Dark Rooms

Chapter Two

Jane tried to keep her expression neutral as she scanned the detailed estimates from Edward Fraser and the plumber, Archie. Although at first the size of the estimates was a bit of a shock, with her promotion she would be earning around £12,000 to £13,000 a year, and she began to think that it would be sensible to agree to both of them. The fact that Archie was much older than Edward — known as Eddie — and had brought with him a number of letters of recommendation made him seem trustworthy.

She also decided that she would like Archie to look at her upstairs bathroom and toilet as she was thinking about having an en-suite in her bedroom. Eddie accompanied Archie upstairs and they spent a good fifteen minutes checking everything out. Jane stood by the open door as Archie examined a number of tiles and at the same time removed the side panel of the bath, pointing out that the carpet was badly stained so at some point there had been considerable flooding. They all then went back downstairs, and Jane made a pot of tea, whilst Archie discussed with Eddie what he felt the estimate would come to.

The phone rang in the hall and Jane hurried to pick up, instantly recognising the voice of her superintendent. ‘You’re going to be part of a team working out of Stockwell police station, Jane. Sorry for not contacting you earlier, but you need to be there first thing in the morning. The case you’ll be working on has only just been brought to my attention, so I’m afraid I can’t give you a lot of detail. All I know is that a body has been discovered by a demolition team on a building site. The DCI heading up the investigation is Detective Chief Inspector Wayne Carter. He’s very experienced, and I’m certain it’s going to be a very good fit. Any questions?’

‘No, sir,’ Jane replied, already feeling excited by the prospect of joining the investigation. ‘Thank you, sir.’

When Jane returned to the kitchen, Archie had already left to complete another project he was working on.

Eddie pointed to the back door. ‘I locked it after him.’

Jane smiled, impressed by the fact they had washed their mugs and left them on the draining board. Eddie leaned against the sink.

‘Archie’s a bit strait-laced, but he’s a good guy. He thinks the job up in the bathroom will need more consideration, so he’d like to provide an estimate which includes that. He feels it’s important that your plumbing upstairs is closely examined and reckons you may also require a new boiler.’

Jane sat down at the table and gathered all the estimates together, eager to get Eddie to begin work as soon as possible.

‘Do you mind if I ask you a couple of personal questions?’ she said.

‘Sure, go ahead,’ Eddie said.

‘I’m sorry to have to ask this, but I need to know if either of you have had any criminal convictions of any sort?’

‘Convictions? You mean prison time? No, I haven’t and I’m damned sure Archie hasn’t either. He’s a straight-as-a-die kind of bloke.’

‘Yes, I’m sure he is.’ Jane nodded. ‘I hope you understand why I need to ask these questions. You’ll be having my house keys, so I need to know that you’re trustworthy and reliable.’

‘Well, you can trust and rely on me,’ Eddie smiled. ‘But you should ask Archie for yourself. Whilst I’m here, can I suggest you get some sort of security light in your porch? If you’re coming home late at night it’s quite dark out there, and there isn’t much overhead lighting in the street.’

Jane nodded. ‘Yes, I agree... When do you think you’ll be able to start? I’m starting a new position over in Stockwell, so I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning, and I’ll be out all day. I often work very long hours, sometimes into the night if needed.’

Eddie hesitated. ‘I can start immediately. Like I told you earlier, your wiring is pretty dangerous. Are you a nurse?’

‘No, I’m actually a detective with the Metropolitan Police.’

Eddie gave a quick laugh. ‘Well, I didn’t see that one coming. I’d better do a good job, then!’

Jane fetched her spare keys and handed them to Eddie. ‘Thank you,’ she said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. ‘If you need anything, I should be able to give you a work phone and fax number soon.’ She paused. ‘Do you work at weekends?’

Shrugging into his leather jacket he gave her a cheeky smile: ‘If I want to get a job finished fast I do, yes.’

