‘Oh really, so we find a gold bracelet that belonged to a girl called Angela and we just drop it – a bracelet found in a stinking basement where we know a killer lived?’
‘Go home. You’re giving me a headache.’
‘If everything boils down to how much it costs I may as well quit. How can you put a price tag on a thirteen-year-old girl’s murder… or anyone’s, for that matter! You want to close the case, do it, and live with it, because I couldn’t. And don’t even begin to think I will be the one who tells the Jordans.’
She yanked open the front door and banged it hard behind her. He could hear her thudding down the stairs, and would have liked to run after her, but he couldn’t. He clasped the sofa arm to ease himself up and then reached for his walking stick, poured the remainder of the wine into his glass and drained it. It had become consistently harder to control budgets and he had already had a lengthy discussion with Mike Lewis, warning him that it was becoming tough for him to constantly get more financing. The archaeologists, the specialist police search teams and the mounting forensic work were all costly, and he had to approve more and more officers to be attached to the investigation. He turned as if to pace the room the way he always did and almost fell over. He swore, gritted his teeth and, with determination, began walking slowly up and down the room. He paused by a photograph of his stepdaughter. Anna had implied that if it had been Kitty who had disappeared he would not have left the case on file. It wasn’t true. He had worked twenty-four seven trying to get a result on this one. He had becomes friends with her distraught parents, he had wanted to give them some kind of peace, but the weeks had turned into months, and the longer Rebekka was missing the smaller, he knew, were her chances of being found.
He had felt guilt. He had lived with the fact that he had been unable to find any suspect; it had been the most frustrating investigation he had ever headed up. If he was honest, the case had never truly been over for him and now it had reared up again. He began to go over in his mind the entire conversation with Anna, eventually conceding that she had touched an extremely raw nerve.
Anna was at the station by seven-thirty the next morning. Mike arrived shortly after, so she asked to speak to him in his office. She was very tense, her hands clenched.
‘I had dinner with Langton last night.’
‘Oh, how is he?’
‘Let me ask you. He is not overseeing my investigation, he’s on sick leave, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, but he’s had his finger in the pie all along. I already told you that as far as DCS Hedges is concerned both cases are Langton’s.’
‘He is getting ready to close down my enquiry and by the sounds of it yours as well. He maintains we only have circumstantial evidence.’
‘Maybe we do, but we haven’t even re-interviewed Oates yet. When we present him with what we do have, he might cough up.’
‘If he doesn’t?’
‘Where are you going with this, Anna?’
‘I am just warning you he’s going to withdraw officers. He says the budget’s out of control, and that it’s all about finances.’
Mike ruffled his hair distractedly. ‘I’m refusing to back off, Mike, and I want you to also refuse, because I truly believe we are close to proving Oates is the killer of both Fidelis and Rebekka.’
‘Listen, I know you’ve been doing a lot of work, and with results, but I also have to consider the facts.’
‘He’s already called you, hasn’t he?’
Mike flushed. ‘Oh my God, I don’t believe it, don’t tell me you agree with him?’
‘Whatever my feelings are, Anna, Langton makes the rules. At the moment, though, he’s just considering it, so in the meantime we don’t slow down.’
‘He shouldn’t even be considering it.’
‘The investigation right now is costing a fortune. We had a full-scale search of not one but three properties that-’
‘Resulted in the finding of a box of jewellery that could belong to other victims, a box with only Oates’s finger-prints on it, a bracelet with a girl’s name engraved on it. We got a result, Mike.’
Mike slapped the desk. ‘If Oates is guilty of more murders, the fact is we have him charged with that of Justine Marks and he will stand trial for her murder. If we do not have proof beyond circumstantial evidence for the other cases you know the CPS will not proceed.’
Anna stood up. Mike had obviously been got at by Lang ton so she didn’t think there was anything more to say.
Anna couldn’t sit still after such a start to the morning, so she decided to visit the swimming pool in Hackney known to be used by Oates. She was completely wired, extremely angry, and also very disappointed by Mike’s reaction. Half of her doubted she would gain anything useful from going to the pool but she recalled Fidelis’s parents saying she had won swimming medals. On the pretext that the young woman might have met Oates there she got out of the incident room as fast as possible, only pausing to ask Joan to run a web search for chalk production – how and where it was mined, and its use on building sites – and leave the printed results on her desk. Anna was surprised at how large the sports complex in Hackney was. It consisted of not just a swimming pool, but facilities for karate training, trampolining, and dance classes from aerobics to modern ballet. The gym was well equipped and private training lessons were available. There were preand postnatal classes and a crèche where mothers could leave their children to do painting and pottery. Altogether it was a very well-run centre funded by the council. There was even a café serving hot meals, with windows that overlooked the swimming pool, where plenty of attendants supervised schoolchildren taking swimming lessons in roped-off lanes.
Anna waited at the reception desk and watched two pleasant girls working at computers and answering the telephone, before she was led to the manager’s office. Jim Banks was a fit-looking man wearing a tracksuit top with a badge of the centre’s logo, dark trousers and training shoes. He shook her hand and indicated for her to sit in a chair opposite his smart desk, on which computers and telephones and papers were neatly arrayed. Behind him was a wall of cups and trophies.
Anna explained about the investigation into the murder of Fidelis Julia Flynn. She showed him Fidelis’s and Henry Oates’s photographs, asking if Banks recalled either of them.
‘Yes. He was a regular up until about a year ago. Never seen her before, though.’
Banks turned to his computer.
‘I was a swimming instructor when he first joined. In fact, it was shortly after we opened six years ago.’
‘He was a member?’
‘Yes. I’ll just see if we still have his particulars.’
Banks tapped a few keys and scrolled through the past and present membership lists.
‘Nothing on here for Fidelis Flynn, but yes, there you go, details of his joining date, membership number and photograph.’
He printed out the information and passed it to Anna. At the top of the page was a star and the words NOT APPROVED FOR FURTHER MEMBERSHIP. Banks next went to a filing cabinet and withdrew a folder.
‘I keep a file on people who we have complaints about or who’ve been barred for one reason or another. The girls at the desk also have a copy because of the photograph.’
Anna was hardly able to contain herself as she asked why Mr Oates was no longer approved for membership.
‘We have a policy: anyone using the swimming pool has to go through the shower and foot bath before entering the water, it’s all about health and safety.’
She waited.
‘Mr Oates was to say the least rather unkempt, and I recall him very well because when I worked the pool area he had obviously not showered. I think he was working on a building site and I caught him coming into the swimming pool area from a staff door. He had not used the shower and so I sort of earmarked him as someone to watch. I did on a couple of other occasions turn him back to go through the disinfectant foot bath; his feet were filthy. We also had a couple of complaints from other swimmers and he was warned that if he didn’t shower he would not be allowed to use the pool.’