Murder Mile

Chapter Four

‘How the fuck could you two let this happen?’ Moran shouted at Jane and Gibbs as he paced up and down his office.

‘You’re overseeing house-to-house, Tennison, so vehicles are your responsibility as well. You should have checked the bloody car out as soon as it was brought to your attention.’

Jane looked at Gibbs.

‘I told her to go home and get some rest. I checked the car out myself. There was nothing untoward so I rang—’

‘Nothing untoward! Sybil Hastings’ body was in the boot with multiple stab wounds. Some deranged maniac used her as a fucking pincushion. Anyone with a bit of common sense would consider that if the first body was probably dumped, then it might have been taken there by car, making the initial discovery of the abandoned vehicle highly relevant to the investigation.’

‘Sorry, sir. The car had a flat tire and we did follow it up by going to Mrs. Hastings’ flat the next morning. I don’t see what else we could have done at the time,’ Jane said.

Moran shook his head in disbelief. ‘You should have had the car checked out thoroughly before going off duty.’

‘I disagree,’ Gibbs said, much to Moran’s obvious annoyance. ‘There were many cars parked in Copeland Road. We had no reasonable suspicion or power to force entry and search any cars without the owners’ permission, or a warrant, which I doubt a magistrate would have granted under the circumstances.’

‘But you didn’t bother asking a magistrate, did you, DI Gibbs?’

‘Both victims were women but there was a big age gap. One was strangled and the other stabbed to death. Mrs. Hastings and the unknown alleyway victim could have been killed by different people and the proximity of their bodies was coincidental,’ Gibbs said in his defense.

Moran was not impressed. ‘Coincidence! Are you seriously saying the proximity of the bodies is mere coincidence?’

‘The first victim’s murder could have occurred in premises in Copeland Road, or nearby, and the body carried the short distance to the alleyway to be dumped, as opposed to driven there,’ Jane said.

Moran banged his hand on the table. ‘Stop trying to defend each other. You both screwed up. Once the press gets hold of it, they’ll have a field day saying we’re incompetent. Our first victim’s fingerprints weren’t on file, so she’s got no criminal record. We don’t know if she’s connected to Sybil Hastings, so we need more from her son. What did the hospital say about his condition, Tennison?’

‘He didn’t have a heart attack, but is suffering from severe shock. He’s under sedation and they’re keeping him in for observation. I asked him if he wanted us to inform his wife, but he said she was out and he’d contact her himself later to tell her what had happened.’

Gibbs shook his head. ‘There’s something strange about Andrew Hastings’ attitude. Although he’s stuck up and arrogant, he didn’t seem that concerned about his mother’s whereabouts. He was more pissed off about missing his golf game. And he was aggressive towards the housekeeper when he thought she’d reported Mrs. Hastings missing to police without consulting him first.’

‘Do you agree?’ Moran snapped at Jane.

Jane nodded. ‘He’s certainly arrogant and was aggressive towards Agnes, the housekeeper, who seemed scared of him. Come to think of it, he hadn’t thought about reporting his mother missing until DI Gibbs suggested it. Also, Agnes did say she thought Mrs. Hastings might have gone to see Andrew on Friday afternoon at his house in Kingston.’

‘Are you two suggesting he could be responsible for his mother’s murder? Because if you are, that means he may also be responsible for our unknown victim’s death.’

Gibbs was quick to reply. ‘Mrs. Hastings is a widower and clearly very wealthy.’

‘Any other siblings?’ Moran asked.

‘The housekeeper said Andrew was an only child, so he will inherit it all now.’

‘What did you make of his reaction to finding his mother’s body?’ Moran asked Jane.

‘Hard to say, really, as neither of us were expecting it.’

‘He could be a good actor, but the fact is we need to know more about him and his movements on Friday and Saturday,’ Gibbs said.

Moran nodded. ‘And we need to find out more about his relationship with his mother. Gibbs, I want you to go to Andrew Hastings’ house, see if the wife is there and ask if she knows anything about her mother-in-law’s movements — but be discreet.’

‘And if she’s not there or there’s anything untoward?’ Gibbs asked.

