Dark Rooms

Chapter Twelve

DCS Donald Bridges sat opposite Jane as she carefully went through the details of her investigation. She made no reference to her suspicions regarding possible fraud at the Stockwell property or her interest in the valuable jewellery. Instead, she focused on the possibility that Helena Lanark had buried the baby and the importance of questioning her younger sister, Beatrice.

Bridges began to tap his foot impatiently.

‘If Helena Lanark has dementia, even if you were to uncover enough evidence to arrest her, she wouldn’t be capable of standing trial.’

‘I know, sir, but I do think we need closure on the case by confirming exactly what took place in that shelter.’

Bridges frowned. ‘Have you contacted this sister? I mean, if she’s of a similar age, is she mentally sound?’

‘I have been unable to speak directly to Beatrice Lanark, sir, whose married name is Thorpe. Her son, Jason Thorpe, is extremely protective. He is aware of what was discovered at the Stockwell property, and he also has power of attorney for Helena Lanark’s estate.’

DCS Bridges leaned forward.

‘Detective Tennison, I have to consider the costs of a trip to Australia to question Beatrice Lanark, and presently there is absolutely no budget for that.’

‘I understand, sir, but as I’m sure you are aware from the appalling weekend press, it has been suggested that we have allowed the Stockwell property to be demolished before concluding our investigation. I am not making any accusations about unprofessional conduct, but I have only recently been given a piece of evidence that should have been examined immediately on the discovery of the dead baby.’

Jane had purposefully held her trump card back and now she opened the drawer in her desk to remove the forensic evidence bag delivered by DS Lawrence.

‘Sir, Helena Lanark moved from the Stockwell property many years ago. It remained boarded up until about ten years ago when her nephew, Jason Thorpe, was given permission to convert it into flats. The agreement was that no tenant could use the basement of the property or enter the garden. As you know, sir, the shelter was accessed via a tunnel from the basement.’

Bridges started tapping his foot again, impatiently. ‘Yes, yes... I have read the report.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I just need to make it very clear to you that it is obvious Helena Lanark knew what was in that shelter. But when she was diagnosed with dementia, the Stockwell property was sold to a developer and placed under a demolition order.’

Bridges frowned. ‘Are you inferring that this Jason Thorpe is involved?’

‘No, not at all... I believe he was totally unaware of not only the first victim, Samantha Forgham, but also of the baby.’

Jane carefully opened the evidence envelope and eased out the belt. ‘This is the belt that was used to secure the breeze blocks. It had been tied so tightly that we had to cut the leather. As you can see by the size, sir, it is very obviously a woman’s belt.’ DS Lawrence carefully examined the buckle of the belt and discovered it was a costly-looking silver filigree design with monogrammed initials.

Jane could see that she now had Bridges’ total attention. He reached forward and looked carefully at the buckle.

‘HL... Helena Lanark. I see.’

Jane had been hoping for a bigger reaction. Bridges walked to the door then turned back.

‘Fine. I agree with you, Detective Tennison, we do need closure on this, and we also need to quieten the bad press. So find out whether Beatrice Lanark is able to be interviewed.’

As soon as Bridges closed the door, Jane put in a call to Arnold Hadley’s law firm, only to be reminded that he had retired and was no longer acting for the company. They would now be looking after his client, Jason Thorpe. But it didn’t take much persuasion for them to give her Arnold Hadley’s home number and when Jane queried the area code, she was told that it was Brighton.

Jane was just dialling the number when there was a knock on her office door. Barbara, now even blonder, entered in her usual over-casual manner.

‘TT asked me to hand this to you,’ she said breezily. ‘Everyone is caught up out there. I don’t know if you’ve been told, but DCI Carter has got eight arrests for all these break-ins. We’ve had to bring in two other clerks to cope with all the paperwork, never mind getting solicitors and God knows what, and—’

Jane held up her hand. ‘Excuse me, who is TT?’

Barbara waved her notebook. ‘Oh, that’s DC Tim Taylor... he’s had to go down to the cells, but he asked me to list some archive material that he felt you would be interested in.’ She started to rip out the page from her notebook. Jane held up her hand again.

‘Would you please type it out. I don’t want it scribbled on a piece of notepaper. In future, if you have anything for me, I’d be most grateful if you would present it to me in a professional manner.’

Barbara pursed her glossy pink lips.

‘Yes, ma’am. But I’m actually just doing this as a favour. It is a Sunday, you know, and it’s bedlam out there!’ With that she flounced out of the room, leaving the door open.

