Blood Line

Chapter Seven

Anna rang the bell to the Rawlinses’ terraced house. She had begun the day at Tina’s flat watching Liz Hawley setting up her equipment. She’d then had to rush off for this meeting just after nine. But now she had to wait a while before the door was answered. It turned out that Rose had an emergency at her home and so Anna was greeted by a close friend of Mrs Rawlins. Freda Jackson was a woman of about the same age as Kathleen, but rather more smartly dressed, and she introduced herself before asking Anna to go into the lounge. Along with Rose having an emergency, Freda also informed her that Edward had been called to replace someone at court.

‘It’s this wretched flu,’ she said as she indicated for Anna to sit down and then closed the door. ‘And I don’t think Kathleen is really up to talking to you. She’s been very confused.’

‘It’s extremely urgent that I see her, even if only for a moment . . .’

‘I really don’t advise it. And Edward insisted that we should arrange the meeting for another time.’

Anna stood up as Freda herself now sat down.

‘I know what this is about,’ the woman said. ‘Edward told me.’

‘Then you must realise the importance of clearing the situation regarding their blood tests. It is imperative we find out if it is their son who is the victim.’

‘This is a very delicate and personal matter and I want you to know that I only have both their interests at heart. I have been Kathleen’s friend for many years. We grew up together and in many ways we have been like sisters, which makes her present predicament even more distressing. In some ways it is best for Edward not to be present.’

Anna slowly sat down again.

Freda wore a pleated skirt and nervously ran her fingers along the sharp creases.

‘I obviously want you to regard what I am going to tell you with the utmost confidentiality. Would you agree to that?’

‘Do you mind if I call you Freda?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘Well, Freda, this is a murder enquiry. I will do my best to, as you ask, treat whatever you tell me with confidentiality. However, if it also has connections to my investigation then I can only promise that I will try to respect your request.’

The doorbell rang and Freda stood up.

‘I think that’ll be Rose. She said she would try and get here as soon as possible. I’ve given Kathleen her breakfast, but she needs changing and . . . excuse me.’

Anna watched Freda scurry out as Rose called that it was her, obviously having her own key to enter the house. Anna waited as they had a conversation in the hall and then Freda returned. Hovering at the door, she asked if Anna wanted a cup of coffee.

‘No, thank you. I would really like to hear what you have to say.’

Freda closed the door and sat opposite Anna again.

‘Kathleen and I have been friends since schooldays, as I said. We were like sisters, which neither of us had. I have three children, all grown up now, and we both married around the same time. I’d been married about three years before I had my first, a girl, and then shortly after I had my next two. Kathleen would always visit and she was a wonderful knitter – she made such lovely things for my babies.’

Anna glanced at the clock on the mantel, wondering where this was all leading, but she didn’t want to look impatient.

Freda continued, ‘They’d been married about five or six years and Kathleen was desperate for a child, as was Edward. At that point he was working for a sales company – the job took him away for weeks at a time. Anyway, they had numerous tests and it was whilst he was away that Kathleen told me that she had visited a fertility clinic. In those days there weren’t as many as there are now, and it was quite a new thing really.’

‘Please go on.’

‘Oh, this is awful! You know you keep secrets, never believing that one day you will have to tell them, and it was very secret. I also promised on my babies that I’d never tell a living soul, but . . .’

‘Please, Freda, tell me what you know.’

‘Well, at first Kathleen was told that Edward would not be able to conceive a child as he had a very low sperm-count. She had received the information whilst he was away and never told him. After a few months during which she had numerous tests, she went into the Chelsea fertility clinic for a laparoscopy, which is an operation to check if your ovaries are functioning properly. They discovered that she had a cyst and some other problems, and doubted that she would ever be able to conceive naturally. It was a dreadful time for her and it broke her heart.’

Freda continued to pinch the pleats in her skirt.

‘About a year later she came to me, and this is when I promised to never repeat it to anyone else. She had been to a private fertility clinic and got IVF treatment using a donor’s eggs and a donor’s sperm.’

Anna said quietly, ‘Did her husband not know?’

‘No. She kept it secret from him. She sold some diamond and gold jewellery she had inherited to pay for it. I think she had a few appointments before she became pregnant, and she only told Edward after the worrying first three months were over.’

‘And he still has no idea that Alan is not his biological son?’

‘No, none at all.’

‘I think he will have to be told, Freda. He’s very impatient, obviously, to know if we can identify Alan as the victim.’

