The walker, p.16
The Walker, page 16
‘Where were you interviewed? Which police station?’
‘In Torquay first of all, because that was the nearest to — to where the train stopped. Then some policemen came to talk to me at home — at my aunty’s house in Exeter. But they were from Plymouth. Once they asked me to go to the police station in Plymouth, because they had an identity parade.’
‘And did you pick anyone?’
‘No, because — because they all looked the same. I didn’t see his face at all. Just this tall skinny man in a duffle coat, with long hair.’
‘And you say they never arrested anyone?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t really know, because they said I shouldn’t have any more to do with the case. Because it was too upsetting. They sent me to a psychiatrist. A counsellor, you know. Because I was having panic attacks.’
‘And are you still seeing a counsellor?’
‘No. I don’t — that’s not what I want.’
‘You don’t want to go on talking about it. You just want to see this man behind bars. That right?’
She felt some of the tension go out of her. ‘Yes. That’s right. But maybe — maybe it’s got nothing to do with — with what’s happened in London. I wasn’t sure if I should come.’
‘You did the right thing, I’ll tell you that for certain. When I’ve got the details from Plymouth, we may need to talk to you again.’
‘Do you think there really might be a connection, then?’
‘I couldn’t say at this stage. But it is possible. Thank you for coming to talk to us.’
Nell got up to leave, then hesitated.
‘Um. There’s something else. If there is a connection, if it is the same man, I’m worried about — I’m worried that he could trace me.’
‘How’s that, then?’
She explained about the newspaper coverage at the time and the recent feature in Summer in the City. Palgrave took down the details, then put away the notebook.
‘I’d set your mind at rest on that score, Miss Adams. The likelihood of his coming to look for you is very remote indeed. But if you have any worries, give us a ring here. You can ask for me personally.’
26
Briony was summoned to a six o’clock meeting in Macready’s office, which she hoped was a sign that she was properly back on the team again. Maybe Palgrave had put in a good word for her after all. She went to collect Quin’s entrance form from the Identikit team to take with her and took a look at the image they were working on. The bland little face from the photograph was coming into relief, with a contoured jawline and deep-set eyes. It was the eyes they had got right. The brows were widely spaced, angled slightly downwards at the outer edges and the bridge of the nose finished high, so the eyes themselves seemed to be forced apart. Framed by heavy upper lids and a strong lower lid line, they looked out at you with a kind of defiance, their large dark pupils accentuated.
Macready was brusque, nodded at her without smiling, and Steve Latham seemed preoccupied. Or perhaps he was just avoiding her eye. Cigarette in hand, he sat and stared at his feet, occasionally brushing his hail away as it fell forward. Palgrave was late, so for the first twenty minutes of the meeting, Briony felt stranded. Her case for getting Quin taken seriously was very much stronger with the Tamar Bridge connection, but she wasn’t sure enough of her ground to make it without Palgrave there.
In uncomfortable silence, Macready arranged some papers on his desk, laying them out like the cards in some oversized game of patience. Eventually, he selected one and began speaking rapidly.
‘This latest episode has been exactly planned. We know that Walker did something of a tour of the backstreets in Whitechapel on Sunday night to leave his messages and probably also to choose the locations for his crime.’
‘He didn’t choose them,’ Steve said. ‘At least, not Mitre passage. That was Jack the Ripper’s choice.’
Macready glared at Steve, put the page to one side and took up another.
‘Motive. These, I believe, are your notes, Latham. Would you care to take us through them?’
Steve raked a thick clump of hair back as he sat up and brushed ash off his knee.
‘There’s no straightforward pattern in his choice of victims. He’s killed two women and two men. Neither of the women was raped or otherwise sexually assaulted. That is unusual. He imitates Jack the Ripper in this, as in other things, but he’s more sophisticated. He’s picked these victims — got something against them personally. Find the motive and we’ll find the killer is my punt. In the case of Godwin, the likelihood is that it’s some kind of ritualised revenge killing. Godwin had a lot of power. He made decisions that affected people’s lives. I reckon this guy’s got a fierce ego. He’s resentful. Bears grudges. Greg Kendrick’s story about the old acquaintance who was looking for Sabina Melies is interesting. He asked her to put him up — maybe there was something sexual, maybe not — but she thwarted him and got out of his way. He wouldn’t like that. So we have to ask what might have linked him with Staines and Burroughs, which means as like as not what connects him with the story Staines was following up on. Now her first article on the vandalism — the one that got spiked — mentions repeated episodes of vandalism in the churchyard. Forensic reports this morning identify the substance used on the gravestones as pig’s blood.’
