Murder Mile

by Lynda La Plante

  Blake stood up. “If they are working together, your priority must be to arrest Lang. He’ll be the weaker of the two, and easier to crack in an interview, especially with all the forensic evidence against him. He won’t want to take the blame on his own and may turn Queen’s evidence against Simmonds. Right, I’m going back to the Yard to update the Commissioner.”

  Jane was surprised he had accepted that Simmonds was a legitimate target of the investigation.

  “What about the dismembered body? Is another team taking it over?” Moran asked.

  “Yes. I’ll arrange for a handover tomorrow morning.” Blake left the room.

  Moran looked at Jane and Lawrence. “Neither of you say a fucking word. I for one am very relieved he’s handing the case over. I don’t know about you two, but I could do with a coffee and sandwich after that. Either of you want anything?”

  Jane and Lawrence both said a coffee would be great.

  “Stretch your legs and we’ll reconvene in fifteen minutes. Jane, can you tell Gibbs to join me in the canteen. I’ll bring him up to speed, then we can all discuss a plan of action regarding Simmonds.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lawrence asked Moran if he could use his desk phone to ring Fingerprint Bureau at the Yard to find something out.

  “Help yourself.” Moran left them alone.

  Lawrence was just picking up the phone when Jane put a hand on his arm.

  “Paul, do you think someone with a partially clasped thumb could tie a slip knot and strangle someone?”

  Paul put the phone down. “What else haven’t you told us?”

  Jane explained what Hilary Peters had told her about her brother’s disability, adding that she hadn’t yet said anything to Moran.

  “It depends how bad the disability with his thumb is, I guess. Also, if someone else had tied the slip knot, then Lang would still be able to pull the rope and tighten it round the victim’s neck. The landlord at the Golden Lion never said anything about Lang’s thumb, so he was clearly able to serve drinks.”

  “Did you recover any shoes from Lang’s hostel room?”

  “I think so. All the items seized will be recorded in the exhibits book by the SOCO.”

  “Can I borrow your magnifying glass?” Jane asked.

  “My case is in the CID office. Help yourself.”

  Jane went to the CID office. There were a few members of the team at their desks, writing up reports or making phone enquiries. Gibbs was talking to the CID clerk. Jane told him Moran was in the canteen and wanted to speak with him. She was getting Lawrence’s magnifying glass from his case when Edwards approached her.

  “We all thought that tosser Blake was wrong to call you out in front of the team like that. Is everything OK?”

  “Yes, thanks. Blake got the wrong end of the stick about something, but he’s calmed down now.”

  Jane went over to the crime scene wall and looked at the hostel room photographs to see if she could see any footwear on the floor or in the wardrobe. There was just a pair of brown suede shoes by the end of the bed, and using the magnifying glass she could see they were slip-on.

  Something small on the floor also caught her eye, but it was hard to make out. Using the magnifying glass Jane looked closer. She could see it was blue and red, but that was all. Jane got the exhibits book with the list of items seized from Lang’s hostel room from the case file and started reading. There was no mention of a small blue and red object recovered from the wardrobe. Jane realized Lawrence had left the hostel to attend Eileen Summers’ post-mortem and the SOCOs must have missed it. Lawrence would no doubt be furious with them.

  “You got a moment, Edwards?” Jane asked.

  “Sure.” Edwards got up from his desk.

  Jane handed him the magnifying glass and put her finger next to the blue and red object.

  “Can you make out what that is?”

  Edwards moved the magnifying glass up and down to focus it. “Pity there wasn’t a close-up. It could be a tiny bit of cloth, but there’s also a metal glint, which I suppose might be from the flash of the camera … Hold on, from the color and shape, I think it could be a fishing fly.”

  Jane frowned. “I’m not in the mood for any silly games, Edwards.”

  “I’m being serious. I’m a member of the Met Police Angling Society, I’ll have you know. I’ve been fishing since I was a kid. Mostly coarse fishing, but I know a bit about fishing flies.”

  Jane explained to Edwards about the picture she saw of Simmonds salmon fishing and the framed set of fishing flies in his Peckham clinic.

