Clean Cut

Chapter Eight

Tom Adams, the landlord of the property in the New Forest rented by Gail Sickert, had done little with it since she had gone. The partly built henhouse that Sickert had been working on was left boarded up; stacks of planks leaned against it. The chickens had been sold, but Adams still made regular visits to feed the pigs and goat. Finding another tenant was not easy; the bungalow required extensive renovations.

Everything had been left half-attended to, from the manure heap to the broken fences. Children’s toys still littered the bare lawn, and the drive had even more potholes due to the heavy rain. Driving his old jeep, as he arrived to feed the animals, Adams crashed the gears as it plunged into a small crater. Swearing, he continued round to the pigsties.

Tipping their food into the troughs, he was thankful that they at least had been left behind. The pigs had come as part of the deal; Gail had agreed to feed them and clear out the walled pens. When the time was right, they, too, would be sold. Adams sloshed through the mud to get the rakes for clearing up the sties, turned on a hose and began to swill down the pens as the pigs gobbled up their food.

Moments later, a patrol car hit the same mud-filled crater as it drove into the yard. Two uniformed local officers got out and approached the stinking pigpens, mindful of the mud and sewage that covered the old cobbled yard.

‘You found my tenants then, have you?’ Adams greeted them, switching off the hose. ‘I was just thinking, at least they didn’t take me effing pigs, but they left the place in about the same state. I don’t think that woman cleaned the house once since they moved in.’ He crossed to a small digger, and climbed up.

‘Mr Adams? We’ve had an enquiry about your tenants; have you had any contact from them?’

‘I’m not likely to, am I? They left owing me two months’ rent.’

One of the officers put his hand over his mouth. ‘The stench is terrible,’ he said, gagging.

‘It’s worse than usual, ’cos they’ve not been cleaned out. I was just hosing down the pens before you came.’ The man turned, pointing to the manure heap. ‘I’m going to have to shift that over to the back field; they just bloody dumped it! You see the henhouse? They got me to pay for the wood to rebuild it — and look at it!’ He started up the engine and headed for the manure heap.

The two officers stood around for a few more minutes and then took off, climbing back into the patrol car. They were almost at the end of the drive, when Adams came running after them, waving his arms and hollering at the top of his voice. They pulled up and the officer in the passenger seat rolled down his window.

‘Jesus Christ, you’d better come back and see what I’ve found!’ he said, then rested his hand against the side of the patrol car and threw up.

The partly decomposed body was minus limbs. But even in the appalling state of mutilation, the body half-caught in the shovel of the digger was obviously a female.

Anna was in bed reading, when the phone rang. It was Brandon. He didn’t waste time apologizing for the late-night call.

‘I thought you’d like to know: the local police sent to check on Gail Sickert reckon they have found her body.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah, and it gets worse. They think she may have been partly fed to the pigs; her limbs are missing. They can’t be one hundred per cent sure it is her.’

‘Dear God.’

‘Yeah. So far, they’ve not found any remains of her kids. They asked for you to be contacted.’

‘Why me?’

‘You called them to check on her whereabouts, right?’

‘Yes — yes, I did.’

‘Well, they want to see you. They’ll also need her mother to identify the remains. You’ve got her contact numbers, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘No need to do anything tonight; call them in the morning. The murder enquiry will be out of our jurisdiction, so nothing more to do with us.’

‘I’ll do that, thanks.’

Anna replaced the phone, and then lay back on her pillow. There was no way she would call Beryl Dunn herself; she would give her details to the station and hopefully that would be all. At the same time, she could not help but feel guilty; it was hard to take in the full horror of what might have taken place. She couldn’t get out of her mind the memory of the dirty little child in her play swing.

Unable to sleep, she got up, made herself a cup of tea and telephoned the station in the New Forest. She was told that there was no one she could speak to at that time of night, and that she should call the next morning and ask for a Detective Inspector Brian Mallory. She gave her name, and said that she had been an investigating officer on a murder enquiry dealing with Gail’s brother, Arthur Murphy.

‘I’ll pass the message on.’

‘Has the victim been identified yet?’

‘I’m unable to give you any details, DI Travis.’

She was afraid he was going to cut her off. ‘Just one moment — I also would like to give you a contact number, in case the victim needs to be identified. Mrs Beryl Dunn is Gail Sickert’s mother.’

It seemed to take an interminable time for the duty Constable to take down the details. Anna ended up leaving her mobile number with him.