‘Speak with the neighbors first; if none of them have seen her since Friday, ring me and I’ll consider a different plan of action. Tennison, you go back and speak with the housekeeper, inform her of Mrs. Hastings’ murder and see what she has to say when Andrew isn’t there. Take DS Lawrence with you, get him to check over the house in case, God forbid, she was murdered there. Also check for a will and any letters or paperwork that might help us.’

Jane hesitated. ‘The unknown victim’s age is believed to be late twenties to early thirties. I’d say Andrew Hastings was mid-thirties, so his wife would probably be about the same age.’

‘You’re thinking the body in the alley might be his wife?’ Moran remarked with surprise.

Jane nodded. ‘I know the woman in the alleyway wasn’t wearing expensive clothes, but it’s possible. Agnes never spoke with Andrew’s wife about Mrs. Hastings’ whereabouts.’

Gibbs interjected. ‘Jesus, maybe he killed them both, so that everything would be his, and then dumped the bodies in Peckham.’

‘Until we make further enquiries, this is all conjecture and guesswork. Andrew Hastings may even have a firm alibi for his movements on Friday and Saturday.’ Moran replied.

‘Yeah, but he could have hired someone to kill them,’ Gibbs added, looking serious.

Jane knew it was a valid point, but wondered if Gibbs’ instant dislike of Andrew Hastings was beginning to cloud his judgment.

‘Although Andrew Hastings’ reactions may seem strange, it doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. The quicker he can be removed from the inquiry, the faster we can move on in the investigation. Get out there and find me something positive, but be—’ Moran’s phone rang and he picked it up.

Moran was addressing the caller as ‘sir,’ so they knew it must be a senior officer. His apologetic tone and the mention of ‘Mr. Hastings’ indicated that he was talking about the discovery of Sybil Hastings’ body.

Moran continued, ‘Yes, sir, I understand... I wasn’t aware of that... DI Gibbs and DS Tennison are with me just now, sir... I’m short-staffed as it is... Thank you for bringing it to my attention... I can assure you it won’t happen again.’ Moran put the phone down and glared at Gibbs.

‘That was Chief Superintendent Michael Blake.’

Jane exclaimed, ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you: Andrew Hastings mentioned to me that he’s friends with Blake. They play golf together, and have dinner.’

‘That’s all I needed to hear,’ Gibbs hissed to Jane. ‘What did WHAT want?’ he asked Moran.

‘Your bloody heads on a plate. And cut out the crap with calling him WHAT,’ Moran barked. ‘Blake has been told to oversee the investigation and we’re to deal with both murders. It seems Andrew Hastings is a good friend and phoned Blake from the hospital. Hastings complained about your attitude, Gibbs. Blake was considering taking you both off the investigation until I mentioned I was short-staffed.’

Gibbs was irritated. ‘Blake and Hastings are probably in the same Masonic lodge. Well, he’s obviously not that unwell if he can call Blake. I’d like to go to the hospital and interview him.’

‘No way. I don’t want you two anywhere near him. It could do more harm than good. I’ll interview Hastings personally, with Blake’s approval, once he’s released from the hospital. If he complains to Blake that we spoke with his wife, I’ll argue that we needed to know as much about his mother as possible to move the investigation forward. Now, the pair of you — get out there and start digging. Keep me updated.’

Jane went to the Met forensic labs at Lambeth to speak to DS Lawrence, who was in the vehicle examination bay inspecting Sybil Hastings’ Allegro. The car had been taken from the scene on a transporter, with the body still in the boot so they could remove it, and examine the car, away from the public and in weather-proof surroundings. A SOCO helped Lawrence lift the heavily bloodstained body from the boot and place it on a white plastic sheet.

‘Hi, Paul. How’s it going?’ she asked.

‘Haven’t started on the inside yet. There’s a handbag in the boot, which was under the body. Grab some gloves and have a look in it for me while I bag and tag the body.’

‘Is the PM this afternoon?’ Jane asked as she took some latex gloves out of Lawrence’s forensic kit bag.

‘No. Prof. Martin’s got his granddaughter’s christening today so it’ll be tomorrow morning at Ladywell mortuary, ten a.m. kick-off. The Prof. popped out to the scene for a quick look at the body this morning. He reckons that, from the skin discoloration, mild decomposition and the fact rigor had passed, she died on the Friday within the same time frame as the unknown victim.’