‘Pig’s blood?’ The eyebrow arched fiercely.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But you already knew that, Latham. You mentioned it at the briefing. What led to you to think it was pig’s blood?’
‘The interview with Tony Childs, sir, the Evening Standard photographer.’
‘I see. And what led Mr Childs to assume it was pig’s blood?’
‘Caroline Staines told him. And the Reverend Burroughs told her.’
‘Almost a game of Chinese whispers, Latham. And yet the rumour turns out to have been correct. What other knowledge did Mr Childs pass on to you by this circuitous route?’
Steve dragged deep on his cigarette and let the smoke come out with his words. ‘Mr Childs is a bit embarrassed, I reckon. Caroline Staines had been trying to persuade her editor that she was onto something with this story about church vandalism. She thought there was more to it and it seems she was just starting to get a lead. Burroughs was offering to talk to her and volunteering some kind of special information about previous incidents. Childs wasn’t interested. She called him and persuaded him to go to the second appointment with Burroughs but he didn’t want to go, and didn’t stay long enough to hear any of the details.’
‘I asked you what Mr Childs did hear from Miss Staines, Latham, not what he didn’t. This whole affair is set about with a quicksand of pointless anecdotes. We have no time to sink into them. Please keep to the relevant details.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell the pointless anecdotes from the relevant details quite as sharply as you, sir,’ said Latham. ‘What I’m trying to explain is that Mr Childs was only able to give fragmentary information, isolated details, because he gave only occasional and reluctant attention to the story Caroline Staines was following. He took in the mention of pig’s blood because it related to what he saw and photographed. The only other thing he remembered being told was that the tomb had been opened once before and the vandals seemed to have been looking for something that wasn’t there. And it wasn’t there because the bloke who was rector at the time had removed it for safekeeping.’
‘What was this something?’
‘He thinks it might have been some kind of diary.’
‘And when was the tomb opened previously?’
‘He doesn’t know, or doesn’t remember. It’s one of the most frustrating interviews I’ve ever done. I think that guy wouldn’t notice the getaway vehicle if he witnessed a bank robber. But I’m working on the assumption that Caroline Staines took notes. She had a handbag with her when she was murdered and her notebook was inside it.’
‘Then why don’t we have it?’ Macready’s voice was dangerously quiet.
‘Forensics won’t release it yet. It’s being fingerprinted and photographed.’
‘Since when were the forensics officers in charge of this investigation, Latham? Tell them to deliver it on my orders, without further delay.’
Macready picked another page from the layout in front of him.
‘Report from Detective Constable Donna Caldwell. Latham, I believe you can also fill us in on what this is about?’
‘DC Caldwell has been working in plain clothes at Gresham, talking to students. She got talking to a girl who had a story about a friend who’d got pregnant the previous year and had an abortion.’
‘This is strictly relevant, I take it?’ asked Macready acidly.
‘Oh very strictly, sir. The boyfriend was an intern, a recent graduate of Gresham, and he’d arranged for the abortion to be done by someone he’d met while studying for his degree. As a consequence, both of them got thrown out of the local Freemasons’ lodge. By Godwin. Colin Oldroyd is supposed to be a member as well. The gossip is he and Godwin did a double act, excommunicating undesirables. At the least, this gives us a new range of possibilities for motive and it may indicate that Oldroyd was holding things back when we interviewed him.’
Macready’s right eyebrow arched sharply. ‘That is, if this proves to be anything more than gossip. I hope your obsession with the Freemasons justifies the time you have devoted to this line of enquiry, Latham. It seems to me to border dangerously on fantasy. Dangerously for your career, that is.’
Latham didn’t turn a hair.
‘Did you know that Hogarth was a Freemason, sir? And according to one school of thought, so was Jack the Ripper.’
‘And so are many of the civic dignitaries in Edinburgh and London. Perhaps you would like us to add the Prince of Wales to the list of suspects?’
‘What, is he one of them as well?’
‘I have no idea, Latham. It is none of my business, or yours. In the past, it has been something of a tradition for the Prince of Wales to hold high office with the Masons. I merely intend to illustrate the absurdity of your line of reasoning.’
