ she said, closing her notebook.

She stacked their dinner plates onto the tray along with her wine glass. Anna felt she needed some breathing space before her temper exploded.

‘I’ll take these into the kitchen. Do you want a coffee?’

‘No.’

Anna calmed down as she washed the dishes and left them on the draining board. The remains of the shepherd’s pie she covered with tin foil before going back to find he’d now moved to sit on a sofa and was irritatingly thumbing through her notebook.

‘The bastard gets multiple giro cheques, benefits and Christ knows what other handouts. If the Work and Pensions fraud squad had got their act together they could have had him locked away years ago.’

Anna sat herself opposite him. ‘He was pretty adept at working the system. We found numerous claim forms under different names, and heaps of addresses he’d dossed down in, but they did throw him out of a council flat – he was subletting the rooms!’

Langton tapped his hand with her notebook. ‘Doesn’t sound like a man who’s not the full ticket, does he?’

‘We’ve underestimated him. He doesn’t just abduct a woman off the street and kill her on the spur of the moment. He’s a planner who knows exactly what he’s going to do.’

‘Rebekka, though, doesn’t seem to fit his MO – she was only thirteen, the other two girls were a lot older.’

‘His wife Eileen caught him touching up their daughter when she was ten!’

‘What about the other case – Fidelis?’ he asked. ‘Still no eyewitness, crucifix didn’t belong to the victim. Yeah, he was working at the multi-storey car park but no paperwork with his name on it to confirm the exact dates. Mike says it’s still all circumstantial and the CPS may say there isn’t enough evidence to charge.’

‘Are you any further forward on the Jeep?’

‘No.’

‘I think with the amount of money already laid out on this and the first Jordan investigation, unless you come up with something soon or Oates makes a full confession then you may have to call it a day.’

She swiftly reached over to retrieve her notebook and put it into her briefcase, then picked up her coat.

‘I won’t give up. I disagree with you, and I think we are accumulating enough evidence. So it’s taking time, so it’s costing, but look how much we have uncovered so far. We are nearly there.’

‘Nearly isn’t good enough.’

‘No, but if this box of trinkets really does contain sick tokens and Oates has killed, not only our three known victims but others, we have a duty to continue this enquiry.’

‘You going?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come here.’ He patted the seat on the sofa beside him. She sat down, keeping her coat and briefcase on her knees.

‘Sometimes, Anna, as hard as it may seem, you have to reach a conclusion that you’ve done as much as possible to gain a positive result.’

She turned towards him. ‘If Rebekka Jordan was your daughter, how would you feel if you were told that?’

‘Don’t go there,’ he said sharply.

She stood up angrily and hurled her briefcase down beside him.

‘Yes I will, because I am not giving up. You brought me onto her case and I am confident I will get a result, contrary to what you believe. She was thirteen years old, her parents deserve to have closure and I’ll get it for them.’

He watched her pulling on her coat and pointed at her briefcase.

‘You’ve got nothing in there, Anna, that’ll stand up in court. All you have is dates and times and possible connections, but admit it, you have no hard evidence. Do you think that I didn’t feel the same way as you when I had to leave the case open? Yes, they have a right to closure, every victim’s family has that right, but sometimes you just have to accept you are not going to get it.’

‘Oh really, so we find a gold bracelet that belonged to a girl called Angela and we just drop it – a bracelet found in a stinking basement where we know a killer lived?’

‘Go home. You’re giving me a headache.’

‘If everything boils down to how much it costs I may as well quit. How can you put a price tag on a thirteen-year-old girl’s murder… or anyone’s, for that matter! You want to close the case, do it, and live with it, because I couldn’t. And don’t even begin to think I will be the one who tells the Jordans.’

She yanked open the front door and banged it hard behind her. He could hear her thudding down the stairs, and would have liked to run after her, but he couldn’t. He clasped the sofa arm to ease himself up and then reached for his walking stick, poured the remainder of the wine into his glass and drained it. It had become consistently harder to control budgets and he had already had a lengthy discussion with Mike Lewis, warning him that it was becoming tough for him to constantly get more financing. The archaeologists, the specialist police search teams and the mounting forensic work were all costly, and he had to approve more and more officers to be attached to the investigation. He turned as if to pace the room the way he always did and almost fell over. He swore, gritted his teeth and, with determination, began walking slowly up and down the room. He paused by a photograph of his stepdaughter. Anna had implied that if it had been Kitty who had disappeared he would not have left the case on file. It wasn’t true. He had worked twenty-four seven trying to get a result on this one. He had becomes friends with her distraught parents, he had wanted to give them some kind of peace, but the weeks had turned into months, and the longer Rebekka was missing the smaller, he knew, were her chances of being found.

He had felt guilt. He had lived with the fact that he had been unable to find any suspect; it had been the most frustrating investigation he had ever headed up. If he was honest, the case had never truly been over for him and now it had reared up again. He began to go over in his mind the entire conversation with Anna, eventually conceding that she had touched an extremely raw nerve.

Anna was at the station by seven-thirty the next morning. Mike arrived shortly after, so she asked to speak to him in his office. She was very tense, her hands clenched.

‘I had dinner with Langton last night.’

‘Oh, how is he?’

‘Let me ask you. He is not overseeing my investigation, he’s on sick leave, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, but he’s had his finger in the pie all along. I already told you that as far as DCS Hedges is concerned both cases are Langton’s.’