Infuriated, Jane got up to close the door and could immediately hear the commotion coming from the incident room, where it seemed that a jubilant DCI Carter was being congratulated on a successful raid. Jane closed the door and began dialling Arnold Hadley’s home number again.

When Hadley answered, Jane quickly explained who she was and got straight to the point.

‘I need to ask you a rather important question regarding Beatrice Thorpe, Jason Thorpe’s mother.’

‘Yes?’ he replied, sounding a little taken aback.

‘I think it is vital that I interview her, but I am concerned that she may be unwell.’

‘Unwell?’ he queried.

‘Yes, Mr Hadley. When Jason was picking up the photo album, he suggested his mother had been unwell, and that she would find it very difficult to discuss her family.’

‘Well, I think that was rather an exaggeration. Although I have not actually seen her physically for quite a few years, I have had communications with her, and she is exceedingly coherent. I think she even assists her son running the wine export company.’

‘That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Hadley.’ Jane replaced the receiver and resealed the evidence bag which now needed to be taken to the evidence lock-up. She gathered up the documents that Tim had given her earlier and was just placing them in her bag when her office door opened. Thinking it was Barbara again, she looked up with a frown, but it was DCS Bridges.

‘I have just had confirmation that Beatrice Thorpe is well enough to be interviewed,’ she said.

He gave her a brief nod. ‘I need to cost this, but I presume you are eager to interview her face-to-face in Australia rather than have a telephone conversation?’

‘I think that would be the right course of action, sir,’ Jane nodded.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s just hope for your sake the interview brings the closure we’re looking for, Detective Tennison.’

Jane arrived home just after seven and as soon as she entered the hallway she could see a great deal of work had been accomplished. The wooden stair banisters had been sandpapered down ready for painting, and the stripped floorboards looked as though they had been washed thoroughly, ready to be varnished.

One half of the wall on the stairway had been plastered and when she peered into the sitting room she was pleased to see that the furniture had all been piled in the centre of the room and covered with dust sheets. The wall had been half stripped of the old paper, but she felt too tired to begin work that evening.

On the table in the kitchen was a bunch of roses, alongside a note from Eddie:

He had left his contact number and a stack of invoices clipped together. She went to the phone in the hall to call him. There was no reply and no answer machine clicked on. She was feeling hungry but looking through the fridge there was no ham left, the butter dish had been scraped clean and the bread had been finished. She switched on the kettle whilst she continued searching for some food in the cupboards. All she could find was a tin of baked beans, a tin of hot dogs and several cans of tomatoes, none of which were at all enticing.

After making a cup of tea, Jane headed upstairs to her bedroom, where there had been no visible work done apart from the radiator being taken out. She undressed, wrapped herself in a towelling robe and went into her bathroom, only to find it no longer had a bath or a shower and was also missing a radiator. There had been a lot of new white tiles laid, but that didn’t help. She was just crossing the landing when the security light came on at her front door. Jane peered down the stairs as the door opened and Eddie appeared.

‘Jane?’ he called out.

‘I’m up here,’ she said, coming down a couple of stairs.

‘Did you get my note?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I did... and thank you for the flowers. They weren’t at all necessary, though.’

‘I like to keep my customers happy.’ He grinned.

‘I’m really impressed by how much work has been done, Eddie.’

He came to the edge of the bottom stair. ‘Will you be able to get that cash for me tomorrow?’

‘Yes, absolutely. I’ll go to the bank before I head into the station.’

‘Terrific.’

There was a rather awkward pause between them, but Jane felt no inclination to fill the silence. Eddie pulled off his cap and punched it into a bowl shape before repositioning it on his head.

‘Maybe see you in the morning, then... I’d like to get cracking around seven-ish. I can bring you the best bacon buttie you’ve ever tasted if you like.’

‘That sounds lovely... thank you.’

Again, there was a pause. ‘Right, see you in the morning, then.’

He didn’t wait to hear Jane’s reply and let himself out. Jane felt guilty about being so off-hand with him but she was absolutely exhausted and just wanted to get an early night.

She was already in bed when she remembered she had brought home all the documents from DC Taylor and had left them downstairs in the kitchen. Yawning, she decided she would take a look at them in the morning.

Jane was used to having a shower every morning, but instead she had to wash her hair in the kitchen sink and give herself a quick wash down with a flannel. She headed back up to her bedroom to blow-dry her hair, making a mental note to call her sister as she really needed her highlights done before her potential trip to Australia. After wearing scruffy clothes into the station the previous day, she made a point of taking out one of her best suits and white blouses.