‘I’ve called Oldroyd in for another interview, on Thursday morning. Would you like to be present?’
‘I will conduct the interview myself.’
Macready took up another page from the desk, then looked at his watch. ‘I have here a report from Palgrave on the murder weapons. There has been significant progress in tracing the origins of the bolt driven through Godwin’s forehead. Since Palgrave isn’t here to report on the work of his team, I propose to defer this part of the briefing until later on.’
‘Where is he?’ asked Steve.
‘Following up on some vital information gained in an interview he has just conducted. He may be here presently. In the meantime, Williams, I think we will move on to your report. Kindly be as brief as possible.’
‘I’ve traced Mathew Quin’s admission form, sir. Here it is. You’ll notice there’s a home address in Saltash.’
‘Has Palgrave seen this?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well. Quin is to be formally added to the list of suspects. How do you propose that we should further our researches into this fresh faced youth?’
‘The address is no longer current, but Inspector Palgrave has contacted the Saltash police to trace the family. He’s complaining they’ve been a bit slow off the mark. I’ve also made enquiries with the passport office in the hopes of getting a more recent photograph, but they’ve been slow as well. On another tack, as I said before, sir, I have a hunch that Quin is the man who came looking for Sabina Melies at the Hanging Gardens.’
‘And what are the grounds for this hunch, as you call it?’
‘A hunch is something you don’t have grounds for, sir, exactly.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No, sir. Not exactly.’
‘We will pursue the enquiries in Saltash, and at the hall of residence, Inspector Williams. That may at least give us some facts. If you intend to speak to Mr Kendrick again, you must have someone with you. If Latham or Palgrave is not available, take one of the detective constables. There are to be no more urgent leads arising from unwitnessed interviews, is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir. Can I attend the interview with Dr Oldroyd?’
Macready collected his papers before he looked up to reply.
‘Very well.’
Latham cut in. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir. The Freemasons take their secrecy very seriously, from what I’ve read, and they don’t admit women. Oldroyd may be much harder to crack if Inspector Williams is present.’
‘Latham, I have no intention of trying to crack Dr Oldroyd, as you put it, or of inviting him to reveal the secrets of his order.’
At this point, you could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. Macready used silence as a punishment and he kept this one for a good two minutes until, mercifully, Palgrave made his entry, to tell the story he’d heard from the girl.
27
Sitting in the bus on her way to work next morning, Briony felt flat and a bit depressed, in spite of her breakthrough in getting Quin onto the suspect list.
Donna was right, she realised. She’d been trying to force her way into the centre of the case and was so fixated on her own idea of how to get to it that she’d actually turned down the chance for interviewing the girl in the red beret and so getting on to what might be a prime lead. Some information telegraphed from Plymouth late yesterday indicated that the link with Walker was possible. The location and timing certainly were suggestive. If Quin left Gresham in the summer of 1967, an unsolved murder committed in early autumn in a train that had passed through his home town had to be checked out. Sabina Melies was killed in early September 1970. That was a three-year gap and, as Steve had reminded them last night, one possible suspect was a guy who’d been in a commune with her in America. Now there were three more killings in late August. The pattern was too strong to ignore. So if it was all the work of the same man and he’d been in California for three years, maybe he’d committed more murders there.
Catching Steve in the incident room when she arrived, she ran the argument past him. He listened with no expression on his face, then shrugged his shoulders.
‘Obviously. But not necessarily.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Means it’s an obvious line of reasoning, but not necessarily the right one.’
‘I see. Thanks.’
‘Look, Briony, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a bit preoccupied right now with some possibilities that are much closer to the evidence in hand.’
‘What evidence in particular?’
‘Caroline Staines’s notebook. There are pages missing. It’s a spiral bound notebook and pages have been torn out. You know when you tear a page from a spiral bound book, it leaves those annoying little bits of paper caught in the spiral? And sometimes they fall out on the floor? Forensics picked up fragments of the paper at the murder site. The murderer must have torn them out himself, right there, then returned the book to the handbag.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘There must have been stuff in those pages that he really didn’t want anyone to read.’
‘No, no.’ Briony was getting caught up in this now and lost the disinterested tone she’d been determined to maintain in answer to Steve’s indifference to her own lines of evidence.
