Pure Evil

Chapter Eight

Maggie and Jack were both deeply asleep. They had experienced what could only be described as very satisfying sex, twice. After checking on Hannah, Jack had returned to get back into bed beside his wife. He had woken again at almost two o’clock and heard Penny arriving home. He thought it was very late but fell back to sleep almost immediately, for the first time not even thinking about work.

The alarm clock woke them both at seven o’clock. Maggie had to get to the hospital, and that gave Jack a good hour before he needed to go into the station. When he went downstairs, Maggie was in the kitchen making scrambled eggs and already had a fresh pot of coffee made. He went up to give her a hug and a kiss, whispering in her ear to ask whether she thought he had kept his promise. She laughed, nudged him away and said that if he played his cards right it could be a regular occurrence.

She ate her breakfast quickly, whilst Jack sat at the table with his eggs and crispy bacon.

‘I heard Penny arriving home in the early hours. It was almost 2 a.m. That’s pretty late for a bingo session,’ he said.

‘She’ll no doubt be having a lie-in then. I took Hannah a warm bottle of milk and she’s watching her TV in her playpen. Check in on her after I leave, then Penny will no doubt get her up and dressed and take her to the park.’

‘Listen, thanks again for last night...’

‘If you are referring to the sex, judging by your prowess it should be me thanking you...’ Maggie teased, and Jack grinned.

‘You know what I mean, Mags, you listening made all the difference, and I don’t feel nearly as frazzled.’

‘Good, because you shouldn’t punish yourself. Just do what you can and stand by that gut feeling of yours; you always have in the past, and it has always proved you right.’

By the time he had finished his breakfast and Maggie had left for the hospital, Jack was eager to have a look at the information Ridley had given to him. He did as Maggie had suggested and looked in on Hannah, just as Penny was coming out of the bathroom.

‘Good morning! Did you have a good time last night?’

‘I did, yes. Are you going in to work this morning?’

‘I am, in about an hour. Maggie’s already gone and left you a note to cook a chicken in a bag. I shouldn’t be late home this evening. Do you need anything?’

‘No, we’ll go to the park. I’ll have a go with the chicken. I’ve never cooked one in a bag before. And I’ll get some fresh vegetables when I do the food shopping. Thank you for staying at home last night,’ she added.

‘As if you need to thank me! It’s us who are grateful to have you! I got soaked giving her a bath and washing her hair. I got covered in talcum powder too!’

Penny smiled. ‘Yes, she can be quite a little minx when she wants to be! You shouldn’t use too much talc — and actually it’s mine! I had better get her dressed and ready for her porridge. You have a good day, dear. I might be out again the same night next week, if you can organise it with Maggie.’

‘Another bingo session?’

She didn’t answer, going into Hannah’s bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Jack went back down to the kitchen and out via the kitchen door. Their little garden needed a lot of attention and was always on their ‘to do’ list, but the garden shed was also Jack’s safe hiding place. Hidden under the floorboards was a laptop he had used when contacting the women from the train robbery. It could not be traced to him and he had illegally uploaded the Holmes database on it, with a specific code to open it. There were also some bundles of bank notes, and a cardboard roll containing the painting he had been given by Adam Border. Lastly he had two burner phones, both of which would need charging. He replaced the boards, locked up the shed and returned to the house with the phones and laptop.

Jack poured himself a fresh mug of coffee, then went up to his office. He closed the door so as not to be disturbed and opened his briefcase. He plugged in the laptop and burner phones to charge, then took out all the files the probation officers had passed to him, placing them to one side, before easing out the plastic bag that Ridley had given him. He tipped out the contents onto his desk. There were numerous photographs, plus a lot of typed pages, along with a computer stick. In a separate sealed envelope, on which Ridley had written ‘CCTV footage’, was a second computer stick. On a single sheet of paper was a note to Jack in Ridley’s hand-writing. He explained that it was highly irregular of him to be passing the contents of the envelope to Jack, and he urged him to take the utmost precaution with it, never allowing anyone else to have access. It was unsigned. In a white envelope, a single folded page of a notebook had the name Sammy Taylor with an address, and the word ‘Badger’ underlined. Jack presumed that this was the contact that Ridley said would help him.

