Hidden Killers

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jane arrived at the station at eight-thirty the following morning and went straight to the incident room. DI Gibbs was already in his office, which struck her as unusual, and he glanced over at her as she checked for any instructions from the DCI. She presumed DCI Shepherd would already be re-interviewing the suspects. Gibbs was a mess and obviously very hungover if not still under the influence of alcohol.

‘Is everything all right, Spence?’

‘Can you get me a coffee, please, Jane?’

‘Do you want the canteen brew, or for me to get a takeaway? There are lots of new coffee bars opening up around Covent Garden.’

‘I just want a fuckin’ strong black coffee, Tennison, there’s no need for you to schlepp out of the station, all right?’

Rolling her eyes, Jane went up to the canteen and, as requested, brought back as strong a mug of black coffee as she could get. Gibbs pulled a face when he tasted it, saying that she hadn’t sugared it, and he went out to B Relief to use their sugar bag.

‘I collared the bag slasher in broad daylight, right outside John Lewis… caught him about to rob a teenager. As I suspected, he’s a junkie with a sheet as long as my arm.’

‘Congratulations!’ Jane said, sitting at a desk.

‘Message came in for you from the duty sergeant at Hackney. A woman, a Mrs Allard, left her number for you to call her. I didn’t tell DCI Shepherd that you were on a jaunt to Brighton with blondie yesterday… I hope you’re not sleuthing around on something that you have no business working on.’

Jane didn’t have time to explain as DS Lawrence walked in but she made a note in her notebook, puzzled why Mrs Allard was calling her.

‘Morning, Spence, sorry I woke you up early. Now we need to talk to DCI Shepherd to get a second PM done. We’re running out of time as Shirley Dawson’s body is going to be released today for burial.’

‘So what exactly have you got?’

Jane referred to her notebook.

‘Barry Dawson was having an affair with Katrina Harcourt – she worked at the same hospital before she was dismissed. We believe that Shirley Dawson found out about their affair, and possibly followed them to take photographs of them together to confront him.’

Gibbs scratched his head.

‘Hang on, hang on. This isn’t hard evidence, it’s just supposition.’

‘We also have confirmation from Katrina Harcourt’s mother that on the day Shirley Dawson’s body was found, Katrina left Brighton at six a.m. and drove to London,’ Lawrence said impatiently.

Gibbs laughed.

‘But you don’t have any proof that she was actually at the Dawsons’ flat? Even a parking ticket would be useful…’

‘She has a pair of patent leather stiletto shoes that fit the description given by the neighbour, Mrs Cook.’

‘Jane, she saw a pair of fucking shoes, not who was wearing them! Was there anything particularly unusual about the shoes?’

‘No, they were just plain black patent leather shoes, with stiletto heels…’

‘… Like how many thousands of pairs sold in Saxone? You would be laughed out of court if your main witness for the prosecution was a pair of bloody shoes!’

Lawrence sat on top of the desk beside Gibbs, running his hands through his blond hair.

‘All right, what if I was to tell you that, on a purely gut feeling, Shirley Dawson was murdered? I’ve been concerned from day one about the position she was found in the bath tub, and there are other inconsistencies that Jane came up with from their flat. I think Shirley Dawson was murdered, and I think Katrina Harcourt had something to do with it.’

There was a pause as Gibbs digested what he had just heard. He looked from Lawrence to Jane.

‘And you have the same gut feeling, do you, Jane?’

‘Yes, Spence, I do.’

‘And you reckon Barry Dawson is also in the frame for it? But he’s got an alibi hasn’t he? He has witnesses who saw him making phone calls at the hospital?’

Jane was about to reply when Lawrence got up from the desk.

‘I think we can break that alibi, but we have to have a second PM, and I’m going to need Shepherd to give us the go-ahead.’

Again Gibbs hesitated, then walked back towards his office.

‘OK… you’d better go and find him then.’