‘What I mean is, why would lie bother to tear the pages and return the notebook to the handbag? Why not just take it, if there was something in it he didn’t want us to see? Why not just take the handbag, for that matter, and muddy up the motive patterns? It was a big risk for him, messing about finding pages in a notebook — over the body of someone you’ve just butchered in broad daylight. And what about all the blood? He must have been spray painted with it, including his hands. Was there blood on the notebook?’
Steve held up his hand in a stop sign. ‘Hold on, hold on. Hold your horses, Briony. Now, that’s pretty good, I must admit. You got the point straight off. Yes, there were blood stains on the notebook and the handbag clasp. But he’s pretty skilled at controlling the mess, this guy. He wore gloves again — we’re guessing they’re professional, surgical gloves — but they can’t have been exactly dripping. He must know how to keep clear of the arterial spray which, as you saw, hit the roof of the passageway as well as the walls. According to forensics, he was facing her when he broke her wrists, then got behind her to cut her throat and stayed behind her for the follow up work. I hope this is not upsetting you, by the way?’
Briony didn’t deign to reply.
He continued. ‘The handbag was thrown up near her head. So it was easy for him to get to. Now your other question — why tear the pages out instead of just taking the notebook. My point exactly. My theory is, that’s his whole way of working. He’s teasing us with evidence, laying trails for us to follow and taking bits out so we can’t catch up with him. He’s making a story with pieces missing. He knows how to motivate us, you see. Some murderers are clever because they leave no evidence. This guy’s planted evidence to come at us every which way, so we get lost in it. So the challenge for us is — stick to the trail and don’t get distracted. What we can deduce, quite plainly, is that Burroughs was giving Staines some information that got Walker seriously annoyed with both of them. So what was it?’
Briony was drawing breath for some kind of considered reply, but Steve cut across her. He usually preferred answering his own questions, anyway.
‘Almost certainly something to do with that tomb and quite possibly something more general to do with the history of the church. We know she was interested in the architect, Nicholas Hawksmoor. Contemporary of our friend Hogarth, as a matter of fact. The team over in Whitechapel have been over every inch of that tomb. The top can be moved — and there’s evidence it’s been moved recently — slid about six inches to one side. What’s inside it? Nothing. Whose tomb is it? Ah, now here it gets interesting. The rector says he knows, but there’s no name. Now that’s pretty damn fucking freaky, wouldn’t you say?’
‘In Torquay first of all, because that was the nearest to — to where the train stopped. Then some policemen came to talk to me at home — at my aunty’s house in Exeter. But they were from Plymouth. Once they asked me to go to the police station in Plymouth, because they had an identity parade.’
‘And did you pick anyone?’
‘No, because — because they all looked the same. I didn’t see his face at all. Just this tall skinny man in a duffle coat, with long hair.’
‘And you say they never arrested anyone?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t really know, because they said I shouldn’t have any more to do with the case. Because it was too upsetting. They sent me to a psychiatrist. A counsellor, you know. Because I was having panic attacks.’
‘And are you still seeing a counsellor?’
‘No. I don’t — that’s not what I want.’
‘You don’t want to go on talking about it. You just want to see this man behind bars. That right?’
She felt some of the tension go out of her. ‘Yes. That’s right. But maybe — maybe it’s got nothing to do with — with what’s happened in London. I wasn’t sure if I should come.’
‘You did the right thing, I’ll tell you that for certain. When I’ve got the details from Plymouth, we may need to talk to you again.’
‘Do you think there really might be a connection, then?’
‘I couldn’t say at this stage. But it is possible. Thank you for coming to talk to us.’
Nell got up to leave, then hesitated.
‘Um. There’s something else. If there is a connection, if it is the same man, I’m worried about — I’m worried that he could trace me.’
‘How’s that, then?’
She explained about the newspaper coverage at the time and the recent feature in Summer in the City. Palgrave took down the details, then put away the notebook.
‘I’d set your mind at rest on that score, Miss Adams. The likelihood of his coming to look for you is very remote indeed. But if you have any worries, give us a ring here. You can ask for me personally.’
26
Briony was summoned to a six o’clock meeting in Macready’s office, which she hoped was a sign that she was properly back on the team again. Maybe Palgrave had put in a good word for her after all. She went to collect Quin’s entrance form from the Identikit team to take with her and took a look at the image they were working on. The bland little face from the photograph was coming into relief, with a contoured jawline and deep-set eyes. It was the eyes they had got right. The brows were widely spaced, angled slightly downwards at the outer edges and the bridge of the nose finished high, so the eyes themselves seemed to be forced apart. Framed by heavy upper lids and a strong lower lid line, they looked out at you with a kind of defiance, their large dark pupils accentuated.