Lawrence knelt beside the body to take a closer look. ‘From the multiple stab injuries to her face and body, this was a frenzied attack. The one to the heart probably killed her.’

‘Gibbs doesn’t like Hastings and thinks he might be responsible for his mother’s murder,’ Jane said, taking the handbag out of the boot and carrying it over to the examination table.

‘As the textbook says — thinking something and proving it are very different, Jane. Without evidence, you have nothing,’ Lawrence said.

Jane looked at the handbag. It was an expensive Kelly bag, with a patchwork brown snakeskin exterior and leather-lined interior.

‘Do you think the two murders could be connected?’ She asked, removing the contents of the handbag and placing them on a brown paper exhibits bag.

‘The methods are different, but who knows... Fibers might help us, especially if we find some from the unknown victim’s clothing on Mrs. Hastings’ clothing, or vice versa. But that’s going to take time and they won’t start work on the clothes until tomorrow.’

The contents of the handbag included a make-up compact, lipstick, some leather gloves and a purse containing £50 in different bank notes. There were also a couple of credit cards and a cash card, all assigned to ‘Mrs. Sybil Hastings.’

Jane held the money and cards up for Lawrence to see. ‘Doesn’t look as though robbery was a motive.’ She double-checked the bag to make sure she’d got everything in it. ‘There are no keys of any kind in here.’

‘I checked her coat pockets and the inside of the car, but no keys there either. Suggests the killer drove her car to Copeland Road and has either still got her keys or disposed of them somewhere.’

Spencer Gibbs arrived at Rookwood Close just after one o’clock. It was a quiet, opulent area, just off Kingston Hill, with four big houses, each built in a different architectural style. Andrew Hastings’ residence was a large, six-bedroom, medieval Tudor house with big dormer windows and decorative half timbering. The roofs were steeply pitched, with side gables, and there was a massive stone chimney capped with an elaborate chimney pot. It seemed that Andrew Hastings was a man of wealth, but Gibbs knew that often things were not always as they appeared on the surface.

There was a 1978 grey Mercedes station wagon parked on the driveway, and Gibbs wondered if it was Hastings’ wife’s car, given that Andrew’s car must still be at the mother’s flat. Gibbs approached the oak front door and used the large brass lion knocker. It was opened by a very attractive woman in her early thirties. She was about five foot eight inches tall, with an hour-glass figure and long blond hair that flowed around her soft, glowing complexion and striking blue eyes. She wore black figure-hugging trousers and a white T-shirt. Gibbs was expecting a polished accent and was surprised when she spoke with an East London lilt.

‘Whatever yer selling, I ain’t interested, darlin’.’ She started to close the door.

Gibbs held up his warrant card, introduced himself and asked if she was Mrs. Hastings. She nodded and he asked if he could come in to speak with her about her husband.

‘He’s still at the golf club, love.’

Gibbs thought it strange that Andrew hadn’t phoned his wife from hospital to let her know what had happened.

‘I’m afraid your husband’s in hospital, Mrs. Hastings. It’s nothing serious, he’s just under observation after an incident earlier.’

The young Mrs. Hastings didn’t seem concerned as she opened the door and let Gibbs in. ‘The living room’s this way. Has Andrew been hit by a golf ball?’ she joked, closing the front door.

‘No, Mrs. Hastings, he—’ Gibbs started to explain as he followed her across the hallway, but was interrupted.

‘He’s crashed the Bentley, ain’t he? I’ve told him time and time again not to drive home pissed from the golf club.’

‘No, he hasn’t been involved in a car crash. It’s to do with his mother, Mrs. Hastings.’

She looked at Gibbs with a friendly smile. ‘Please, officer, you don’t need ter be so formal. My name’s Joanne, but everyone calls me Jo.’

As they approached the living room, Gibbs heard the sound of children. Entering the vast room, he saw a young boy and girl chasing each other around a sofa. Joanne shouted at them to go upstairs and play in their rooms.

‘We don’t want to,’ they argued back, almost in unison.

‘Inspector Gibbs is a policeman. He’ll arrest yer if yer don’t behave, so do as I say.’

