Above Suspicion (8 page)

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Authors: Lynda La Plante

BOOK: Above Suspicion
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‘That’s good,’ she said quietly.

He gave her a beady look. ‘What is it?’

She hesitated. ‘Erm, I was just thinking we should issue a press release to warn the girls.’

‘Won’t mean anything. Nothing stops them.’

‘I’ve been reading up on the fifth victim and—’

‘Beryl Villiers,’ he said to himself.

‘Well, she wasn’t as washed up as the others, no alcohol or drug problems and—’

‘You are not telling me anything I don’t know, Travis,’ he interrupted impatiently. ‘And we are giving a press conference. Soon.’

But Anna held her ground. ‘Did you ever find if there was a connection between the victims? I noticed they’re all from the north of England.’

‘You noticed that?’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, continue to read the case reports; after that, read up on the enquiry details and the thousands of statements taken and you’ll find we didn’t come up with any connection. They didn’t know each other!’

Mike Lewis popped his head round the door. ‘Did you want Rawlins brought in? We’ve had another look and still think it might be him, edge of frame.’

‘Yeah, wheel him back in. Soon as you have something, call me.’

‘Right.’

Lewis shut the door behind him and there was a pause.

Langton’s eyes were closed; he was resting on his folded elbows. Anna was just wondering if she should leave when he spoke. ‘Something’s wrong. The way she’s running in the footage. Something isn’t right.’

‘Well, she’d had a fight with her boyfriend,’ Anna said tentatively.

‘It’s the way she’s running. Doesn’t look like a kid pissed off with her boyfriend. Looks more like she’s scared.’

Anna was trying to recall the order of the footage. ‘The two boys that approached her?’

‘Yeah - I think she might have been mugged and we’re missing that section. All we do know is we have a witness and a time coder that makes her still alive at half past eleven.’

He lifted his head and looked at her.

‘You worked with that profiler, Michael Parks, didn’t you?’

‘Erm, yes.’

‘I never give those profilers much kudos. It’s all about stating the obvious.’

‘I think he’s very good,’ she said, nervously.

‘Do you indeed? Well, if DS Travis rates him, I should do as the Gold Group request and get him in then, shouldn’t I?’

‘He did some very good work when we were on a kidnap situation.’

‘Really? Well, let’s hope he can do some good work for us.’

Anna waited to be dismissed. Langton picked up a file and started reading. Glancing up a moment later, he seemed surprised that she was still standing there and said she could leave.

Anna returned to her desk, irritated with him. At the far side of the room Moira was engaged in conversation with Mike Lewis.

‘If she got mugged and they took her handbag, makes more sense that she maybe could have accepted a ride.’

Eavesdropping on their conversation, Anna pretended to give all her attention to the file. Soon, however, she was absorbed in what was written. Langton did seem to cover everything in his own way. She knew that after reading the next victim’s report, she had better give herself enough time to check out the actual police enquiries. She didn’t want to give Langton any opportunity to get in another snide dig.

Jean appeared with a tray of coffee. ‘Not a doughnut left and the vultures have already started cleaning out the canteen. Press conference starts in the briefing room, fifteen minutes.’

As the coffee was passed round, Jean looked over to Anna. ‘Sorry. You weren’t here when I took the orders.’

‘That’s OK,’ Anna said, tired and still busy.

‘Who does he want to go in with him?’ Moira called out. ‘Barolli and Lewis?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee,’ Jean said. She turned to Anna. ‘He wants you too, Travis.’

In the briefing room, the press had arrived in force. Seated on the rows of chairs, they read the press release that had just been handed out. The office manager had consulted Langton about what else should be included in the press package: selected photographs and some details of the crimes. A long desk with a microphone had been placed in front of the chairs. Two video cameras were recording.

Anna waited outside the double doors. The noise from inside was a low buzz as the journalists talked quietly amongst themselves. She saw Langton coming towards her down the corridor, flanked by Lewis and Barolli. She noticed all three had shaved and put clean shirts on. Langton was wearing a grey suit and a navy blue tie. He seemed ill at ease as he turned to his sidekicks. ‘Right, let’s go. Travis, sit next to me.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, following them through the double doors.

