Oates, without looking, pointed at the ‘Misper’ poster and Kumar accused Mike of going round in circles.
‘Mr Oates has just pointed to the poster of Fidelis Julia Flynn. Is that correct, Mr Kumar?’
‘DCI Lewis, what is the point in continuing this interview? Henry, you’re not denying you said she was an exchange student, are you?’
‘No, it was on the poster.’
Mike deliberately paused, saying nothing. Both Barolli and Kumar were perplexed, but Mike waited until Oates looked up at him, picked up the poster and held it in front of Oates’s face.
‘Show me on this where it says she was an exchange student.’
Oates took hold of the poster and traced his finger along the information on it and his demeanour began to change. Kumar leaned over to look.
‘Look as much as you like, the word “exchange” is not there.’
‘I read it somewhere – it must have been on another poster about her.’
‘No. All the posters, large or small, were the same. One of my staff confirmed it with her parents this morning. Julia was, as you rightly said, an exchange student from Dublin University.’
‘Someone told me but I can’t remember who.’ Oates then sat upright and looked Mike in the eyes.
‘You’ve never seen the poster until now. You knew about her because you met her, didn’t you?’
‘I think you said to me, DCI Lewis, that she was an exchange student.’
‘How could I tell you something I didn’t know, Mr Kumar?’
‘I made it up,’ Oates said and then asked to be taken to his cell. Kumar insisted that he needed to speak with him but Oates just stood up and walked towards the door, hurriedly followed by the solicitor.
‘What a good guess, Mr Oates. I will keep digging and finding more evidence against you and each time I do I will come back and interview you again. Interview terminated 10.45 a.m.’
Mike turned on the ignition as Barolli got into the car beside him.
‘That bastard Kumar schooled him about Fidelis Julia Flynn. I wondered where on earth you were going with the interview but you really fucked him with her being an exchange student.’
‘Not as much as I hoped – it’s circumstantial and doesn’t take us much further,’ Mike pointed out, shifting into gear.
‘Do you think Kumar will prime him to say that he did meet Julia but didn’t kill her?’ asked Paul.
‘Kumar makes me want to puke. He knows Oates is lying but won’t encourage him to give it up. We need to find some direct evidence so we can get him out of prison and back in police custody for a few days. Then we can really put the pressure on him.’
Mike knew it was going to be hard to report the outcome of their interview with Oates to Langton as they were no farther forwards with the Rebekka Jordan case. It was clear to both officers that Oates had met Fidelis Julia Flynn but they both knew that, without a witness, that fact alone, even if Oates admitted it, would never be enough to charge him with her abduction or murder.
Chapter Three
Anna had spent most of Sunday night in bed reading the dense file on Rebekka Jordan, eventually falling asleep at around 3 a.m. A number of items were jumbled and she had carefully taken her own notes, marking down dates, times, interviews and witnesses, and read some of the hundreds of statements covering over twelve months. Langton’s scrawled writing was over many of the pages; some details were underlined or highlighted. There were also lots of photographs of Rebekka, her parents and siblings, and a thick dossier of press cuttings. There were DVD recordings of the CCTV footage and the television reconstruction, plus home videos from Rebekka’s family, which she had yet to watch.
After the prison visit Lewis dropped Paul Barolli off at the station and told him to write up the Henry Oates interview report while he went to the pathology lab to collect the interim post mortem report on Justine Marks and get an update from the forensic department as well. He wondered whether he should phone Langton to tell him about the interview with Oates but decided that rather than keep calling him while he was off sick he would read the post mortem report and speak with the forensic scientist first so he could give as full an update as possible. He knew however that Langton’s main concern would be any developments in the Jordan case.