The burner phones were being charged up, and the laptop already charged on the floor by his chair. He cleared a space on his desk, inadvertently knocking over one of the files. He bent down to pick it up by the flap and more papers spilled out onto the floor. He pushed his chair back and began to pick up the loose pages. They were from Sara, and although he had not intended to work on anything connected to Rodney Middleton, he couldn’t help but read the heading: URGENT and in her neat handwriting, To be checked for confirmation.

Sara had written that after his first arrest for the knife attack, Middleton had actually told a psychiatrist at the prison that he felt protective towards young children. It was noted that Middleton had delusional thoughts that he was a saviour, especially of young girls.

The next note had words underlined regarding the fact that Middleton, aged nineteen, had been held in a secure hospital after threatening a neighbour with a knife. Jack sighed, turning a page to continue reading that doctors had assessed whether Middleton should be detained on another five occasions in the years since the fire. Each time it had been decided not to do so. Sara had then written that she was attempting to trace the probation officers who had been allocated to Middleton’s case, in order to acquire the reports from Angus Seymour, George Donaldson and Natalie Burrows. Jack placed the pages back into the file and put it to one side. He was about to work on the material from Ridley when he saw the last note, a reference to a Linda Harvey and a probationary report. He checked the time, and decided it was too early to call her, but jotted down her contact details.

After setting the alarm on his mobile to ring at 8.15 a.m., he spread out all of the documents from Ridley. He began by writing down, as clearly as he could recall, everything that Ridley had told him. He then sifted through everything, deciding not to look at the computer sticks until his laptop was fully charged and he had more time. He started to read the first page of Ridley’s notes, with an attached flyer headed DATING AGENCY.

The company name was ‘RP’ which stood for ‘Retired Professionals’ and they focused on men and women who had been in successful careers and who were looking to find like-minded people with a view to friendship and possible partnership. On their website there was a lengthy form for applicants to fill in, including age, career details, marriage status, property ownership and financial situation, as well as details of any medical issues. All applicants were required to supply two photographs, one full length and one head shot, and a personal interview had to be arranged before they could be accepted. Ridley had also included a printed page from their website, with background information on the two women who ran the agency.

To Jack, the agency at first sight seemed legitimate, but his first priority would be to do background checks on Mrs Eva Shay and her partner, Selina Da Costa, the two women running the agency.

Ridley had included two photographs of the woman he had known as Sandra. She was a very attractive blonde, with wide eyes and full lips, and on the back of the official agency photograph were her details: ‘Sandra Raynor, single, 44 years old, 5’9”, retired accountant. Enjoys skiing, country walks, visiting art galleries and museums.’

Jack wondered how Ridley had described himself. He had to be in his mid-forties, and, like Sandra, he was single. He could not really be described as good-looking although he was over six feet tall. He wondered if Ridley enjoyed museums and art galleries. But he could certainly see why he would be attracted to Sandra, if that was her real name. In the envelope were photographs of the two other women that Ridley had dated, both middle-aged and pleasant-looking, but not quite as attractive.

The alarm on Jack’s mobile went off telling him that he needed to leave for the station. Reluctantly, he gathered all Ridley’s documents to take with him, but before leaving he phoned Linda Harvey’s contact number at the probationary department. When she eventually came on the line, he explained as quickly as possible the reason for contacting her and gave his station details. She sounded young, with a pleasant voice, first explaining that her interview with Rodney Middleton had not actually taken place. Just as Jack was about to end the call, thanking her for her time, she said that to prepare for the appointment she had spoken to Dr Donaldson asking for his opinion.

‘Off the record, Dr Donaldson did say something that concerned me, and it was frustrating that I was never able to follow up on it because my interview with Mr Middleton was cancelled because of his arrest’.

There was a pause, and he heard an intake of breath.

‘What I’m going to say must be off the record. I hope you understand that’.

‘Of course,’ Jack said.