At seven-thirty the following morning, as Anna stepped out of the shower, her mobile phone rang. It was Mallory. He sounded very edgy.

‘Detective Inspector Travis, I would really appreciate it if you would come to the station first thing this morning. You apparently called last night? I would really like to talk to you.’

‘Have you managed to contact Beryl Dunn?’

‘Not as yet.’

‘Has anyone identified the victim?’

‘No, and we have as yet not found any other remains.’

‘Thank God.’

There was a pause. ‘Detective Travis, the victim is still at the site. Could you meet me there?’

‘Is it necessary?’

‘Yes, it is. We have got a management team organized. How soon can you get here? It’s just I would like as much information as possible, before an MIT team comes on board.’

Anna said she would meet him at ten, which gave her plenty of time to drive there. She wasn’t stupid; she knew they were unable to say whether or not the body was Gail Sickert. That’s what they needed her for; only then would they contact a relative for a formal ID.

Nowadays, the police system was run so differently from the way it had been in the past. Most local police stations dealt with traffic, burglary and any locally connected crime; murder was now only dealt with by a qualified and experienced team of specially trained detectives. An incident room would be set up at the local station and used as a base by the new team. Pathologists and forensic scientists would be brought in as quickly as possible. Anna hoped that by the time she did get to the bungalow, the murder team would be in motion and she could therefore get away as soon as possible.

The rain was lashing down and the drive to the bungalow awash; a number of patrol cars were parked up on the edges. She drove through the puddles and potholes as far as she could before a uniformed officer, wearing a cape, signalled for her to stop. She gave her name and said that she was here to meet Detective Inspector Brian Mallory. She was directed round to the back yard and asked to leave her car parked in the designated area.

Anna was glad she had put her Wellington boots and umbrella into the passenger seat-well. She wove her way round thick pools of mud and slime, and approached the yellow police crime scene cordons. She could see a lot of white-suited forensic officers moving in and around the area, their wagon parked up. The digger had been moved back and they were erecting a big white tent to cover the partly dug manure heap.

‘Is Detective Inspector Mallory here?’ she asked a female officer, who was standing with a big black umbrella.

‘Far side of the piggery, under the tarpaulin,’ she said.

Anna skirted around the crime scene ribbons towards the makeshift shelter. The officers were huddled together, as the rain was now even worse. Parked over to one side, away from the action, was the catering truck known as Teapot One.

Anna ducked beneath the tarpaulin and shook her umbrella outside.

‘Hi, are you Detective Inspector Travis?’

Anna gave a tight smile. ‘Yes, I’m DI Travis. Are you DI Mallory?’

‘Yes.’ Mallory was a thick-set man with iron-grey cropped hair and a red face with puffy cheeks. He reached out a big, thick-fingered hand to shake hers. ‘Thanks for coming; you want a coffee or tea?’

‘No, thank you.’ She looked around. ‘This is pretty grim.’

‘We’ve got masks if you go into the forensic tent, but it’s pretty well stinking all round. The pigs have been shut up, but they’re going to be moved out this morning by the landlord.’

The stench was getting to her, and she wrinkled her nose with distaste. ‘Wow, this is bad, isn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘We can talk in one of the patrol cars.’

‘I’m fine here, but I would like a mask.’

‘Right, I’ll get one for you.’

The other men under the tarpaulin were all in uniform; she gave a small nod to them, as Mallory returned with a mask in a plastic bag.

‘Have you found any other remains?’ she asked.

‘No, but then we didn’t do much of a search until we had the forensic teams in. We didn’t know what we should do. You know these murder teams like to get busy and not have their crime scene messed up, so I did it by the book. To be honest, we can’t cope with a major incident like this.’

Ripping open her plastic bag, Anna took out the mask, hooking the strings round her neck and pushing it up over her nose and mouth.

‘Who’s handling the investigation?’ she asked, her voice muffled.

‘Not been informed; being here, I’m not up to speed about what’s going on at the station.’

‘Anyway, you wanted to talk to me?’

‘Yes. You came here to interview Gail Sickert, or Summers, as she was called. I know you came back for a second visit.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, we took your report seriously. I sent two men out here, but they didn’t get into the place; then when you contacted us again, I sent them back and…’ He nodded over to the white tent that was now almost fully erected and the forensic experts getting ready to check over the corpse. ‘We will have to pull down the henhouse and check around the pigpen, but we can’t really do that until the animals have been moved out.’