She was fully dressed by six, giving herself time to check over DC Taylor’s documents. She was feeling hungry and was really looking forward to the bacon buttie Eddie had promised. Pouring herself a second cup of tea, she lit a cigarette to stave off the hunger. The young, fresh-faced Tim had actually come up with some rather good information. He had uncovered various magazine and newspaper articles, all providing fascinating background on Muriel Lanark, née Petrukhin. Her mother, Aida, it turned out, had been part of a high-ranking circle of Russian diplomats who were close to the Czar’s family, especially the Czarina Alexandra. During the Russian revolution she had left St Petersburg and had gone to America with Count Petrukhin and their young daughter, Muriel Alexandra, who was born in 1909. There were various references to the family living in an affluent Boston neighbourhood, where they frequently entertained. One blurred black-and-white newspaper photograph showed the Countess Aida looking very much like the British Queen Mary, wearing a tiara and an elaborate choker necklace of pearls.

There were also three references to the Russian count’s financial ruin in the Wall Street crash of 1929. The last reference to Countess Aida Petrukhin was the presentation of her daughter at a debutante ball in 1921, an elaborate affair attended by members of the English aristocracy.

DC Taylor had attached a handwritten note to this article, stating that perhaps this was when Aida had inflated her daughter’s age as debutantes were usually at least seventeen when presented to the royals. Jane made a note to check if Henry Lanark had also been present at the ball, although it was doubtful as his family were not exactly of the nobility. She wanted to find out how Muriel came to be married to him in 1923.

Jane was just checking her latest bank statement, to find out how much she could withdraw to pay Eddie and his team, when the doorbell rang. Jane was disappointed that it was not Eddie bringing her breakfast. Instead, it was his father, Tony, holding up a brown carrier bag.

‘Been ordered to deliver breakfast and I brought some invoices I need you to look over. Also, just to tell you Eddie has seen some nice bathroom suites and we can fit in a corner bath and a shower unit.’

True to Eddie’s promise, the large bacon buttie was tasty, and Tony was very methodical as he talked her through each of the invoices, insisting she inspect everything that had been done in the house with him, though.

He was not very complimentary about some of the plastering, explaining that it was actually quite an art form.

‘If you don’t get it absolutely perfect, when it dries out you’ll have problems hanging the wallpaper.’

By the time they returned to the kitchen he seemed impatient to leave for another job. He gave Jane a list of payments required and said that because she was paying cash, there would be no VAT. However, if she wanted it to go through his company, she would have to add on the VAT.

Jane agreed she would get payment to Eddie at some point that day.

‘You’re a police officer, is that right?’ Tony asked, as he put on his donkey jacket.

‘Yes, I’m actually a detective inspector,’ Jane said, smiling.

‘Eddie told me you’re working on that “House of Horrors” case?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘It was about that junkie, wasn’t it, found in the old air-raid shelter? And she gave birth to a baby and put it between some bricks?’

‘Well, no... that’s not exactly what happened...’ Jane began, but Tony was already walking out.

‘Shocking... shocking. My wife couldn’t even read it,’ he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Jane washed up their mugs, then gathered up all the invoices and put them into a cardboard folder. She then went upstairs to finish getting ready and placed all the new information from DC Taylor in her briefcase.

Before leaving she called her sister, Pam, asking if she could have an appointment for her hair to be highlighted early that evening. Pam was in the middle of serving breakfast to her kids and told Jane she would have to be there by five. She was closing the salon early as there was a parents’ evening at the school and her youngest had been in some trouble at a school football match.

‘I was at Mum and Dad’s this weekend... they’re a bit annoyed that they haven’t heard from you or seen you properly in ages, and you haven’t had them over to your house,’ she said.

‘I’m having a lot of decorating done,’ Jane replied.

‘It’s all right for some, isn’t it?’ Pam continued, ignoring Jane’s explanation. ‘You should make more of an effort to go and see them. I do, even though going for Sunday lunch is sometimes a bit of a chore.’

Jane sighed. ‘Yes, Pam, I’ll try and see them as soon as I can, but I’ve got a lot of work on at the moment.’

‘Haven’t we all?’ Pam retorted.

To Jane’s relief, Pam ended the call as she was in a hurry for the school run. The doorbell rang and, once again, Jane was disappointed that it wasn’t Eddie, just his team arriving to begin work. She gestured to the kitchen, inviting them to help themselves to tea and coffee and making another mental note to herself that she needed to stock up on milk and tea bags.

It was a quarter to nine when Jane arrived at the station. She went straight to her office to start typing up the information gleaned from DC Taylor’s documents.