John Bishop was at his wit’s end. The police had cordoned off the garden and the partly demolished house, as they examined the body that was still in the shelter. His team had been released and he had had to inform the owners that work had been stopped until further notice. Police patrol cars were parked at the opening of the corrugated-iron fence that had been used by the diggers and dumpers, and yellow-and-black crime scene tape was stretched across the opening. Bishop’s men had placed long planks of wood across the large cavity that had appeared, but there were concerns that the tunnel might collapse. It had been confirmed that there was a locked door in the basement which presumably led into it.

Bishop insisted that none of this was marked on the council plans, and he could not be held responsible. But that didn’t alter the fact that the cost of the delays to the demolition would be astronomical. And the fact that Detective Carter was arrogant and even abusive didn’t help. Bishop had been repeatedly questioned about what he had touched inside the shelter, even though he had made it clear that he had only entered, seen the horrendous sight of the corpse by torchlight, then left.

Three SOCOs were now down in the shelter and Emra Saddell, a forensic scientist, was examining the corpse. She looked up as DCI Carter, being over six feet tall and of athletic build, stooped to enter the second chamber. He was a snazzy dresser who prided himself on his designer jackets and was known to wear rather overpowering cologne. He also had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, but Emra did not exactly find her heart racing as he joined her.

When Carter had first met her, he had presumed she was a clerk and told her he needed a white coffee with two sugars, as it was obvious the pathologist was going to keep him waiting! And he hadn’t even apologised when she’d explained that she was, in fact, the pathologist.

As Carter approached, she pulled off her face mask — she had worn it into the bunker, having been tipped off that the stench in there was sickening.

‘I would estimate she has been down here maybe eight or nine years,’ she said, anticipating his first question. ‘But I won’t be able to confirm that until I have examined her more closely. As you can see, the ankle chain bolted to the ground would have become looser as she starved, but it was still tightly attached to her boot with her foot inside. I am not removing it here. Her clothes are modern, quite good quality, and I would estimate her age to be early twenties. She is wearing some gold bangles, which you can see from their position on the ground may have slipped from her wrist.’

Carter rubbed his nose. The stench was overpowering.

‘When is she going to be removed? I’ve got the foreman pestering me about how long this is going to take. You found anything to identify her?’ he said brusquely.

‘I will take dental imprints as soon as she’s in the lab and get onto a dental forensic odontologist, so that should help you. I would suggest you get on to missing persons. As I said, she’s wearing rather good fashionable clothes and when her hair was attached to her skull it was in reasonable condition and well cut. She’s been down here for a considerable time, so even though it must have been quite airtight, the decomposition is pretty advanced; I can only give you more specific details when I have her on my table. Hopefully that’ll be first thing tomorrow morning.’

Carter nodded and turned to the SOCO. ‘Found anything to tell us who she was, or why she was down here? A handbag or coat or anything?’

The SOCO shook his head. ‘No, nothing in either chamber.’

Carter frowned, while the photographer continued taking shots of the chamber as well as close-up pictures of the corpse, focusing on the ankle chain and bolts.

Carter checked his watch. It was already after seven and he was concerned the generator for the big lamps would soon be running out. But he was also keen to get home and remove the hideous stench from his usually immaculate clothes.

Jane was dressed in one of her best suits, over a clerical-collared shirt, with her camel overcoat. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and was wearing it in a fashionable pageboy style. She had even applied some makeup and lipstick.

She arrived at Stockwell station just before a quarter past eight, driving through the open station yard gates. She noted the number of spaces already allocated to officers, with the majority of the space for patrol cars. Parking as unobtrusively as possible, she went to the rear door of the station. There was a keypad for entry, but she had no idea what the code was, so she walked round to the front.

The façade was reminiscent of her days at Hackney, even down to the old blue lamp above the station door. There was a rather overweight, balding duty sergeant on reception, who seemed to take great pleasure in asking for her identification before giving her directions to the main incident room.

As she climbed the worn stone stairs, a girl with bouncing curly blonde hair appeared and looked at Jane with surprise.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I’m sure you can,’ Jane said, affably. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Jane Tennison.’

‘Oh, I’m Barbara. I’m the CID clerk. If you turn to the right, there is a ladies’ toilet which we have only just been allocated — before that any women working here had to go to the top floor. If you continue down that corridor you’ll see the double doors which lead into the main offices.’

