“You’ve gone very quiet, Jane.”
Jane made an effort to compose herself. “I was just wondering where Aiden Lang was while you were at the hostel? He obviously gave you his keys.”
“Well, he had to be in one of two places …” Simmonds paused.
Jane wondered if he was playing games again. “Where?”
He smiled. “Well, as he was already dead, it had to be either heaven … or hell. Take your pick.”
Jane tried not to look shocked by his callousness. “So when did you last see him?”
“He came to the Peckham surgery on the same Monday I called Eileen Summers. He was my last patient of the day. I was going to fit a new plate with a porcelain tooth, to replace the temporary plastic one he had been wearing. But I never got to fit it. I killed him instead.”
“Was this before you went to the hostel?”
“Well, obviously. As I’ve already told you, I’d agreed to meet Eileen Summers at seven p.m., and I don’t think Lang would have given me his room key willingly—do you?”
“Did Aiden Lang know you’d killed Matthews and Hastings?”
“No.”
“Then why did you kill Lang? He’d done nothing to upset or distress you like the three other victims.”
Simmonds ground his teeth. “That’s where you’re wrong, Jane. Aiden Lang was scum. He was blackmailing me—that was why he had to die.”
Jane was dubious. “What was he blackmailing you about?”
“It doesn’t matter now he’s dead. The thing is, I needed a scapegoat, and Ben—or Aiden Lang—was it. I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, could I, Jane?” Simmonds said, smiling at his play on words.
Jane hesitated before asking her next question. “I’m just trying to piece everything together, David. We know that Aiden Lang was a homosexual prostitute, a rent boy. Were you in a relationship with him?”
Simmonds looked shocked. “No, I was not! I didn’t even know he was a homosexual.”
Jane wanted to press him further about his sexuality and his relationship with Aiden Lang, but if he got angry he would stop talking. She decided to change the subject, but before she could ask another question, he continued.
“I never intended to kill Helen Matthews or Sybil Hastings, you know. But after I did, it made me realize how easy it was to take someone’s life. It makes you feel very powerful, as if you can do anything you want. Do you understand what I mean?”
Jane kept her face blank, even though her heart was racing. “I suppose it’s even more empowering when you actually plan to kill someone?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. The planning must be meticulous. As I’m sure you appreciate, Jane, the devil is in the detail.”
“What were you wearing when you killed Helen Matthews and Sybil Hastings?”
“My white dental coat, of course.”
“I meant specifically when you moved the bodies.”
“A tweed jacket.”
“Like the one you were wearing in the fishing photograph I saw in your mother’s bedroom?”
“Very astute, Jane. Yes, the same one, actually. I planted my jacket and Sybil Hastings’ car keys in Aiden Lang’s hostel room to frame him for the murders. That was quite clever, don’t you think? Rather reminiscent of a Sherlock Holmes mystery.”
“So you are quite knowledgeable about forensics and fibers then?”
“I’m an avid Conan Doyle fan. I read about Holmes examining some fibers he’d found on a dead man’s coat. He deduced they were shed from the murderer’s jacket.”
“How did you kill Aiden?” Jane wanted to know if the pathologist’s theory about the novocaine was right.
“Oh, you’re going back to him, are you? How do you think I killed him?” Simmonds asked with a sneer.
“When he was sitting in your dental chair you injected his tongue with novocaine. A forensic odontologist we consulted said that a lethal dose of novocaine could cause an instant heart attack.”
Simmonds gave Jane a slow handclap. “Correct! What a clever girl. No doubt you have also deduced that I skinned his head and removed his fingers because I didn’t want anyone to be able to identify him.”
Despite her revulsion, Jane humored him. “Your plan was very ingenious. You fooled all of us at the beginning. We thought Lang was a murderer on the run. In fact, you’d probably have got away with it if we hadn’t found the body parts.”
Simmonds cocked his head to one side. “How did that happen?”
“Foxes scavenging for food ripped open one of the plastic bin bags.”
“I must admit that’s something I hadn’t considered. I thought with the end of the bin strike, all the rubbish in the park would be taken to a landfill site and he’d never be found. How did you manage to identify him?”
“We could only surmise, but with reasonable certainty, that it was Aiden Lang. Officially the coroner hasn’t yet formally identified his body, but I’m sure he will be able to now you’ve confirmed it.”
He smiled. “It’s the least I could do, under the circumstances.”
“Where, and how, did you dismember the body?”
“I thought about taking him out to the cellar, but I couldn’t risk one of the neighbors backing onto the house seeing me. So I cut him up in the bathroom, put the body parts in the black bin bags and kept them in the cellar freezer until I was able to dump them in Rye Park.”
“What did you use to cut him up?”
“A hacksaw.” He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“These questions and answers are getting to sound a little like a game of Cluedo.”
“This is not a game to me, David.” Jane found she couldn’t maintain her façade of neutrality any longer. “To be honest, I find your attitude completely sickening.”
He looked chagrined. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to upset you. Please carry on with your questions, Jane.”