‘He is getting ready to close down my enquiry and by the sounds of it yours as well. He maintains we only have circumstantial evidence.’

‘Maybe we do, but we haven’t even re-interviewed Oates yet. When we present him with what we do have, he might cough up.’

‘If he doesn’t?’

‘Where are you going with this, Anna?’

‘I am just warning you he’s going to withdraw officers. He says the budget’s out of control, and that it’s all about finances.’

Mike ruffled his hair distractedly. ‘I’m refusing to back off, Mike, and I want you to also refuse, because I truly believe we are close to proving Oates is the killer of both Fidelis and Rebekka.’

‘Listen, I know you’ve been doing a lot of work, and with results, but I also have to consider the facts.’

‘He’s already called you, hasn’t he?’

Mike flushed. ‘Oh my God, I don’t believe it, don’t tell me you agree with him?’

‘Whatever my feelings are, Anna, Langton makes the rules. At the moment, though, he’s just considering it, so in the meantime we don’t slow down.’

‘He shouldn’t even be considering it.’

‘The investigation right now is costing a fortune. We had a full-scale search of not one but three properties that-’

‘Resulted in the finding of a box of jewellery that could belong to other victims, a box with only Oates’s finger-prints on it, a bracelet with a girl’s name engraved on it. We got a result, Mike.’

Mike slapped the desk. ‘If Oates is guilty of more murders, the fact is we have him charged with that of Justine Marks and he will stand trial for her murder. If we do not have proof beyond circumstantial evidence for the other cases you know the CPS will not proceed.’

Anna stood up. Mike had obviously been got at by Lang ton so she didn’t think there was anything more to say.

Anna couldn’t sit still after such a start to the morning, so she decided to visit the swimming pool in Hackney known to be used by Oates. She was completely wired, extremely angry, and also very disappointed by Mike’s reaction. Half of her doubted she would gain anything useful from going to the pool but she recalled Fidelis’s parents saying she had won swimming medals. On the pretext that the young woman might have met Oates there she got out of the incident room as fast as possible, only pausing to ask Joan to run a web search for chalk production – how and where it was mined, and its use on building sites – and leave the printed results on her desk. Anna was surprised at how large the sports complex in Hackney was. It consisted of not just a swimming pool, but facilities for karate training, trampolining, and dance classes from aerobics to modern ballet. The gym was well equipped and private training lessons were available. There were preand postnatal classes and a crèche where mothers could leave their children to do painting and pottery. Altogether it was a very well-run centre funded by the council. There was even a café serving hot meals, with windows that overlooked the swimming pool, where plenty of attendants supervised schoolchildren taking swimming lessons in roped-off lanes.

Anna waited at the reception desk and watched two pleasant girls working at computers and answering the telephone, before she was led to the manager’s office. Jim Banks was a fit-looking man wearing a tracksuit top with a badge of the centre’s logo, dark trousers and training shoes. He shook her hand and indicated for her to sit in a chair opposite his smart desk, on which computers and telephones and papers were neatly arrayed. Behind him was a wall of cups and trophies.

Anna explained about the investigation into the murder of Fidelis Julia Flynn. She showed him Fidelis’s and Henry Oates’s photographs, asking if Banks recalled either of them.

‘Yes. He was a regular up until about a year ago. Never seen her before, though.’

Banks turned to his computer.

‘I was a swimming instructor when he first joined. In fact, it was shortly after we opened six years ago.’

‘He was a member?’

‘Yes. I’ll just see if we still have his particulars.’

Banks tapped a few keys and scrolled through the past and present membership lists.

‘Nothing on here for Fidelis Flynn, but yes, there you go, details of his joining date, membership number and photograph.’

He printed out the information and passed it to Anna. At the top of the page was a star and the words NOT APPROVED FOR FURTHER MEMBERSHIP. Banks next went to a filing cabinet and withdrew a folder.

‘I keep a file on people who we have complaints about or who’ve been barred for one reason or another. The girls at the desk also have a copy because of the photograph.’

Anna was hardly able to contain herself as she asked why Mr Oates was no longer approved for membership.

‘We have a policy: anyone using the swimming pool has to go through the shower and foot bath before entering the water, it’s all about health and safety.’

She waited.

‘Mr Oates was to say the least rather unkempt, and I recall him very well because when I worked the pool area he had obviously not showered. I think he was working on a building site and I caught him coming into the swimming pool area from a staff door. He had not used the shower and so I sort of earmarked him as someone to watch. I did on a couple of other occasions turn him back to go through the disinfectant foot bath; his feet were filthy. We also had a couple of complaints from other swimmers and he was warned that if he didn’t shower he would not be allowed to use the pool.’

Banks went on to say that Oates was a very strong swimmer, and would do up to a hundred lengths every time he used the pool. He also used the gym, where again complaints had been made about his appearance. In fact, the list of complaints also included using someone’s shampoo and sitting around too long in the café.

‘He was warned a couple of times that he would not be allowed to use the centre and his membership would be revoked. There was some altercation on a running machine once. He was quite athletic and would be on the treadmill for hours.’

‘Did you ever see him approaching young girls?’

‘I think a swimming instructor did give a memo about him taking too much interest in a group of schoolgirls.’