‘Oh God, it will be so difficult! You know he never questioned that Alan wasn’t his. He was such a handsome child and his eyes by chance were mirrors of Kathleen’s – beautiful blue eyes.’

‘Did Alan himself know?’

‘No. Kathleen never told anyone, apart from me. I think it was because she carried Alan and gave birth to him, and it didn’t ever become an issue. You know how terrified she was to give a blood test? It was as if somewhere in her sad befuddled mind, she has guessed that the truth might come out. She was even more upset when they sent the doctor here to take another sample. It would also now be impossible to trace the donors as the clinic closed down years ago. Whether or not they would keep any files on record after this length of time is doubtful.’

Freda sighed and Anna quickly glanced at her mobile as she had received a text message. It was from Liz Hawley requesting she contact her immediately.

‘I’m afraid I have to go. But first—’

‘Could you tell Edward?’ Freda interrupted.

‘No, I am afraid not. It will have to come from you.’

Freda stood up and walked with Anna to the door.

‘She was a wonderful mother, and as I said, Alan looked like her and he dotes on her. He’s such a good boy. This is all very sad, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, and I am sorry for you as I am for Edward, but he does need to be told,’ Anna insisted quietly.

‘Yes, I understand. Thank you for being so kind. I will tell him this afternoon when he gets home.’

As they entered the hall there was a shrill cry from the top of the stairs. Kathleen was standing holding onto the newel-post. She had on a fresh nightdress and looked frail and frightened.

‘Freda? Freda, is that you?’

‘Yes, dear. I’m coming right up to see you.’

‘I thought it was Alan – I’m expecting him. He’ll want something to eat. I know he’s coming to see me.’

‘I’ll look after him, dear. You go back to bed.’

Anna saw Kathleen’s helpless, pleading, beautiful blue eyes, so similar to those of her beloved son. Rose guided her away from the stairs back to her bedroom.

‘There is something else, Freda. I believe Alan had a bedroom here? I really need to look over it, if that would be possible. Mr Rawlins said it would be acceptable.’

‘I am sorry, but I couldn’t allow you to, not without Edward being here. But Alan did often stay with them.’

‘I understand. Please ask Mr Rawlins to contact me.’

Anna was more than ready to leave. It was all so wretchedly sad, not to mention a major hiccup for her case.

Liz was standing outside the block of flats having a smoke when she saw Anna drive up, and she gave her a thumbs-up. Stubbing out her cigarette as Anna got out of the car, she eagerly told her that they were ready to start the Luminol testing.

‘I’ve waited because as I’ve told you, using Luminol can destroy or degrade the DNA markers in the blood. We have made some progress though in the hallway.’

‘I have news for you too. The reason the genetic tests on Mr and Mrs Rawlins’s blood samples didn’t match is because Alan was an IVF baby – third-party donors, so no inherited DNA.’

‘Ahhh. I wondered what the problem was. Throws up a larger one, when you think of how many children are now born via IVF. Any hope of getting the records of the donors?’

‘No. It was nearly twenty-seven years ago and the clinic has closed down. The wretched part of it all is, neither Edward Rawlins nor Alan know the truth.’

‘Oh dear. That’s going to be a very sad revelation for the father.’

‘Yes. Nobody else knew but the mother’s best friend, and she kept the secret.’

‘Until now . . .’

‘Yes, until now, which is a real screw-up for us as we have no way of identifying whose blood it is. It might not even be Alan’s.’

‘That does pose a problem, for us as well. Anyway, shall we go inside?’

‘Talking of blood, can I ask why, if there was so much under the floorboards, there was no smell?’

‘Number of reasons really. The replaced bit of carpet, and the bleach, would suppress it; and then you have the air current under the floorboards which would have dried it out very quickly.’

Liz led the way into the flat across the stepping plates. She had two forensic assistants waiting, both suited up with goggles hanging round their necks and face masks on.

‘Okay, due to the fact we have found so little visible blood, apart from in the bedroom, we’re mixing a Luminol solution that will increase the intensity of the glow reaction with very minute traces of blood.’

Anna got dressed in the white forensic suit, complete with her own goggles and face mask. The assistants finished preparing the mixture in a plastic spray bottle and then proceeded to close all the curtains and turn off the lights while the photographer set up his digital camera on a tripod. Liz gave the go-ahead for them to spray the Luminol on a section of the narrow hallway leading to the bathroom.