Barbara turned to continue down the stairs and then looked back. ‘Are they expecting you?’

Jane found her tone rather over-familiar and replied curtly, ‘I certainly hope they are. I’m joining DCI Carter’s team.’

Barbara didn’t seem to react as Jane proceeded down the corridor and entered the main room where all the DCs’ and DSs’ desks were lined up. There didn’t appear to be anyone there expecting her, but just then the double doors banged open, almost hitting her, as people started streaming in. A couple of young officers muttered ‘Excuse me’, but otherwise they just ignored her. Jane was wondering what to do when a suave-looking man emerged from one of the doors leading off the main office and strode towards her. He was wearing a chequered jacket, pristine pressed trousers and highly polished shoes.

‘You must be Jane Tennison,’ he said, looking her over. ‘I’m DCI Carter. Glad you could join the team. We’ve had rather a night of it and haven’t yet had time to get the incident board up and rolling.’

She followed him as he made quick introductions to various officers, before gesturing towards a door next to his office. It had clearly once been the corner of the main room and was now partitioned off to make a very small office, but at least it had a window.

‘Park yourself in there, then come in and I’ll give you an update. Not that there’s much to tell, and it’s quite an unpleasant case.’

Jane didn’t even have time to thank him as she stepped into her ‘cubby hole’ of an office. She hung her coat on a hook on the back of the door and looked at the small worn desk. It had three drawers on either side, an empty in-tray, a telephone and a desk chair that had seen better days. The wall had faded markings where previously, pictures had hung. She placed her briefcase down on the desk, took out her notebook, then ran a brush through her hair and checked her watch. It was nine o’clock.

Her office door opened, and the bubbly blonde Barbara popped her head round. ‘Fancy a coffee?’

‘No, thank you,’ Jane said.

Barbara shrugged. ‘The canteen’s two floors up if you change your mind.’ She turned without shutting the door. Jane was already finding her irritating.

She straightened her jacket and with her notepad and pencil ready went out into the main room and knocked on DCI Carter’s door. He was sitting behind a modern desk and his office was at least twice the size of hers, with a reasonable carpet and two armchairs. There were several rows of bookcases which were crammed with files and Met Police manuals.

‘Right, are you settled in, then?’ he asked, waving his hand for her to sit without looking at her. She was about to reply when he looked up.

‘The superintendent reckoned you would be a great asset on this case as you did some good work on the corpse of that old nun.’

Jane sat down in one of the armchairs, unsure whether she should thank him, but Carter didn’t appear to expect her to answer.

‘Well, you’ve got another old corpse case here. We don’t actually know how long the body’s been in the shelter... we’ll only find out after forensics and pathology have done their work. But Emra estimated eight or nine years.’

Jane had no notion of what shelter he was talking about and before she could ask him there was a knock on the door and Barbara appeared, carrying a mug of coffee.

‘They’re putting the photographs up, sir,’ she said, placing the mug on his desk.

Carter gestured to Jane. ‘Barbara, this is Detective Inspector Jane Tennison.’

‘Yes, we met on the stairs.’ She flounced out as Carter took a beer mat and placed it under his coffee.

‘Obviously our priority will be identifying the victim, but I think you’d best go and familiarise yourself with the details first. When Emra Saddell is ready, we should go over to the lab for the PM.’

Jane felt she’d been dismissed. ‘Yes, sir.’ She left Carter’s office and went and stood in front of the large noticeboard, trying to work out what the case was all about. The photographs from the scene at the shelter were certainly shocking, but Jane couldn’t help feeling deflated. She was acutely aware of how much work it would entail to uncover the victim’s identity, and also that of the perpetrator. She had worked for weeks on her last investigation into the thirty-year-old corpse of a nun. The thought of having to do another similarly laborious investigation made her feel as if her new rank had hardly been respected.

Putting her disappointment aside, she quickly learned that a foreman had opened the shelter in a garden in Stockwell and had discovered the body, which was now being examined at the Fulham mortuary. There had been no other information from SOCO: all they knew was that the victim had been chained up and possibly starved to death in a shelter resembling a hideous mausoleum.