‘Right well, Dr Donaldson said that in his opinion Rodney Middleton’s ability to play the system was the only reason he had remained out of prison. He was a very dangerous individual and I should be very careful regarding any interaction with him.’

‘Thank you,’ Jack said. ‘I appreciate you passing that on. And you have my word our conversation will remain between us.’

Jack terminated the call, letting out a deep breath. So his gut instinct had been right. There was no way he was going to drop this investigation now. The only problem was that he now had two investigations to pursue, and one of them had to be secret. Hurrying down the stairs, Jack found Penny had Hannah already in her pushchair to take her to the park, and quickly said goodbye to them both before leaving. By the time he arrived at the station it was just after nine. There were only a small team of officers on duty and Jack went up to the CID office and carefully locked the Ridley material away in his desk drawer. He was taking out his case files as Sara came in with a coffee.

‘I read the update on Middleton’s past records. Good work,’ Jack said.

‘I was able to get help through my brother, and I’m now sourcing more information regarding the probation reports,’ she told him. ‘I’ve located the probation officer that handled Middleton’s previous arrest, and also the one that saw him four years ago, but he’s retired. He lives in Twickenham and was quite cooperative if a bit guarded.’

Jack sipped the coffee, which needed more sugar for his taste. He studied her neat report, which gave the contact numbers for both officers she had just mentioned.

‘The firefighter you asked us to track down? I called him this morning at his home, and he’s happy to meet you.’

‘That’s Brian Hookam, right?’

‘Yes, sarge. He lives in Cobham.’

‘OK, Sara, can you find out if he’ll see me this morning. Also check with the probation officer. I could see him first, then go on to Cobham.’

‘I’ll make the calls right now.’

Sara went back to her desk and Jack signalled to DC Elba to join him. He took out the laptop he’d brought in from his garden hut. Well aware of Ridley’s warning that the Essex CID would be monitoring anything to do with his case, he knew he was taking a risk. But the Middleton enquiry was really taking up too much of his time, and he needed to start making headway as soon as possible.

Leon stood by his desk, notebook at the ready. Jack hesitated a moment, still unsure about what he could get away with.

‘Leon, I need you to do some checking for me, and it’s very important. I need you to find out anything you can about a Sandra Raynor, aged 44, working as an accountant. Look through the newspaper archives, pull out anything you can find on her.’ He passed over the laptop. ‘I also want you to use this, not the station’s, as this is a covert investigation. You get any kind of alarm bells, you bring it straight back to me, understand?’

‘Will do, sarge.’ Leon jotted down some notes in his pocketbook, then put the laptop in his briefcase. ‘We also contacted the hostel. Amanda Dunn is still there, but a Mrs Thornton said that she was scheduled to be leaving after the weekend.’

Jack nodded, deciding he would do the visits first and then drive over to see Amanda.

Half an hour later he left the station with Sara, after she had entered into CRIS that they would be conducting two interviews that morning. She giggled when she saw Jack’s car, saying that she had never known a detective to drive such an outrageously coloured vehicle.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers, Sara, and my wife has the Porsche. At least you can easily spot this in a car park, plus I doubt anyone would ever want to steal it!’

‘You’re probably right about that, sarge,’ Sara agreed, then paused before continuing. ‘There are a few things I didn’t put into my written report. Mr Thompson is retired and was actually semi-retired when he was handling Rodney Middleton’s case. He’s sixty-seven, and apparently has some medical issues. He’s an “old school” probationary officer, and to be honest I doubt he would even be employed these days.’

Sydney Thompson lived in a small terraced house in St Margarets, just after Twickenham Bridge, and fortunately Jack was able to park almost outside his front door. There were cones blocking the spaces in front of an adjacent property that was being renovated; however, there didn’t appear to be any builders working on it. They both put on their masks, even though it was not obligatory, and headed towards number 32.

Thompson opened the front door before Jack had time to ring the bell. He looked older than sixty-seven and was very overweight, his enormous stomach bulging out through his crumpled collarless shirt.

