Langton was wearing a threadbare blue dressing gown and a T-shirt. One leg was propped up on a stack of pillows and sporting a plaster cast from mid-thigh down to just above his ankle. He was unshaven, which made his face look sallow, and he had dark circles around his eyes. Littered over the bed were stacks of files, with more loose on the floor, and he had a notebook open with a pencil stuck behind his ear.
‘Sit down. Chuck everything off and sit on the bed.’
‘Where’s Laura?’
‘In the country with the children for the school holidays. Said she might pop home for the weekend, but I had to get them out of the way. They prefer it there anyway.’
‘Don’t you have anyone cleaning or cooking for you?’
‘No. I send out for takeaway or microwave what I need. Look, don’t start . . . I know the place is a tip and she’ll sort it when she gets here. Half the stuff needs to be chucked out anyway; it’s like a minefield out there.’
‘I saw the doll’s house.’
‘I fell over it last night.’
She sipped her coffee; it was tepid. She noticed an array of dirty coffee mugs and bottles of pills on the bedside cabinet.
‘Well I’m here. Was the operation a success? I thought maybe something had gone wrong.’
‘It’s excruciatingly painful and I can’t – or I’m not supposed to – walk until it’s all set, or the plaster has dried or whatever, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. You seen anything of Mike Lewis?’
‘No.’
‘He’s on a murder enquiry; woman found in the back of a van, Justine Marks, uniform patrol caught the guy red-handed with her body trussed up along with kids’ entertainment gear. His name’s Henry Oates, no previous record, admitted to killing her but claims it was an accident. They’ve not got the full post mortem report yet so no exact cause of death but from an early overview it appears that she was struck from behind, dragged off the street into the back of the van then probably raped. But that’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you either.’
He hardly drew breath in his agitation, at times shifting his weight as if to relieve the pain in his knee, and moaning as he reached over for a dog-eared file at the end of the bed.
‘During the first interview, this Oates character claimed that he had killed before, a girl by the name of Julia, said it was around eighteen months ago. Mike tried to get more out of him but his brief Kumar interrupted the flow, advised no comment and demanded a private consultation.’
‘That’s always been Kumar’s tactic when his client’s in a corner,’ Anna remarked with a shrug of her shoulders.
‘Second interview Oates said nothing more except that he had made it all up for a laugh. Anyway, he was charged with the body in the van and remanded in custody.’
‘Do you think he was lying then?’
‘I don’t fucking know, that’s Mike’s problem, but since Oates was charged they found a possible “Misper”. Irish girl called Fidelis Julia Flynn, been missing for eighteen months and liked to be called by her middle name.’
‘Well that’s something solid to work on, so what’s the problem?’
‘Would you stop interrupting and listen? That case isn’t my main concern, this one is.’
He flipped open the file and passed a photograph to Anna.
‘That is Rebekka Jordan, aged thirteen, went missing five years ago, and this prick Oates claimed that he also killed her.’
Anna looked at the photograph and in the back of her mind she did vaguely recall the case. Rebekka was exceptionally pretty, with straight blonde hair worn past her shoulders, and she was wearing a white shift dress. Langton took out more photographs, of Rebekka laughing with a pet poodle, standing by a pony, on a horse wearing jodhpurs and a velvet riding helmet and holding a large cup and a rosette. The more photographs Langton passed her, the more Anna began to remember the case, in particular that it still remained unsolved and had been headed up by Langton. Rather than interrupt she decided to act as if she was unaware and let him continue.
‘Rebekka was last seen at four-thirty on March 15th 2007. She walked out of the riding stables in Shepherd’s Bush and headed for the Tube station; her parents lived in Hammersmith. It was only two stops, but no one saw her on the Tube; no one had seen her since that last moment she left the stables, which was caught on CCTV footage. She never returned home.’
He opened the file and removed a stack of photocopied papers.
‘I led the investigation. These are just a few samples of the thousands of statements. It was beyond belief that she seemed to have simply disappeared off the face of the earth, and after a year, one of the most frustrating years of my life, I had no suspect, nothing. Eventually I had no option but to cold-case the enquiry and keep an open-ended investigation. Since then, nothing has surfaced, not even a tip-off, no gossip, no prisoner coughing up to a cellmate . . . that was, until this guy Henry Oates was picked up.’
Anna watched as he opened a pillbox and took out two tablets, which he swallowed with water before he continued.
‘Henry Oates claimed that Rebekka Jordan was his first victim and Julia the second. He got the time frame right for Rebekka, and if Julia is in fact Fidelis Flynn then he was right there as well.’
‘You said that in interview he told Mike Lewis he had made it all up for a laugh.’
Langton leaned back, closing his eyes. ‘I think the son of a bitch said that because Kumar told him to and he also advised him to say that he knew about Rebekka Jordan because of the press coverage.’
Anna was slightly thrown by Langton’s comment. ‘So are you saying Kumar is aiding and abetting Oates by telling him to lie to the police?’