Anna remarked to Banks that the list of complaints against Oates was extensive, yet he had still been allowed to use the premises.

‘We are a council-run club, not private, and we have a three-warnings rule, but in actual fact we didn’t ask him to leave due to his hygiene or behaviour – we had a spate of thefts. Tracksuits and shoes went missing, and we did a Miss Marple, cross-checking the members that were signed in when the thefts occurred. Overall, Oates was top of the list.’

‘Did it get reported to the police?’

‘No. It was nothing of value really and often the stolen item wasn’t missed immediately. We did install some interior CCTV cameras and, if my memory is correct, it was just before we had them installed that Mr Oates was asked to leave. We always had them in the car park, but not inside the club.’

‘So he was never caught on camera stealing?’

‘No. One of our instructors was in the gym for a oneto-one workout with a member, said she had taken her crucifix off and put it on the windowsill. When her class was finished…’ He paused and shook his head.

‘No, sorry, it was the young lady’s, she had taken it off because it got in the way when she was doing press-ups and Judy the instructor filled out the lost property report for her. Again it was not of great value, more sentimental value really.’

He frowned and stood up. ‘Just in case I get the facts wrong she still works here if you would like to talk to her.’

‘Thank you, I would, and I need to take the file you kept on Oates.’

Anna was so excited she burst into the incident room. Barolli physically jumped, as he was closest to the door.

‘I got a result, one you won’t believe.’

Anna dumped her briefcase down as people around paid attention.

‘Henry Oates was confronted by a fitness trainer at the sports centre where he went swimming but he also worked out in the gym there. They’d had a spate of thefts – running shoes, tracksuits – and one of the members left her gold crucifix on a window ledge. Oates was running on a tread-mill; he was the only other person in the gymnasium.’

Anna had taken off her coat and was opening her briefcase.

‘When Oates was confronted and accused of taking it, he became very abusive and threatening. The manager was called and said Oates refused to allow them to search his bag – in fact swung it at him and ran out. He was subsequently barred from the centre.’

Anna crossed to the incident board and picked up a marker pen.

‘The lady who owned the crucifix is a Sabrina Holt and I went to see her on my way back here. It was stolen eighteen months ago. Sabrina said it was rolled gold, not real gold, and that it had a chip mark at the bottom of it.’

Anna pointed to the picture of the crucifix on the board and circled a small chip mark, which was in the same place described by Sabrina Holt.

‘She said it could not have been taken by anyone else as Oates was working out when she started her class and left before it had finished and no one else entered the gym.’

‘Did she report it to the police?’ Barbara asked.

‘No, she said it was not that valuable.’

‘Nobody actually saw him with it though, did they?’ Barolli said.

Anna snapped that the necklace was stolen two days before Fidelis went missing and had now been recovered snagged to her clothing. It was obvious Oates had taken it.

Joan had been on the phone during all of this, but now called out: ‘I got a hit!’

Anna turned towards her.

‘I did as you asked about the chalk and building sites. Basically raw chalk itself isn’t really used on site but it is used to make cement, lime, mortar and so on. Oates told his neighbour it was chalk dust on him so as a bit of initiative on my part I started ringing round working chalk pits near London. Been onto a chalk quarry near Marlow – that’s sort of past Heathrow Airport, M40-M4 – it’s only semi-running at the moment, but the manager was really helpful. Worked there for over twenty years.’

Anna was so impatient she wanted to shake Joan.

‘Did Henry Oates work there?’

‘No, but I also ran by the manager, amongst other names, Timmy Bradford – remember him, ex-boxer associate of Oates?’

‘Yes, and?’

‘In 2006 Bradford worked there briefly as a driver, and he brought a friend along who was looking for a similar position, but the friend was unable to provide a driving licence.’

‘This guy has a bloody good memory,’ Barolli said.

‘I thought that, but he recalls “the friend”, who matches Oates’s description, as being trouble. When he was refused a job he became belligerent, screaming and shouting about wasting his time and the next minute the two of them were fighting.’

‘Which two, the manager and Oates?’

‘No, Timmy Bradford and Oates. They had to be separated, which is why he remembers the incident. Oates cleared off and Bradford only lasted a few more weeks before he left.’

Anna still had the marker pen in her hand. ‘Joan, hit me with the dates this happened.’

‘Well, the manager thinks it was late June, early July 2006.’

Anna tapped her teeth with the pen. The date didn’t match when Mrs Murphy had seen Oates covered in chalk dust but was around the time he worked at the Jordans. She hesitated before writing down the information.

‘What’s this place like, Joan?’

‘I don’t know, it’s called Taplow Quarry. I’ll get some pictures of it up on the web. Some parts of it are disused, or so the manager said.’

Anna leaned on the back of Joan’s chair as she brought up the pictures on the website. It was like an alien world – colossal, with towering white cliffs of chalk and a quarry hundreds of feet in depth and width. The dumper trucks looked like small toys in comparison. They could see huge open-sided barns with loading bays and conveyer belts, which Joan said were to move the blasted chalk into a crusher before it went on to the cement and lime factories. The disused area was also massive, with a large pond, trees, bushes and abundant moss.

Anna went back to her desk but couldn’t concentrate. The quarry had given her an eerie feeling – the hairs on her arms were raised. She doodled on her notepad. Why had Henry Oates been seen covered in chalk dust nearly nine months after he had applied for work there?