They ran out of the room without a backwards glance.

Gibbs always thought it was wrong of parents to make remarks like that to their children as it led to them regarding police officers in a negative light.

‘So what did the old battle-axe do to put my husband in hospital?’

Gibbs asked Jo to sit down, then explained the full circumstances surrounding Andrew’s discovery of Sybil Hastings’ body and his subsequent collapse.

‘My God! That’s awful! Poor Andrew. What hospital’s he in?’

‘King’s, in Camberwell,’ Gibbs replied, wondering why she was so calm. She didn’t seem unduly concerned about her mother-in-law’s death. ‘Mrs. Hastings was stabbed multiple times. It was a vicious attack and at present we have no idea who did it.’

‘You must think I’m a bitch for referring to me mother-in-law as a “battle-axe.” Sybil and I didn’t see eye ter eye and we didn’t really speak.’

Gibbs was keen to find out more about her husband’s movements on the Friday and Saturday, so didn’t continue asking about Jo’s relationship with Sybil.

‘Did your husband mention that Agnes was worried that something had happened to Mrs. Hastings and wanted to report her missing?’

Jo shook her head. ‘To be honest I wouldn’t have been that interested if he had told me. He doesn’t talk about his mother to me cos it usually ends up in a row. But I’m sorry she was murdered. She adored her grandchildren and they loved her.’

‘I thought Andrew might have phoned you from the hospital before I got here,’ Gibbs remarked, trying not to sound suspicious about him.

Jo shrugged. ‘He knew I was taking the kids to visit me parents in Bermondsey for the day, so he probably thought I was still there.’

‘But you didn’t go?’ Gibbs asked, wondering if he had misunderstood her.

‘Shortly after Andrew left this morning, my mum rang to say there’d been a power cut in their block and they had no heating. With it being so cold, I decided to stay home.’

‘Is Bermondsey where you’re from?’ Gibbs asked, realizing it wasn’t far from Peckham.

‘Yeah, born and bred. Accent give me away, did it?’ she asked with a cheeky smile.

Gibbs smiled back. ‘Just a little.’ He looked around the lavish living room. ‘Looks like life’s a bit different for you now.’

Jo frowned. ‘Yeah, but trust me, money don’t always bring yer happiness.’

‘How did you meet Andrew?’

‘Through work. I was a secretary at Hastings Haulage in Bermondsey in the early seventies, when Andrew’s dad, Henry, owned it. Henry was a lovely man. From a poor background he became a self-made millionaire with three depots across London.’ Jo spoke affectionately about Henry Hastings and smiled as she recalled the memories.

‘Sounds like Henry was a hard worker,’ Gibbs remarked.

‘And down to earth. Andrew’s not like his dad, though. He was brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth and Henry gave him everything. Now all he cares about is playing golf. He leaves the running of the haulage businesses to the managers. Don’t think the company’s anything like what it used to be when Henry was running it.’

Gibbs was surprised at Jo’s openness about the family. She clearly didn’t want for anything materially, but he felt that she was unhappy.

Hesitantly, he spoke. ‘I need to ask where your husband was last Friday, Jo?’

‘Playing in a golf competition all day, at Coombe Hill,’ Jo answered, with a hint of displeasure.

‘What time did he get home?’

Jo paused before answering. ‘Ter be honest, I don’t know exactly. I’d gone to bed. I remember I was annoyed as he said he wasn’t going ter be late.’

Gibbs took out his CID notebook and pen. ‘Can you recall what time you went to bed, and how long after that your husband might have come home?’

‘You’re not thinking Andrew killed his mother, are you?’ Jo exclaimed. ‘She’s wet-nursed him all his bloody life and could do no wrong in his eyes.’

‘I didn’t mean to imply that, Jo, but under the circumstances I have to verify his movements — it’s standard procedure. We just need to establish that he has an alibi so that we can eliminate him from our enquiries.’

Jo sighed. ‘I’d been watchin’ Village of the Damned on TV and went to bed when it ended, must have been around midnight. I fell asleep and didn’t hear Andrew come to bed. I woke at about four a.m. as one of the kids was crying. Andrew was there then, snorin’ in bed next to me.’