‘At first I didn’t think we’d get anything from here because, as I said, I thought the body might have been wrapped in the bedsheet, but . . .’

As one of her assistants sprayed the Luminol, four clear marks began to emit a striking bright blue glow and the photographer started taking a long-exposure picture.

‘The iron present in any blood catalyzes the chemical reaction that leads to the blue glow, revealing the location of the blood. We have a smear on the door and another on the edge of the frame. There’s no sign of any finger-or palmmarks, and as you can see they are quite low down. Their direction is towards the bathroom and from the pattern I’d say the body was carried from the bedroom in a bloodstained sheet that brushed against the door and frame.’

‘My God, it’s like a child’s glow stick.’ Anna looked at the marks previously undetected by human eye.

‘The walls and doors have been cleaned, which is why these marks were unseen until now. The bleach briefly glows very bright but fades fast, whereas the blood glow lasts for about forty seconds. Now the bathroom . . .’

One of the assistants went in followed by the photographer, with Liz and Anna standing behind them. Since the bathroom had no exterior window and the lights were off, it was very dark. The white tiles, white surrounds of the bath, white washbasin and white toilet were unmarked.

‘As the mixture is water-based we use an aerosol solution on tiles to avoid runs. We’ll start on the far edge of the bath where I found a minute trace of blood.’ Liz briefly indicated the area with a torch.

Nobody spoke as the Luminol reacted to some blood-spatter patterns that went about twelve inches up the tiled wall beside the bath. Next they sprayed the bath itself, resulting in a blue glow around the taps, plughole and down the side of the bath onto the tiled floor and edge of the toilet pedestal. Smears, spatter and wipe-marks were now visible on these areas and the wall behind them.

‘Oh my God,’ Anna said quietly.

‘Bloodbath, isn’t it? Experience has taught me it’s not uncommon for a body to be cut up in a bath, and the Luminol results in here certainly go along with that theory. Now just back out slightly and remain on the stepping plates in the area just outside the bathroom door. I would say with this much distribution, and even though I have seen a lot worse, we might get some footprints.’

Anna, the photographer and the two assistants shuffled backwards and hovered in the hallway as Liz moved a stepping plate to one side and sprayed the Luminol on the area below it.

‘Yes, we have one. Not a lot of detail, just the heel, but keep backing out and we may get more from the hall area.’

There were no further footprints or any drag marks, which Liz again suggested was because the body could have been wrapped when carried. Only when the dismembering began would there be extensive blood spillage in and around the bath.

‘I’d say the victim was dead before the dismembering, otherwise the blood-spatter patterns would have been higher up. Nevertheless, you would still get a substantial leakage from the torso.’

Anna felt faint. ‘I’m going to have to go outside for a minute,’ she said.

‘I’ll come with you. I need another fag.’

Liz gave her assistants instructions to remove the plughole and u-bend and to check the exterior drains to see what they could find – perhaps some hairs or body tissue – then went out for some much-needed air.

Anna gasped. The thought of what had happened in the bathroom made her feel like throwing up. Liz took out her Marlboro Lights and lit one. She then passed over the pack to Anna.

‘I make the excuse that smoking disguises the stench, but nowadays we’re not allowed to light up anywhere. You want one, dear?’

‘Thank you.’ Anna didn’t usually smoke that much, but needed something to calm herself down. The nicotine made her feel light-headed.

‘Talking about stench, I know there is a strong smell of bleach and some awful flowery spray, but usually if a body’s left decomposing there would be a much stronger odour,’ Liz said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been wondering . . . You are thinking that the victim was bumped off just after the last sighting of the chap, correct?’

‘Yes.’ Anna exhaled and coughed.

‘Well, whoever did the tidying-up had to have taken some time. You don’t get it all cleaned so easily. Plus areas of the carpet have been washed as well and they are bone dry, excuse the pun.’

‘We are taking it from the day Alan Rawlins went missing as being the probable time of death. That was the day he was last seen, but he wasn’t reported missing for two weeks.’

‘Ah well, the body could have been in situ for that time and would smell a bit, but I haven’t got any whiff of decomposing flesh. That’s a very pungent smell.’

‘Yes.’ Anna nodded, still trying to stop herself feeling queasy.

Liz inhaled deeply. ‘You know, maybe the killer is someone with some kind of medical or forensic knowledge. There were no hairbrushes, toothbrush, razor or anything where we would have been able to test for a DNA match. Unless they watched a lot of CSI.’ She gave a short barking laugh.