‘There’s a big rugby match on this afternoon, so I hope this isn’t going to take too long. And don’t worry about wearing your masks; nobody round here bothers now. I’ve had my vaccinations, so has the wife, as she’s got asthma. She’s been in isolation for so long she’s starting to enjoy making me do all the grocery shopping. Not for much longer though!’

He led them into a small sitting room which had a comfortable, if rather worn, sofa and two easy chairs. There was a coffee table with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits, with sugar and milk and three mugs. Sydney eased himself into one of the two easy chairs as Sara offered to pour the tea, and they removed their masks.

‘I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Mr Thompson. I’m here to ask you a few questions about a young man called Rodney Middleton. I believe he was with you a few years ago,’ Jack began.

Sydney stirred his mug of tea and took a long sip.

‘Obviously whatever I tell you is privileged information, but I’ll tell you what I can.’

‘I appreciate that, Mr Thompson. First off, can you give me your personal impression of Rodney?’

‘He was a gentle soul, very troubled, and was concerned that the medication he had been prescribed made him feel very lethargic. There were a few times when he found it hard to have a coherent conversation. I did query it with his psychiatrist, but it was not my position to question what they had prescribed him.’

‘Was he ever violent in any way?’

‘No, never... on the contrary. In my humble estimation, Rodney was a very traumatised young man. His sisters dying in the fire, his mother leaving him... I believe his father was abusive to him; it all affected him. He didn’t warrant a custodial sentence but would have benefited from appropriate medical care.’

‘How old was he at this time?’

‘Just eighteen, that was my first encounter with him. Subsequently he was allocated to me when he was twenty-one and had committed an assault. By this time, he had been held at a young offender institute. He was released for medical assessment from another psychiatric department and was fearful about being prescribed even more medication that would make him feel ill. I believe he had been offered hypnosis.’

‘During any of your dealings with Rodney, did you have any concerns regarding his over-protective feelings towards young people, especially young girls?’

‘I’ve been asked that before; surely it’s understandable that he should feel protective, after what happened to his younger sisters?’

‘So, you never felt that it was a sign that he could have paedophilia tendencies?’

Thompson shook his head. ‘No, I did not. Not in any way. I know there was some complaint made against him, but Rodney explained to me that he was concerned for the children in the playground. He was frightened they could fall and hurt themselves if their parent wasn’t watching them.’

‘How do you feel about the fact that Rodney has just committed yet another vicious assault?’

Thompson waved his mug of tea, spilling some over his trousers and the carpet.

‘Whatever has occurred since my retirement isn’t my business. If you want my honest opinion, Rodney Middleton has been left to fall through the system without ever getting the proper treatment he needed, being passed from one psychiatrist to the other with no concrete or helpful diagnosis.’

Jack paused. ‘Mr Thompson, can I ask you what, in your professional experience, is wrong with Rodney Middleton?’

Thompson was wiping the spilt tea off his trousers with a crumpled napkin. He shrugged and leant forwards, his belly drooping between his fat thighs.

‘Have you met him?’

Jack looked embarrassed. ‘No, not yet.’

‘Well, when you do you’ll see why I have strong empathy for this young man. He’s a lost soul, and nobody has ever had the time to heal him.’

Jack stood up and signalled to Sara that they were leaving.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Thompson, you’ve been very helpful. I hope you enjoy your rugby match.’

It was clear that Sydney thought he would be questioned further, and he looked surprised as he hauled his bulk out of the chair. Sara walked ahead of Jack, who turned at the door.

‘Do you think that Rodney would be capable of murder?’

Sydney was bending down to pick up the tray, and he turned to face Jack.

‘I... well, in the end God only knows what people are capable of.’

They drove in silence as Jack followed his satnav directions to Brian Hookam’s address, which he had also put into Waze on his mobile.

They headed back towards Kingston, past the old Kingston Crown Court towards the A1, which would then be a straight drive to Cobham.

‘Sarge, what did you mean when you asked if Middleton was capable of murder?’

‘If you ask me, Middleton should have been sectioned years ago, and the Sydney Thompsons of this world had no idea what they were dealing with. The psychiatrists were treading on eggshells with their reports, passing Middleton from one clinic to another.’

