Dark Rooms

Chapter Eleven

Jane woke up with a start, worried she was late for work — until she realised it was a Saturday. Then she remembered what had taken place the previous night. She sat up and was astonished to smell bacon being cooked. She hurriedly dressed and headed downstairs, pausing when she spotted the clothes hung over the radiator. Eddie was wearing one of her towelling robes and turned to her, grinning. He held up the spatula as the bacon was almost ready. ‘Our clothes should be dry soon. You all right about last night?’

She went over and put her arms around his neck. ‘I’m perfectly all right about last night...’

He had two pieces of tissue stuck to his chin. ‘That razor in your bathroom is a bit blunt. Want an egg with this?’

‘No, just a bacon sandwich is fine. Are you always up this early?’

‘Yeah, I’m usually up at a quarter past five... and this morning we’ve got the skip arriving at seven. I’ll need to bung all that carpet into it when it comes.’

Jane fetched two mugs and the teapot as Eddie dished out the bacon onto buttered bread. He then crossed to the fridge and took out the tomato ketchup. Jane had never been with a man who had such an ease about him. He certainly had no inhibitions about wearing her robe.

‘The lads will be here between half past seven and eight, and my dad at around midday.’

Jane sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Do I need to get something for your lads to eat?’

Eddie sat down opposite her. ‘No, they’ll bring their own sandwiches, but just keep a steady flow of tea coming. I’d like to get all the sanding done today. The tricky part will be doing the stairs, but there’s a hand attachment for that. They’ll need to move all of the furniture out of your sitting room.’ Eddie seemed to be firmly back in work mode.

They finished breakfast and Eddie took their working clothes off the radiator whilst Jane began washing the dirty dishes. As she was drying up she suddenly remembered the envelope containing the Lanark family tree, which she had left on the telephone table. She put down the tea towel and went into the hall. The table had already been taken into the sitting room and the telephone was perched halfway up the stairs. She went in to see if the envelope was in the sitting room, but the small table was stacked on top of an easy chair.

She suddenly wondered if the reason Jason Thorpe had been so eager to get the photo album was actually because of the family tree. Then she remembered the conversation she’d had with Eddie about his father’s changing accent. That’s what was unsettling about Jason Thorpe, his tendency to switch between an Australian accent and an upper-crust English one. She felt certain that Jason had been acting out a role with her — but she still didn’t know why.

The skip arrived and Eddie began heaving the sections of old carpet into it. Jane stood at the open front door and asked him if he had found an envelope on the hall table beside the telephone. Eddie shrugged his shoulders and said he couldn’t remember. A short while later, as Jane was finishing cleaning the kitchen, he came in, holding up the envelope.

‘Is this what you were looking for?’

She beamed. ‘Yes, exactly... thank you so much.’

Jane put the envelope into her bag as she heard Eddie’s workers arriving. After a brief introduction, the four men finished clearing the carpets and moving the furniture out of the sitting room. Jane asked Eddie what he needed her to do and at first he said that she should just relax and go up to her bedroom to watch some TV. Jane adamantly refused, insisting she needed to help. So she was given instructions to go to a hardware shop, then on to a business associate of Eddie’s who ran a paint shop on Brixton High Street. Eddie had made a methodical list of various-sized paint brushes they needed as well as several scrapers to remove the wallpaper. Then on her return she could begin stripping the wallpaper.

At the shop in Brixton, Jane ordered the paint. She had taken Eddie’s advice and chosen mostly white matt and gloss, as well as some large cans of gloss finish for the floorboards. Ignoring what Eddie had said about food, she stopped at Tesco and bought packets of ham, bread and salad, plus two bottles of milk.

It was just after midday by the time Jane returned home. She was amazed to see how much rubbish had already been accumulated in the skip. She recalled that she had mentioned to Eddie that a lot of her furniture needed replacing, and he had obviously taken her at her word. However, it looked as though a few other people in the neighbourhood had been dumping their unwanted stuff in the skip as well.

She went into the house via the back door and into the kitchen, having to make numerous trips back and forth to her car to bring in all the supplies. It was now beginning to rain, so she grabbed Eddie’s cloth cap and his donkey jacket to fetch the remaining bags. She couldn’t have looked less like a detective inspector if she’d tried, but she was also feeling happier than she had for a long time.

Jane was just sorting out the paint brushes in the kitchen when the back door opened and a handsome, grey-haired man walked in, wearing a paint-splattered boiler suit.