On arrival at the lab Mike decided to go to the forensic department first to speak to Pete Jenkins, the lead scientist who was overseeing the Justine Marks case. He had examined her high-heeled leather boots, confirming that the direction of the scuffmarks was consistent with her being dragged backwards along the pavement. Justine’s silk skirt, torn blouse, tights and knickers were all stained with her blood, and they had found traces of Oates’s semen on the vaginal swabs. Strands of her hair were on the larger end of the heavy-duty spanner, along with Oates’s palm print on the shaft. The fact that there was no blood on that end of the spanner suggested he had only struck her once with it, but the extent of the man’s depravity was revealed when, sickeningly, the scientist said that on the other end of the spanner they had found vaginal discharge, skin tissue and blood matching Justine’s DNA. As Mike listened to the scientist’s findings his growing contempt for Henry Oates boiled within him as it became even clearer how evil and calculating a liar he was.
After visiting the forensic lab Mike went to the pathology department and collected the interim report on Justine Mark’s post mortem. He had not eaten since breakfast and decided to browse through the report while he grabbed some lunch at the lab canteen and look for any links to Pete Jenkins’ forensic results. As Mike knew, Justine Marks had a severe head wound at the back of her skull and the indentation had a half-moon appearance. The pathologist had now looked at the heavy-duty spanner recovered from the back of Oates’s van, and observed that Justine’s head injury was indeed consistent in shape and size with the larger end of it and he confirmed that the blow would most certainly have rendered her unconscious. She had a perforated right eardrum and there was blood in her nostrils and mouth. Mike, having seen Justine’s body at the mortuary and discussed the external injuries with the pathologist, flicked through the report to the internal examination details. As expected, the pathologist had found injuries consistent with Justine being violently sexually assaulted with one end of the spanner. Also of interest was that dissection of the neck had revealed that the muscle tissue around her throat was bruised and the hyoid bone fractured, indicating she had been strangled, possibly by use of her bra, which was found around her neck. The concluding paragraph gave the cause of death, pending further tests on her brain, as asphyxiation by ligature. Although they had no witnesses to Justine Marks’ abduction and murder, it was clear from the pathology and forensic evidence that Oates had intentionally murdered Justine. Even to a hardened and experienced detective like Mike Lewis it was horrific to contemplate that Fidelis Julia Flynn and the thirteen-year-old Rebekka Jordan could have suffered the same terrifying death as Justine Marks had at the hands of Henry Oates.
Anna woke early, had a quick shower and then, still in her dressing gown, began to sift through the numerous DVDs and videos from Rebekka Jordan’s file. She watched the CCTV footage three times before slotting in the television reconstruction, followed by the numerous interviews to the press by Rebekka’s parents. Lastly, Anna watched a home video of the victim. There were various scenes that had been edited together, which showed the pretty girl from around the age of eight, at birthday parties, or on a trampoline with her blonde hair loose as she jumped up and down laughing, demonstrating her prowess as she performed a variety of tumbles and somersaults. She was magical to watch. There was extensive footage of Rebekka riding in gymkhanas, again proving her athletic ability as she flew over jumps with ease. Then came a poignant clip of the girl having her hair brushed by her mother and showing the loss of her milk teeth, giving a funny gapped smile to the camera. Next she was holding up some small figurines to the camera and calling them by various names. Finally, there she was singing, in an ivory white angel dres
s for a Nativity play. Then the screen went blank.
Anna was about to press rewind when another image of Rebekka dancing with her mother appeared on the screen. This was obviously where Rebekka got her looks from, as her mother was blonde, attractive and elegant as they waltzed together. It was a very touching moment when the mother twirled her around and the little girl’s dress billowed out, but something else caught Anna’s attention. Pausing the action, she stared at the screen, certain that the doll’s house behind them was the same one she had seen in Langton’s flat. Although Anna had still not read up on all the statements and enquiry results for Rebekka Jordan, she felt, having read Langton’s investigation report, that she knew enough to begin her enquiry. She arrived at the station just after nine and went straight to the incident room on the second floor. Joan Falkland was carrying a coffee and buttered teacake to her desk as Anna took off her coat.
