‘He’s killed her. Why, why, why?’
‘I’m so sorry.’
It was very obvious Mrs Douglas was dead. She was dressed only in her nightgown; her eyes protruded from their sockets and her face was a purplish red colour. Her mouth was covered with masking tape and her hands were tied behind her back with the same tape. It was a tragic, hideous sight and Bradford crumpled onto the floor, sobbing.
The flat was cordoned off for the forensic team to cut her down and then her body was taken to the mortuary as the distraught exhausted Timmy Bradford was helped from the flat. At one point he did become concerned about the moneybag, but was told it was safe and had to be kept for evidence. He agreed that he would go with them to give a statement at Hackney Police Station, where he was well taken care of. The police doctor came to see him and prescribed some sedatives, he was given food and a change of clothes and a family liaison officer sat with him until the team were ready to take down a full statement.
Oates was being held at the station in the cells and had hardly spoken to anyone. The entire operation had to be written up and reports submitted before they could move on and interview him again. Although they had made a successful arrest and prevented any harm coming to Timmy Bradford, the fact remained that Henry Oates had murdered Mrs Douglas after he had escaped from police custody. This was something that the media had picked up on at once, with headlines and stories of police incompetence leading to the murder of an eighty-two-year-old woman. The Deputy Commissioner, along with Langton, held a big press conference, which in truth was nothing more than a damage limitation exercise. They both praised the skill and efforts of DCI Lewis in apprehending Oates and saving Timmy Bradford. When it came to the death of Mrs Douglas they said that as it was an ongoing enquiry and a suspect awaited interview they were not prepared to comment on that side of the investigation.
The team all congratulated Mike Lewis on the way he had handled the arrest, but it was tainted by the fact that Mrs Douglas was dead. They knew it was possible she had been murdered as soon as Oates had forced her to let him inside her flat. The weary team did not break until two in the morning, knowing that they would reconvene early the next day to re-question Oates. There was no sense of achievement, more of relief, and it still wasn’t over. Anna, like everyone else, went home to recharge for the following days, which would finally lead to closing the investigation.
As tired as she was, Anna was unable to sleep. The haunting picture of Mrs Douglas kept returning to her in flashes. It made her angry that the officers sent to question Bradford had not done their job properly. Oates had been inside that flat all that time, most probably in the bathroom, and she wondered if this might even have been when he killed Mrs Douglas in fear she’d cry out for help. Anna tossed and turned. Had he actually killed her as soon as she had let him in? Something didn’t add up, but she was too exhausted to put it together. She got up to make herself a cup of hot milk and brought it back to her bed. Sitting up with her hands cupped around it, having taken two aspirins and a sleeping pill, still she couldn’t stop her mind churning over all the facts and trying to figure out what was wrong – what was stored in the recess of her mind? The jigsaw pieces that linked one case to the other had all appeared to be in place, but the more restless she became the more fractured the pattern became. Adding a big slug of Scotch to the now tepid milk didn’t help. But it made her groggy enough to lie back and close her eyes. She sighed. Maybe it would fall into place in the morning.
Chapter Twenty
Oates was still being held in the cells, apparently having accepted that his bolt for freedom had failed. He was showing no visible signs of stress – on the contrary, he was eating and sleeping well. He looked very odd, as part of his hair was a bright orange colour where he had attempted to dye it.
Anna told Mike that she had arranged to go over to the mortuary to discuss the four bodies recovered from the woods with the pathologist and to get an estimate of how long Mrs Douglas had been dead. She asked Mike what he thought.
Mike shrugged and said that he reckoned that Oates had probably killed her after a few hours. He further suggested that Oates, with Kumar’s advice, might try to claim that he left her standing on the stool and she must have slipped and accidently hanged herself.
‘See you later then.’
‘We got good news about Barolli. It’s not as bad as we first thought; he should be on his feet in a week or two,’ Mike added.
‘That’s great. How long do they think before he’ll be back at work?’
‘Good few months – he’ll have rehab treatment at the police home in Goring, but at the moment his condition is stable and he’s been visited by Barbara and Joan.’
Anna felt a little guilty that she hadn’t really given Barolli much thought so she went over to Barbara.
‘When you see Paul, give him my best.’
‘Will do. Joan’s been to see him and took him in some home-cooked meals her mother prepared.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yeah. Well you know Joan, she’s got nothing else to do with her spare time and it gives her mother something to do.’
‘Well, thanks.’ Anna paused. ‘The girls recovered from the woods, can you do me copies of their “Misper” files?’
‘Now?’
‘Yes please, I need to take them to the pathologist, might help with how long they have been dead. Never know, evil bastard Oates could have kept them alive for a while before killing them.’
Anna crossed to the incident board and studied the photographs. It was strange: Kelly Mathews, Mary Suffolk, Alicia Jones, Angela Thornton, Rebekka Jordan, Justine Marks and Fidelis Julia Flynn all looked as if a light had been turned off in their eyes, as if it was finally over. Even Mrs Douglas looked distant in the picture most recently attached to the board.
When Anna arrived at Lambeth the mortuary assistant told her that the pathologist, Professor Hall, was currently working on the body of Mrs Douglas in the main examination room. Anna told the assistant that if possible she’d first like to see the remains of the bodies they had recovered from the quarry. He took her into the cold room where dead bodies were kept in metal fridges with four in each compartment stacked on sliding removable trays. The assistant had already removed the bodies, the remains of which were now in new zipped body bags. Each bag was laid out on a trolley along with a copy of the post mortem paperwork attached to a clipboard.
It would be chilling to go from one body to the next unzipping each bag to see how much remained of each victim. Anna stood for a while looking at the first body, the tiny figure of what was left of Rebekka Jordan. She looked through the report; amongst the paperwork was a request for burial and the release of the remains to her parents. It had not yet been signed. As the lab assistant came over, Anna jumped in surprise.
‘You see these, and you think at one time they were all young and vibrant with their whole life ahead of them, and one crazy sick bastard is responsible and took it all away. You ever think about why evil is punished? I’m not talking about hang them high, I’m not talking about capital punishment, it’s something else and I don’t understand it…’
Anna turned to face the young man, he was no more than mid-twenties and had a quiet authority. He was so calm, almost dispassionate.
‘What don’t you understand?’ she asked.
‘That it doesn’t hurt, that he could take these lives in a brutal way, one after the other, and keep walking around, keep living as if there was to be no punishment.’
‘Well, the punishment will be meted out at his trial.’