‘Paul, will you do me a favour?’

Barolli looked over.

‘I’d like you to bring in Timmy Bradford for further questioning.’

‘Sure, and good work on tracking the crucifix down. Do I have a reason for wheeling Bradford in?’

‘Yeah, he lied.’

Timmy Bradford sat nervously in front of Anna, who had Barolli beside her. This time he was outside the comfort zone of his mother’s flat, and there was no tea and biscuits on offer.

‘You fed me a load of lies, Timmy, didn’t you?’ Anna began, in no mood to mess about.

‘No.’

‘Listen, Timmy, I’ve looked at your record. You’re not sitting here because of another petty juvenile crime. You’re very close to being arrested on suspicion of murder, so you need to start telling me the truth.’

‘I ain’t done nothing.’

Anna opened her notebook and began to flick through the pages.

‘You said you last saw Henry Oates seven years ago at York Hall.’

Bradford leaned forwards.

‘I was telling you the truth. I ain’t seen him for years, that’s God’s truth.’

‘What about the time you took him to Taplow Quarry?’

‘What?’

‘You were working there.’

Bradford leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

‘Are you shaking your head because you didn’t work there?’

‘No, it was bloody years ago, and I only lasted a few months cos the work was shit, and the money was no good. You got covered in the crap, in your hair, up your nose…’

‘Tell me about the time you took Henry Oates there.’ Bradford sighed, looking down at the table top, unable to meet Anna’s eyes.

‘He was looking for a job. I met him at a boxing match. I told him I was working there and he asked if I could take him with me.’

Bradford’s gaze wandered around the small room.

‘Like I said, it was years ago the last time I saw him and I just forgot he went with me to Taplow.’

‘You had a fight with him, didn’t you?’

Bradford shrugged.

‘Yeah, we had a punch-up. They wouldn’t let him drive one of the trucks like I was doing cos he had no driving licence. Like I said, I had a job and he wasn’t gonna get one. He was all uptight, blamed me for wasting his time; he told me I had to take him back to London, but I told him to fuck off or wait for me to finish workin’.’

‘Don’t swear, Mr Bradford,’ Anna said firmly.

‘Sorry, but you know you got me hauled in here, my mum’s frantic, she won’t believe it was for nothin’.’

Anna glanced at Barolli and closed her notebook. Bradford had confirmed what they had been told by the chalk pit manager.

‘I dunno how he got back to London, maybe thumbed a ride, but that was the last time I saw him.’

‘But how do you think he got back to London?’

‘I dunno. I swear before God I never saw him again. He bloody swung a punch at me and hit me in the face. Knowing him, he could have even walked back. As it turned out, I left the job a few weeks later like I told you, but I never wanted to see him again. He’s got this temper and he could just let fly. I mean, I could hold me own with him, but he caught me off guard.’

‘Are there any other contacts with Henry Oates that you may have “forgotten” about?’

Bradford hesitated and then gave a slow nod of his head.

‘Yeah, forgot this an’ all, sorry, but it was before the fight at the quarry. I’d had this run of bad luck. I’d been saving up and looking for a place to live, but I was stupid. I took a punt on a dog, got told it was a certainty, lost five hundred quid.’

‘What about the savings your mother mentioned, that you’d lost the money you’d saved for a flat?’

He pulled a clownish face.

‘Yeah well, that was a bit of a lie, she’d have never let me stay with her if she’d known I’d blown what I’d got on a fucking dog. Excuse me, sorry, she’s very careful with her savings. I know she’s got quite a packet from her last husband, and… I completely forgot this. I’ve had to move in with her off and on for years, it’s the gambling doing me in always, and then when I get a bit of dough I move out. Me and her husband didn’t get along either, but since he passed on I’ve been staying with her more and more.’

Anna waited patiently.

‘Go back to the time you say something had slipped your mind.’

‘Right, yeah. It was when I was taking him to the quarry, he came to Mum’s flat for me to drive him there. I don’t even have the car any more, had to sell it.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, he was early so I let him in and told him to wait in the hall. Of course Mum was hovering around, it was only six-ish but she’s always up with the birds.’

‘Did she meet him?’

‘Christ no, he was stinking out the hallway and she’d have gone apeshit about me being with his type. I just grabbed my overcoat and we left. I was tellin’ you the truth, cos I honest to God haven’t seen him since that time at the quarry.’

‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Bradford.’

He had the audacity to smile. ‘Had an option, did I?’

‘What’s so important about this chalk pit?’ Barolli asked after Bradford had been allowed to go.

Anna explained that Oates couldn’t have been working at the chalk pit when Mrs Murphy said she saw him covered in dust. She thought it unlikely that the elderly couple would be nine months out, particularly as Mrs Murphy recalled the exact date the gates arrived.

‘It’s the chalk pit, something about that place. But if they are right about the dates Oates helped them put their gates up, it was March 2007 that Oates explained to Mr Murphy about the chalk dust. Mrs Murphy did say her husband’s memory was not so good. Maybe he did get the timing wrong.’

Joan was in tears, her shoulders shaking as she slumped at her desk.

‘What’s up with you, Joan?’ Anna asked. ‘Just got a dressing-down from the Chief Super.’

‘Langton?’

‘No, the one who’s standing in for him.’

Anna leaned close to Joan, who was wiping her eyes with a tissue.