The room fell silent as they took their seats at the long table. On the wall behind them there were large blown-up photographs of Melissa Stephens. Anna, next to Langton, was surprised at how nervous he was. He removed his notes from the file and placed them down in front of him. He coughed a couple of times, then tested that the microphone was on.

‘Firstly, thank you for coming,’ he began. ‘I am eager for your assistance. We have always maintained a good relationship with members of the press and with this specific case I must ask you, once more, to stick to the guidelines issued. You are all aware, I believe, that Melissa Stephens’s body has been recovered, after she was declared missing six weeks ago. What we did not know until today, erm … In examining the evidence, we have decided that Melissa’s murder is, we believe, connected to others already under investigation.’ Langton then opened the meeting to questions from the floor.

By the time the press briefing was concluded, it was after half past seven. Langton had given reporters enough, but not all, of the information his team possessed and sidestepped the more probing questions. He was patient and informative, but also guarded. Anna had been impressed by his handling of the situation. Langton disliked using the term ’serial killer’ and mentioned it only once, but during the questioning the journalists were quick to bring up the Ripper murder case.

After the press had gone, Langton addressed the team, loosening his tie. ‘Right. Tomorrow will come the blast. We’re probably all going to have to work the phones. This will create a lot of extra work, separating the nutters from anyone that has legitimate information. It will take days, maybe weeks. So be prepared. I want everyone in the briefing room at two o’clock. We have a profiler, Professor Michael Parks, coming in. The Gold Group has briefed him and he has had access to all our files for three days now, so let’s hope he can give us something to go on. OK, that’s it for tonight. Get some sleep. It’ll be mayhem tomorrow.’

After packing her briefcase, Anna left the room with Jean. On the stairs, she asked the older woman about Langton’s private life.

‘What do you mean?’ scoffed Jean. ‘He doesn’t have one. He’s a workaholic. First in, last to leave. He hasn’t gone home tonight, you know. He’s gone over to the edit suite to look at the CCTV footage. Poor Mike is pissed off: it’s his wife’s birthday. She’s cooking up a storm and she’s pregnant. He won’t get home now until past eleven.’

‘Does Langton have a wife?’ Anna asked.

Jean stared at her. ‘Oh, that kind of private. Well, he’s had a couple of them; lived with a few women. But who or what he’s doing now, none of us know. That he does keep private.’

‘I see,’ Anna said. She stopped, before heading down the stairs to the back exit and car park.

‘Can I give you a lift, Jean?’

‘No, thanks. My old man is waiting for me.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

Anna couldn’t believe it. Her back bumper was dented. The mini now had a scratch down one side, sticky paper on the windscreen and a crumpled back bumper. Her shiny new car, her pride and joy, saved and scrimped for.

Early next morning, Anna pored over the details of victim six, aged thirty-four. A bleached blonde, with a sexy curvaceous figure and a known cocaine habit, Mary Murphy was a prostitute with no police record. Her body, discovered in July 2003, had made her the most recent victim until Melissa Stephens. Mary was found only three days after her murder on Hampstead Heath. She was originally from Preston in Lancashire. No handbag. Her corpse remained unidentified for two weeks.

Mary Murphy was the first case that Langton had headed up. She had a profile different from the others, being middle-class and well-educated. After her divorce five years before, Mary’s twin daughters had gone to live with their father.

Mary probably started to sell herself when her cocaine habit took hold. She worked for an escort agency, though her last known client had been questioned and was no longer a suspect. She had left his suite at the Dorchester Hotel at one o’clock in the morning and had died between one and three hours later. The last sighting of Mary was by the doorman at the Dorchester, who recognized her as she was leaving the hotel. It was presumed Mary went looking for another client. After that last sighting, she had been picked up by the killer.

The file contained the same wretched photographs. The shirt was drawn up to the victim’s neck, her tights wrapped around in the same way. Her hands were tied behind her back with her red lace bra. Though she had been raped and buggered, no DNA was found; as with the other victims, the killer had used protection.