‘I’ve just caught the blokes next door filling up my son’s skip, so I told them they should effing hire their own!’

Jane smiled. ‘You must be Eddie’s father?’

‘That’s right. I would’ve been here a bit earlier, but I had a complicated plumbing job on. Are you helping the lads out?’

‘Yes, as much as I can.’

He moved closer and leaned in. ‘I knew Eddie was scraping the barrel a bit for workers, but apparently this woman wants the whole house refurbished. Be a nice earner.’

Jane cocked her head to one side, removing Eddie’s cap. ‘Actually, I’m that woman.’

‘Oh, blimey! Sorry, love, I, er...’

Jane extended her hand. ‘I’m Jane Tennison.’

Eddie’s father, who had big, calloused hands, shook Jane’s hand enthusiastically and introduced himself. ‘I’m Anthony Fraser... Tony. I ’ave to tell you that you are nothin’ like what I expected.’

Jane could hardly resist smiling as his son’s description of him was perfect.

‘I was just going to make some sandwiches and a pot of tea,’ Jane said with a smile.

‘That is very kind of you... thank you. If you’ll just excuse me, I am going to let my son know I have arrived.’ Tony hurried past Jane, opening the kitchen door to go into the hall, which looked as if a sandstorm had just hit.

It was after five o’clock and Jane had been scraping wallpaper for hours. Despite having worn out two pairs of yellow marigold gloves and the fact that her right arm was aching, she had still only managed to clear one part of the wall in the hall — so she had finally given up and made herself a large gin and tonic. But Eddie and his team had worked flat out. The only break Eddie had taken was when he had joked about her meeting his father and thanked her for the constant supply of tea and sandwiches.

Jane was impressed at the way the men had prepared and then cleaned up after themselves, neatly covering furniture with dust sheets and sweeping up all the sawdust from the now-finished sanding. As the men left, Eddie came in, covered in sawdust again, saying that he was just going to return the sanding machine as he didn’t want to pay for an extra day.

‘The floorboards will take a while to settle, then we need to wash everything down, then after that the focus will be on stripping all the wallpaper. The lads can be here again by half past seven tomorrow if that’s all right with you.’

‘It’s fine with me, Eddie... they have worked so hard. They’re a great bunch of guys.’

He smiled. ‘My dad is having a look at your shower head,’ he laughed. ‘I was wondering if you’d maybe like to meet down the pub later tonight?’

‘You know something, Eddie, I think I’m going to have a long bath — unless the shower is working properly — and maybe just make a bowl of pasta.’

He cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that a no?’

‘To the pub, yes, but if you’d like to have some pasta, it would be lovely to share it with you.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll bring the wine.’

Saturday night turned out to be very special. Eddie had returned wearing a pristine white T-shirt and black jeans, with a fashionable leather jacket and the cap that Jane had used earlier. He gave no indication that he expected to stay the night with her — in fact, quite the opposite. When he’d said he would need to go back home to get his work clothes, Jane couldn’t hide her disappointment. But then he went over to his leather jacket and took out a new razor from the pocket.

‘I suppose I could always leave early in the morning and be back in time for the lads,’ he said with a grin.

If the first time they had been together was a blur to Jane, the second night was not. She had never come across anyone quite like Eddie, although she had mixed with many different types of men at the Met. He somehow always managed to make her laugh, and his physical presence was boyish one moment and very protective the next. In addition, he was a very skilful and considerate lover.

But however good he made her feel, Jane was not contemplating having a relationship with Eddie just now. With everything else she had on her plate, she decided she would just make this a casual affair.

Eddie woke her up the following morning with a cup of tea and toast. He was already dressed and ready to leave.

‘The lads should be here before eight, but hopefully I’ll be back in time to get them started... and the old geezer is also going to lend a hand.’

Jane sat up and glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was not quite six.

‘You’re out of bacon, and you’ll need some bread and butter, but I can pick them up from the corner shop on my way back,’ Eddie said.

‘No, don’t worry. I’ll do it. This is very good service!’ she said, raising her mug of tea.

‘I aim to please.’ Eddie leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek. She could hear him whistling as he stomped down the stairs, then the front door slammed behind him.

Jane didn’t bother to shower but redressed in her scruffy clothes and began dampening down more wallpaper ready to strip it. By the time Eddie’s team arrived Jane’s right arm was already aching again. She decided this morning she’d try to get to know the four lads better. She knew two of them were Portuguese, and one was Jamaican. The fourth man was an extraordinarily tough-looking Irishman. As soon as they arrived, she brewed up a large pot of tea while they took off their overcoats in her kitchen, and then stayed chatting for a few minutes until they got down to work.