  Edwards paused. He looked deep in thought, then went over to another section of the photographs and looked closely at the pictures of the ligatures. “That’s interesting. So Simmonds is a keen fisherman then?”

  Jane shrugged. “Maybe. The picture I saw was taken on the river Spey in 1978. Why do you ask?”

  “The Spey is famous for fly-fishing. It costs a fortune to fish there, so he must be keen. The thing is, fishermen use different types of knots for tying hooks, lures and flies. It’s just dawned on me that a slip knot, like the one used on two of the victims, is also used by fishermen,” Edwards concluded with a smug grin.

  “This is one of those rare times when I could kiss you, Edwards,” she exclaimed.

  “Well, if you feel the need right now …” Edwards closed his eyes and puckered up.

  Jane gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Could you go see if the object is still in Lang’s wardrobe at the hostel?”

  “Sure. Is Simmonds a suspect now?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Jane said, removing the wardrobe and rope photographs from the wall.

  When she got back to Moran’s office, he was already there with Gibbs, who was putting down a tray of coffees and biscuits.

  Lawrence was on the phone. “Thanks. I’m in DCI Moran’s office at Peckham. Ring me when you’ve finished checking.” He put the phone down.

  Jane put the ligature photographs down on Moran’s desk.

  “I know this may sound crazy,” she began, “but Edwards knows quite a bit about fishing and how fishermen tie a line to a fishing fly. He told me they use slip knots, just like the ones on the ligatures.”

  “From what we know of him, Lang doesn’t seem like a fisherman to me,” Lawrence said.

  “I know I should have said something earlier, but Hilary Peters told me her brother has a partially clasped left thumb.” Jane waited for Moran to reprimand her, but he remained silent.

  “And your point is?” Gibbs asked.

  “He can’t tie a shoelace, let alone a slip knot or fishing fly, but Simmonds must know about different types of knots.”

  “That’s impossible to prove without an admission or eyewitness,” Gibbs said.

  Jane reminded them about the photograph she’d seen in his mother’s bedroom.

  “There was a label on it with: ‘Salmon Fishing, River Spey, 1978.’ Edwards also said you’d have to be a keen fisherman to go there as it’s so expensive. In the waiting room I saw a frame containing different types of fishing flies.”

  “Edwards’ observations, and the photo of Simmonds, are thought-provoking. But it doesn’t prove Simmonds tied the ligatures,” Gibbs countered.

  Jane frowned. “You’re beginning to sound like Blake.” She put the wardrobe photograph on the table and handed Lawrence his magnifying glass.

  “Edwards thinks that might be a fishing fly.” She pointed to the small blue and red object.

  Lawrence looked at it with the magnifying glass. “It’s hard to say what it is. Rather than take Edward’s word for it, check the list of items seized from Lang’s room.”

  “I did. It’s not listed. I’ve sent Edwards to the hostel to see if it’s still there.”

  “Bloody SOCOs better hope it is,” Lawrence muttered darkly.

  “It’s a good spot by you and Edwards, Jane, but even if it turns out to be a fishing fly, it’s hardly a connection between Simmonds and Lang,�
� Gibbs said.

  Moran picked up the magnifying glass and looked at the photo. “I’m not questioning your suspicions about Simmonds, Jane, but Gibbs is right.”

  “Is Simmonds married or in a relationship?” Gibbs asked.

  Jane was caught out by the question. “I don’t know.”

  “There was no mention of him being married or having a girlfriend in the dental journal article,” Lawrence added.

  Jane cast her mind back to her first meeting with Simmonds. “He told me he lived in a flat above the Harley Street clinic, and that Helen Matthews cleaned and ironed for him, which kind of implies he’s single.”

  Moran’s desk phone rang. He picked it up. “DCI Moran.” After a few seconds he looked at Lawrence.

  “It’s Fingerprint Bureau for you.”

  Lawrence took the phone. “Are you certain?” He looked surprised. “OK. Thanks for that.” He put the phone down.