After she had finished reading the file, Anna opened her front door to pick up her newspaper. The case had made the front page: ‘Suspected Serial Killer on the Loose’.

Though DCI Langton had not wanted mass panic, that’s what he’d got. The case was headlined in every newspaper. There were constant references to both Jack the Ripper and ‘his Yorkshire namesake’. One tabloid had two-inch letters screaming ‘Jack is Back’.

On arrival, Anna made her way down the station corridor towards the incident room. As she approached, all she could hear was the non-stop ringing of telephones and the babble of voices growing louder and louder. The incident room now had an extra four phones installed in one long section. The phones on all the desks were ringing and every detective was hard at it. All calls were logged: names, addresses and relevant details were then transferred from the officer to the office manager. When Anna reached her desk, the phone was already ringing. Jean gave her a rueful look.

‘Welcome to Bell City. It’s a quarter to nine and we’ve had a hundred and fifty calls in. So get started.’

Anna took out her notebook and reached for the phone. ‘Queen’s Park incident room. This is DS Travis speaking.’

It was a long and ear-splitting day. Amidst it all, staring at the mayhem with their dark helpless eyes, were the seven victims: Teresa Booth, Sandra Donaldson, Kathleen Keegan, Barbara Whittle, Beryl Villiers, Mary Murphy, and now, Melissa Stephens.

Chapter Four

Thousands of phone calls had poured in, yet little information had resulted. However, forensics had come up with what could prove to be a significant piece of evidence. The tests performed on the DNA swabs, while yielding neither blood nor semen, had identified the type of condom worn by the killer as ‘Lux-Oriente’ which was made in America and easy to pinpoint because of the unique lubricant used by that company. While the indication that their killer had made his purchase in the United States was heartening, the discovery that Lux-Oriente sold millions of condoms every year made the purchaser virtually impossible to trace.

Another breakthrough occurred in the investigation when Rawlins, the murdered girl’s boyfriend, broke down and confessed that their final argument had turned physical. He had followed Melissa and continued to row with her as they walked away from The Bistro. Rawlins remembered that Melissa had carried a small envelope bag, which he had thrown at her. While he couldn’t recall the colour, he remembered it was made of soft dark leather. Between the empty stalls of Covent Garden Market, there was a scuffle which ended when he punched her.

While the imprint on Melissa’s belly could no longer be considered evidence which might lead them to the murderer, some compensation was forthcoming. Rawlins had recalled that Melissa was carrying a black woollen cardigan on the last night he saw her alive. He remembered that they had tugged it between them during the argument, which had occurred when he caught up with her near Floral Street.

After the punch Melissa had angrily declared that she never wanted to see Rawlins again and, furious, he had walked away. When he changed his mind and tried to catch up with her, she had disappeared — for ever.

Rawlins had become deeply distressed at this point in the interview. He blamed himself for her death. If he had only apologized for his action and taken her home, Melissa would be alive today. Shame had made him keep the quarrel a secret. That was the reason he had not told the full story to the television reconstruction team.

Langton ordered that Rawlins be released. Not only had they lost valuable time, but also the chance that someone might find and recognize either the black cardigan or the bag. However he saw no reason to charge the boy with perverting the course of justice; Mark Rawlins had received his sentence. He would have to live for ever with the knowledge of his culpability in Melissa’s death.

A press release was issued, calling for anyone with information about the girl’s missing purse to come forward. Though discretion had been assured, along with the reassurance that the police were only interested in the location where the purse was found, or snatched, not one caller could help them. The police had to presume that somewhere on Melissa’s journey her bag had been stolen, since on the CCTV footage she carried neither cardigan nor bag.

There was some cold comfort in the fact that Langton had been correct regarding Melissa’s scared run: that somewhere between leaving her boyfriend and her appearance on another security camera, something had happened to frighten her.

The Cuban was brought back three times, but he became more confused on every occasion. Even an interpreter was unable to extract any further information. The section of the car was determined to be a Mercedes, possibly circa 1970, though they were unable to ascertain if it was white or merely pale since the film was in black and white.

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