Anna nodded and then, without being asked, gave a detailed explanation of why she had been at the bungalow and her subsequent meeting with Gail Sickert’s mother. ‘I did explain to the station last night.’

‘Yes, I know, but the phone number for Mrs Dunn has been cut off — bill unpaid — so we are getting someone from Newcastle on standby to visit her. We’ll need to ID the victim if possible.’

‘She had three children,’ Anna said quietly.

‘I know. Like I said, we’ve not done a thorough search so we won’t know yet. I’m praying to God we don’t find them, but they could be anywhere around this awful place.’ He turned away, his red cheeks puffing out like a blowfish. ‘Worst scenario is they might have been cut up and…’ He shook his head. ‘Terrible to even think about it, but it’s been done before. Pigs’ll eat anything.’

Anna pressed her mask to her face and glanced over to the white tent. ‘Well, let’s do it. Have you asked the landlord to look at her?’

‘Yes. He couldn’t say either way. She’s pretty decomposed, partly due to the manure eating away at her.’

Anna stepped out and put up her umbrella. Mallory followed and they headed towards the tent.

Inside the tent, the only good thing that could be said was that it was dry. The stench was overpowering and her mask didn’t give much relief. She was guided towards the white plastic floor sheeting; lying exposed was the head and torso. Anna had by now been on a number of very gruesome murder cases but this was, if possible, one of the worst.

The dead woman was naked, apart from a pink brassière around her exposed breasts. Her arms and legs were missing, and her face and body were covered with manure and millions of maggots. Her thin blonde hair covered one side of what was left of her face. Anna could only see her profile.

‘Can you move the hair away for me, please?’ Anna asked one of the scientists. He knelt down and, using a thin wooden spatula, eased back the mud-clogged hair.

Anna had to lean in very close; she moved around to the other side, staring down at the remains. She straightened up.

‘I can clean her face up a bit more if you like?’ the scientist suggested; Anna nodded. With a tissue, he carefully wiped some mud and grime away and gently turned the dead woman’s head to face upwards.

Again Anna bent down; this time when she straightened up, she was certain.

She looked towards Mallory. ‘Yes, that’s Gail Sickert.’

‘Oh,’ he said flatly, and gestured to the body. ‘I was just hoping it wouldn’t be her, because of the children.’

Anna thanked the forensic scientist who had cleaned Gail’s face. He gave a rueful smile. ‘This is going to be a very unpleasant job. We’ve got a lot of area to search for any other remains. I’m getting help shipped in; we are going to need it.’

Anna returned to the station with Mallory, who would now give the go-ahead for Beryl Dunn to be contacted and brought to the mortuary. At least she would not have to see the state in which her daughter had been discovered.

Anna followed Mallory into the local station’s small car park. He was talking on his mobile as he gestured for Anna to go in ahead of him. By the time he joined her, he was looking even redder in the face. Anna thought that perhaps he had been given more news about the children.

‘Have they found more?’ she asked.

‘No no, that was from Scotland Yard homicide division; they’re sending in some DCI to handle the case.’

‘Did they give you a name?’

‘No, they didn’t. But it’s unusual, isn’t it? I mean, we’re in the sticks out here. To be honest, I’m way out of my depth,’ he continued as he ushered Anna towards his office. ‘We’ve had a number of bodies over the years — you know, dumped in the forest — but not like this. I’ll be glad to hand over the reins.’

He plumped his wide backside into a swivel chair, saying, ‘I just need to take down all the information,’ and searched in a desk drawer to take out a statement notepad.

Anna sat opposite him. ‘Perhaps they are interested because of the victim’s connection to Arthur Murphy?’

‘Could be.’ He was now looking for a pen.

‘The SIO on the Murphy case was a DCI Sheldon.’

He shook his head and then patted his pockets. ‘Got it. Right, let’s go from the top. The first time you met Gail, she was using the surname Sickert; previous to that, Summers, and her maiden name was Dunn — that all correct?’

It was painfully slow; Mallory wrote everything down in full, constantly holding up his hand for her to pause. He would reread everything she had just said, before he continued.

‘And on these two occasions you met her, did anything else happen?’

Anna described the interaction with Sickert, but did not mention the threat he had made to her. She just said he was very aggressive.

‘Can you describe him? You say his Christian name was Joseph.’