The CID room was filling up as, according to the board, there had been numerous magistrate’s court appearances after the multiple arrests the previous day. Sergeant Hunt was busy allocating the vehicles for transporting the suspects to court. As soon as he saw Jane enter the room, he gestured to the board.

‘A good day, lads. We’ve recovered a shedload of stolen property and we still have more search warrants to execute on other premises to see what we can uncover from previous burglaries in other areas. In the meantime, DCI Carter’s got the teams keeping the properties under surveillance in case any family members start trying to move stolen stuff out.’

Almost as an afterthought, Hunt asked Jane if she still needed Tim, as there was a lot of paperwork they had to wade through. Jane quickly agreed that she could do the necessary herself and returned to her office. She cleared her desk with the intention of seeing what else she could discover about the countess and her daughter.

After half an hour of frustrating telephone calls, as she was passed from one department to another at Somerset House, she was informed that, due to the Blitz between 1940 and 1941 many documents had been destroyed. But at least she managed to discover one fact: Aida, Countess Petrukhin, had died in 1938. She was unable to discover any further information about Muriel, however.

She told the duty sergeant that she would be unavailable for a couple of hours as she needed to go to her bank and run some personal errands. She withdrew £500 from her branch of the National Westminster Bank at the end of Harley Street and was planning to return to the station, but on impulse went to the wallpaper department at John Lewis to choose wallpaper for her sitting room and her bedroom. She then drove back home with some samples to give Eddie the money, hoping that he would also be able to order the wallpaper she had chosen as he had told her he could get it at a trade price.

She arrived to find the team were making impressive progress. Eddie had brought several large tins of white gloss paint and she found him in the kitchen stacking them neatly in the corner. He was wearing jeans and his leather coat rather than his work clothes, and if he felt any awkwardness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled brightly, saying that he had just collected his paint order.

‘Have you made a decision on whether you want a corner bath?’ he asked, passing her a leaflet. ‘I think it would be wise to stay with white. I know all these coloured bathroom suites are fashionable at the moment but you’re much safer to stick with white, especially if you ever you want to resell the property in the future.’

‘I hadn’t really thought of that,’ Jane said, opening her briefcase. ‘I’ll go along with whatever you suggest.’ She took out the envelope of cash and handed it to him. ‘I took out £500. Your dad suggested I should get you enough for next week as well, as he reckoned you wouldn’t be finished by then.’

Eddie wrote Jane a receipt as she produced the wallpaper samples.

‘They’re perfectly all right,’ he said, tossing them aside, ‘but maybe you should go to Colefax & Fowler... they’re more expensive but they have a wider range selection, and I think they’re better quality.’

‘You don’t like any of the ones I picked?’ Jane asked.

Eddie shrugged. ‘You’ve got quite a big area to cover, especially in the hallway. Come with me and I’ll hold up a couple of your choices... you’ll see what I mean.’

As Eddie held up the samples Jane could tell instantly that she had made the wrong choice.

‘I’ll go and have another look this afternoon. Do you think I should go to the same place for my bedroom as well?’

‘I would. They’ve got a nice Regency stripe. Are you free for dinner this evening?’ he asked, almost in the same breath. ‘My mum’s cooking a chicken.’

‘Tonight?’ Jane asked.

‘Yeah.’

Jane hesitated. ‘Er, yes... that would be really nice. I need to see my sister at five, though. What time were you thinking?’

‘Around seven thirty to eight. I can pick you up.’

As Jane drove back to the station, she asked herself why she had agreed to Eddie’s invitation. She would be at Pam’s salon until at least six, or longer if Pam continued to harangue her with moans about her not going to see her parents.

No one in the squad room seemed to pay any attention to her reappearance as the focus was still on the trips back and forth to the magistrates’ courts. DCI Carter caught her as he was leaving his office.

‘I heard you didn’t think the investigation into the Lanark inquiry had been satisfactory,’ he said with a frown.

‘I don’t know what you heard, sir, but after the weekend’s negative news coverage, I just suggested it would be good for us to get some form of positive closure.’

‘Really? And in order to get closure, Detective Inspector Tennison, you are planning a trip to Australia? What the fuck kind of budget do you think we have? I doubt very much that the super will give clearance... not to mention the fact that I need every officer available to work on other cases.’ He turned to walk away, then looked back. ‘You’re looking very smart.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ The way he looked her up and down from head to toe made her feel very uncomfortable, especially when he gave her a flirtatious wink.

‘I wouldn’t mind a long weekend in Australia. It’s summertime there, isn’t it?’

Jane didn’t answer.

As she turned away to go back to her office, he called after her: ‘Just joking, Tennison! No need to get your knickers in a twist.’