Anna checked her watch, beginning to feel better.

‘I’m going back in there now. Are you joining me?’ Liz asked.

‘No. I think after what we have discovered here I should get back to the station,’ Anna said.

‘Righty-ho. I’ll send in my report sometime tomorrow.’

Anna returned to her car. She hated the lingering smell of the cigarette on her fingers, and even though feeling less sickly she sat for a while with the air conditioner on and the windows open, taking deep breaths.

On the drive to the station Anna now had to move Tina Brooks back into number one position as the prime suspect. There was no way the young woman could not have known what had taken place in her flat. Anna also had a timeline now that made no sense. Perhaps Alan Rawlins had been murdered on the day he left his garage due to a migraine, which Tina had said was the last time she had seen him. Yet from what Liz Hawley had said, the victim could have been murdered any time in the two weeks before he was declared missing. Anna then had to consider the semen stains and hair on the linen removed from the bed. If there was a considerable time between the murder and the sex antics that went on in the bedroom, possibly two weeks after, where was the body? And now without any weapons or witnesses it was becoming more and more of a nightmare jigsaw puzzle.

In the incident room there had been little development. Paul had been trying to trace anyone who knew the drug dealer Sammy Marsh, but had come up against a brick wall. They were asking the local Cornwall police to help trace his last residence or anyone who could help with their enquiry. They had looked for any rental flats or houses linked to Alan Rawlins, but so far they had had no luck. Brian Stanley was also coming up against one false lead after another, and was still waiting for Michael Phillips’s mobile phone records. If he and Tina were in contact with each other, there was no proof of it.

Helen had been to Tina’s salon and had brought back three photographs of her. They were posed pictures of her that Tina used in the salon, and these were now pinned up on the board. By the time Anna had given the team the update from the flat, they were stunned. She also gave them the news that it was still not possible to get identification from the blood found at the flat.

‘He was not the biological son so we will not get any matching DNA from the Rawlinses’ blood samples.’

‘What about anything from his parents’ home? Did you check that out?’

‘Not yet.’

Stanley glanced at Helen and it irritated Anna.

‘It wasn’t convenient for me to do so this morning, Brian, so you can wipe that expression off your face. Anyone thought to get a DNA from Tina to see if it’s her hair found in the bed?’

Brian looked at Helen again. She shook her head.

‘Get it sorted, would you?’ Anna snapped. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. ‘We really need to get more information on Alan. We’re back to square one, but what we do know now is that the place was a bloodbath.’

‘Do we move Tina Brooks up to prime suspect?’ Helen asked.

‘Yes, but until we get more evidence we leave her hanging.’

‘Well, if she cut him up she deserves to be.’

‘Thank you, Brian, but I am now very sure it would have taken two people to move and dismember the body, dispose of it, clean the flat, and so we place Michael Phillips back up alongside Tina.’

‘But we don’t have a shred of evidence linking him to her or to Alan Rawlins!’

‘Then let’s try and find it,’ she said crossly.

Helen signalled to her that she had a call. It was Edward Rawlins.

‘I’ll take it in my office, Helen. Thank you.’ She dreaded talking to him. By now she was sure he would have been told the truth.

‘Mr Rawlins, thank you for getting back to me.’

‘I am sorry for the wasted time. You have my sincere apologies, Detective Travis – that is all I can say.’

‘I understand, Mr Rawlins, and now I really need to come and talk to you again because I need to see the bedroom that Alan kept at your house.’

‘Yes, of course. I am at home now so whenever is convenient to you.’

‘Thank you. I will come over straight away if that is acceptable.’

‘Yes, of course it is.’

She replaced the receiver. Her heart went out to the dapper little man whose voice was so strained, and for him to apologise to her for what must have been the most devastating news touched her. It must have felt as if he had lost his son twice over.

Paul knocked and said they had made some headway; they’d traced a possible contact who knew Sammy Marsh. After a series of calls to Cornwall they had been given the address of the flat owned by Marsh that was still unoccupied. They also had the details of a contact of Marsh who was closer to home, serving time at Wandsworth Prison.

‘Good. Interview this guy. What’s he in for?’