“There had been a recent fire in the garden. Was that how you destroyed some of the evidence?”
“Only the rags I used to clean up the blood, and Sybil Hastings’ pocket date book, which had my name and address in it.”
“What did you do with Lang’s fingers? We didn’t find any of them in the park.”
“I put them in a bag with a large stone and threw them into the Thames from Lambeth Bridge.”
“Was that after you used two of Lang’s severed fingers to plant his fingerprints at Helen Matthews’ and Eileen Summers’ flats?”
Simmonds started rocking in his chair. “The idea came to me whilst I was cutting up the body. Because Simon Matthews was a patient, I knew where Helen lived and still had the keys to her flat. Summers’ keys were in her handbag, along with a letter addressed to her. I put two of Aiden’s fingers from his right hand into a jar, then went to Helen and Sybil’s flats and made it look like the rooms had been ransacked by him. Really terribly clever, don’t you think?”
Jane couldn’t help herself from bringing Simmonds down a peg or two. “It wasn’t all that clever, David. It didn’t take long for our fingerprint experts to realize every print was from the first or second finger of Aiden Lang’s left hand, which started us wondering.”
Simmonds’ rocking became more energetic. “It still fooled you, though, didn’t it? Everything pointed to Aiden Lang. You’d have been none the wiser if you hadn’t found his body.”
“But it didn’t fool us, David. Or you wouldn’t have been arrested.”
Simmonds stopped rocking and leant forward. “Without my confession, neither you, Moran, nor any of your so-called detectives would have enough evidence to prove I murdered anyone. Without my confession you’d have nothing!”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jane replied evenly. “You’ve tried to be too clever for your own good. For all the awards you’ve received, you’re actually one of life’s failures. The only positive outcome of your confession is that I can at least tell the families what happened to their loved ones
and give them some form of closure. Aiden Lang posed no threat to you. He was an innocent victim, an opportunity for you to distance yourself from the murders. You used him—”
“Aiden Lang was a disgusting guttersnipe.”
“He was a small-time thief. A rent boy with a drug habit, that’s all.”
“I told you already: he was blackmailing me. Why do I have to keep repeating myself?”
“I don’t believe you.” She stood up and went over to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room and took out some confession statement forms. “Are you still willing to make a written confession?”
“Aiden Lang approached me outside my Harley Street clinic when I was leaving one night.”
Jane put the confession forms on the table and sat down. “When was this?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it was weeks before he first attended my Peckham clinic.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was leaving the Harley Street clinic to go to my favorite Italian restaurant. He walked up to me and said something, but I didn’t hear him properly. I asked what he wanted, and he said, ‘It’s not what I want, it’s about what you want.’ He then offered me … his services. He seemed drunk or high on drugs. I was outraged.”
“If you’re worried about telling me exactly what words he used, don’t be. I won’t be offended.”
“I didn’t want to repeat his foul words. But he actually said he’d suck my cock for twenty pounds or I could fuck him for forty. I told him he was disgusting and to go away or I would call the police. He laughed in my face and said if I didn’t give him some money he’d start shouting in the street that I’d approached him for sex.” Simmonds was becoming increasingly agitated.
“Did you give him any money?”
He nodded. “Twenty pounds. He clicked his fingers and said he wanted more. I gave him another ten and turned to walk away. He grabbed my arm and said he wanted a weekly payment. You understand why I had to pay him, don’t you?”
“Not really, no. And if he was blackmailing you, why did you give him dental treatment?”
“When I first met him there was nothing wrong with his teeth, but then it became part of the blackmail deal. I met him in the West End a week later to give him more money. He said someone had knocked out his tooth and he wanted me to fix it. I agreed to do it, but at the Peckham clinic, for obvious reasons.”
“Did you ever have any form of sex with Aiden Lang?”
“No! I already told you I am not a homosexual!”
From his frantic manner, Jane sensed that he was lying. It was obvious that Aiden Lang was more than just a patient to him.
Simmonds pushed his chair back and crossed his arms. “I have finished my confession. I have nothing more to say to you, Sergeant Tennison.”
Jane picked up a pencil and tapped the point on the table. “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.” She was nervous, knowing that she herself was about to embellish the truth, in an attempt to gain further information.
“David, we have made some enquiries into your military service. We have spoken to an army SIB officer, who told us that you were found in bed with an eighteen-year-old cook in your officer’s accommodation. You didn’t leave the army voluntarily; you jumped before you were pushed. I think you were lucky the whole incident was covered up. Otherwise you’d have been court-martialed and sent to prison.”
Simmonds was physically shaking. “It’s all lies! The whole incident was a total misunderstanding.”
“What, you just woke up and happened to find a young man in your bed? Listen, David, I don’t care about your sexuality.”
Simmonds glared at her. “It was a drunken, one-off incident. I paid the price and was hounded out of the army. My mother raised me to be a devout Christian. I do not have a girlfriend and I am celibate.”
