‘Sickert?’ she asked.
‘I dunno. We’ll know more when they’ve taken it to the lab, but it’s a bloody nightmare.’
‘I’ll get back as soon as I can.’
‘Good.’ He put the phone down.
Anna sat back and stared out of the window as a waiter appeared.
‘Are you having lunch?’ he asked, removing the stained paper mat left on the table.
‘No, but I’d like a coffee.’
‘This is the first-class dining section. There’s a buffet bar further up the train,’ he said, whipping another mat off the table opposite.
Anna went to the buffet car and stood in line for a beaker of terrible coffee and a sandwich. She then made her way to a second-class compartment and had to sit opposite two women who were, thankfully, asleep. She put her briefcase on the table between them and began to search through her old notes; then after a while, she too sank back into her seat, closing her eyes.
Langton stood by the trestle table as the skeleton was pieced together. The body was totally decomposed, and had been buried naked. The skull still had some blond frizzy hair attached, so it was obviously not Sickert.
Langton sighed. ‘This is bloody unbelievable. Who the fuck is this? I mean, how many do you think have been buried in the outer fields, never mind the piggery?’
It would take a considerable amount of time before they would get any kind of a result from the skeleton: DNA would be extracted from the bones and hair, and dental records checked. Judging by the look of the teeth, the skeleton was not that of a young man but someone in his mid-thirties or forties, as there were some missing, and numerous fillings.
Langton returned with Harry Blunt to the patrol car. He was in a foul mood as they drove back to the incident room. ‘This was all we bloody needed.’
Harry’s phone went.
‘It’s me again,’ Anna said.
‘How you feeling?’
‘Lot better. I had a look over my old notes on the investigation into Arthur Murphy, when we were searching for him.’
‘Yeah — and?’
‘We know Gail used the name Sickert, but before he came onto the scene, she was actually married to a man called Summers. They took out the lease on the bungalow together — the piggery as you now call it. We never even questioned him, because by the time we went to interview Gail, Sickert was living with her. I think you should get on to her mother, Beryl Dunn, and find out about the husband and his whereabouts. How old would you say the skeleton was?’
‘We can’t be sure; around thirty or forty, judging by his teeth. He had sort of sandy hair.’
‘Well, maybe get a description from Mrs Dunn. It’s just a thought, but if we have Sickert as prime suspect for her murder, he might have also killed her husband. I’ve got his name down as Donald Summers.’
‘Okay, thanks — we’ll look into it.’
Anna went to the taxi rank and asked to be taken to Wakefield prison. The driver looked her up and down, and then nodded. ‘Visiting, are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your old man, is it?’
‘No — I am a police officer,’ she snapped.
Langton listened as Harry repeated Anna’s telephone message. He didn’t want any further interaction with Beryl, as he had disliked her intensely when he had met her. If these were the remains of this man Summers, it was even more of a headache. With the body count mounting, the pressure was on; Langton was getting very urgent calls from Scotland Yard for an update on the case.
It took Harry Blunt over half an hour to call all the various phone numbers they had for Beryl Dunn. Her phone had been cut off and her mobile was dead. He had ended up phoning her local police station in Newcastle, and they agreed to call on her and get her to speak to him on the phone.
Anna waited in the Governor’s office to interview Idris Krasiniqe. She had said it was in connection with the death of a prisoner in Parkhurst: Idris had the same surname and they were attempting to discover if the two men were related. She was told that she would probably not get much out of him, as he remained sullen and uncooperative. When he had first arrived at the prison, they had put him on suicide watch, as he was very disorientated and kept banging his head on the wall. He had rarely spoken to anyone and had made no so-called friends inside. He refused to partake in any prison activities and had no visitors. He had subsequently been segregated from the main wing for throwing food at officers and wrecking his cell. As soon as it was lockdown for the afternoon, they would bring him out.
Beryl Dunn had refused to get into the patrol car, screaming that she had done nothing. It took some time before she understood that the police were not there for any of her criminal offences, but as part of the investigation into the murder of her daughter. Eventually, she quietened down and agreed to accompany them to the station, where they would call the New Forest incident room.
The moment Harry Blunt was called to the phone, Beryl started badmouthing their incompetence; it was a while before she answered coherently anything Harry asked her.
‘Mrs Dunn, could you give me any information about your daughter’s husband?’
‘Which one? She was always saying she was married to some down and out, but it was all in her head. She just hitched herself to one loser after another. I never met this black guy. I said all this before. I never met him and I wouldn’t know what the bugger looked like!’
‘We are asking about the man your daughter was involved with before Joseph Sickert.’
‘Christ, I dunno. As I told that WPC, my daughter had three kids by three different blokes.’ Beryl then burst out: ‘You know, I blame it all on my son! Arthur wouldn’t leave her alone when she was a kid, and he tormented her all her life. Now he’s dead, she’s dead — and my grandkids…’
Beryl started crying down the phone. Harry rolled his eyes while he waited. She made loud sniffing noises before she spoke again.
‘There was a bloke drove her up here once, to get her money.’
‘Could you describe him?’
‘He was a window cleaner, from two streets down; she took off with him, I think. Well, he’s not been cleaning windows round here for months.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘Ken? I think it was Ken something or other.’
‘Could you describe him?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Was he tall? Short? Dark-haired? Red-haired?’
‘Oh, sandy-haired, yeah. Big bloke, about six feet — come to think of it, he had no front teeth, the two in the front were missing. He used to clean the windows in these baggy shorts and checked shirt; had a van with a ladder.’
Harry continued pressing Beryl for more and more details until at last she came up with his surname.
‘Summers — that’s it! I just remembered what his name was — Donald Summers!’
‘Not Ken?’ Harry interjected.
‘No, I was wrong about that. It was Donald Summers and I tell you why I remember, ’cos his mother plays bingo and she’s a right tart.’
Beryl continued to make derogatory remarks about Mrs Summers as Harry jotted down the details for the team to check out. As soon as he was able to get her off the phone, he asked the local police to help them out again and see if they could contact Donald Summers’s family and, if possible, obtain the name of his dentist.