Murder Mile

by Lynda La Plante

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you, Mr. Simmonds, but Helen’s body was found in an alleyway in Peckham last Friday. I’m afraid she was murdered.”

  Simmonds was clearly shocked. “Oh my God, that’s terrible! What happened to her?”

  “She was strangled and sexually assaulted.”

  Simmonds looked shaken as he sat down on his dental high stool and shook his head in disbelief. “I heard something on the radio about the murders in Peckham. There was no mention of Helen’s name.”

  “We only found out who the victim was yesterday when her mother identified her body.”

  “It must be awful losing a daughter like that. What about Simon, Helen’s son? How is he?”

  “He’s with his grandmother. I don’t think he fully understands what has happened yet.”

  “That poor boy. Please tell Helen’s mother how sorry I am for her loss, and if there’s anything I can do for her or Simon to contact me.”

  “Of course. I’m sure Mrs. Matthews will appreciate your kind words and offer of assistance. I believe you fitted Simon with braces?”

  “Yes, about four weeks ago. Helen told me some of the kids at school teased Simon about his ‘goofy teeth.’ She asked if I could give her any advice on what to do … about his teeth, that is, not the bullying. Helen brought Simon to the clinic and, after examining him, I told her braces would solve the problem.”

  Jane found herself warming to Simmonds. “I believe you did the work for free?”

  “Yes. I knew Helen couldn’t afford it, and probably struggled to make ends meet as a single parent, so I wanted to help her out.”

  Jane was curious. “I spoke with your receptionist about Simon. She checked the dental files and there was no record of him having treatment here.”

  Simmonds smiled and nodded. “That’s right. To be honest, I did the work on Simon out of hours and didn’t keep a record. I was worried the other dentists in the practice might be upset if they found out I was doing dental work for free.”

  “How long had Helen Matthews worked here?”

  Simmonds paused. “About ten months. I was socializing with a colleague who was moving to York. I mentioned I was looking for a cleaner and he recommended Helen. I got her in on a trial basis, but she was very thorough, so I hired her. In fact, she was the best cleaner we’ve ever had.”

  “Can you recall when you last saw her?”

  Again, Simmonds thought. “To be honest, no, other than one evening a week or so ago when she brought Simon in for a braces check-up. Helen’s hours here were generally ten a.m. to two p.m. and I would be dealing with patients, so I saw her only rarely. The treatment rooms are cleaned by the dental auxiliaries, as the equipment is very expensive and there are anesthetic drugs stored there. Helen cleaned all the other areas and my flat on the top floor. She also did some ironing for me, so I’d leave her wages in an envelope on the living room table.”

  “Would you happen to know where else Helen worked as a cleaner?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “Could you give me the name of the colleague who recommended her?”

  “Peter Brown. I’ve got his York number in my flat. I can call him and ask if he knew where else Helen worked.”

  “That would be helpful, thank you,” Jane said, and Simmonds started to walk towards the door.

  “It’s OK, you don’t have to do it right now,” she assured him. “I’ll give you my work number and you can ring me at the office if he’s able to help. Have you ever heard the names Aiden Lang or Ben Smith? Perhaps Helen Matthews mentioned them to you?”

  Simmonds thought about it for a second. “No. Are they friends of hers?”

  Jane handed him a picture of Aiden Lang. “Smith is an alias used by this man. His real name’s Aiden Lang.”

  Simmonds looked closely at the picture. “No, he doesn’t look familiar. Is he a suspect?”

  “We believe he may be responsible for the murder of Helen and two other women.”

  Simmonds shook his head sadly. “He looks so young. Would you like me to show the other dentists this photograph?”

  “There’s no need for now,” Jane said, and he handed her back the photo. “But thank you for your time and your assistance.”

  “Would you be kind enough to let me know the details of Helen’s funeral, please? I would like to attend and pay my respects.”

  “It may be quite a few weeks yet before the coroner releases her body for burial. But as soon as I know, I’ll be in touch.”