‘Did he say anything in the morning about where he’d been?’

‘When I asked him why he was so late he said he’d forgot to tell me there was a meal and prize-giving after the competition. Said he got chatting with a friend at the bar afterwards and didn’t realize the time.’

‘Did he say who the friend was?’

‘Michael Blake — he’s a copper as well.’

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. ‘Funnily enough, your husband told my colleague he knew DCS Blake.’

‘They play golf together and are in the same Masonic lodge. Personally, I can’t stand the bloke. He’s a pervert and makes my stomach turn.’

Gibbs snorted, causing Jo to look at him quizzically.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, Jo. Every WPC in the Met feels the same as you about Blake, and the male detectives don’t have much time for him either. He’s an arrogant, pompous man. Not that you heard me say that.’

‘Maybe that’s why he and my husband are such good friends.’

Gibbs jotted down some notes. He wanted to ask how Andrew seemed on the Saturday after the competition, but didn’t want to push things with Jo. If Andrew Hastings was at the golf club until after midnight, and Blake could vouch for him, then he was off the hook for the murders of his mother and the unknown victim. However, it was possible that he could have arranged their murders and created an alibi for himself.

‘Do you know if Mrs. Hastings had fallen out with anyone, or had any enemies?’

‘What, besides me, Inspector Gibbs?’ Jo asked provocatively.

‘Was it always bad between you?’ Gibbs asked, wondering if she was mocking him.

Jo sighed. ‘Sybil thought I was too common for her son. Bloody cheek given that she was no posh bird herself — she didn’t have a pot to piss in until she met Henry. I tried to be nice towards her, but she was always so smug and up her own arse about anything I said or did — especially when she moved in here for a while after Henry died.’

Gibbs was curious. ‘Why did Sybil move in if you and she didn’t get on?’

‘To spite me — and prove she had control over Andrew. It was ten months of hell. All she did was moan about my bad housekeeping, and how I dealt with the kids. She nit-picked about every little thing, and it affected our marriage.’

‘It must have been a relief for you and Andrew when she moved out,’ Gibbs commented.

‘It was too late by then — the damage was done. Andrew and I live under the same roof but we have separate lives. He spends all his time on the golf course while I’m at home playing housewife and looking after the twins. We have a cleaner who comes in regularly, but she’s not much use.’

Gibbs hesitated. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but do you think your husband may have been having an affair?’

Jo nodded. ‘I’ve had my suspicions, but never any proof. He always has an excuse for why he gets home late. If I had any evidence, it would be all I needed to kick him out.’

Gibbs was surprised at Jo’s frankness. ‘Can I ask you to do something for me, Jo?’ he asked.

‘Depends what it is,’ she replied coyly.

‘Your husband has already made a complaint to DCS Blake about me, so it would be best if he doesn’t know about my visit today.’

‘Fine by me. But what if the kids say anything about a policeman being here?’

‘You could just say that a local officer came to inform you about Andrew being in hospital.’

‘S’pose I’ll have to go and see him in hospital anyway. I’ll say it was a local copper who told me what had happened and which hospital he was in.’

Gibbs closed his notebook and placed it back inside his jacket pocket.

Jo looked at him with a smile. ‘Tell me, Inspector Gibbs: are you married?’

‘No. Can’t find a woman who’d want to settle down with me,’ he joked.

‘Not even a girlfriend?’

Gibbs wondered if Jo was playing games with him, or whether she was genuinely coming on to him. He knew that any form of relationship or physical contact with her could get him in big trouble. He thought of Tamara, who was younger than Jo and just as attractive, but not as sexy.

Gibbs smiled. ‘No, no girlfriend. Used to have one, but she cheated on me with a younger bloke.’

Jo touched his arm. ‘That must have been awful for you. Do you ever mix business with pleasure?’ she asked, moving closer to him.

Gibbs was unsure how to handle the situation. He couldn’t help being attracted to her, but just as he was about to reply, the children came running into the living room.

‘What’s for lunch, Mum? We’re starving!’

Jo turned to them. ‘I’ll get it in a minute.’

Gibbs stepped back. ‘I think I had better be going, Mrs. Hastings,’ he said. ‘Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.’

Jo said nothing as Gibbs turned and left.