They left a variety of Sunday newspapers on her kitchen table, along with their flasks and Tupperware sandwich boxes. Jane sighed as she washed up the dirty mugs and the blare of their transistor radios began to echo down the hall.

Eddie had returned and was outside piling bags of stripped wallpaper into the now almost overflowing skip. Jane had heard him giving out the orders for the day’s work, but he always did it with a laugh and a joke, and it was clear his team were happy to work hard for him. When his father arrived at midday, the repartee between father and son was quite comical and Jane found it hard not to laugh as Tony thumbed through the wallpaper catalogues.

‘In my opinion, officer, you would be better off with lining paper, and a couple of your walls will need to be replastered. My son is useless at it himself, but he knows one of the best plasterers in the business. We’re also going to check for damp around your front door as there are some dodgy patches.’

As the work continued, the incessant blast of different radio channels began to give Jane a headache. She made herself a cup of coffee to drink whilst she was looking through the wallpaper catalogues. It was only then that she noticed the headline in the partly folded News of the World: HOUSE OF HORRORS DEMOLITION GOES AHEAD. The articles had several photographs of the Stockwell property, including one of the half-demolished shelter. There were also photographs of what purported to be the concrete breeze blocks that had encased the body of the baby.

Jane knew they couldn’t be the actual ones, and had been mocked up specially. There were also pictures of the dead girl, Samantha Forgham, and a statement from her bereft mother, as well as comments from John Bishop describing the horrors discovered in the old air-raid shelter.

The article noted that the investigation was ongoing, but the police had not disclosed any details regarding arrests or even if they had identified any suspects.

The Sunday People ran a similar story, with more photographs of Samantha Forgham. This article also stated that the victim had been chained up and starved to death. The Sunday Express had some derogatory remarks about the Metropolitan Police inquiry, and though the article was not front-page news, Jane was upset by the inference that the investigation had been mishandled. It was suggested that the police had not got their priorities right and had given clearance to the development company to recommence the demolition prematurely, no doubt based on John Bishop’s statement that the company had been losing money because they had had to retain the large crew without being able to carry out any work.

Jane climbed the stairs and, as she crossed the landing to go into her bedroom, she caught Eddie wearing her police hat. Due to the loud, thudding music nobody had heard her coming up the stairs. Eddie was making some comical reference to Z Cars.

‘Z Victor 2 to Z Victor 5...’

As soon as he saw her, he quickly removed the hat.

‘We were just shifting your wardrobe to one side and one of the doors opened...’ he began sheepishly.

Jane stood in the bedroom doorway. ‘It may be funny to you but let me tell you that I worked long and hard to get that uniform... and even longer and harder to get out of it.’

Eddie put his hands up defensively. ‘Only joking, darling!’

Jane frowned. ‘I’ve just come up to tell you that I need to go into the station, so could you leave the room while I get changed?’

Eddie carefully replaced the hat in the wardrobe. ‘I need to check with my dad how they’re doing in the bathroom. I meant to ask: do you want to keep that avocado suite in the bathroom? It’s a bit sixties, isn’t it?’

‘Can we talk about that later, Eddie? And don’t worry about the bathroom. I shouldn’t be that long.’

Eddie shrugged. ‘OK. I’m going to be working late here, and I’ll need to go through all the invoices with you. I’ve agreed that we would pay the lads cash.’

Jane nodded. ‘Yes, I know that. I’ll go to the bank on Monday.’

Eddie walked past her, then turned back. ‘Listen, I didn’t in any way mean to insult you, Jane. I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.’

‘I haven’t taken it any way, Eddie. Now, can you just leave me alone?’

‘Sure,’ he said softly, closing the door behind him.

Jane was surprised to see how many officers were in the incident room, but there had apparently been a series of break-ins, one resulting in a knife attack.

Sergeant Hunt was standing at the incident board marking up the officers’ duties. He turned in surprise when he saw her.

‘Have you been brought in, ma’am?’

‘No, sergeant, I’m here because I need to speak to DCI Carter.’