  They could all sense something was troubling him.

  “What’s up, Paul?” Moran asked.

  “It’s odd. The fingerprints we recovered from Helen Matthews’ and Eileen Summers’ flats are all from the first or second finger of Lang’s right hand.”

  “What’s odd about that?” Gibbs asked.

  Perplexed, Lawrence shook his head. “There’s none from his other right fingers or left hand.”

  Gibbs was confused. “Excuse me if I sound a bit dim, Paul, but I don’t see what the problem is. No two people have the same fingerprints, and Lang’s were in two of the victim’s flats. That’s indisputable evidence he was there.”

  Lawrence took a deep breath. “I think we should get a forensic odontologist to check the teeth in the severed head.”

  “It would be a waste of time and money,” Gibbs argued. “I ran a check on mispers. There’s no one reported missing with blue eyes who fell within the height or age range of the victim.”

  “We need an odontologist to determine whether or not recent dental work was carried out to replace any missing teeth,” Lawrence argued.

  “Why?” Gibbs asked.

  “Because it’s possible the dismembered body in the mortuary is Aiden Lang.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Moran looked incredulous. He opened his notebook and looked at his post-mortem notes. “I’m sorry, Paul, but that’s impossible. Professor Martin said the victim whose body parts were found in Rye Park could have been dead for seven days. The earliest Lang could have broken into Summers’ flat was the Monday night she was murdered—which was six days ago. So if that’s the case, unless he’s risen from the dead, the dismembered body can’t be him.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Lawrence answered, “but if I killed you then cut your fingers off, I could use them to leave your fingerprints wherever I wanted.”

  Moran closed his eyes as he worked out the implications of what Lawrence had just said. If the dismembered body was Aiden Lang, then whoever had killed him had also murdered the three women. And they were back to square one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Moran, Lawrence and Jane arrived at Ladywell Mortuary, Peter Carey, the forensic odontologist from Guy’s Hospital, was already there waiting for them. Entering the mortuary examination area, they could see the flayed head had already been placed on a table by the pathologist.

  “Bloody hell, it’s even worse than you described, Sergeant Lawrence,” Carey remarked.

  Although Lawrence, Jane and Moran had already seen the head, it still made them wince. Carey gowned up before attaching dental forceps to the four corners of the mouth to hold it open. The upper and lower teeth, as well as the gums, were now all fully exposed, making the wide-open mouth look like an evil, smiling clown.

  “We think the victim may be—” Moran started to say.

  Carey was quick to hold his hand up and stop him. “Sorry, DCI Moran. It’s best I don’t know anything about who you think it may be, or the victim’s background. I don’t want anything to influence my examination.”

  Using a pair of dental probes, Carey started to examine the teeth and make notes.

  “It’s strange looking into a mouth with no tongue. The teeth are in good condition, though, and I would estimate an age range for the victim of between eighteen and twenty-two years. The upper left lateral incisor has recently been replaced with a temporary plate.”

  “Could we have things in layman’s terms, please?” Moran asked.

  “Your victim’s wearing a plastic plate, which has a false tooth attached to it. I’d say it’s just a temporary replacement used while the gums and supporting bone are healing.” Carey put his fingers into the mouth. He unclipped the temporary plate and handed it to Lawrence. “There should still be a plaster mold in existence for this plate. It would have been made by whoever did the dental work. If you find the plaster mold, I’ll be able to tell you if it was made for this poor chap.”

  “Who makes the plates?” Lawrence asked.

  “A dental lab, usually, though some dentists do it themselves.”

  “I noticed you made notes on a diagram. Would the dentist have done the same?” Moran asked.

  “Most certainly, yes. And they should have taken X-rays of the teeth prior to any examination.”

  “Would the dentist have used novocaine?” Jane asked.

  “Yes, when the abutment tooth was prepared for the temporary plate. And when the new plate was fitted.”

  “Could a novocaine injection kill someone?” Jane asked.

  “It’s possible, if the patient had an unknown allergy to the drug. They could suffer a severe hypersensitive reaction, which could result in death. And if injected into a blood vessel in a large quantity, novocaine can cause heart seizure and death in anyone.”