DI Moran was feeling very impatient. He had been in to the Hackney incident room twice looking for DC Edwards. Eventually a clerk had arrived to start work and explained to Moran that Edwards had gone home early the previous night as he had a high temperature and his cold had turned into bronchitis. She went over to her in-tray, saying that she had a couple of memos that Edwards wanted her to pass on to him. Delving through the pile of paperwork she pulled out two sheets, clipped together.

‘He’s been making enquiries into any cases that had a similar MO to Peter Allard’s, sir. I really felt that he should have gone home earlier – he didn’t stop sneezing and was passing his germs all around the office. Anyway, just before he left he contacted the police division in Maidstone…’

‘Maidstone? I told him to focus on local areas.’

‘Apparently that’s where Peter Allard and his wife lived five years previously, sir, before he took over his father’s taxi and came back to live in Walthamstow.’

‘Christ! You ask these young guys to do something simple… What the hell is he going that far back for?’

‘I don’t know, sir, you’ll have to ask him. He’s underlined the name “Susie Luna”, but I’ve no idea what that means.’

‘I’ll have to wait until he gets back. Meanwhile, I’ve got a situation – a woman’s been pushed under a bus outside the Pembridge Estate. Can you ask DC Ashton to get a squad car-’

‘Sorry, sir, but he’s not in today,’ the clerk interrupted. ‘His new baby’s got a very bad rash and his wife needs him to drive her to the doctor. You see, she’s not breastfeeding, she’s using formula milk and they often get an adverse reaction to that…’

Moran raised his eyebrows.

‘See if you can get a plonk to drive me to the Pembridge then.’

Jane was at her desk typing up a lengthy report on all the latest information she had gathered over the weekend. DS Lawrence had been in with DCI Shepherd for over half an hour. Edith was moaning about the stack of work she had to do, lodging the complaints that the market stallholders had passed to the station.

Lawrence rushed in and went over to Jane’s desk.

‘I’ve twisted DCI Shepherd’s arm and he’s given me the OK to get a second PM on Shirley Dawson. Prof Martin has agreed to come in after lunch. In the meantime, you’d better get over to the mortuary as Barry Dawson and his mother are due there to arrange the removal of the body for burial. I have some business to deal with in the lab, but I’ll get over there as soon as I’m free. Just fend them off, and don’t indicate that we are in anyway suspicious until Prof Martin has done his job. I’ll take it up with the coroner. No matter what we think, we might just have to walk away… understand?’

Jane nodded and pulled out her typed report.

‘DCI Shepherd wants your full report,’ Lawrence added, ‘and he wants it from every angle so don’t miss anything out. Cover everything – he wasn’t all that happy about that trip yesterday.’

‘I’ve just finished it, if you want to read it over?’

‘Sorry, I don’t have time, I’m needed at the lab.’ Lawrence hurried out and Jane stood up to take the report in to Shepherd. Gibbs appeared at his office doorway.

‘What’s going on, Tennison?’

‘Oh, we’ve been given clearance for a second PM on Shirley Dawson.’

Edith stopped typing and turned to stare at Jane.

‘DS Lawrence instigated it, Edith, as he reckoned there were some discrepancies in the non-suspicious death report from the coroner. So he’s organizing another inquiry.’

‘So, what exactly is your involvement?’

‘Well, I was on the scene, that’s all.’ Jane hurried out.

Edith pursed her lips. ‘She needs taking down a peg or two… wasn’t ever like that in my day, you know… straight from being a probationary officer into plain clothes. She’s going to get a smack around the chops from DCI Shepherd – he was asking where she was earlier.’

Ignoring Edith, his head pounding, Gibbs went over to the filing cabinet to pull out the reports on the Shirley Dawson case, then went into his office and shut the door.

By the time Jane arrived at the mortuary it was almost 2 p.m. Professor Martin hadn’t arrived yet, and even when he did she knew it would take a considerable while before he could gain access to the body and begin the second post-mortem. Barry Dawson was sitting in the reception with his mother. His daughter, Heidi, was asleep in her pushchair clutching a teddy bear.