Anna nodded and then tried to conjure up his face; she was only really able to give the details that he was black, wore his hair in dreadlocks and that he was very well-built and over six feet tall.

‘Did she seem afraid of him?’

‘Yes. She was worried by the presence of the police.’

‘I see. So far, we have been unable to trace him. We’ve got prints from the house, but we’ve no previous on him.’

‘Yes, I was told.’ Anna looked at her wristwatch, impatient now to leave.

‘Can you describe the children?’

‘Well, the youngest child, Tina, is a toddler. There was a daughter Sharon, blonde and very skinny; I think she is seven. The boy, Keith, I only saw once. I am sure the local school will be able to give you more details, as will the social services.’

Anna stood up as his desk phone rang. He excused himself for taking the call.

‘DI Mallory.’ He listened, then put his hand over the phone. ‘It’s Newcastle; they’ve traced the victim’s mother.’

‘I can show myself out, all right?’

He nodded and returned to the phone call. By the way his cheeks puffed out, she knew it was someone important. She made her escape fast, closing the door quietly behind her. As she passed through the station, she saw an incident room being set up: the telltale desks being moved along a corridor and two officers carrying computers. She pressed her back against the wall as they squeezed past, then continued out to the car park, where she sat for a while in her car. She could still smell the stench on her clothes. She closed her eyes, not wanting anything more to do with the hideousness, but it lingered like the smell of death mixed with manure. She hoped to God they would not find the remains of the children.

The first thing Anna did when she got home was shower and wash her hair to get rid of the stench. As she stepped out of the shower, her landline rang. She wrapped a towel around herself to answer it.

‘Anna?’ Langton’s voice sent shockwaves through her.

‘Yes,’ she said, almost inaudibly.

‘I’m going to head up the murder enquiry.’

She remained silent.

‘You were out there this morning.’

‘Yes.’ She was shaking.

‘I asked to be put onto the case. You will obviously know why.’

She swallowed.

He continued. ‘I don’t want there to be any mention of Sickert’s taped shouting match with you. Did you bring it up at all?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I’ll mention it when it’s the right time, but it’s obvious that there would be grave concerns if there was a direct link to my attack. Hampshire police are setting up the incident room; I’ve got Mike Lewis on board, and—’

She interrupted him. ‘Why are you calling me?’

‘Because, like it or not, I have requested you join my team.’

‘No!’

‘What?’

‘I said no. I’m sorry, I just don’t think under the circumstances it would be—’

‘Bullshit! Whatever our personal differences are, we leave them out of it. I want you with me.’

‘I can’t, I’m sorry.’

‘Yes, you can.’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘Listen to me! You don’t have any option.’

‘I will not work with you!’

‘You are the only person who can recognize this Sickert bastard! You also have to feel some guilt about what has happened.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘That’s more bullshit! I know you, and I know you knew the victim; if they find her kids buried with her, you will want to be on the enquiry. The bastard chopped her to pieces, Anna.’

‘You shit!’

He ignored this and went on. ‘I’m on my way there now, so the sooner you can get yourself back to the murder site, the better. Also, I’ve brought in Harry Blunt, as Barolli wasn’t available. Plus I’ve asked for some serious back-up on the forensic, as it’s apparently a hell of a job and Hampshire police are a bit out of their depth. Anna?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I really do not want to work with you, so I am asking you again: please, get someone else.’

‘See you there as soon as you can make it.’ He cut off the call and she stood there holding the receiver, still dripping from the shower.

Right, she thought. If this is the way he wants it, fine! He’s not going to make me act unprofessionally, no way. I’m going to be there, DCI Bloody Langton, and I’ll show you how I can act as if nothing had ever gone on between us!

It was after three when Anna returned to the bungalow. This time, she was dressed for the rain and filth. She didn’t use her umbrella but wore her raincape and headed straight for the crime ribbons. The first person she saw, looking very green, was Harry Blunt.

‘Afternoon, Harry,’ she said.

He turned. ‘Dear God, the stench in the forensic tent is overpowering. I’ve already puked up.’

‘DCI Langton in there, is he?’

‘Yeah, with his pal Mike Lewis. Have you got any spearmint?’

‘No. Sorry.’

‘So, back together sooner than you thought, eh?’

‘What?’ She thought he was referring to her and Langton.

‘You and me.’

‘Oh yes.’ She pulled on her white paper suit and overshoes as Harry stripped off his.