‘What happened?’

Joan tearfully explained that she had, although not specifically instructed to do so, run a check through missing persons, searching for the Christian name Angela.

Anna tensed up, leaning closer still as Joan passed her a report. She sniffed.

‘Angela Thornton, “Misper” from Epping over five years ago, and as you can see from the description of the clothes she was wearing they also include a gold bracelet, a present from her parents for her twenty-first. It was engraved with the inscription, “Angela 1999 from Mum and Dad”.’

Anna couldn’t believe it. She perched on the edge of Joan’s desk.

‘Good work, Joan, but tell me what Hedges said that’s got you so upset.’

Joan said that she had left early the previous evening so had come in that morning very early and had decided rightly or wrongly to check out the bracelet.

‘I mean, it’s the most obvious because of the inscription.’

‘Absolutely, yes I agree.’

‘I’d just got a result when I picked up the phone and it was him, Chief Superintendent Hedges. He asked me for an update. I mean, he usually speaks with Mike, but I was the only one available and so I told him.’

‘About the bracelet?’

‘Yes, and he went ballistic. He said that he had not given the go-ahead to open up any further missing persons cases and as such I had overstepped my position.’

Anna patted her shoulder. ‘Leave this with me, go and get yourself a cup of coffee in the canteen. As far as I’m concerned you’ve done nothing wrong. If Hedges had been more of a presence and kept up to date with our investigations he’d have realized the recovered jewellery had to be followed up.’

As Joan left the room Anna became more irate as she recalled how Mike Lewis had told her that Hedges had said that as far as he was concerned both investigations were now Langton’s. She decided that if Hedges should complain to her or Mike about Joan’s behaviour she would remind him of his remark to Mike and his total lack of interest concerning the investigation of a possible serial killer.

Anna, still annoyed about Hedges’ attitude, sat at her desk reading the Essex Police report about the missing girl. The case had been left open on file, with no suspects and no clues as to her whereabouts. Angela Thornton had last been seen in June 2007 on CCTV footage with two friends leaving a nightclub in the Mile End Road. The friends had said that they had all been drinking heavily and as they lived locally together they walked home, leaving Angela to get the Central Line Tube home to Epping. By the time she left the club the last Tube would have already gone. Anna looked at a map of the area and noticed how close Mile End was to Hackney and Oates’s squat.

Turning around, she could see that Mike was on the phone in his office, and so she picked up the report and knocked on his door.

‘Can I see you for a second?’

He gestured for her to come in and returned to his phone call.

‘I understand, sir, yes, yes.’ He rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

‘I understand, sir, and I will take it up with her, but now the ball has started rolling I won’t know until I have had the time to-’

Mike pulled at his tie.

‘Yes, sir, well as I just said, leave it with me, and let me get back to you.’

Mike eventually replaced the receiver, and pointed to the report in Anna’s hand.

‘If that is what I think it is, I’ve just been told off because we are apparently attempting to open up yet another murder enquiry when we are snowed under with the ones we’ve already got.’

‘Mike, you can’t walk away from this. Angela Thornton’s bracelet was in the hoard of stuff we removed from Oates’s basement.’

‘It’s not a question of me walking away, Anna, she’s an Essex “Misper” so it’s not in my hands to say whether or not-’

His desk phone rang. ‘Yes? What? Bring him in straight away when he gets here… yes, to my office.’

Mike stood up.

‘She was last seen in Mile End, which is close to where Oates…’ Anna began.

‘Let me deal with the Angela thing later. Right now we’ve got Edward Samuels coming in, he’s ten minutes away. Get Joan to arrange some tea. He’s also asked for sandwiches.’

Mike’s phone rang again and he snatched it up.

‘DCI Mike Lewis, incident room… Good morning.’ Mike covered the mouthpiece and said it was Langton, the last person he wanted to have to talk to, so Anna made her escape fast.

Half an hour later Barolli ushered the diminutive Mr Samuels into the incident room as Anna was asking Joan if she could also rustle up some sandwiches. She was very eager to hear what Samuels thought of their prime suspect, and hurried to join him in Mike’s office.

Samuels turned to shake her hand, his own almost the same size as hers. He was wearing a grey pin-striped suit with a white polo-neck sweater and had very highly polished black shoes. He drew his chair closer to the desk and opened his laptop.

‘I’ll obviously have my report typed up, but for now we can discuss, from my notes and observations, what I believe is the best way forward when you next interview Mr Oates. I have been quite thorough going over the paperwork and viewing the DVDs you sent me, but firstly let me explain how behavioural assessments work…’

Before he could continue, Joan entered with the teas and a plate of sandwiches. Samuels thanked her, saying he was hungry as he’d not had time for breakfast. Anna was quite intrigued by the way he ate – very quickly, in big bites, each of which he chewed rapidly before hesitating a moment then swallowing. It was rather like watching a hamster as his cheeks bulged and he held the sandwich in front of him poised for his next mouthful. Anna gave a glance towards Mike, who also appeared fascinated watching Samuels consume three sandwiches then reach for his tea, taking quick rapid sips before he let out a sigh of relief.

‘Ahhhh, good, feel a lot better now. I usually have a big breakfast, but this morning I skipped it, always a mistake. My mother, God bless her, always said breakfast was the most important meal of the day, sets you up.’