‘What’s going on?’ Barry demanded.

‘I’m sorry… I have only just arrived,’ Jane replied quietly.

‘We have been told that Shirley’s body can’t be released. We have organized for her to be taken to a funeral parlour as we are having her buried tomorrow morning.’

‘I’m sorry. I am not actually aware of what you are being told.’

‘Just what I said. I mean, you tell me what’s going on.’

‘We have been informed that a second post-mortem has been requested and there was some suggestion that the first one was not as straightforward as it would seem.’

Jane excused herself and said she would try to find out what was going on and would get back to them as soon as she could. Pushing open the door to the corridor she stopped as Mrs Dawson called after her.

‘This is bloody disgusting, you know,’ she said, pushing the little girl back and forth in her pushchair. ‘Barry’s had to take another day off work, and we got family to organize. We get here only to be told that our funeral arrangements have got to be put on hold? You tell me, why?’

‘If you just wait here I’ll go and see what I can find out.’

Jane hurried along the corridor and stepped back as a mortician assistant wheeled out a covered gurney from the chill room towards the autopsy section. Professor Dean Martin appeared, already wearing his rubber gown and black boots. Judging by the stains on his apron it was clear that he had already been at work. He gave a polite nod to Jane as he pushed open the doors to allow the gurney to pass in front of him, then the doors swung closed behind him. Jane was disinclined to ask permission to follow but stood waiting in the corridor until she felt it was time enough to return to the reception. Barry Dawson had gone, leaving just his mother and the still sleeping Heidi.

‘He’s had to go to work… he’s really distressed, and we need to get some answers. This is disgusting and there doesn’t seem to be anyone I can ask.’

Jane apologized and sat down beside her. She decided to take a risk in the hope that Mrs Dawson might let something slip.

‘Basically there seems to be some confusion regarding your son’s statement. We now have information regarding a relationship he had with a woman called Katrina Harcourt.’

‘What? I’ve never bloody heard of her! This isn’t right.’

‘I just need to double-check that I have your own statement correct, Mrs Dawson. Could you please tell me exactly what happened on the morning your daughter-in-law was found at your son’s flat?’

‘I’ve told you! I was supposed to go and look after Heidi because Shirley had a hair appointment.’

‘Ah, I see. That’s why you were going to babysit, because…’

‘She was going to have her hair done at nine o’clock. But I couldn’t go round there because my washing machine was faulty and I was waiting for the engineer to come. I’ve already told you this.’

‘Did you call Shirley to tell her that you wouldn’t be able to babysit?’

‘I rang the payphone in her house, but she never answered so I presumed she’d already gone out and had taken Heidi with her.’

‘What time did you call Shirley?’

Mrs Dawson sighed.

‘Be about a quarter to nine… but like I just said, she didn’t answer so I presumed she had gone to have her hair done. I don’t see why you want to know all this. She always asked me to look after Heidi if she was going out. And I presume that’s why Barry got no reply either, when he called her.’

‘I am going to show you some photographs now, Mrs Dawson. Could you tell me if you recognize this woman?’

Jane took out the three small black and white photographs of Katrina Harcourt and showed them to Mrs Dawson, who shook her head. She sighed.

‘Don’t tell me that silly bugger was seeing another woman? I swear to God, he’s unable to keep his ruddy dick in his pants! But he never mentioned nothin’ to me about her, and he’s been in a terrible state since Shirley died. So what difference does it make? He’s always been a one for the girls, and I have to say that it’s not easy for me neither as I got to look out for his daughter. He’s got to go to work, and I mean he’s still living at my place, and his dog… I don’t know what he’s gonna do when he moves back to his flat.’

‘Has he suggested selling the flat? I believe he owns it, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, he does. He pays the mortgage, but his dad left him the money to make the down payment. Mind you, it needs a lot doing to it and the landlord is a nasty piece of work. Never does nothing about the communal areas. There used to be a general cleaner who’d collect their rubbish from the storage area by their flat and take it down to the basement. But since he got rid of her, Shirley’s had to do it herself.’

