There was a low murmur. Sheldon looked to Anna.
‘We are all obviously aware of the attack on DCI James Langton. What we now need to discuss is if there was any possibility that during the time Murphy was held in custody and also Vernon Kramer, either could have picked up knowledge of the attack.’
Sheldon continued. ‘This could have been a coincidental threat, not connected to Langton. Nevertheless, by using the words “your bloke”, it seems that Sickert might have known about DI Travis’s relationship.’
There were looks of confusion around the incident room: not many of the team had been aware of her connection to Langton — until now.
Brandon raised his hand. ‘There was a hell of a lot of news coverage on the incident.’
‘Yes, we are aware of that,’ Sheldon said, brusquely.
‘Well, could Sickert, or Murphy for that matter, have known about it via the press?’
‘No!’ Anna interjected. ‘There was never any reference to myself, nor that I was connected to Langton.’
Sheldon sighed. ‘So we have this guy simply making a threat out of the blue, or coincidentally just making the reference to DCI Langton? What do we know about this Sickert, apart from the fact that he’s now living with Murphy’s sister? Do we even have a Christian name?’
No one actually knew anything; it had never even been a point of discussion during the investigation.
‘Okay, I suggest we get what we can on Sickert and, if necessary, bring him in for questioning. That’s all we can do.’
The briefing broke up for Sickert’s background to be investigated. Although Gail used the surname Sickert and had, at times, referred to him as her husband, the officers were unable to trace any marriage certificate. They checked via the address he lived at with Gail, only to discover that the smallholding was rented in the name of Donald Summers, Gail’s previous husband. They also discovered that, due to Murphy’s harassment of his sister, she had been given protection against him; social services had assisted the move to the bungalow from a council estate in Hackney about eighteen months ago.
Gail had two children aged six and seven, a boy and a girl, called Keith and Sharon, both from different fathers; the toddler, Tina, had no father listed on her birth certificate. Gail had a history of social services visits, and the two children had been on the ‘at risk’ register because of the accusations of molestation she had made against Murphy. The local school was able to give confirmation that both the older children were currently pupils. The staff did recall many times when the kids had missed odd days, but these were due to colds and coughs. They confirmed that the children were often very scruffy but did not appear to be malnourished. It transpired that Gail had asked to be called Sickert after her husband Donald Summers had deserted her. However, the police drew a complete blank on Sickert, the man whose name she had taken; all they had was Anna’s description of him. By mid-afternoon, it was decided that they would bring Sickert in for questioning, for threatening an officer.
It was after five when Brandon and Blunt arrived at the smallholding. It had been determined that Anna should not accompany them.
The same array of children’s toys was littering the grass; a new henhouse had been started, but the hens were running free around the yard. The bungalow was in the same filthy state inside, with unmade beds and dirty laundry still in the washing machine. No Gail, no children, and no Sickert: they had all disappeared.
There were bundles of clothes and children’s toys half-stuffed into bin-liners. Odd shoes and baby bottles with blankets and pillows were dumped by the front door, and drawers were tipped out in every room, their contents left on the floor. It was obvious that the family had left in a hurry.
The men found few documents of any importance. Gail was on benefits to help pay gas, electricity, food and rent, but what rent she did have to pay was in arrears. Child benefit books were not found, nor was anything that had Sickert’s name on. They also found no men’s clothes in the house, but left by the back door was a large pair of Wellington boots that perhaps had belonged to him.
Sheldon had talks with the local police. They had had two call outs to the bungalow, but these had been connected to Arthur Murphy and possibly Vernon Kramer; both men had been drunk. These had been many months apart; they had no further disturbances from the Sickert address. The police were aware of Gail’s protection order against her brother but did not know who Sickert was.
The landlord, a Tom Adams, was owed six weeks’ rent; he had seen Sickert a couple of times, but most of his dealings had been with Gail and the social services. He had written complaints to the DSS about the rent arrears, but had received no reply.
Brandon reported back to the station. As the identity of Sickert remained a blank, there was not a lot they could do. Gail, with three children, would have to find financial assistance so it was possible they would be able to trace her eventually; if she did make any contact with the DSS or with social services, they would be informed.
‘What if she went unwillingly?’ Anna asked.
Sheldon shook his head. ‘From the evidence at the bungalow, she took provisions and clothing for her children, and it did not look as if she had been forced to leave. It is not against the law to move or do a runner, albeit she owed rent. We do not have any reason to believe that she was in any kind of danger.’
‘But she was frightened of Sickert.’
‘But we have no evidence of abuse, no police complaints; we’ve checked with the school, social services and so on. It is going to be down to them to trace her — that’s really not our problem. We have no cause for arrest.’
‘Well, there were threats from Sickert to me.’
‘I am aware of that, Anna. We have done, to my mind, all that we could do at this stage. Unless we have further evidence, all I suggest is we keep an open mind, remain in touch with the DSS and see what comes up. We have taken fingerprints and will run them through the database. If he’s got a record, then we’ll know who he is. Right now, our priority is the trial of Arthur Murphy.’
Anna had only been at home for a few moments, when Mike Lewis rang to say he was close by — could he drop in and see her? When he arrived, he was very apologetic about not getting back to her sooner, but he had heavy work commitments.
Anna poured him a glass of wine as she told him about the photograph and how they had arrested Murphy. She continued about her visit to Gail, and how she had taped the entire interaction with her.
Lewis interrupted her. ‘Anna, can you get to the reason why you called? You said it was urgent.’
She picked up her tape. ‘This is why I called you: listen to what this man says to me when I am driving out.’
Lewis leaned forwards, listening. She stopped the tape and played it again.
‘Did you hear what he said?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘He said I’d get what my bloke got, right? “Cut up like your bloke”, yes? Well, you tell me: how did this man know about Langton?’
Lewis sighed, shaking his head. ‘Maybe he just said it — you know, in a rage.’
‘What if it is connected? What if, somehow, this man knew about me and Langton?’
Lewis sipped his wine. ‘What did he look like?’
Anna gave a description. Lewis said nothing.
‘Does that fit the description of either of the men who escaped after Langton was slashed?’
‘I’m not sure. Both were black, but I don’t recall one of them having dreadlocks. I don’t have that clear a memory of either of them; it all happened so fast.’
‘Krasiniqe gave you two names, right?’