He opened his eyes and leaned forwards. ‘Not directly, no. Kumar’s not that stupid, but Oates is a bit dense and obviously open to suggestion. Second interview he said that not only had we fitted him up with the Justine Marks murder but we would fit him up with Rebekka Jordan’s as well. Now that stinks of suggestion by Kumar!’
‘Yes I agree, but if that is the case then it also suggests that Kumar thinks Oates may be telling the truth or he simply doesn’t want his client to drop himself further in the shit for crimes he may not have committed.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Yours of course, but without further reliable evidence you know his admission is worthless.’
Langton sifted through a thick dossier and took out a single page. ‘We had used every angle possible: TV re-enactments of her last sighting, girl dressed in the identical clothes, et cetera. But we did retain one piece of information – it’s small and it could be inconsequential, but we had thousands of sickos calling up claiming they’d seen her, knew where she was. I don’t have to tell you, you know what it’s like, but you also know they all had to be checked out, so we never revealed the fact that Rebekka was wearing a pink Alice band on the day she disappeared. In the photographs you can see she had that long fine silky hair, but her mother always said Rebekka hated it over her face and she knew that on the day she last saw her, Rebekka wore the Alice band to the stables and would have taken it off to wear her riding hat, then replaced it to go home.’
Langton went on to say that Rebekka’s riding hat was never recovered. She would have been carrying it home with her that day, a fact that was revealed to the public in the hope that it might have been found and so given some indication of where she might have been abducted or dumped. It was obvious his recall of the case was very clear, but what he had not made clear to Anna was why he had wanted to see her. He was very emotional, perhaps due to the fact that his stepdaughter Kitty was around the same age. Anna knew that with Oates as a new suspect the Jordan case should be investigated by the murder squad. She wondered if Langton had just wanted a sympathetic ear, so she remained silent.
‘The name Henry Oates never came up in my investigation. If it wasn’t for my bloody knee and being off sick I’d be having a real session with him right now. Christ, I don’t even know
what he looks like.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Late thirties, lives in a shithole property in Hackney that’s due for demolition. Unemployed, mostly living on benefits, but has done some part-time labouring work.’
‘Any history of mental illness?’
‘Don’t know. Police doctor who examined him said he was fit to be interviewed.’
He searched through a file and brought out a loose sheet.
‘This is the Jordans’ address. I’ve kept in touch, but not for the past six months. To be honest I found it harder every time I saw them, that look of expectant hope on their faces cut like a knife. Even after five years it never diminished. I used to feel I had failed them. It’s obvious that I have, in retrospect, but for them to get some kind of closure would give me peace of mind.’
‘And for the parents?’
‘The guilt that on this one occasion they let their daughter travel home by herself and she disappeared out of their lives, the “if only” syndrome, has never left them. The mother feels it the most, but if you could find the evidence to convict Oates and maybe even recover Rebekka’s body that would give them some peace.’
Anna pointed out to Langton that at present, with a new suspect, it was not a review case. Langton firmly reminded her that her remit as DCI on Specialist Casework was to identify and advise on new lines of enquiry in unsolved murders. He then informed Anna that he had already got the Commander’s approval for her to take on the revived investigation into Rebekka Jordan’s disappearance. Langton started to gather up the files. She helped pick up the scattered photographs and papers from the floor beside his bed, handing them to him to stack and replace into the many dog-eared, well-thumbed folders.
‘I’m depending on you, Anna, to see if this Henry Oates is a nutcase or the lead I’ve been waiting for.’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘Don’t put me in a position that will make Mike feel like I’m undermining him – it’s not fair on him or me. This is now his investigation and I don’t think bringing me on board is ethical, or not at this stage anyway.’
‘Bullshit. You don’t run Specialist Casework just because you’re experienced in murder investigation. It’s your attention to detail, lateral thinking and ability to spot new lines of enquiry that got you the post.’
‘Thanks for the compliment but all the same I’d rather—’
‘I don’t want allegations from Kumar that Mike has been subjective and tried to make the crime fit where the Rebekka Jordan investigation is concerned. I need you to carry out an independent review and concentrate on whether or not you can discover any new evidence connecting Oates to Rebekka Jordan’s disappearance and murder.’
‘But if Mike is to continue with the Fidelis Julia Flynn enquiry we’ll have to cross-reference. It’ll be imperative we work together.’
‘So get on with it. I won’t take any crap about treading on anyone’s toes. Life is too short, especially Rebekka Jordan’s. I want you to liaise with me and keep me abreast of any new information. I know you’re available and I reckon you will be diplomatic enough to make it work between you and Mike.’
She sighed and he reached out to take her hand.
‘Do it for me, Anna. Forget about everything else, please? You know if I could I’d be taking over but right now it’s impossible. I’ve got to stay put until I’m healed, I can’t fucking walk straight, and I promise you I’ll sort it out with Mike in the morning. He’s got his hands full with the Marks and Flynn cases so there won’t be any hard feelings.’
‘All right. Let me familiarize myself with the files, but please make sure Mike gets to know I’m on board first. He has been a DCI longer than me, after all.’