Macready was brusque, nodded at her without smiling, and Steve Latham seemed preoccupied. Or perhaps he was just avoiding her eye. Cigarette in hand, he sat and stared at his feet, occasionally brushing his hail away as it fell forward. Palgrave was late, so for the first twenty minutes of the meeting, Briony felt stranded. Her case for getting Quin taken seriously was very much stronger with the Tamar Bridge connection, but she wasn’t sure enough of her ground to make it without Palgrave there.
In uncomfortable silence, Macready arranged some papers on his desk, laying them out like the cards in some oversized game of patience. Eventually, he selected one and began speaking rapidly.
‘This latest episode has been exactly planned. We know that Walker did something of a tour of the backstreets in Whitechapel on Sunday night to leave his messages and probably also to choose the locations for his crime.’
‘He didn’t choose them,’ Steve said. ‘At least, not Mitre passage. That was Jack the Ripper’s choice.’
Macready glared at Steve, put the page to one side and took up another.
‘Motive. These, I believe, are your notes, Latham. Would you care to take us through them?’
Steve raked a thick clump of hair back as he sat up and brushed ash off his knee.
‘There’s no straightforward pattern in his choice of victims. He’s killed two women and two men. Neither of the women was raped or otherwise sexually assaulted. That is unusual. He imitates Jack the Ripper in this, as in other things, but he’s more sophisticated. He’s picked these victims — got something against them personally. Find the motive and we’ll find the killer is my punt. In the case of Godwin, the likelihood is that it’s some kind of ritualised revenge killing. Godwin had a lot of power. He made decisions that affected people’s lives. I reckon this guy’s got a fierce ego. He’s resentful. Bears grudges. Greg Kendrick’s story about the old acquaintance who was looking for Sabina Melies is interesting. He asked her to put him up — maybe there was something sexual, maybe not — but she thwarted him and got out of his way. He wouldn’t like that. So we have to ask what might have linked him with Staines and Burroughs, which means as like as not what connects him with the story Staines was following up on. Now her first article on the vandalism — the one that got spiked — mentions repeated episodes of vandalism in the churchyard. Forensic reports this morning identify the substance used on the gravestones as pig’s blood.’
‘Pig’s blood?’ The eyebrow arched fiercely.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But you already knew that, Latham. You mentioned it at the briefing. What led to you to think it was pig’s blood?’
‘The interview with Tony Childs, sir, the Evening Standard photographer.’
‘I see. And what led Mr Childs to assume it was pig’s blood?’
‘Caroline Staines told him. And the Reverend Burroughs told her.’
‘Almost a game of Chinese whispers, Latham. And yet the rumour turns out to have been correct. What other knowledge did Mr Childs pass on to you by this circuitous route?’
Steve dragged deep on his cigarette and let the smoke come out with his words. ‘Mr Childs is a bit embarrassed, I reckon. Caroline Staines had been trying to persuade her editor that she was onto something with this story about church vandalism. She thought there was more to it and it seems she was just starting to get a lead. Burroughs was offering to talk to her and volunteering some kind of special information about previous incidents. Childs wasn’t interested. She called him and persuaded him to go to the second appointment with Burroughs but he didn’t want to go, and didn’t stay long enough to hear any of the details.’
‘I asked you what Mr Childs did hear from Miss Staines, Latham, not what he didn’t. This whole affair is set about with a quicksand of pointless anecdotes. We have no time to sink into them. Please keep to the relevant details.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell the pointless anecdotes from the relevant details quite as sharply as you, sir,’ said Latham. ‘What I’m trying to explain is that Mr Childs was only able to give fragmentary information, isolated details, because he gave only occasional and reluctant attention to the story Caroline Staines was following. He took in the mention of pig’s blood because it related to what he saw and photographed. The only other thing he remembered being told was that the tomb had been opened once before and the vandals seemed to have been looking for something that wasn’t there. And it wasn’t there because the bloke who was rector at the time had removed it for safekeeping.’
‘What was this something?’
‘He thinks it might have been some kind of diary.’
‘And when was the tomb opened previously?’