  Jane made a mental note to contact Hilary Peters to see if she knew where and when her brother Aiden was last treated by a dentist. And if he was allergic to novocaine.

  “What makes you ask about novocaine, officer?” Carey asked.

  “We think a dentist may be involved in the murder and dismemberment of our unknown victim,” Moran replied.

  Carey didn’t look surprised. “It takes all kinds to make a world. I can assure you I won’t say anything outside of this room,” he said, removing his surgical gloves. “If your victim had a tongue, I’d expect to find the needle wound and traces of novocaine around it.”

  “Could a toxicology test find novocaine in other parts of the victim’s body or the blood?” Lawrence asked.

  “I doubt it if his death was from an instantaneous heart seizure. The decomposition of the dismembered parts will also affect the blood and destroy any traces of novocaine.”

  “So we’ll have no way of telling if he was given a fatal dose of novocaine?” Moran said, the disappointment clear in his voice.

  “There’s something new that might be worth a try,” Carey suggested. “The toxicology department at Guy’s Hospital have been doing some groundbreaking work testing vitreous humor for drugs.”

  Moran perked up. “What’s vitreous humor?”

  “Fluid contained within the globe of the eye, between the retina and the lens. It’s suitable for post-mortem chemical analysis. Vitreous is relatively isolated from blood and other body fluids that are affected by decomposition,” Carey said, picking up a needle and syringe from the equipment trolley.

  Jane and Moran cringed as Carey pushed a needle into one of the eyeballs and slowly withdrew the vitreous into the syringe. He then ejected it into a small glass container.

  Carey held up the eye fluid. “I’ll take this direct to Guy’s toxicology department for urgent analysis.” He pointed to the head. “Your victim had previous dental treatment—a couple of fillings, at least. It might have been done by someone other than your suspect dentist. If so, a written record and X-rays of his treatment should still exist. If you find them, I can do a comparison and tell you if it’s the same person.”

  Moran waited until Carey had left the post-mortem room to speak with his colleagues.<
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  “Good work, Paul. After what Carey said, it looks like you were right about the dismembered body being Aiden Lang.”

  “We still have to prove it,” Lawrence replied. “But if that is Lang, and Professor Martin is right about the time of death being seven days ago, then he certainly can’t have murdered Eileen Summers.”

  Jane picked up on Lawrence’s observation. “If Lang was involved, or knew about the first two murders, he would have posed a serious threat to Simmonds.” The inference was that Simmonds had murdered Lang.

  Moran kicked the leg of the mortuary table in frustration, causing the severed head to wobble. “Getting Lang to confess would have been our best chance of nailing Simmonds. Now it’s gone.”

  Jane knew she had to take some of the blame. “Because of my stupidity at his Peckham practice, Simmonds must know we suspect him. He’ll probably have destroyed every shred of evidence linking him to the three women and Lang’s murders.”

  Moran wasn’t in the mood to reprimand her. “What’s done is done, Jane.”

  “Simmonds is clearly a highly intelligent man. He’s always been one step ahead of us all,” Lawrence said reassuringly.

  “Are you going to arrest Simmonds?” Jane asked Moran.

  “Not yet. Even intelligent men make mistakes. And there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” he answered with a wry smile.

  Driving into the station yard, Moran and Jane saw Edwards striding towards them. As they got out of the CID car, Edwards held up a plastic property bag.

  “I found it, guv. I’ve used one of these myself a few times fishing for trout. You’re not going to believe what it’s called,” he added with a grin.

  Moran peered at the bag. “I’ve no idea, Edwards. Why don’t you tell us?”

  “A Bloody Butcher!”

  Moran smiled. “Good work, Edwards. Now tell me, when did you last visit the dentist?”

  Edwards looked confused. “I don’t know. About two years ago.”

  Moran smiled. “Then you’re just the man for the job.”

  “What job?”

  “The one that might rattle Simmonds’ cage enough to make him slip up and lead us to some evidence.”