“Personally, I very much doubt the army incident was a one-off. Your denial regarding any relationship with Aiden Lang is also a lie. Did your doting, overprotective mother know why you really had to leave the army? Did she want to protect your reputation in the outside world by encouraging you to be celibate?”
“Don’t you dare make insinuations about my mother!”
Jane kept going. “I think she would be turning in her grave if she knew what you had become. Perhaps you’ve always been envious of her love for your brother, and in some sick, perverted way, to get back at her, you dismembered Aiden Lang’s body and skinned his head.”
Simmonds was losing control. His hands clenched as she pressed on.
“I think you and Aiden Lang were in a sexual relationship. He wasn’t blackmailing you, and you frequently and willingly paid him for sex.”
Jane pushed her chair back, stood up and slid the confession forms across the desk towards Simmonds.
He leant forward. “I have a question for you, Jane: do you think I’ve killed anyone else?”
Jane wondered if Simmonds could have developed a lust for murder, and there might be more victims they didn’t yet know about. The thought chilled her.
“Have you?”
“No, but I was this close.” He held his right thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Guess who it was?”
“Your little mind games don’t bother me, David.”
“But they should, Jane, they should.”
“If you’ve killed more people, then tell me and I will listen. If you haven’t, then don’t waste my time—”
Simmonds suddenly stood up and pointed his finger at her. “It was you, Jane. You were going to be my next victim!” he shouted.
Jane reacted with fury. “Sit down NOW!” she shouted back and shoved the table hard, making him fall back onto his chair. “You don’t scare me, Simmonds. You disgust me!”
The interview room door flew open and the custody PC rushed in. “You all right, Sarge?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. You can wait outside.” She was wide-eyed and breathing hard.
“You sure, Sarge?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” She didn’t feel fine—far from it. But she needed the PC to leave them alone before she continued.
Looking uneasy, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Jane turned back to Simmonds. “Whatever you say now doesn’t matter. The career you were so proud of is over and you will spend the rest of your life in prison. You might get away with pleading diminished responsibility and be sent to a secure psychiatric hospital like Broadmoor, but let me tell you, life in there is worse than a normal prison. It’s like hell on earth. I’ve had to listen to your sickening justifications for your crimes and watch you gloat over your success as a dentist, while pretending to care about the less fortunate. I seemed to upset you when I made reference to your mother. She had to suffer the terrible trauma of having to identify the decapitated body of her most precious son, and what did you do? You filled the deep freeze with little home-cooked meals, pretending to care about her, and yet in that same deep freeze you put the butchered body of Aiden Lang. Not content with that horror, you skinned his head, cut out his tongue and chopped off his fingers—all to hide your sexual preferences—”
“STOP IT!” Simmonds collapsed back in his chair, his mouth wide open. He started to cry, sounding like a lost child.
Jane realized her words about his mother had broken him. He still worshipped her and couldn’t bear the thought of how she would view his crimes, even though she was dead.
“Are you going to make a written confession?” Jane was worried she had pushed things too far, letting her emotions get the better of her.
But Simmonds was like a deflated balloon, all the defiance gone. “Yes. I will write it. And it will all be done properly, Jane. I need you to ask Mr. Davidge to witness that I have made the statement of my own free will, and countersign it.”
“I’ll get the custody PC to sit with you while you make your statement.”
Jane opened the door and asked the PC to come in.
Simmonds rubbed his hands over
his face. “I’m feeling very tired now. Could I go back to my cell for a while?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll ask Mr. Davidge to come to the station, then you can sit with him and make your statement.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
Jane nodded to the custody officer, who walked Simmonds out of the interview room and back to his cell. Jane felt her legs give way as she sank back into her seat and put her head in her hands, utterly exhausted.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jane called Davidge as soon as she got back to the CID office. He seemed surprised when she told him Simmonds now wanted legal representation.
“He wants to make a written confession and have you present as a witness.”
“He’s confessed?”
“Yes, to the murders of three women and a young man called Aiden Lang.”
Davidge paused. “We’ll see about that. I’m coming to the station right now and I’d like you to advise him to do nothing until I get there.”
Jane put the phone down and went to see Moran in his office. He was talking to Gibbs, who looked a little sheepish when he saw her.
“I decided it was best to tell the governor what was happening.”
Moran frowned at her. “You should have told me he wanted to confess, Jane. It should have been my decision whether or not you continued to interview Simmonds.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Simmonds was adamant he would only confess to me, with nobody else in the room, and he wouldn’t allow me to make any notes.”
“What’s done is done, I suppose. As much as I’d have liked to have been there, I would probably have done the same if I’d been in your shoes.”
“Do you want me to go over what he said in detail or are you happy with a condensed version for now?” Jane asked.
Moran told her a quick summary was fine and Jane recounted Simmonds’ key admissions, whilst Moran jotted down notes. Then she told him about her phone call with Davidge.
“Good job, Jane. Simmonds might be lying about some things or change his story in the handwritten confession. I want you to write down his version of events in a statement, while they’re still fresh in your memory. You can use my office.”
Murder Mile Page 34