‘What makes you feel that Rodney is capable of murder?’

‘Intuition, Sara. He’s manipulated the system, spending very little time in custodial environments, always being let off on medical grounds. He’s twenty-four and has lived off benefits all his adult life. He was protected by men like Sydney Thompson, who even encouraged him not to take his prescribed medication.’

‘He didn’t actually say that, but you don’t seem to rate probation officers very highly.’

‘I don’t. They’re not qualified doctors or psychiatrists... and just seem to act as enablers so that prisoners get released. Those prisoners then often end up going straight back into crime. I know your brother is a probation officer, and I don’t mean to lump everyone together, so I’m sure he’s an exception.’

‘He is, and he’s very dedicated. However, in defence of men like Thompson, you haven’t met Rodney Middleton yet, so you are assuming an awful lot based on your intuition.’

Jack gave her a side-long glance. He rather admired the fact she was feisty and was questioning him, but he didn’t have the patience to go into all his reasons for his suspicion that Rodney was a killer. He knew he could be wrong, but he was not about to admit it.

Satnav and Waze eventually directed them to a small mews courtyard off the main Cobham High Street. These were small workmen’s cottages, built close together with a small verge in front and a profusion of flowering tubs and hanging baskets around their front doors. They parked outside number 14, behind a Toyota with stickers supporting firefighters and a ‘Vote Labour’ sign.

Jack and Sara pulled their masks on as they stood and rang the doorbell. There was the sound of a small dog yapping then the door was opened. Brian Hookam stood, holding a bulbous-eyed Pekingese with a red scarf around its neck.

‘Don’t worry, he’s all bark, and anyway not many teeth left for him to bite with!’ Hookam said jovially.

Jack introduced himself and Sara as they were ushered into a small but comfortable-looking lounge, with thick-piled carpet and a flowered easy chair and a two-seater sofa. Elegant flowery curtains fell either side of a small, fabric-covered window seat.

Hookam was a huge, fit-looking man, standing at well over six feet. He had broad shoulders and was dressed in jeans and a black collared t-shirt. He seemed totally out of place with the décor of the room. He offered them tea or coffee, but Jack declined, saying he didn’t want to take up too much of his time.

Brian had loose false teeth, which made an odd whistling sound when he talked, and he was constantly sucking in air. The Pekingese remained snuggled in his arms as Jack and Sara sat side by side on the sofa. Brian excused himself for a minute, going out into the narrow hall and calling out.

‘Avril?’

Jack saw a tiny woman with mauve hair and a wrap-over apron approach, taking the dog from Brian’s arms.

‘Do you want a pot of tea?’

‘No, thanks, my love... just keep Judy out. I shouldn’t be too long.’

Brian came back in and closed the door. He was breathing heavily and gave a phlegmy cough as he sat down in one of the easy chairs. He took out a rather dirty handkerchief and spat into it.

‘Sorry, too much smoke inhalation over twenty-five years, as well as the fags! But I’ve given them up since I retired. If you ask me, I don’t think having that long-haired Peke does me any good, but it’s like her child. We have four of them — kids, that is, not dogs — but we haven’t been able to see them for over a year.’

Jack smiled. ‘Firstly, thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Mr Hookam, I really appreciate it. I’ll get straight to the point. It’s a bit of a test of your memory, I’m afraid.’

Brian nodded, sucking in a breath between his loose teeth.

‘So, there was a fire at Anthony Middleton’s property over five years ago. I believe you were the officer in charge of the fire investigation unit and were called to attend?’

‘Yes, I was at the scene... it was a night that isn’t easy to forget. They never are, particularly when there are fatalities... and in this case those two little girls.’

‘There was an investigation to determine the cause of the fire, as arson was suspected?’

‘Yes, that’s correct. It was a very thorough enquiry. No chemicals were found... by that I mean no accelerants, and the team were eventually in agreement that the fire was accidental. Let me show you.’