Mrs Dawson rambled on, all the while pushing the buggy back and forth, until Heidi woke up and started crying. Mrs Dawson was becoming more and more agitated now, standing as she rocked the pushchair. Jane discreetly glanced at her watch.

‘You tell me what I should do, will you? I mean, we’ve arranged the funeral and now I don’t know if it can go ahead. I just don’t understand why there is this delay.’

Jane stood up and once again checked her watch. She suggested that Mrs Dawson return home and said that she would call her with an update as soon as she knew the details. Heidi was now howling loudly and Mrs Dawson eventually agreed to take her home.

Relieved that she had gone, Jane sat waiting in reception. There was something about the cavernous, cold room that always had a faint smell of cleaning fluid and Dettol, which became stronger when you passed through the double doors into the chill rooms. The first time she had been in there was for the identification of the murder victim Julie Ann Collins. She remembered how Julie Ann’s father, after seeing his dead daughter, had become frighteningly enraged. Nothing had prepared her, after witnessing his overwhelming grief, for learning that he had instigated the brutal beating of his daughter. DS Lawrence appeared, having arrived via the back entrance.

‘It’s going to take a while… the old boy is being very methodical and won’t be hurried. So far he has made no further conclusion and is ticking off the previous PM as all being acceptable. As soon as I get anything to the contrary I’ll call you at the station.’

Jane would have liked to have stayed but before she could argue, Lawrence left her to return to the post-mortem. With nothing else to do, Jane headed back to Bow Street to wait for Professor Martin’s PM report.

Marie Allard sat at the Formica-topped table in the visitors’ section at Brixton Prison. The noise of the waiting families always gave her a headache. The children were mostly under five, so weren’t at school like her own two. The babies screamed while the mothers and grandmothers shouted and tried to keep them from running between the tables. The male visitors always seemed much older than the prisoners they were visiting, with rough, worn faces. Many of them were rolling cigarettes and the walls of the prison visiting room smelt stale and were yellowing from tobacco stains. The tin ashtrays were never emptied and the officers walked up and down between the tables as they waited for the loud clanging sound that heralded the prisoners’ entry into the visiting section.

Two wardens sat on high stools surveying the room and making sure nothing illegal was passed across, or underneath, the tables. Marie waited patiently, becoming more nervous as the minutes ticked by. Then the buzzer sounded, the communication door was opened and a loud bell rang.

The hubbub of noise increased as the prisoners were led in, and the men hurried to their allocated tables and loved ones. Peter Allard wore creased and stained prison issue denims, and was unshaven. He had always been so particular about his clothes and his personal hygiene, with clean cut nails, and shiny well-styled hair. Now he looked very pale, with deep circles beneath his eyes. As he pulled out the chair to sit opposite Marie she could feel the weight of his depression.

‘You all right?’ he asked quietly.

‘Not really… but I’m OK.’

He looked down at his dirty fingernails, then glanced around the room.

‘So, did you sort it as I told you to do?’

Marie hesitated and then tightly clasped her hands.

‘No, I never get another phone call. So I didn’t do it.’

He asked if she had got the money ready and Marie replied that she had. One lie after another tumbled out. Part of her was unsure why she was so afraid of admitting that all she had seen was a young boy collecting the cash.

‘I too scared to answer the phone, Peter,’ she admitted. ‘It’s such a lot of money, and with you in here.’

‘I called you last night… you know I got to wait in line to use the payphone so I can’t tell you exactly when I’ll be calling, but we get time around six o’clock… so pick up around then, as you know it’ll be me.’

‘OK. You heard about a trial date yet?’

‘No. Bastards are just keeping me here… I hope to God it’s soon because I don’t know how much longer I can last in this shit hole. You have no idea what it’s like… a ping pong ball went missing and there was a big fight so we had to have a lockup for the entire day as punishment. As if being in this dump wasn’t enough.’