‘He doesn’t know, or doesn’t remember. It’s one of the most frustrating interviews I’ve ever done. I think that guy wouldn’t notice the getaway vehicle if he witnessed a bank robber. But I’m working on the assumption that Caroline Staines took notes. She had a handbag with her when she was murdered and her notebook was inside it.’
‘Then why don’t we have it?’ Macready’s voice was dangerously quiet.
‘Forensics won’t release it yet. It’s being fingerprinted and photographed.’
‘Since when were the forensics officers in charge of this investigation, Latham? Tell them to deliver it on my orders, without further delay.’
Macready picked another page from the layout in front of him.
‘Report from Detective Constable Donna Caldwell. Latham, I believe you can also fill us in on what this is about?’
‘DC Caldwell has been working in plain clothes at Gresham, talking to students. She got talking to a girl who had a story about a friend who’d got pregnant the previous year and had an abortion.’
‘This is strictly relevant, I take it?’ asked Macready acidly.
‘Oh very strictly, sir. The boyfriend was an intern, a recent graduate of Gresham, and he’d arranged for the abortion to be done by someone he’d met while studying for his degree. As a consequence, both of them got thrown out of the local Freemasons’ lodge. By Godwin. Colin Oldroyd is supposed to be a member as well. The gossip is he and Godwin did a double act, excommunicating undesirables. At the least, this gives us a new range of possibilities for motive and it may indicate that Oldroyd was holding things back when we interviewed him.’
Macready’s right eyebrow arched sharply. ‘That is, if this proves to be anything more than gossip. I hope your obsession with the Freemasons justifies the time you have devoted to this line of enquiry, Latham. It seems to me to border dangerously on fantasy. Dangerously for your career, that is.’
Latham didn’t turn a hair.
‘Did you know that Hogarth was a Freemason, sir? And according to one school of thought, so was Jack the Ripper.’
‘And so are many of the civic dignitaries in Edinburgh and London. Perhaps you would like us to add the Prince of Wales to the list of suspects?’
‘What, is he one of them as well?’
‘I have no idea, Latham. It is none of my business, or yours. In the past, it has been something of a tradition for the Prince of Wales to hold high office with the Masons. I merely intend to illustrate the absurdity of your line of reasoning.’
‘I’ve called Oldroyd in for another interview, on Thursday morning. Would you like to be present?’
‘I will conduct the interview myself.’
Macready took up another page from the desk, then looked at his watch. ‘I have here a report from Palgrave on the murder weapons. There has been significant progress in tracing the origins of the bolt driven through Godwin’s forehead. Since Palgrave isn’t here to report on the work of his team, I propose to defer this part of the briefing until later on.’
‘Where is he?’ asked Steve.
‘Following up on some vital information gained in an interview he has just conducted. He may be here presently. In the meantime, Williams, I think we will move on to your report. Kindly be as brief as possible.’
‘I’ve traced Mathew Quin’s admission form, sir. Here it is. You’ll notice there’s a home address in Saltash.’
‘Has Palgrave seen this?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well. Quin is to be formally added to the list of suspects. How do you propose that we should further our researches into this fresh faced youth?’
‘The address is no longer current, but Inspector Palgrave has contacted the Saltash police to trace the family. He’s complaining they’ve been a bit slow off the mark. I’ve also made enquiries with the passport office in the hopes of getting a more recent photograph, but they’ve been slow as well. On another tack, as I said before, sir, I have a hunch that Quin is the man who came looking for Sabina Melies at the Hanging Gardens.’
‘And what are the grounds for this hunch, as you call it?’
‘A hunch is something you don’t have grounds for, sir, exactly.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No, sir. Not exactly.’
‘We will pursue the enquiries in Saltash, and at the hall of residence, Inspector Williams. That may at least give us some facts. If you intend to speak to Mr Kendrick again, you must have someone with you. If Latham or Palgrave is not available, take one of the detective constables. There are to be no more urgent leads arising from unwitnessed interviews, is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir. Can I attend the interview with Dr Oldroyd?’
Macready collected his papers before he looked up to reply.
‘Very well.’
Latham cut in. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir. The Freemasons take their secrecy very seriously, from what I’ve read, and they don’t admit women. Oldroyd may be much harder to crack if Inspector Williams is present.’
‘Latham, I have no intention of trying to crack Dr Oldroyd, as you put it, or of inviting him to reveal the secrets of his order.’
At this point, you could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. Macready used silence as a punishment and he kept this one for a good two minutes until, mercifully, Palgrave made his entry, to tell the story he’d heard from the girl.