Anna smiled, and Mike murmured his agreement, but he was obviously a little bemused by Samuels.

‘Right, let’s get the show on the road. Now obviously I have made an assessment of Mr Oates’s personality, behavioural and lifestyle characteristics.’

‘Dr Samuels, Anna and I really appreciate your help but we wondered if you could stick to the interview strategy as we-’

‘DCI Lewis, I have not had a doctor-to-patient psychiatric session with your suspect so I am not giving any opinion regarding his fitness to plead. It is not my place to dictate how you, or DCI Travis, should conduct the interview, but I can suggest how to approach it and hopefully connect with Oates. To achieve this you must have some understanding of the person you are dealing with, particularly if you want positive rather than negative outcomes.’

Mike and Anna looked at each other, both realizing that Dr Samuels was very much on their side but his opinions and advice had to appear unbiased. He went on to explain that although the information about Oates’s family background was limited and to a large extent influenced by his ex-wife Eileen’s statement, he felt that she might be lying about some elements of her life with and without Oates.

‘In respect of the suspect’s childhood and the abuse that he endured at the hands of his mother, her lovers and in care, his wife, in my opinion, would have no reason to make these incidents up. He could have lied to her but, and this is off the record, I made some enquiries through my contacts and Henry Oates was in and out of care homes because of physical abuse. He suffered a wretched childhood and although he seriously assaulted other children he was replicating what his mother did to him. It brought him the attention he craved although he never sought pity or spoke about his abuse to his carers, so he may respond to sympathy.’

Samuels told Mike and Anna that abuse in a child incited feelings of hurt and, almost inevitably, that hurt led to a feeling of hate and a longing for revenge. He believed Oates’s running away from the care home at sixteen was an attempt to escape those feelings and make a new life for himself. Certainly at the outset he seemed to have succeeded. He found a way of suppressing his anger through boxing, held down a job, made new friends and, in Eileen, found someone who he loved and no doubt believed loved him.

‘The death of Radcliff, the boxing coach and father figure, must have been a setback for him, but he had others around him at the club who also grieved the loss. Boxing was in his mind the only thing he was good at, it gave him self-purpose. The gym was his home and his family so he continued to box and then he met Eileen.’

Whilst Samuels continued with his assessment, Anna glanced towards the window that divided Mike’s office from the incident room. She drew a quick intake of breath and looked at Mike, trying to get his attention, but he was focused on Samuels. Eventually, she coughed and at last she caught his eye. She jerked her head towards the incident room, and made a small gesture with her hand. Mike now glanced towards the window and back to her, not understanding what she was trying to tell him.

Too late, the office door was opened and Anna got quickly to her feet, as Langton, wearing one of his immaculate grey suits, pristine shirt and a dark navy tie, walked in. She was surprised to see that he didn’t have a walking stick; in fact he looked fit and healthy, and his manner seemed very breezy.

‘Edward Samuels, how nice to see you again. Thankfully it’s been a long time.’

Samuels turned and peered at Langton, who now took Anna’s chair so she had to stand. Samuels appeared unflustered and only acknowledged Langton with a disparaging nod of his head.

‘You don’t mind if I sit in on this, do you?’

Mike shook his head. Samuels had already returned to his laptop screen.

‘Shall I continue?’ He asked.

‘It’s all been very beneficial so far, sir,’ Anna said as Mike nodded in agreement.

‘Well let’s hope it’s all worth the cost this time,’ Langton said with a false smile as he gestured for Samuels to continue.

‘Right. I’d been explaining that in order to prepare an effective interview strategy you first need to consider the behavioural characteristics of Mr Oates.’

Samuels gave Langton a swift résumé of what he had already told Anna and Mike and then continued where he had left off.

‘Eileen Oates’s description of her life with Henry may or may not be true in parts, however I believe she lied about him forcing her into prostitution as her criminal record shows a soliciting conviction prior to the time they met. He married her because he believed the child she was carrying was his, he set up home with her and saw less of his friends, and his boxing career was not progressing. Discovering his wife was a prostitute ignited not only the belief that the child was not his but all the feelings of anger he had suffered as a child.’

‘Excuse me interrupting,’ said Langton, ‘but I think we are all aware of this background detail. Basically I am asking you to cut the bullshit and get to the point of your assessment.’

‘I don’t regard anything I have so far stated as bullshit, Detective Langton,’ replied Samuels with some dignity. ‘Yes you may be well aware of his background but what you do not understand is how or why he has become what he is today. If you do not understand someone or something then how can you possibly ask the right questions in the context of your investigation?’

‘That may be, but time is of the essence and as I said you are not telling us anything we haven’t already considered ourselves.’

Samuels gritted his teeth with annoyance.

‘You are missing the point. During his childhood, teens and to an extent in his marriage, Oates has pushed his anger to the back of his mind, hiding it from public view, but it continued to grow in the shadows like mould on a wall. Eventually it all boils over and the backlash starts…’

‘We all get angry at one time or another, but it doesn’t give us the right to abduct, rape and then murder women and children when we feel like it!’ Langton said whilst fidgeting in his chair.

‘I am not condoning his actions,’ Samuels pointed out. ‘What I’m saying is that his mother and wife created in him a seething desire to harm women. He sees them as objects, mere tools to vent his anger. Tell me… wouldn’t you like to see Oates repeatedly beaten to within an inch of his life or maybe you’d like to personally inflict his pain to relieve your own anger?’