‘You’ll have a hard time. He’s been out since the crack of dawn, and...’ he moved closer Jane and said under his breath, ‘Chief Superintendent Bridges is in Carter’s office, and he’ll be getting ready to oversee...’ He jerked his thumb towards the incident board, then looked back at Jane. ‘He was also asking about the Stockwell case. I don’t know if you’ve read the papers, but he was pissed off.’

Jane nodded. ‘I’ll just take my coat off then I’ll go in and see him. Did you get any information for me about Count Petrukhin?’

Hunt scratched his head. ‘Well, I got young DC Tim on that. He was going through the archives, but all this went down, and the guv was bringing in off-duty officers. I think whatever information he got he would’ve left on your desk.’

Jane nodded curtly and went to her office. She had just hung up her coat when she noticed a stack of notes and photocopies of various newspaper articles on her desk, together with a typed report. It seemed that DC Tim Taylor had actually been very diligent, contrary to what Sergeant Hunt had implied.

Jane down at her desk and drew the DC’s findings towards her. She immediately saw that the documents had been placed on top of a large evidence bag. There was a white envelope clipped to it with the words ‘Attention DCI Carter and DI Tennison’. Jane pushed DC Taylor’s information to one side and opened the envelope. It contained a report from Paul Lawrence, timed and dated Friday night.

Because the envelope was jointly addressed to her, Jane broke the seal on the evidence bag. There was an immediate smell of decay as she prised it open. She took a piece of A4 paper, placing it over the blotter on her desk, and tipped out the contents of the bag. She had handled the belt when it was discovered at the Stockwell property and had been with the foreman when it had been cut, but due to the buckle being blackened, the detailed silver filigree had hardly been visible. Now she could clearly see the engraved initials ‘HL’.

Jane licked her lips as she felt the adrenaline buzz. She was certain the belt did not belong to Henry Lanark as it was too small, and it therefore had to belong to Helena. If Helena had been the prime suspect even without any evidence, this now suggested very strongly that she had committed infanticide. There was, of course, the possibility that Beatrice or her sister Marjorie had taken and used the belt, but she doubted it.

Jane pushed her chair back. Although this new development strongly implicated Helena Lanark in the baby’s death, she still couldn’t be sure who the mother was. Jane felt it was now more imperative than ever for her to interview Beatrice Thorpe.

There was a gentle knock on her door and DC Taylor peered in.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, Superintendent Bridges would like to talk to you.’

Jane placed the palm of her hand on the documents he had left on her desk.

‘I’m really sorry, Tim, I haven’t had time to look over the work you’ve done.’

She stood up, suddenly wishing that she had at least showered or washed her hair before coming into the station.

‘It was interesting research,’ Tim said. ‘But it took hours trying to trace Mrs Lanark’s family. Also, there were a number of confusing birth dates. I was told at the archives that around that period it was quite normal for high society ladies to reduce their ages by changing their date of birth.’

Jane frowned. ‘Judging from the photographs of Muriel Lanark on her wedding day, surely she would not have done that. She looked very young anyway.’

‘That was my problem. She’d added five years on to her age.’

Jane was shocked. ‘My God! How old was she when she married Henry Lanark?’

‘She was only fourteen, but she said she was nineteen. I’ve also been able to get death certificates for Aida Petrukhin and Count Antonin Petrukhin—’

Jane interrupted. ‘This is good work, Tim. Did you find any information on Muriel’s her jewellery?’

He hesitated. ‘Not too much... but there was definitely money in the family and reference to a valuable tiara brought from Russia.’

Jane nodded. ‘I’ll have a look through everything after my meeting with DCS Bridges. While I’m with him could you do me a favour and contact the Stockwell planning department and the developers? I meant to do it myself but got distracted. I need to know how much Jason Thorpe sold the house for and if he still has any material interest in the development.’

‘You think Thorpe might have done something dishonest?’ Tim asked.

‘Well, let’s just say I don’t entirely trust him.’

Detective Chief Superintendent Bridges appeared at her open doorway.

‘I was just coming to see you, sir...’ Jane said quickly.

DCI Bridges gestured towards DC Taylor to leave them and closed the door. Bridges had a rather bloated face, and his nose was particularly bulbous. His hair was cut army-style, with short back and sides; in fact, everything about him had a military air. He had quite a reputation as a disciplinarian as well as being known as an officer who had come up through the ranks. Standing with his feet slightly apart, he folded his arms across his substantial chest and looked at Jane with steely eyes.

‘Detective Inspector Tennison, I have a lot of questions I need you to answer, specifically about your handling of the Stockwell “House of Horrors” inquiry...’