‘Black, no sugar is fine for me. I thought Gibbs ran a check on Smith’s details at the CRO and it was negative?’
‘Smith is an alias.’ Lawrence handed Jane a mugshot and criminal record sheet, with the name ‘Aiden Lang’ on it. ‘Ben Smith was not referred to the hostel by social services. Turns out the hostel manager was letting the room illegally and pocketing the cash.’
As Lawrence made the coffee, Jane looked at the mugshot of Aiden Lang. He only looked about seventeen, with a fresh complexion and high cheekbones.
‘His hair is light brown, not blond,’ Jane commented.
‘That mugshot was taken a few months ago. Lang is currently wanted on warrant for non-appearance at Hampstead Magistrates Court on assault and theft charges, so he probably used the alias and dyed his hair to avoid arrest. He also has previous convictions for possession of cannabis and taking a motor vehicle.’ Lawrence handed Jane her coffee.
‘He looks so young. Not at all like I imagined him,’ she remarked.
‘Well, I’ve learnt that murderers come in all shapes and sizes, Jane. What’s really sickening is the way he raped those two young women as he strangled them to death.’
Jane nodded. ‘He’s a monster, and he’ll undoubtedly keep on killing until he’s caught.’
‘I’ve told Moran about Lang and the fingerprints. He’s arranged a press conference at Scotland Yard, in the lecture theatre at midday. He wants everyone on the team there for an eleven a.m. meeting in the briefing room beforehand, so he can be brought up to speed with everything before facing the press.’
‘I think Eileen Summers might have phoned the Samaritans and Sybil Hastings dealt with the call on the Thursday evening before she was killed on the Friday.’ Jane picked up her briefcase and took out the call log, which was still protected by the two sheets of cardboard.
She briefed Lawrence on her visit to the Samaritans in Soho, and her conversation with Alice Hodges. She then handed Lawrence the call sheet.
‘The details of this call were written by Alice. Mrs. Hastings wrote something on the previous call sheet, which she didn’t file, for some reason. Obviously I’m hoping the indented writing from Mrs. Hastings’ notes might reveal some details of the caller, or maybe even the suspect. During the conversation there was also mention of a boy receiving treatment somewhere. I looked at the call sheet in the dark using my house torch — there’s something there, but I couldn’t make it out. Can you do a proper examination on it for me, Paul?’
‘Well done for preserving it between the cardboard, but it’ll have to go in the “awaits” pile for now, Jane. I’m up to my eyeballs with forensic work on the case. I still need to compare Mrs. Hastings’ tweed suit with the fibers on the bodies and from the Allegro. And we both need to be at the Yard for eleven.’
Jane pursed her lips and gave him a ‘please, just for me’ look.
Lawrence laughed. ‘You’re very hard to resist, Tennison. There’s a new bit of equipment called the Electrostatic Detection Apparatus — ESDA for short. It was invented recently at the London College of Printing. At present, we’re the only force that’s got it on trial. It’s much better than using a light source, and brings up indented handwriting that’s invisible to the human eye.’
Jane finished her coffee and followed Lawrence into a room with ‘Questioned Documents & Handwriting’ on the door. In the corner was a blue steel box, about the size of a briefcase, marked ESDA. On the top was a bronze plate covered with pin-size holes and there was a rectangular metal wand attached to the side. Lawrence placed the Samaritans call log, written by Alice, onto the brass plate, then stretched a piece of cling film over the document. He turned on the ESDA. It began to whirr then vibrate, and Jane watched as the air was sucked through the pinholes, pulling the document and cling film firmly down on the bronze plate.
Lawrence picked up the wand attachment and told Jane to stand back as he was about to run a few thousand volts of static electricity over the document. Jane took two big steps back as Lawrence waved the wand across it. He lifted the brass plate at a 30-degree angle and gently poured black toner from a jar over the cling film. He explained how the toner would bring up the unseen indented areas of the document onto the cling film. He replaced the wand and tapped the plate, removing the remnants of the toner. Jane was transfixed as darker traces showing the indented impressions slowly appeared on the cling film against the grey background, and the indented writing began to reveal itself. She could identify different styles of handwriting, some on top of each other, and it was hard to separate them.
Lawrence shrugged. ‘That’s one of the problems: bloody machine is so sensitive it can pick up three or four layers of indented writing, which actually makes it difficult and time-consuming to find what you’re looking for.’ Lawrence then made the indented images permanent by placing clear sticky-backed plastic over the toner, thus producing a fixed, transparent image. He then made a second copy and handed it to Jane for the case file back at the station.
‘The documents section will need some samples of Mrs. Hastings’ handwriting, as well as Alice’s, to help narrow down who wrote what.’
‘I’ve got other call logs that Mrs. Hastings and Alice filled out. Will they do?’
Paul nodded. Jane opened her briefcase and handed him a folder.
‘I’ll get a handwriting expert to look at them and the indented writing. It could be two or three days before they get around to it as they’re examining documents in an IRA case for the Bomb Squad, whose work always takes precedence over everything else.’
‘Thanks, Paul.’
‘Right, it’s just after ten, so we’d better make our way over to the Yard for the press conference. We can grab a sandwich and coffee in the canteen, if you want.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Jane said as she put the copy of the indented writing in her briefcase.
Arriving at Scotland Yard, they went straight to the briefing room, where Gibbs and the rest of the murder team were waiting. Moran didn’t look happy.
‘Where have you been, Tennison? I expect you to be in the office by nine a.m. at the latest.’
‘I spoke to the duty sergeant and explained that I had to go to the lab. I thought he’d have told you.’
‘Well, he didn’t. I need to know what you’re doing so that I can be kept up to speed with developments,’ Moran said tersely.
Gibbs was quick to defend Jane. ‘In fairness, Jane did phone me several times with updates yesterday, as you were out the office. Her findings were in the report I left on your desk.’
Moran looked slightly embarrassed. He clearly hadn’t had time to read Gibbs’ report.
‘Well, we’re all very busy, but in future a phone call would be appreciated, Tennison. Is there anything you haven’t told DI Gibbs that I need to know about?’
Jane quickly updated him, focusing on the indented writing and the phone call Eileen Summers had taken at school, from a man calling himself Mr. Smith.
Moran nodded. ‘Good work. I appreciate the labs document section are busy with the Bomb Squad stuff, but keep chasing them up for a result. Right, moving on... Just so you all know, the press are all over the fact that three murders have taken place in Peckham.’ Moran picked up a newspaper from the desk and held it up.
‘As you can see, the headlines in the tabloids are “Peckham’s Murder Mile” and “Peckham Rye Killer Strikes Again.” The press is inferring all three murders are linked and are the work of the same killer. It’s also been leaked that Mrs. Hastings’ body was discovered by her son.’