  On her way out, Jane popped into the waiting room and picked up the dental journal she had been reading.

  “Would it be all right if I took this?” she asked the receptionist.

  “I’m sure that would be fine. We have a couple of copies, I think.”

  As Jane rolled up the journal and slipped it into her coat pocket, the receptionist leant forward and spoke in a whisper. “If you’re still looking for Helen Matthews and she turns up here, should I phone nine-nine-nine?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you that Helen Matthews has been murdered. I’ve been trying to find out where else she worked.”

  The receptionist gasped, put her hand to her mouth and rocked backwards on her chair.

  “Do you know where else Helen worked as a cleaner?” Jane asked.

  “No. I didn’t really know her and we rarely spoke.”

  Jane pulled out the picture of Aiden Lang. “Have you ever seen this man before?”

  The receptionist took her time studying the photograph. “He looks familiar … Has he got a tooth missing?”

  Jane felt a little surge of adrenalin. “You know him?”

  “Not personally, no, and he’s not a patient here. But working as a dental receptionist has made me notice people’s teeth more. I can’t be sure, but a week or so ago I left the clinic and it wasn’t until I got to Oxford Circus tube station that I realized I’d left my purse in the reception desk drawer. I had to walk all the way back to the clinic and I saw a young man, like the one in the picture, standing by a car outside the clinic. He looked at me and I said, ‘Good evening.’ He smiled and nodded. I noticed he had a tooth missing here.” She pointed to the right side of her mouth. “When I came back out a few seconds later he was still there by the car, talking to the driver who had his window open.”

  “Can you remember what color his hair was and what he was wearing?”

  “Let me see … He had a dark jacket on with the hood up over his head, so I couldn’t see what color his hair was, and I’m not sure about his trousers, but they might have been flares. He seemed quite smart.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Well, I left work at just after six p.m. It’s ten or so minutes to Oxford Circus. I realized I’d forgotten my purse and turned back. That’s another ten minutes, so it must have been about six thirty.”

  Jane nodded, eager to get more details. “What about the car? Can you remember the make or color?”

  “Definitely dark, and it was big. It might have been a Mercedes like Mr. Simmonds has.”

  “What did the driver look like?”

  “Well, it wasn’t Mr. Simmonds. He was white and looked older than the young man in the coat. I didn’t really get a good look at him.”

  “Can you remember what day it was?”

  “No, but it was either the beginning of last week or the end of the week before.”

  “Would you recognize either of the men again?” Jane asked, desperately hoping for a positive answer.

  “Maybe the younger one with the missing tooth.”

  “Thank you.” Jane wasn’t sure how this new information could help the investigation, but she was keen to get back to the station and share it with Moran.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jane walked to her flat to collect her car, which was parked in a side street. As she drove back to Peckham, she wondered if Helen Matthews had taken Simon to see Simmonds for his braces check-up on the same evening the man who looked like Aiden L
ang was outside the clinic. If that person was Lang, then it was possible he was waiting for Helen and Simon. She also wondered about the man in the car, but realized he could simply have been a waiting mini cab driver, or someone who had stopped to ask directions.

  Entering the Peckham CID office, Jane couldn’t help but notice they were running out of space on the far end wall, which was now covered with crime scene and pathology photographs of the three victims, as well as other notes about the investigation. The civilian clerk told Jane that DCI Moran had said he wanted a full office meeting when she returned, adding that he was not in a good mood. They were no nearer to finding Aiden Lang, even though they’d had a slew of calls about possible sightings of him after the press release. The press was also hounding Moran, demanding constant updates on the state of the investigation, as were the top brass at the Yard.

  Jane took a deep breath and made her way to the meeting room. She’d just taken her place with the rest of the team when a weary-looking Moran entered with DI Gibbs, who in contrast seemed to have a spring in his step and looked quite animated. Jane wondered if it was Tamara who made him so perky, or, as she’d previously suspected, Andrew Hastings’ wife, Jo. If it was the latter, she had a terrible feeling he was playing with fire.