Jane went back into her cubby hole office and decided that, rather than wait for further information to come in, she would go and look at the shelter herself. She left a memo with a young detective, who she heard complaining bitterly that he had been given the job of listing all the tenants who had once occupied the house in Stockwell. She didn’t wait to find out his name and returned to her car.

The crime scene was easy to find from the black-and-yellow tape that was fluttering around the open corrugated-iron fence. A uniformed officer was standing talking to an irate-looking man with a clipboard. Jane parked her car and soon learned that the man with the clipboard was the foreman, John Bishop, and he was desperate to find out when his workmen could continue with the demolition as the delay was costing a fortune.

Jane introduced herself and asked the uniformed officer to take her to the shelter, quickly wishing she had not worn her good shoes and best coat as she made her way over the muddy, uneven ground. It was clear how unsafe the site had become as even more of the tunnel had now collapsed. Bishop went ahead of her, bemoaning what had occurred and stressing that the plans from the council had not shown any of this. He stopped to gesture towards the digger.

‘That is costing me by the hour, and we can’t do anything with it.’ He pointed to the shelter. ‘That is twice the size it should be according to the plans I have, plus one corner is already down. It’s a hazard.’

Jane found it strange that he had not even mentioned the horror of the chained corpse. However, she was glad that he was there to guide her through the main door into the shelter. Using a high-powered torch, he shone the beam around the first chamber, then led her into the second chamber and shone the torch on the area where the body had been found. The chain, which had been hammered into the floor, had been removed as evidence. Even now Bishop still seemed to lack any kind of empathy.

‘I don’t know how long she’d been down here, but it has nothing to do with my demolition. They told me they haven’t found anything and don’t know who she is. All I want is permission to get my men back to work.’

Jane let him continue talking as she looked around. The overpowering smell was quite sickening. Bishop was becoming increasingly agitated as he said that the owner of the property was giving him earache, demanding that he get back on schedule. He made a wide, expansive gesture with his arms.

‘How can I get back on schedule? Nobody is telling me anything. I mean, surely I can continue the demolition of the house. And they only want me to save the fucking bricks — excuse my language.’

Jane tapped him on the arm. ‘Can you shine the torch over to the area where the corner has come down?’

Bishop turned. ‘That’s the other thing... this place could collapse. The digger hit it, and—’

Jane moved closer and pointed. ‘What’s that?’

Bishop moved to her side as they both peered towards some large blocks. They were thick with dust, and appeared to be two pieces of cement, twelve to fourteen inches long, tied together with a black leather strap. Jane moved closer still.

‘What do you think that is?’ she asked Bishop.

‘I have no idea, but it can’t be anything important because they had those special officers in here looking for anything connected to the body.’

‘Can you just move the bricks apart?’

Bishop sighed. He bent down and pushed the bricks aside then, with his foot, he nudged away a large piece of cement.

‘Can you bring that section out?’ she asked.

Bishop wasn’t happy as he was now covered in cement dust. He handed Jane his prized clipboard and asked her to hold the torch. He crouched down and eased forward the blocks tied with the leather strap. Jane leaned forward and shone the torch directly onto them.

‘I think it might have been two blocks for a pipe to run through... like a drainage pipe,’ Bishop said.

‘But why would you tie them together with a belt?’

He shook his head. ‘Beats me.’

Jane crouched down. Her coat was getting covered in cement dust. The buckle of the belt was tarnished, and she was unsure if she should try to ease it open.

‘Can you open it for me?’ she asked.

‘If you don’t mind me saying so, detective, if you want to have a look at it, why don’t we take it outside? The stench in here is sickening.’

Jane had to carry his clipboard and use his torch as he lifted the two concrete slabs in his arms. She followed him out of the shelter and, once outside, took a deep breath. The smell seemed to cling to her nostrils and her clothes as she handed Bishop his clipboard and torch.

‘You’re never going to unhook that buckle,’ he said, taking a Stanley knife from his pocket. It didn’t take him long because the leather strap was only an inch and a half wide and was quite worn. The top block came away easily but neither of them knew exactly what they were now looking at. It appeared to be a tightly wrapped bundle in some kind of black waterproof material, maybe part of a tarpaulin.