‘Hello, Joan. Where can I park myself?’ she asked as she put her briefcase and the large box containing the Jordan files on the floor.
Joan looked at her with surprise, and at the same time gestured over to an empty desk. ‘We’re short of space in here but DCI Lewis is trying to get us moved to a bigger office.’
‘Is Mike in?’
‘He’s gone to Wandsworth Prison with Paul Barolli so he may be some time yet. I can let him know you called in.’
‘That’s okay, I’m not in a rush.’
Joan began to mark up notes on the incident board, assuming Anna had popped in to speak with Mike Lewis.
‘You going to introduce me?’ Anna asked.
‘Oh sorry, ma’am, yes of course. Everyone, this is DCI Anna Travis.’
Joan introduced her to two clerical staff and three DCs attached to the case, adding that DC Barbara Maddox was having breakfast. Anna had worked with Joan, Barbara and Paul on four previous cases. With Mike heading up the investigation she wondered how the team would react to her taking over the Rebekka Jordan investigation.
‘What’s the canteen like?’
‘Good. You want a coffee?’
‘If you’re having one, yes thank you.’
‘Want anything with it, teacake, toast?’
‘Nope, just coffee.’
In the canteen Barbara was gossiping with a colleague as Joan joined them.
‘You are not going to believe it. DCI Travis is upstairs in the incident room.’
‘What’s she want?’ Barbara said as she squirted tomato ketchup over her poached eggs and tomato.
‘Come to see Mike Lewis, didn’t say why.’
‘Langton was on the phone earlier, kept going on and on about his knee surgery. He left a message for Mike to contact him, but didn’t mention Travis. She’s in charge of that specialist unit so it must have come from him, you know how friendly those two were.’
Joan nodded in agreement. ‘She looks well. It was terrible what happened to her. I often think about it, you know. One minute you’re congratulating her on getting engaged and then the next minute he’s been murdered.’
‘She’s worked a couple of cases since then,’ Barbara pointed out.
‘I know, I know, I was just saying how it affected me, and she was straight back to work. I wouldn’t have been able to cope at all. Langton had to tell her, you know, he got the call at the station. I will never forget that day. You okay for coffee? I’m taking one up to her.’
Barbara gave a sarcastic cooing sound and then leaned close to whisper, ‘Bringing her in over Mike’s head is going to cause problems, believe me – he’s anxious enough as it is.’
‘It’s rare but I have worked with two DCIs on the same case before. And let’s face it, we’ve no further details about the other two cases we’ve now got to work on.’
‘Well I’m just saying her presence isn’t going to help matters.’
‘I’ll get her coffee then we’d better get back up there. You know what she’s like, God forbid we start off on the wrong foot with her.’
‘I haven’t finished my breakfast,’ Barbara said.
‘I’m sure that’s all you’re worried about, Barbara, you just want to stir it up. I’ve always got along with her and I know why you haven’t.’
‘What?’
‘You were always jealous of her relationship with Langton. How often have you run to the canteen for his chicken toastie, picking out the tomatoes because he hates them?’
Barbara refused to rise to the bait, sliding her unfinished plate to one side and walking off with a foul expression on her face. Sometimes Joan really pushed it with her.
Anna was studying the mug shots of Henry Oates. Langton had said that he had no idea what Oates looked like. The man had a very unpleasant expression. His hair was a dirty blond, very thick and wiry. He had wide-set pale blue eyes and a boxer’s face; the bridge of his nose in profile was very flat and saddle-shaped, but turned up at the end with pig-like nostrils. His mouth was very narrow and turned downwards, and, like a petulant child, he glared into the camera lens.
‘Unpleasant-looking, isn’t he?’ Anna said, as Barbara and Joan walked into the office.
‘He’s even nastier in the flesh; his skin’s very pale – redhead’s skin with freckles,’ Barbara replied as Anna turned and glared at her.
‘No offence, ma’am. You’ve got red hair, but you don’t have that coloured skin.’