‘I’m going over to the incident room,’ he said. ‘They’re taking her to the mortuary any time now, so I’ve made excuses — anything to get out of here.’

‘Not found any other remains?’

‘No, thank Christ, but they’re not even in the piggery section yet. They’ve been carted off, the pigs; apparently the landlord of the place swilled everywhere down and hosed their pens, so maybe we won’t find anything. I hope to God we don’t.’

Anna fixed her mask in place, and drew back the flap of the tent to go back in.

Langton was kneeling, leaning in very close to the body. As he straightened, he saw her and gestured for her to come to his side. Her heart felt as if it was going to explode in her chest; she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She clenched her teeth to maintain control, thankful the mask hid part of her face.

It was as if the past eighteen months of living with him had never happened and the horror of his injuries had not taken place. He showed no sign of any kind of emotion on seeing her; on the contrary, he was cold and professional, even down to the tone of his voice.

‘You’ve identified her, right?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Do you want to take another look, just to be certain?’

‘They have contacted her mother.’

‘I know, but it’s going to take some time to bring her here from Newcastle, so I’d like to be sure.’

Anna bent down and again looked at the mottled, beaten face of Gail Sickert.

‘Yes, it’s her.’

‘Good. Right, we might as well let her go to the mortuary now, so we can head back to the incident room.’ Langton gestured to the forensic team. ‘They’re going to have to sift through that heap of bloody manure and then do a search of every inch of the place. He could have fed the kids to the pigs, but the landlord—’

She interrupted. ‘I know — he swilled the pens down.’

‘Right.’ Langton walked ahead of her and lifted the flap to exit.

Anna followed and began to remove her paper suit. He was already rolling his into a tight ball and chucking it into the bin provided.

‘You remember the Fred West case?’ he grunted.

‘Of course I do.’

‘The only way the teams could sift through his stinking garden was to shovel everything through women’s tights. We’re a bit more advanced, but not that much, so these poor bastards have a filthy job on their hands. We’re looking for bone fragments; anything that might indicate the children died here as well.’

Anna followed him as he strode across the muddy yard; the rain had stopped, but the puddles were still deep. He was wearing big black Wellington boots and his old brown Driza-Bone raincape. As he reached the area where the squad cars were parked, she saw him light a cigarette. So much for his health regime!

Langton turned and saw her Mini parked on the bank at the side of the potholed drive. ‘See you there.’

He got into the patrol car and was driven away. He had shown not so much as a flicker of emotion, nor had he made any reference to the situation between them. It was hard for her to be able to maintain her cool, but Anna felt that so far, she’d done well. Question was, would she be able to keep it up?

The incident room in the Hampshire station was still pretty rough, but they had shipped in more computers and there now were eight desks. Anna placed her briefcase onto her allocated desk next to Harry Blunt’s; he was sucking peppermints.

‘Christ, the stench clings to you, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ she said, taking off her jacket and placing it onto the back of her chair.

‘You think the fucker fed the kids to the pigs?’

‘Harry, I don’t know — but like you said, I hope to God he didn’t.’

Langton walked in and signalled to Anna to join him.

‘I want you to sit with the artist we’ve brought in from London and get an Identikit picture of this Sickert. We need it out as fast as possible. We’ve no trace on him or any kind of record, so he’s using an assumed name, is an illegal immigrant, whatever. Wherever he is, if he’s still got the kids with him, he’s going to be easier to trace.’

Langton turned to Mike Lewis, who gave Anna a half-smile of acknowledgement as he handed over photographs. ‘Local school had these taken at half-term, so they’re up to date: a boy aged six, and a girl aged seven, both white…’

Anna interjected, ‘The baby, the little girl I saw, was also white, about eighteen months old.’

‘She’s twenty-four months,’ Langton said. They had reports on her from the local clinic. He gestured at the board: as yet, it was empty. ‘We are hoping Gail’s mother will bring some photographs of the victim, but we want these kids’ faces up there and out to the press. So, Anna — get cracking on the drawing, and then work on an ident computer image. We want it out asap.’

The whole place was hopping. The local officers attached to the investigation were running around like scalded hens. Langton threw out instructions and orders at such a pace, you could see them virtually tripping over each other.

Anna sat for over an hour with the artist. By that time, he had a likeness, or as much of one as she was able to remember. They then worked together on the computerized images to see if she could better it.