Hookam stood up and went over to a small bureau, opening a drawer. He searched around and brought out a thick, worn notebook. He opened another drawer and took out a pen, lowering the felt covered writing shelf. He began to draw on a blank page in his book. Jack sat patiently, listening to Brian’s laboured breathing.

‘Right, come on over and have a look. I’m no artist but what I’ve drawn is the house, the ground floor, the staircase and the bedrooms on the landing. Where I’ve put a cross, that was the first gasoline heater, which was an old model and no longer sold. The girls’ bedroom was at the back. The window was barred and was obviously not facing the street where the fire engine had access. There was a second gasoline heater, a more modern one, against the wall by the bedroom door. It was determined that one of the children had put a synthetic duvet over the top of it. This is where the fire was started, and as the door had been left open, once the fire caught it started to spread very quickly onto the landing. Then the second heater caught fire, creating a fire ball. The banisters had been filled in with chip board, so the fireball was channelled down the stairs.’

Jack looked at his drawing. ‘So, the children were totally trapped, unable to get out of the window or make it out onto the landing?’

‘Correct, and the smoke was incredibly thick... by the time we arrived, the blaze was very intense and spreading all over the ground floor.’

‘How long before you could get it under control?’

‘It would have been fifteen to twenty minutes, with two fire trucks and hoses. It was impossible to gain entry in order to get up the stairs to the children; the girls were eventually brought out, but it was too late.’

Hookam gave a long, deep sigh and sat down in the easy chair again.

‘Can you now tell me who was present on the scene when you were called out to the fire?’

‘Yes, there was a young teenager. He had tried to get into the house... he was hysterical. He had to be held back as his clothes were already burning. He had to be hosed down. Then his — very drunk — father arrived; we thought he would try to calm his son, but instead he began punching and kicking him until he fell down. It was very unpleasant... we had to drag them apart. The father was screaming that his son was to blame. He tried to get into the house and had to be held back as well. He suffered some burns but by this time we had an ambulance there and they were attending to the lad, who was sobbing. I think his father had broken his nose. Then a taxi pulls up with the girls’ mother inside. She was screaming, and when they brought out the bodies she collapsed and had to be taken into the ambulance.’

Jack held up the drawing. ‘Did you know where the son, Rodney, was in the house when the fire started?’

‘I found out later, when he was questioned during the investigation. Apparently, he had been in the front room working on his laptop. He maintained that he had only become alarmed when he smelt smoke. He said he’d tried to go up the stairs, but the heat was too intense, and the fireball started moving down the stairs. Then the fire trucks arrived.’

‘Who called the fire brigade?’

‘A neighbour, I believe.’

‘So, Rodney was downstairs and by the time the smoke had alerted him to the fire, it had already taken hold. He tried to move up the stairs, but they were on fire. Was he wearing headphones?’

Hookam looked perplexed.

‘It’s just that if he was and the girls were screaming, he might not have heard.’

Hookam shook his head. ‘I can’t recall, I’m afraid.’

‘Did you, at any time, think it could have been arson?’ Jack asked.

‘Well... I heard the father accusing the boy, but that could have been the shock at seeing the house ablaze, and because his son was supposed to be taking care of the girls. Mind you, the mother was also telling the police to arrest Rodney, saying that he had set fire to the house. She was in a very hysterical state and had to be sedated. But you know a fatal fire is always thoroughly investigated. Any allegations against the young boy would have been properly evaluated.’

‘So, it was judged to be accidental. But were there any questions about how or why the duvet had been placed over the gas heater?’

‘I believe it was thought that one or other of the girls could have thrown it off their beds because they were hot. It was a very small room, more like a box room.’

Jack stood up and asked if he could keep the drawing. Hookam nodded, and Jack thanked him for his time. Sara shook his hand and walked behind them to the front door. They didn’t see his wife again, but they could hear the dog barking from the kitchen. Brian laughed as he gestured to the small sign on the front door: BEWARE OF THE DOG.

Brian remained standing at his front door as they drove off.

He sighed, remembering that clasped in the eldest daughter’s little charred hand was a doll, the pink plastic face melted into her skin. Sights like that, he knew, never leave you.