  Moran laboriously went over all the developments since the last team meeting: the connections among the three women, the suspected sexual abuse of Simon Matthews, and the fact that Aiden Lang’s fingerprints had been found in both Helen Matthews’ and Eileen Summers’ flats, which had been ransacked.

  Moran took a gulp of coffee before continuing. “Obviously we can’t tell when Lang left his fingerprints in the women’s flats. In my opinion, it’s more likely he entered Eileen Summers’ flat after she was murdered. With respect to Helen Matthews, it could have been before she was murdered. It’s also possible she knew Lang, allowed him in her flat and he abused Simon, then when Helen found out he murdered her.” He turned to Jane. “Have you spoken with social services about interviewing Simon Matthews?”

  “Not yet, sir. I was visiting a dentist Helen Matthews worked for this morning. I was going to ring social services after the meeting.”

  “It needs to be done and quickly, so get it sorted. Simon Matthews may know a lot more about Lang than we bloody well do right now. Did the dentist have any useful information?”

  Jane briefed the team about her visit to the Harley Street clinic, but without mentioning that she’d seen DCS Blake.

  “Did you show Simmonds Lang’s mugshot?”

  “He didn’t recognize him.” Jane paused to find her notes of what the receptionist had told her about the man who looked like Lang.

  “Has anyone got anything positive to tell me about Lang’s whereabouts?” Moran asked, with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Yes, sir,” Jane said. “I just need to find the page.” As she flicked through her notebook, Moran continued.

  “I want you to organize house-to-house enquiries in the blocks of flats where Helen Matthews and Eileen Summers lived, Tennison.” He looked at Edwards. “I want you to make enquiries about Lang in every gay bar in the West End.”

  Edwards didn’t look happy. “Gays don’t like the Old Bill, so it’s hard to get anything out of them.”

  “Unless you pay for it, sweetie,” a detective chipped in, mimicking oral sex with an up and down hand movement whilst pushing his cheek out with his tongue.

  There was more laughter in the room. Jane was on the point of telling them to grow up when Moran exploded.

  “The lot of you cut the jokes and start taking this fucking investigation seriously! Someone out there must know where Lang is—he can’t just disappear off the face of the earth. I’ve checked with the passport office and he hasn’t got one, which means he must still be in the country.”

  Jane raised her hand.

  “What?” Moran snapped.

  “I didn’t get to finish telling you about my enquiries at the dental clinic.”

  Jane heard someone mutter, “Here we go. Miss Marple is off again.”

  Jane ignored the remark. “I showed the receptionist Lang’s photo. She told me she’d seen a man who looked like Lang standing outside the clinic. This was about a week or so ago, around six thirty p.m. and he was standing next to a car with another slightly older white man in the driver’s seat, who she didn’t get a good look at. The man who looked like Lang wore a jacket with the hood up, so she couldn’t see the color of his hair.”

  “It could be any Tom, Dick or Harry then,” Moran said sourly.

  Jane felt Moran was unfairly taking his frustrations out on her. “Maybe. But the receptionist also said the man in the coat had a tooth missing. From what Simmonds told me, it’s possible Helen Matthews attended the clinic that evening with Simon.”

  Jane felt vindicated as this new information brought silence to the room as everybody focused their attention on her.

  “Which tooth was missing?” Moran asked.

  It dawned on Jane the receptionist pointed to the right side of her mouth and Lang’s missing tooth was supposedly on the left. She began to wish she’d spoken in private with Moran, but realized she had to be honest about what happened at the clinic.

  “I’ve just realized the receptionist indicated the missing tooth was on the upper right side of his jaw,” she admitted in a disconsolate tone.

  There were a few sighs around the room and some officers shook their heads, which only made her feel worse, but then she remembered something she had come across many times when taking statements from a witness.