Langton walked in and leaned against the back of her chair. ‘How much longer?’

‘I am going as fast as I can,’ the artist said.

Anna remained silent and concentrated on the computer image. She could feel Langton close, almost touching her; she moved away slightly.

‘Okay. As soon as you are through, Anna, I want you in the incident room for a briefing.’

She was about to say something when he walked away.

Anna was printing off the images of Joseph Sickert when she was called to Langton’s office. This was connected to the incident room, but was very small and cramped.

‘Is this about the briefing?’ she asked.

‘That tape recording of Sickert — you still have it?’

‘Yes, I’ve brought it in.’

‘Good. You can leave it with me.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

She walked out and returned to her desk. She had just taken the tape out from her briefcase, when Langton appeared and bellowed that he wanted everyone gathered for a briefing. As he made his way to stand in front of everyone, she noticed that he limped slightly; maybe the damp and wet from the piggery had got to him. She thought how much she would have liked to tip that manure over his head.

‘Okay, everyone, listen up.’

They gathered round, the locals standing at the back of the room. By now, the incident-room board had been worked on. Photographs of the two children and the sketch of Sickert were now pinned up. There were also numerous other pictures and details that Anna was unable to check out at that moment, as everyone was focused on Langton.

‘We have a pretty solid ID of the victim made by DI Travis, but we will still need her to be formally identified by her mother, who should be here around six o’clock. The mortuary by then will have cleaned up the victim; she will be covered so as to cause as little anguish as possible. We have the children’s photographs, as you can see; as yet, no remains have been recovered. We also have an Identikit picture of our suspect, known as Joseph Sickert.’

Langton continued the briefing, covering the ground usual at this early stage of an enquiry. The post mortem and subsequent report would not be available to them for some time; all they knew was that the body had been mutilated; her arms and legs were still missing. He told everyone that it was imperative they get as much help from the locals, the social services and the local stores.

‘They lived there for over a year, so they must have known plenty of people. So get out there and find out as much as you can. The focus is on Sickert: we have to find him. We need to track down anyone with any information.’

Langton went on, asking for the landlord, Tom Adams, to be pumped for more information. The pigs had been taken to another location; the police would perform tests and possibly even slaughter one or more to find out if they had human remains in their intestines. He made everyone laugh when he said that Adams was up in arms about them being slaughtered; he’d said, in a state of fury, that they were not ready. He planned on feeding them up before selling them onto the market and it would be down to the police to pay for them!

Langton then gave a brief rundown of what they had otherwise been able to get from Mr Adams: he did recall Joseph Sickert, and had had a few exchanges with him, as he had done with Gail’s previous husband. Adams had agreed to pay Sickert some money, as the man had said he would clean the piggery and build a henhouse.

The only other person that Adams admitted to seeing at the bungalow apart from Gail’s children was…’ Langton smiled and lifted a statement.

‘I’ll quote his actual words, so no one’s going to aim anti-racial slurs at me. Mr Adams says, “There was another darkie standing in the kitchen, but if it wasn’t for his hair being shorter than Sickert’s — he wasn’t wearing that carpet thing on his head — I wouldn’t have known if it was him or not, as they all look alike to me!’”

Anna had to hand it to him; Langton was a performer, able to mimic Adams to perfection. The team smiled.

Langton held a long pause before continuing. ‘One last thing. I don’t know how much you have been told about my recovery, but to assuage any gossip, I have been given the all clear — upstairs and down. I intend to give this case one hundred per cent and I want each and every one of you to do the same. I want this man Sickert caught. He is our prime suspect.’

He did another one of his famous pauses and tapped a desk with his pencil.

‘Travis and Harry Blunt got a tip-off in their investigation of Irene Phelps’s murder from a photograph of Gail Sickert’s: Arthur Murphy was hiding out with a known criminal and child molester, Vernon Kramer. They were able to pick up Murphy because of his association with Kramer. Kramer may well have fathered Gail’s youngest child. Our missing suspect would also have known Kramer, so I am making him a priority. I want to interview him as soon as possible—’

Langton was interrupted by Mike Lewis, who had taken a call at his desk.

‘Sir, could you please take this call? It’s from the murder site.’

The room fell silent as Langton picked up the phone. He said little, listening to the caller; it seemed to take an interminable time until he ended the call with a long sigh. He then faced the room.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry — it’s not good. They have just discovered the skull of a small child.’