As much as she wanted to examine it further, she knew that police protocol would mean she would need permission, or someone from the station, to document all findings before they were removed from the murder site. Somebody had taken great trouble to hide whatever it was between the cement blocks. Even so, Jane decided that it was probably something not connected to their victim, and rather than waste everyone’s time, she would open the bundle.

She was about to ask Bishop for his Stanley knife when the officer on guard at the opening to the site called him to tell him he had a visitor. Jane lifted the package, which was surprisingly light. Placing it down beside the belt she was able to ease open the waterproof wrapping. Inside there appeared to be soft pale blue material with yellowish stains, wrapped tightly around the almost feather-weight bundle. Jane used the tips of her fingers to draw the blanket aside. At first it looked as though it was covering a doll, but inching the blanket down further, she quickly realised it was the skull of a baby.

Jane drove to the mortuary and parked in one of the registered bays for the pathologists, hurrying inside to make a phone call. She used the reception phone and dialled the station, asking to speak to DCI Carter. He was not available so she immediately called Emra Saddell, who was working at the mortuary with the pathologist. Jane spoke to her briefly, explaining that she had brought something in from the crime scene that she needed her to look at. ‘Is there a mortician available to carry it in from the car park?’

Five minutes later, inside the mortuary, Emra greeted Jane warmly before stepping back. ‘Good heavens, you smell awful.’

‘I’ve just come from the shelter. As I mentioned, what I’ve brought in was found there. I have no idea if it is connected, but it was very carefully wrapped and placed between two cement blocks that were then tied together.’

Emra turned as a young mortician wheeled in a trolley with the two blocks and the leather belt folded on top, along with the waterproof bundle.

‘Well, this is intriguing,’ Emra said, as the young man lifted it onto a table.

‘We are about ready for the female body to be taken to Lambeth. The pathologist reckons she had no visible external scars from knife wounds or bullets, no fractures or broken bones. He would estimate her age to be around twenty to twenty-five. We have taken dental X-rays and he thinks that she had possibly starved to death. Death occurred probably five years ago.’

As she spoke, Jane watched her unroll a sheet of white paper across the table and carefully place the bundle on it. Emra leaned forward and smelled the waterproof material then very carefully, with a fine wooden spatula, eased it aside. The blanket was more difficult to ease off as it had been tightly wrapped around many times. But Emra eased the material away inch by inch, until they were confronted by the tiny, perfectly mummified body of a baby.

Jane watched as Emra gently placed protective material over the fragile body which looked as if it might crumble if touched.

‘Does DCI Carter know about this?’ she asked, looking up at Jane.

‘He wasn’t at the station when I rang to tell him.’

‘He’s probably on his way here. He does put the pressure on. We’ve been working all morning on the victim, and I’ve got old Johnson leading the pathology report. But, as you well know, he is not a man to be hurried. He’s going to be taken aback when I present him with this little one.’

Jane knew that she was probably losing valuable time and decided she would return to the station. Just as she was leaving she asked Emra if she had any idea how long the baby had been in the shelter. Emra shook her head.

‘To be honest, I don’t. It’s mummified but it has been tightly wrapped which has protected it. I don’t think it is connected to the woman who was chained up as on examination we found she had not given birth. Besides, I would say it’s been there for many more years than she has.’

Whilst Jane was driving back to the station, Emra called DCI Carter. He listened intently, taking note of the new information, but asked her to repeat how Jane Tennison had brought in the mummified baby. He was furious as he replaced the receiver.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he said to himself. ‘She’s only been here ten minutes and she’s found another fucking body.’

He took a deep breath to calm himself, then walked into the incident room.

‘OK, attention everyone. This girl has probably been missing for a shorter time than initially estimated. Check with mispers, any blonde twenty-to-twenty-five-year-olds who went missing about five years ago. We obviously don’t know yet if she was held there as a prisoner before she died or how long she was in the bunker.’

He turned to one of the officers. ‘When Detective Inspector Jane Tennison makes an appearance, get her into my office ASAP.’

He walked off, slamming the door behind him.