Sunday 13 August
13.00–14.00
Kipp Brown remained at his desk in his office, staring at the words on the screen.
Thank you. Your funds have been received. You may not reply to this message.
He took a photograph with his iPhone, then sent DI Branson an image of the severed ear, the Polaroid and the receipt, by WhatsApp. At the end he added the words,
Please do not tell my wife about the ear.
It was only seconds before Branson phoned him. ‘Are you on your own?’
‘Yes, in my office.’
‘Listen, Kipp,’ Branson said, keeping his voice low — perhaps Stacey was in nearby, he wondered. ‘I need you to do something for me. Neither Jack nor I can leave here, obviously. I need this ear and the photograph to go very urgently to Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Branch forensics in Guildford, along with some items from Mungo that would contain his DNA — his toothbrush and hairbrush, perhaps? We’ve got to establish this is a DNA match to your son, and if there is anything we can get, forensically, from it.’
‘A DNA match?’ Kipp said. ‘Does that matter? You can see the bandage over his ear in the photograph pretty clearly.’
‘We may be able to get a fingerprint off the ear,’ Branson replied. ‘We also have techniques now for reading fingerprints off a photograph. The way the man is holding the watch, palms out towards the camera, means there’s a very good chance of the fingerprint team getting something.’
‘What do you need?’ Kipp Brown was relieved to have something positive to do.
‘Would you normally take your dog out for a walk?’
‘Yes, every day at some point.’
‘In the car?’
‘It depends. Sometimes.’
‘OK, good. If you can, come back here quickly.’