‘Too fucking right I would!’ Langton shouted, and then let out a deep sigh of frustration, realizing that Samuels had used his own short fuse to make his point. He got up out of his seat.

‘I need to stretch my legs!’

‘I believe that Oates has killed more times than you are aware of and if you want him to talk to you in interview, then you need to approach him in a structured manner,’ Samuels suggested. ‘Aggressive, accusatory tactics will not work with him. There is also the danger that if you push him too far he may have a total breakdown.’

‘Carry on without me,’ Langton said as he left the room.

‘Off the record, do you think he’s a psychopath?’ Mike asked.

‘I take it that you are referring to Oates.’

Both Mike and Anna could not help but laugh and were glad that Langton had left the room.

‘Without a full psychiatric assessment it’s impossible for me to make an accurate diagnosis, but there are clear signs of antisocial, borderline and other personality disorders. The symptoms can lie dormant for years, then suddenly manifest themselves in early adulthood and are often related to traumatic events during childhood.’

Samuels was of the opinion that Oates’s mood swings drifted between mania and depression. He explained that either state of mind could last for minutes, hours, days or even weeks, rising and subsiding suddenly. It sounded to him as if Oates’s behaviour on the night of his arrest and during the interviews ranged from elated to volatile, and was arrogant, attention-seeking and at times depressed. Furthermore, Samuels believed that Oates’s skill at multiple benefit fraud showed his intelligence and ability to plan a crime.

‘He must have made plenty of money out of it but he lives a life of squalor. Why do something you don’t seem to benefit from?’ Anna asked.

‘It’s not the money,’ Samuels explained. ‘It’s the ego trip of being able to do something wrong and get away with it. He probably only stopped because he became bored with it.’

Langton returned to the room, bringing a chair in with him. He sat facing Samuels.

‘Why do you think he made a partial confession then retracted it?’ Langton asked.

Samuels stared at him as if it was a trick question, but replied anyway.

‘This is not a criticism of DCI Lewis but the interview strategy was all wrong. Oates knew the game was over as soon as Justine Marks’ body was found in the back of the van. You went in blind so he lied about her manner of death but when you said you were going to search the squat he became visibly agitated. He then said that he had killed two other women, Julia and Rebekka. You pushed him for answers and you were aggressive, whereas he wanted to be in control, for you to show him respect and listen to what he was about to tell you.’

Mike looked dejected and said nothing. Langton could see this and said that for what it was worth he would have interviewed Oates in the same way.

‘He started to admit the other murders because he thought we would find the pieces of the doll and the jewellery hidden in the fireplace,’ Anna said.

‘Yes, but when you didn’t he decided to really start playing games. You missed the clues, he felt in control and decided if you think I did it, prove it.’

‘So what’s the best way forward?’ Langton asked. Samuels handed him a folder. ‘You should try and connect with him first through general chitchat then gradually approach the sensitive subjects, but wherever possible encourage him to tell his story. Do not be aggressive with him, and look for any physical signs that he is becoming agitated or is lying. Oates does not know all the evidence against him, you do, so keep him guessing… drip-feed it into the interview,’ Samuels said and looked at Langton, inviting a reply.

Langton handed the folder to Anna.

‘Best you two get on with the prep work then we can get Oates in.’

‘I would be careful about using DCI Travis in the interview…’ began Samuels.

‘I am perfectly capable of planning and conducting a suspect interview,’ Anna snapped.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just that Oates harbours a distrust and hatred of women and may react by ignoring you or becoming immediately aggressive.’

‘Well surely that would show exactly what type of man he is.’

‘Yes, but it could also backfire on you with him saying nothing, but it’s up to you.’

Langton much to everyone’s amazement apologized to Samuels for his earlier outburst then shook his hand and thanked him for coming in. Anna took the behavioural adviser back down to reception. As they headed down the corridor, she asked him about his bill, but he said he owed Langton one so there was no charge.

There was an uneasy atmosphere when she got back to the incident room and Mike’s office was the object of much furtive attention. The team could hear raised voices and Anna was surprised to hear Mike arguing with Langton. She had never known him to stand his ground with him before.

Barolli nodded over at the closed blinds.

‘Been having a real go at each other in there. It’s about time. Langton’s always stepping in and looking over Mike’s shoulder, but reality is he’s on sick leave and isn’t chief on this investigation, Hedges is, and so he shouldn’t even be here.’

‘Correction, Paul,’ she said, ‘Rebekka Jordan was Langton’s case, so like it or not, he does have a right to be here. Myself, I’m amazed that he is even on his feet considering he’s just had surgery.’

The level of interest escalated as Detective Chief Superintendent Hedges now made an appearance. He grunted a brusque ‘Good morning’ to everyone before he joined Mike and Langton in the office.

The team were even more intrigued when Area Commander Leigh also arrived in the incident room, acknowledging Anna as she did so. Mike called for a tray of coffee to be taken into his office and Joan said she would arrange it.

‘Getting crowded in there,’ she said with a rueful smile.

Meanwhile Barbara came over and handed Anna some computer printouts.

‘What are these about?’

‘Your checks into Cherokee Jeeps paid off. Three hits in London for making off without paying for petrol, same model and colour as the stolen vehicle but using false plates.’