Anna chose to ignore Barbara’s acerbic comment.
‘Is he fit? You can’t tell from the mug shots,’ Anna asked as Joan handed over her coffee.
‘Wiry, with big shovel-like hands. Barolli said he stinks like a skunk and lived in squalor like an animal,’ Joan replied as she moved along the board to point out the photographs taken from Oates’s basement flat.
‘So you joining the team, are you?’ Barbara asked.
‘I don’t think that’s a matter that concerns you, DC Maddox.’
Barbara, having been put in her place, trudged over to her desk as Joan told Anna how well she looked.
‘Thank you. How’s your mother?’
Joan pulled a face. ‘Same as usual, nothing is ever good enough for her. She’s got me waiting on her hand and foot, but she’s got meals on wheels delivering her lunches. She doesn’t really go out any more, her focus in life is the TV, and I got Sky for her so she’s got enough channels to keep her happy.’
Anna asked if the HOLMES computer in Mike Lewis’s office was live and linked to their case, and on being informed that it was she picked up the Jordan files along with her briefcase and said that she had some work to catch up on while she waited for Mike’s return from Wandsworth. She had contemplated revealing that she would now be heading up the Rebekka Jordan investigation but felt it would be rude not to speak with Mike personally before informing the team together.
Anna was looking at Henry Oates’s details on the computer and noting that there was little known about him other than his age, date of birth, current address and that he was divorced with an ex-wife and two kids who now all lived in Scotland. She did not see DCI Mike Lewis enter the main office, but Barbara did, and from her desk she watched his reaction as he opened his office door.
‘Travis.’
Anna looked up and smiled. ‘Hi, Mike. How’s it going?’
‘I’m fine. How’s things with you?’
‘Great, thanks. I hope you don’t mind me using your desk. I needed computer access to your investigation so I could get up to speed.’
Mike was wrong-footed, but made no reference to the fact he was surprised to see her, and even more surprised when she had implied she was on the team. Tight-lipped, he hung up his coat and drew the blinds down as his office window looked out into the incident room.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked in a brusque manner.
Anna immediately realised that Langton had not, as he had promised, spoken to Lewis.
‘I got a call from Langton about the Rebekka Jordan investigation.’
‘Yes, and . . .?’
‘He said he’d ring
you.’
‘About what exactly?’ Mike asked as he pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. Anna could clearly see that he was upset.
‘First off, Mike, let me make it clear that I’ve been put in an awkward situation here. Langton had already spoken to the Commander about me coming on board so my hands were tied . . .’
‘Can you get to the point, please, Anna?’ Mike asked.
‘As you know, Langton dealt with the original investigation and in his usual obsessive way wants a result. Some closure for the Jordan family, and I agreed to reinvestigate only if you were happy about it.’
‘Well this is all news to me and, to be honest, it’s sort of pulled the rug from under me slightly. If he was unhappy about the way I’ve been conducting my investigation—’
Anna, wanting to diffuse the situation, interrupted him. ‘Mike, he’s not. He feels that you have too much on your plate running all three investigations together. To ease your workload he wants me to look at the Jordan case and you to deal with Fidelis Flynn and see what similarities we find that may link Oates to their disappearance and murder.’
Mike mulled Anna’s comments over in his mind before replying. ‘Oates thinks I will try and fit him up so independent investigations would help counter that type of allegation,’ he conceded.
‘Mike, you are the senior DCI and it’s your team so I understand if you are uncomfortable with me being here. I want to assist you in any way I can and will do whatever is necessary so that we can work together rather than in any competitive manner.’
‘As you can see my office is tiny with just the one computer terminal.’
‘I know that. I’m quite happy to work in the team office.’
He shrugged, and again she waited for his response.
‘Okay by me, but so far we have been unable to get any admission from Oates that what he said in his original statement about killing two other girls was the truth. He claims he made it up or we are trying to fit him up with murder. I interviewed him this morning at the prison and the reality is I’m no further forward.’
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