‘Drug dealing. Got an eighteen-month sentence, small stuff, but he did at one time share the flat with Sammy. His name is Errol Dante. He’s got a record for previous drug and assault charges, but nothing major. The most major thing about him is he has fifteen illegitimate kids with a variety of women. He’s a Jamaican overstayer recommended for deportation on completion of his prison sentence. He travels around seaside towns with fairground workers.’

‘See what you get from him and ask if he can identify any of the guys in the surfing picture.’

‘Will do. I’ll go with Helen, is that okay?’

‘Yes, and tell Brian to continue trawling for any other contacts in Cornwall. If we have to go there we don’t want a wasted journey.’

‘You tell him. He’s so far up my nose and he won’t like me passing on details.’

‘As the DS you’re his line manager, so deal with it.’

Anna was just about to leave to see Mr Rawlins when Langton phoned in. She spent a considerable amount of time explaining all the new developments and he listened without interruption until she told him they could not make any positive identification.

‘Why not? You’ve got his parents giving blood samples. You can’t waste time – it is imperative you—’ She interrupted him to give the reason why not. He was stunned.

‘Jesus Christ, I didn’t know that. Can you imagine how many people are giving birth with donors? It’s going to create a big mess and we could have God knows how many victims unidentified in years to come.’

‘I am just going to meet with Mr Rawlins. We might get something that’ll help, as apparently Alan still used a bedroom at his parents’ home.’

‘What? Bit late in the day. Why hasn’t that been checked out?’

‘I’ve only recently found out and it wasn’t in the original Misper report.’

‘Let me know if you uncover anything.’

‘Yes, sir!’ she said sarcastically. She knew it was a slip-up, that with luck could be rectified, if she did find anything that could help identify Alan Rawlins as the victim.

Anna drove reluctantly to the Rawlinses’ house as she knew how distressed Edward was, and now having to search the room that his son kept there was not going to help matters.

Mr Rawlins opened the front door before she had time to ring the bell.

‘Come in. Could I have a private word with you?’ he said immediately.

‘Yes, of course.’

He looked very pale and nervous as he ushered Anna into the lounge.

‘I want to ask you if the information regarding my son’s birth could be kept confidential.’

‘Yes, of course I will endeavour to respect your privacy. I am sorry that you had to find out in such circumstances. It must be very upsetting for you.’

‘That is putting it mildly. I found it hard to believe, even harder to realise my wife has kept a secret from me all these years. It never entered my head that Kathleen could have been so devious. I have to come to terms with it – I have no choice – but nevertheless I am hardly able to accept it. Alan is my son; whether or not my biological offspring, I could not have wished for a better . . .’

He hesitated. ‘He had his mother’s eyes – clear blue eyes. I never questioned that he could not be her child, and he was very like me in so many ways. The hardest thing is for me to understand the fact that Kathleen was too afraid to tell me the truth. It wouldn’t have mattered. I loved him, treasured him as she doted on him, and now with this awful situation, not knowing if he is alive or . . .’ He broke down.

Although impatient to see Alan’s bedroom, Anna was aware of the need to be considerate and said that if he found it disturbing to be present during the search then she could do it alone.

‘He used it when he stayed over. In fact, we hardly ever went in there, only to clean or remake his bed. It’s as he left it. During the time he’s been missing I have sat in there praying.’

‘Have you removed anything?’

‘No. It’s his bedroom and it’s private. It’s always been his bedroom. If Rose needs to rest she uses the spare room next to our master bedroom. Sometimes lately I’ve also slept in there because Kathleen is . . .’ He paused. ‘She’s incontinent,’ he said sadly.

Anna stood up saying she didn’t want to take any more of his time. He nodded and led her into the hall. They moved up the stairs.

‘I can do this on my own, Mr Rawlins,’ Anna reiterated. ‘I don’t want to add to your distress.’

‘Yes. I won’t stay with you. I’ll just show you the room. I have the keys.’

‘Is it locked?’

‘No, but his desk drawers are and he has a small safe.’

‘I really appreciate this, Mr Rawlins.’

They passed the master bedroom and Rose turned to smile. She was spoon-feeding porridge to Kathleen, who was sitting up on a chair close to an electric fire.

‘Rose, I am just showing Detective Travis Alan’s room. Is she eating today?’

‘A little. She’s been changed and we had a shower, didn’t we, Kathleen?’

Kathleen had her mouth open for the next spoonful like a fragile bird, her eyes vacant and staring ahead.

Mr Rawlins gestured to a closed door. ‘That’s the spare room. We are going up to the top floor now. It’s two rooms. We always intended knocking them into one to make it a larger bedroom, but just never got around to it.’