27
Sitting in the bus on her way to work next morning, Briony felt flat and a bit depressed, in spite of her breakthrough in getting Quin onto the suspect list.
Donna was right, she realised. She’d been trying to force her way into the centre of the case and was so fixated on her own idea of how to get to it that she’d actually turned down the chance for interviewing the girl in the red beret and so getting on to what might be a prime lead. Some information telegraphed from Plymouth late yesterday indicated that the link with Walker was possible. The location and timing certainly were suggestive. If Quin left Gresham in the summer of 1967, an unsolved murder committed in early autumn in a train that had passed through his home town had to be checked out. Sabina Melies was killed in early September 1970. That was a three-year gap and, as Steve had reminded them last night, one possible suspect was a guy who’d been in a commune with her in America. Now there were three more killings in late August. The pattern was too strong to ignore. So if it was all the work of the same man and he’d been in California for three years, maybe he’d committed more murders there.
Catching Steve in the incident room when she arrived, she ran the argument past him. He listened with no expression on his face, then shrugged his shoulders.
‘Obviously. But not necessarily.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Means it’s an obvious line of reasoning, but not necessarily the right one.’
‘I see. Thanks.’
‘Look, Briony, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a bit preoccupied right now with some possibilities that are much closer to the evidence in hand.’
‘What evidence in particular?’
‘Caroline Staines’s notebook. There are pages missing. It’s a spiral bound notebook and pages have been torn out. You know when you tear a page from a spiral bound book, it leaves those annoying little bits of paper caught in the spiral? And sometimes they fall out on the floor? Forensics picked up fragments of the paper at the murder site. The murderer must have torn them out himself, right there, then returned the book to the handbag.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘There must have been stuff in those pages that he really didn’t want anyone to read.’
‘No, no.’ Briony was getting caught up in this now and lost the disinterested tone she’d been determined to maintain in answer to Steve’s indifference to her own lines of evidence.
‘What I mean is, why would lie bother to tear the pages and return the notebook to the handbag? Why not just take it, if there was something in it he didn’t want us to see? Why not just take the handbag, for that matter, and muddy up the motive patterns? It was a big risk for him, messing about finding pages in a notebook — over the body of someone you’ve just butchered in broad daylight. And what about all the blood? He must have been spray painted with it, including his hands. Was there blood on the notebook?’
Steve held up his hand in a stop sign. ‘Hold on, hold on. Hold your horses, Briony. Now, that’s pretty good, I must admit. You got the point straight off. Yes, there were blood stains on the notebook and the handbag clasp. But he’s pretty skilled at controlling the mess, this guy. He wore gloves again — we’re guessing they’re professional, surgical gloves — but they can’t have been exactly dripping. He must know how to keep clear of the arterial spray which, as you saw, hit the roof of the passageway as well as the walls. According to forensics, he was facing her when he broke her wrists, then got behind her to cut her throat and stayed behind her for the follow up work. I hope this is not upsetting you, by the way?’
Briony didn’t deign to reply.
He continued. ‘The handbag was thrown up near her head. So it was easy for him to get to. Now your other question — why tear the pages out instead of just taking the notebook. My point exactly. My theory is, that’s his whole way of working. He’s teasing us with evidence, laying trails for us to follow and taking bits out so we can’t catch up with him. He’s making a story with pieces missing. He knows how to motivate us, you see. Some murderers are clever because they leave no evidence. This guy’s planted evidence to come at us every which way, so we get lost in it. So the challenge for us is — stick to the trail and don’t get distracted. What we can deduce, quite plainly, is that Burroughs was giving Staines some information that got Walker seriously annoyed with both of them. So what was it?’
Briony was drawing breath for some kind of considered reply, but Steve cut across her. He usually preferred answering his own questions, anyway.
‘Almost certainly something to do with that tomb and quite possibly something more general to do with the history of the church. We know she was interested in the architect, Nicholas Hawksmoor. Contemporary of our friend Hogarth, as a matter of fact. The team over in Whitechapel have been over every inch of that tomb. The top can be moved — and there’s evidence it’s been moved recently — slid about six inches to one side. What’s inside it? Nothing. Whose tomb is it? Ah, now here it gets interesting. The rector says he knows, but there’s no name. Now that’s pretty damn fucking freaky, wouldn’t you say?’