He grinned and still held on to her hand. ‘You look good, still too thin though. You eating properly?’
‘Yes,’ she said as she withdrew her hand.
‘You’re hair’s got longer – I like it. Still see you are wearing the same Travis uniform: smart suit, white shirt and . . .’ He leaned over to look at her feet. ‘How you manage to totter around on those high heels I’ll never know.’
‘Do you need a water or coffee before I go?’
‘Nope. You get going and thank you for coming.’
Returning to her car, loaded up with the files in a large cardboard box, Anna felt not only put upon, but angry at herself for not having been firmer. She could have point-blank refused but with the Commander backing Langton there was little point in arguing. Then she started to feel guilty about leaving him alone in his flat and that maybe she should have sorted out something for him to eat, even cleaned up his mess in the kitchen, but she told herself to straighten up. He had a wife, let her look after him; she didn’t want to get involved. She knew from old that as a patient he was a nightmare. She drove off, heading back to her flat, passing her old one on the way. A lot of time had passed since she had lived there with Langton and, she supposed, in some ways, she should feel honoured that of all the officers Langton had worked alongside, it was she whom he had wanted to oversee the Rebekka Jordan case.
Langton eased himself from the bed in a lot of pain and used the walking frame to edge himself slowly into the kitchen where he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of vodka and some ice, just managing to get a glass from the cupboard without falling over. He poured himself a large measure of vodka. Even though he felt hungry, he couldn’t be bothered to call up and order something from the local Chinese or pizza parlour. Manoeuvring himself with the walking frame and his drink, he eventually made it back to the bed; he took two more painkillers and eased himself back to lie prone. Heaving his leg up to rest on the cushions, he reached for the phone and called the Commander to request more staff for DCI Lewis and report that DCI Anna Travis had said she would be happy to reinvestigate the Rebekka Jordan case.
Mike Lewis was not available when Langton rang the murder team office on the Monday morning, and so Barbara took the call and listened as Langton described his knee operation in detail and what agony he was in. She hung on, making all the right sounds, as he moaned and groaned about being unable to get out for weeks, before he eventually asked her to make sure Mike called him as soon as he was back in the incident room. He made no mention that DCI Travis would be joining the team, but instead he questioned Barbara about the developments to date. Barbara left a Post-it note on Mike’s desk to ask if he would please call the DCS. In brackets, she suggested he didn’t ask about the operation.
Mike Lewis was with Barolli and Henry Oates’s solicitor Kumar at Wandsworth Prison. Whilst they waited for Oates to be brought from his cell Barolli set up the portable DVD and camera to record the interview. Kumar asked if there was anything to be disclosed to him prior to the interview. Mike said that he wanted to speak with Oates about the missing girls Rebekka Jordan and Fidelis Julia Flynn. Kumar told Mike that he didn’t think his client would have anything further to add to his previous interview other than he had seen a missing persons poster for Fidelis Julia Flynn. This statement did not surprise Mike, though Paul Barolli wondered how he had come to know about Fidelis prior to the interview.
Oates was brought into the interview room by a prison officer and sat in a chair next to Kumar. He was dishevelled and unshaven, kept his head down and appeared noticeably depressed. Before the tape was started he asked in a hushed voice how long he would get for Justine Marks’ death. Paul Barolli asked him if he meant murder, which caused Oates to look up and sulk even more. Kumar told Oates that as yet he had not been found guilty and the officers wanted to speak to him regarding other matters. Barolli started the tape and cautioned Oates, who then said that he hadn’t been sleeping well, was suffering from diarrhoea, unable to eat and feeling very down. Barolli sarcastically apologized for the poor living standards Oates found himself in but to Mike’s surprise there was no reaction or reply from the prisoner. Kumar of course used his client’s appearance and situation to reflect on how good it was of him to assist police and be interviewed.
Paul Barolli was finding the interview a deeply frustrating waste of time, especially if Mike was only going to go over what had been said before, as it was clear that Oates would say he had already seen the ‘Misper’ poster for Fidelis Julia Flynn. Mike produced the poster and slid it across the desk in front of the prisoner.
‘This is Fidelis Julia Flynn from Dublin, aged twenty-one, and as you can see she has ginger hair. She went missing about a year and a half ago. Do you recognize her?’
‘Is that the poster you saw, Henry?’ Kumar interjected, and Oates nodded. ‘As you can see, officer, Henry is a bit under the weather today but he would like you to be aware that he recognizes the poster and its details although not Miss Flynn personally.’
‘So you only remembered the name Julia from the poster and you recited the details as part of your having a laugh whilst making up you killed her,’ Mike suggested. Oates again nodded, then, encouraged by Kumar, answered yes. Barolli couldn’t believe that Mike was not only asking such a question but was also giving Oates the answer as well. Thinking the interview would now end he had his finger ready to press the ‘off’ button when Mike raised his hand, indicating he hadn’t finished.
‘Can you tell me, Mr Oates, how you knew she was an exchange student?’
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