He opened a door at the end of the corridor that led to a narrow staircase. Anna followed him up onto a narrow strip of landing with two doors side by side. He opened one, stepping back.

‘This is the bedroom and the room next to it was where he used to do his homework when he came home from school. He turned it into a little office. These are the keys I mentioned you’ll need. Could you leave them on the table in the hall when you leave?’

‘If I need to take anything away, Mr Rawlins, I’ll fill out a property report and ask if Rose could check and sign it. Would that be okay?’

‘Yes, yes. Take whatever you think necessary.’

Anna stepped into the bedroom. It had a musty smell.

‘Let me open a window,’ Mr Rawlins fussed. ‘It smells stuffy in here.’

‘Please don’t bother. Thank you for the keys.’ Anna held out her hand and he passed a key ring with three small keys attached.

‘Although we had these I would never invade his privacy. They were kept for emergencies only. He was very particular about this being his private domain and I respected that.’

‘I am sure you did. Thank you, Mr Rawlins.’

He hovered at the door for a while before turning back and heading downstairs. She crossed to the slanted window and eased it open, and from there she saw Mr Rawlins walking down the path and out onto the road below. She drew a deep breath, relieved, and was now able to take in the room.

The single bed had an orange duvet, matching orange pillowslips and a white bottom sheet. Beside the bed was a small chest of drawers. On top of this were two photographs of his parents, an alarm clock and a small glass dish with some loose change. Hanging from the walls were framed certificates for swimming and gymnastics, and two insipid water-colour paintings depicting an empty beach with sand dunes. They both had a scrawled signature: Alan Rawlins, Holiday, 1995

The wardrobe just fitted beneath the slanted roof. It contained very few items; a tracksuit and a leather jacket, and folded neatly were two pairs of grey slacks and two pairs of black lace-up shoes. In a dressing-table the drawers contained three neatly folded laundered shirts, underwear and socks. Anna carefully removed each item, checking beneath and around them before replacing them. In front of the bed was a rag rug which covered a worn fitted carpet in pale green. She looked beneath the rug and under the bed, but apart from a layer of dust there was nothing else. She stripped the bed back, but the sheet and duvet cover still had creases as if the bed had been freshly made. It was a room devoid of any real personal items bar the paintings and certificates. She sat for a moment on the bed, looking around, trying to get some sense of the boy, the young man who had stayed and used this room from his childhood. It was such an empty room and probably used for exactly what Mr Rawlins had stated: somewhere to sleep when his son came to visit.

Finding nothing of interest – no hairbrush or combs that could give them a possible DNA sample – she walked out, closing the door, to enter the room beside it. She was surprised. It was very bright with quite a big window newly framed as if it had been made larger to give good light. The walls were painted white and there was the same green fitted carpet and two arc lamps either side of a good-sized desk. The computer, printer and telephone extension were all covered.

Leaning on one wall were two surfboards. They were expensive ones and both covered with a fitted black zip-up bag. Hanging up was a wetsuit, and placed neatly beneath it were goggles, flippers and a snorkel in a plastic square container. Two posters of surfing in Florida were hanging behind the desk. To one side of it was a filing cabinet with three drawers.

‘So this is where you hung out,’ she muttered, but before she opened up the drawers in the desk and the filing cabinet she made a thorough search of every corner of the room.

Her heart jumped when she found a man’s leather vanity bag. Opening it, she was hoping to find a hairbrush, comb or razor, but all it contained was some aftershave lotion, shampoo and conditioner, expensive French moisturiser and hand cream. The containers were all clean with no residue around the caps; another insight into a fastidious man’s personal belongings. There was a small leather case with scissors, a nail file and a bottle of self-tanning lotion inside. In another container she found the round surfboard-wax packets, again neatly wrapped and carefully stored. In a second part of the vanity case were numerous vitamin bottles and a packet of condoms.

Anna replaced everything in the exact position she had found it. Next she opened a cupboard beneath the large window. Inside were weights, a wall bar and a folded bicycle. There was also a Nike bag containing swimming trunks and gym gear.

Whenever she came across any clothing item she did a thorough search for evidence, but the neatness and orderliness of everything proved to be unhelpful. She didn’t find one stray hair.