‘The kids are fine, Peter.’

‘What did you buy then?’

‘What?’

‘Ma said you were taking them to a birthday party on Sunday.’

‘Oh yes, it was just a jigsaw puzzle.’

Peter unclenched his hands and reached over to take hers. A passing warden snapped as he passed, ‘No contact, please.’

Peter quickly withdrew his hand.

‘Well, maybe that bent cop has got enough of my hard-earned dough and won’t be blackmailing us for our savings.’

From across the room a young thug stood up, shouting at the top of his voice, ‘The law sucks! Innocent until proved fuckin’ guilty, my arse! It’s a shit pile!’

Two officers removed the boy, who continued yelling and kicking out, leaving the two women at his table crying. Peter shook his head.

‘That’s true – I know it better’n anyone else… I’m innocent. You know it too, don’t you? All I want is a fair trial so I can prove I was fitted up.’

Marie felt ashamed that she was willing the bell to ring for the end of visiting time. She just wanted to go and collect the children from school. But for a further half-hour Peter repeated over and over that he was going to prove his innocence. At one point he was in tears, and Marie had never seen him in such a depressed state.

‘I can’t forgive myself for doing this to you, Marie, and to my kids. You know I love you and want to make it good when I get out. But I just get into a bad state, because it’s so frustrating. I admitted what I did was wrong, but it wasn’t serious, not like that other time… you know that, and you know why… but we’ll be all right, as soon as I get out.’

‘Yes, of course we will.’

The bell rang and Marie was free to go. But first she had to watch him being led out back into the prison section, as the door was bolted behind all the inmates. Once he was out of sight, Marie turned away. It was too late now, she’d lied to him. And what if there was another call from ‘Angie’? She was terrified there would be another demand, and the money in their savings account was running out.

At the mortuary Professor Martin peered through his half-moon spectacles at the right side of the victim’s scalp. Using a fine spatula, he moved aside the thick curly hair, bent very close and sniffed. He then carefully parted a section of hair and turned to Lawrence.

‘This is interesting. Can you see that a small section of hair looks frizzy? Not the section close to the face but just behind it? And if you lean in close you can just detect a slight smell of Dettol, but also burning. It’s not strong, but then she was in the bath for some time. Can you see the strands are shorter here?’

Lawrence leaned in close and agreed. He watched as Prof Martin used sharp scissors to cut away the long thick strands and then, with the hair cropped, began to shave the complete right side of Shirley’s scalp.

‘Well, well… what have we here? I would say that this is what could have caused your victim to be unconscious, not the blow to her forehead. Can you see it?’

Lawrence looked at a strange V-shaped red mark, about three and a half inches in length. Prof Martin now continued to peel back the face and remaining scalp hair to examine the skull.

‘Easily missed, and I could be wrong… perhaps the victim was wearing a band of some kind that in part might have cushioned the blow from being that visible. And her hair was thick enough to hide the strange burnt section. But it is clear she was struck to the right side of her head.’

Lawrence watched closely.

‘The wound on her forehead is not the one that would have rendered her unconscious?’ he asked quietly.

‘No, it would probably have been caused by her falling forward and hitting the edge of the tap, as has been suggested, but having read the reports describing how her body was found, it doesn’t quite add up. She should have been face down, not on her back.’

‘So you are saying that she was more than likely unconscious when she hit the tap with her head?’

‘Yes, but in any case your victim was alive in the bath water, as her blood was still flowing out of her nostrils. I would say the young lady could have had a severe nosebleed from the blow.’

Lawrence stepped back to allow Prof Martin to finish. His mind was reeling as he took in the consequences of this new information.

He was stunned.

By the time Lawrence returned to the station he was feeling exhilarated, and went straight to the incident room. Jane turned expectantly towards him as he came in and his triumphant expression told her all she needed to know. But a thrill still went through her when Lawrence said, ‘Our non-suspicious death is now very suspicious. Shirley Dawson was murdered.’