Anna looked through the printouts. All three incidents occurred after the Jeep was stolen in Cobham, and the last one was in Shepherd’s Bush the day before Rebekka disappeared.

‘Any CCTV of the drivers?’

‘No. Usual thing with that type of crime – garage attendant reports it, no one bothers to investigate it. There’s a verbal description taken when the report was made and each one is the right age group for Oates but other details differ.’

‘This is fantastic work, Barbara. Well done,’ Anna said excitedly.

‘Thanks, Anna.’

One hour later, Commander Leigh left with DCS Hedges. They didn’t speak to anyone, but walked straight out of the incident room. Langton eventually emerged from the office with Mike, who looked very tense as he asked for everyone’s attention and to gather round for a briefing. Anna watched Langton ease himself into a hard-backed chair. If he was in any pain he was going to great lengths not to show it.

The outcome of the briefing was that not only would the team continue their investigations into the murders of Fidelis Julia Flynn and Rebekka Jordan, but they would also be joined by ten more officers to assist in the investigation of any other cases arising from the findings in Henry Oates’s basement.

‘The ongoing searches will continue,’ Mike told them, ‘and we will use the two outer rooms to accommodate everyone, so we will be setting up desks and computers this afternoon.’

There were a lot of looks flying round the room, but not from Langton, who sat with his head bowed, staring at the floor.

‘It will be an opportunity for everyone involved to cross-reference all the evidence gathered to date, and let’s face it, we’ve got a lot going on,’ Mike concluded. ‘Any questions, save them for this afternoon’s briefing, which we will kick off at three. Lastly, but not least, Henry Oates will be brought in for interview tomorrow, so let’s get this show on the road.’

Much disruption followed this announcement as desks and chairs were found and brought in, and computers set up. Langton remained sitting by the incident board despite the mayhem that surrounded him, making copious notes. Meanwhile, Anna put in a call to the Murphys. Mrs Murphy was not at home, but her husband answered. Anna asked if he could recall again in his mind the time his wife had seen Henry Oates returning home covered in chalk dust. Mr Murphy without hesitation repeated that he was certain it was two weeks before his gates arrived. Although he had noticed Oates around for some considerable time previously, he had had no interaction with him. He maintained he remembered the date because it had scared his wife and he spoke with Oates about it when he helped with the gates. He also confirmed it was very late at night because his wife couldn’t sleep. Anna thanked him and then crossed to the incident board, where she underlined the words ‘chalk dust’ and ‘Taplow Quarry’.

‘What’s that?’ Langton asked, watching her.

‘Henry Oates was seen by a neighbour that lived across the street from his basement. The same week Rebekka Jordan disappeared, he was spotted walking home at two o’clock in the morning, covered in what he later claimed was chalk dust, said that a bag of it had fallen on him.’

Langton stared and then shrugged his shoulders.

‘It’s a massive quarry, and he tried to get work there, so he knows the area,’ Anna persisted.

‘How far from London is it?’ Langton asked.

‘It’s in Buckinghamshire, up the M40 and M4, not far from Heathrow.’

Langton sucked in his breath. ‘Point being?’

‘I think Oates was still using the stolen Jeep. He changed the plates,’ Anna said, pointing to her notes on the board about petrol thefts.

‘Try me again, what is the point?’

Anna chewed her lips. ‘It’s just supposition.’

‘I gather that,’ Langton retorted. ‘Well it’s just such a vast open space, and a good hiding place for a body, even the vehicle you transported it in.’

He nodded.

‘You been there?’

‘No. I can bring it up on my computer for you to see.’ He eased himself to stand upright. ‘Let’s go and take a look.’

‘To the quarry?’ Anna asked, surprised by Langton’s suggestion.

‘Yes, to the quarry, not a lot we can do until everyone is gathered.’

Surprised but pleased, Anna agreed.

‘Where’s he going?’ Mike asked and Joan shrugged.

Barbara indicated with a pencil. ‘They were talking about Taplow Quarry.’

‘What?’

Mike gritted his teeth and glanced over at Anna’s scrawled writing with her arrows in different colours linking locations and dates.

‘Well so long as he is kept out of my hair that’s fine by me.’

‘Henry Oates applied for a job there six years ago,’ Joan said.

Mike, still obviously very rattled, snapped back, ‘Six years! Jesus Christ, what bloody good is that to us?’

Joan flushed. ‘Angela Thornton, the girl that maybe owned the gold bracelet found in Oates’s basement, she disappeared shortly after Rebekka Jordan.’

‘Get Barolli to show it to her parents.’

Mike slammed into his office and took out a bottle of aspirin. His head was thudding, the kind of headache that cuts right across the eyes. He had accused Langton of interfering and overstepping his position, and had thought for a moment Langton was going to punch him, but instead the DCS had told Mike bitterly how he was overstepping the mark bringing in Edward Samuels without telling him. He had been, in case Mike was unaware of it, the chief investigating officer on the Rebekka Jordan case, and as such he had every right to be privy to information now the file had been reopened. Mike sighed. Now it appeared the old bastard was digging into the Angela Thornton disappearance as well.

Mike swallowed three aspirins, and drained the bottle of water. He was not looking forward to this afternoon and he knew he would have to get his act together. Langton wasn’t just looking over his shoulder, he was sitting on it.