Sitting on the chair behind the desk, Anna ran her finger along the wood that was covered with a film of dust, which was good because it proved nothing had been touched or removed. The drawers either side of the desk were locked. She selected a key to open them and then tried the other two, but the drawers remained steadfastly locked. None of the keys fitted. Anna got up, took the manicure set and removed the nail file. She worked on the lock of the right-hand drawer for some time before she heard the click and was able to slide it open. It contained a neat stack of bodybuilder’s magazines and surfing magazines. She checked the dates and they were all at least six months to a year old. She flicked through each, but found nothing. Disappointed, she closed the drawer and went to work on the second. Frustratingly, this took considerably longer to open. She refused to give up, even when the nail file became bent. She rattled the brass handle, sat back and slapped the top of the desk with the flat of her hand. She next tried to prise the lock with the small sharp nail scissors and got down on her knees to be on eye-level and only when she was that close did she see the scratches. Had someone else also tried to break into this drawer? She looked at the one already opened and could see the same telltale scratches.

‘Someone else has had a go at this,’ she muttered.

Sitting back on the desk chair again, she selected the nail file and this time rammed it into the lock as far as it would go. She then twisted it sharply – and bingo, it clicked open! She was certain she would find something, but pulling out the drawer, she found it contained only more magazines.

‘Shit.’ Then as she flicked over the first couple, tossing them to one side she saw the erotic pose of a muscular man. The cover was torn off, but she didn’t have to look too far before it became obvious that it was a gay man’s pornographic contact magazine. There were four more magazines of the same type and these she stacked to one side to remove from the room.

Pleased with her findings, she also found three DVDs pushed to the back of the drawer. They had sexual titles: Well Hung, Gorgeous Orgies and so on. She also placed these on top of the magazines to remove.

Anna rubbed her hands together and now turned her attention to the filing cabinet. The small keys fitted each drawer so she opened the bottom one first. There were files attached to a sliding rod and these all listed vintage vehicles, purchases of spare parts, price lists and contact numbers for sales. Each of the cars bought and repaired and customised by Alan were listed in a separate file. Photographs showed the vehicle before and after, and beside them the price it was bought for and the price for which it was sold. She was astonished at the amount of money an AC Cobra had made, and this was matched by the selling price of a Ferrari, a 280SL Mercedes and a Maserati. She worked out that Alan had made about four hundred thousand pounds from the sales. She could see by the dates that these sales covered a period of five years. Listed were the amounts he had paid to his father and the amount he had kept for himself. Considering how much they knew was in the joint bank account with Tina Brooks, it was obvious that Alan either had a separate bank account or a very big cash haul.

Anna removed the files and stacked them for removal along with the magazines and DVDs.

Drawer two was full of receipts that had been pinned together. On each one was a neat Post-it note listing dates. It took a while for her to match some of the receipts to material from the bottom drawer. They were mostly for the purchase of spare parts, from spark plugs to hub-caps and steering wheels. There were also extensive costs from a leather upholstery company for repairs and rebuilding of car seats. This secondary business Alan had run in his spare time was extremely well organised and detailed.

She noticed that some of the writing on the Post-it notes was different, and drumming her fingers on the side of the desk she made a mental note to get a sample of Mr Rawlins’s writing. She was certain that he was the other person. This would mean that he too was making a considerable amount of money on the side. Many of the purchases were cash and no tax or VAT documents surfaced. Had Mr Rawlins been up here in the room, concerned about it getting out just how much money he was being paid by partnering with his son in his little business?

Anna now opened the top drawer. This had more personal items, with piles of surfing locations and holiday brochures for Florida, the Bahamas, the Cayman Islands, Spain and Portugal, plus rentals in Newquay and numerous estate agency listings for properties in Cornwall. A few had red rings around them and all were in the vicinity of three to five hundred thousand pounds. She was unable to find anything that indicated that a purchase had been made. There was nothing that connected Alan to Tina’s flat or any mention of her. There were no bank statements; no cheque books and no credit-card statements, unless they had been removed.

Anna swivelled from side to side in the desk chair. She took off the hood from the computer. She knew it would have to be examined and hoped it would give more insight into Alan Rawlins. So far, all she had basically gained were details of the income from the sale of the cars, the gay pornographic magazines and DVDs. She was certain that their possible victim led a separate life from Tina. Anna had no indication that Tina was aware of it, but neither had she as yet discovered a motive for Alan’s murder, unless his girlfriend had found out that he led a double life. The question was obvious: was that sufficient motive to kill?