  “But it’s not uncommon for witnesses to mix up left and right when face-on to a suspect, and I believe that could be a possibility here. I don’t think we should rule out Lang as the person the receptionist saw.”

  Gibbs nodded in agreement. “I was once at a PM with Prof Martin when he referred to the left hand as the right until DS Lawrence corrected him.”

  “I read in the news once about a man who had the wrong limb amputated because a doctor made the left/right error,” Edwards chipped in.

  Moran seemed pleased. “Any other revelations you’d like to share with us?”

  “It could be the man in the car was an accomplice who was involved in the murders,” Jane said.

  There were murmurs of disagreement around the room.

  Moran shook his head. “Every piece of forensic evidence we have points to one killer. Professor Martin said all Hastings’ stab wounds were from the same weapon, plus Summers and Matthews were strangled with the same type of cord.”

  Jane persisted. “I’m just suggesting two killers is a possibility we should consider. From what we know of Lang, he’s quite slight. Moving two bodies in one evening would have been hard work on his own.”

  “Stop muddying the water, Tennison,” Gibbs said a little harshly. “Summers’ body was in his bloody hostel room.”

  “You also seem to be forgetting Lang’s fingerprints are all over Summers’ and Matthews’ flats, and jewelry was stolen,” Moran added.

  She looked at Gibbs. “You said Lang was gay. If that’s right, then maybe an accomplice raped Helen Matthews and Eileen Summers.”

  “Maybe Lang swings both ways.” Gibbs shrugged.

  Moran vented his frustration on Jane. “Maybe I should do a new press release and say: ‘Sorry, I screwed up, as one of my less experienced detectives thinks I’m wrong and there are two maniacs on the loose.’ Let me assure you, Tennison, I’ve already considered that Lang may have had an accomplice, but you tell me one bit of hard evidence that supports that theory.”

  Gibbs, fearing Jane was digging a hole for herself, changed the subject. “The workload is mounting up, sir. Is there any chance of extra staff on the team?”

  “I’ll speak with DCS Blake,” Moran replied. “But for the moment, you will all have to work the weekend. Sort it out amongst yourselves and split into two teams. One lot can work Saturday and the other Sunday.”

  Some officers looked please
d, knowing that as it was on short notice they would get double pay and days off in lieu. Other weren’t so happy, particularly those with families or those who had made plans for the weekend.

  “Which day are you working, guv?” Gibbs asked, assuming he’d be doing the other day in charge.

  “Both, and so will you,” Moran told him firmly. “I want contact numbers for everyone in case I need to call you all in. And if I do, you’d better not be pissed. Right, any questions?”

  No one said anything. Moran walked over to Jane.

  “After you’ve arranged the Simon Matthews interview with social services, come to my office.” He strode out of the office.

  Jane exchanged a look with Gibbs, then picked up the phone. She contacted Peckham Social Services to arrange the interview for 1 p.m. the next day. Jane then rang Brenda Matthews. They had a brief conversation and Jane told Brenda she’d pick her and Simon up on Friday from Mrs. Rowlands’ at midday.

  Jane trudged along the corridor to Moran’s office, suspecting he was going to give her a bollocking for undermining his authority in public. The dark look on his face told her she was right.

  “I don’t like people challenging my views in front of junior officers. It’s not what I expect from anyone, let alone you as supervising DS, who should lead by example.”

  Jane sighed. “I wasn’t challenging you, sir. I was merely offering an alternative viewpoint, which I felt should be considered. But I accept I may well be wrong.”

  Moran seemed satisfied. “Good. I appreciate that every theory must be considered—but on the evidence, not wild flights of fantasy. You are very perceptive and have the makings of a good detective, but you still have a lot to learn, so think before you speak. What you said in that meeting could diminish the respect your colleagues have for you. When that happens, you can end up becoming ostracized by the rest of the team. If something’s troubling you, or you want to voice your opinion, you can always speak to me or Gibbs on a one-to-one basis. OK?”

  Jane nodded.

  “Everything arranged for the Simon Matthews interview?”