Natalie Burrows was abrupt but listened as Jack requested a meeting with her. She said that she could free a ‘window’ at twelve that morning, but if that was no good it would have to be the following day. Jack said he would be able to see her at midday and hung up. He finished manoeuvring into a tight parking bay where the vehicles on either side were over their lines. Sometimes the small pea-green car was useful, and he didn’t really care if the bumper acquired a few more dents.
As expected, Jack had to go through lengthy security procedures to enter the prison. After completing all the relevant forms and having his ID verified, he left his briefcase and mobile phone with the duty officers and was led to the section used by prisoners for meetings with their legal teams.
It was a small, airless room with a table and two chairs under a high, cobweb-covered window that faced the outside wall. The floor was covered in worn lino and the door had square frosted glass in the top half. Jack sat and waited for over ten minutes before a uniformed officer opened the door and stood back to allow Anthony Middleton to enter.
He was a huge man with heavily muscled arms covered in tattoos from his hands to his shoulders. He was in his late forties with thick black hair and equally thick eyebrows, and his pock-marked face was covered in dark stubble. He had a stubby nose, and his mouth was pursed in a thin-lipped snarl. His only redeeming features were his striking blue eyes.
Jack stood up to introduce himself and shake Middleton’s hand, thanking him for agreeing to talk to him. The officer looked at Jack then indicated that he would be outside the door. Middleton sat down.
‘I don’t know if you are aware that your son was recently arrested?’ Jack began.
‘I know. My sister wrote to me... said someone had told her.’
‘I’m part of the investigation, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions.’
‘I can’t help you... I don’t speak to him. I’ve not seen him in years.’
Jack nodded. ‘I just need a bit of background from you. I’m sorry if it distresses you but...’
Middleton leant forwards. ‘I hope they lock the little bastard up... ideally in here. I’d like to get my hands on him.’
Jack kept his tone neutral. ‘It’s about the fire. Can you tell me what happened?’
Middleton leaned back and shook his head. ‘I been asked about that, over and over. Karen never got over it. It broke her... nearly broke me. She went back on the drugs, and I went and done a few stupid things and ended up in here. Not that there’s anything for me on the outside now anyway.’
‘Can you talk me through the night it happened?’
He nodded and let out a long sigh. ‘I was in the pub. Karen and me had been rowing a lot. She had just come out of rehab, and was stressed out, and the two little ones were playing up a lot. She said she was going to see some friends. I didn’t like it, because she had some friends that I didn’t approve of, and I was worried she’d start using again. We had a big argument and she flounced out. So I told him, Rodney, to take care of the girls.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Seventeen. He was working at a local supermarket, stacking shelves. He agreed to stay home that night. He’d been in a bit of trouble, thieving, but he was going to try to get back on track and take some exams. He was quite clever... well, he thought he was. I was always at logger-heads with him, and Karen wasn’t happy with him either. Kept saying he was messing around with the girls.’
Jack leaned forward. ‘What did she mean by that?’
He shrugged. ‘Said he was too touchy-feely with them, but I didn’t really believe her. They were only five and seven years old. He was good with them, and they liked him playing with them.’
‘So, on the night of the fire?’
‘I was drinking and had a right skinful. Then someone come into the pub and yells that there’s a fire in my street. It was my bloody house, and it was completely ablaze by the time I got there. Fire engines were already dowsing it with hose pipes, but the upstairs windows had smoke billowing out and the flames were blazing downstairs. Rodney come out with a steaming blanket over him. He’d tried to get up the stairs... well, that’s what they told me. They wouldn’t let us get near. I bloody tried... but it was burning so fierce. The windows were blowing out and this horrible thick black smoke was everywhere. My two little girls didn’t stand a chance.’
Jack remained silent as Middleton bowed his head, twisting his big hands.
‘Their bedroom was on the top floor. I never heard a scream or nothing, and by the time they got it under control and tried to get in, there was no hope.’
‘How was Rodney behaving?’
‘Crying, sobbing... they gave him some treatment in the ambulance. They brought the kids out as soon as they could, but you just knew the way they had the blankets wrapped around them... covering their heads... they were dead.’
‘When did Karen find out what had happened?’
‘Same night. Someone called her. She came in a taxi. She was screaming and then she collapsed. They took her into the ambulance. She saw Rodney and started kicking him and trying to beat him up. It was all just a terrible scene. She had wanted him to leave the house and that’s what we were rowing about. She’s not his mother. The bitch that was Rodney’s mum ran off, leaving me with him when he was just seven years old. I was told she went back to Jamaica, but I’ve not heard a word from her since. Karen brought Rodney up, and then we had the two girls.’
‘Is Rodney’s mother Jamaican?’
‘Yes. He found it tough as a kid being mixed race, and he got a lot of abuse at his school. But I always sorted it out for him. I taught him how to take care of himself, took him to a gym for boxing lessons. He was good, skinny but strong.’
Jack took a moment to absorb everything Middleton had told him. He had only seen a blurry photograph of Rodney, so he had no idea about his background. There had been no emotion when Middleton had described the night of the fire, as if he had repeated the story many times. It left Jack with more questions than answers.
Jack noticed the prison officer peering through the window in the door, so Jack thanked Middleton and gestured for the officer to take him back to his cell.
Jack drove from Wandsworth to Natalie Burrows’ clinic, not far from Shepherd’s Bush and Rodney Middleton’s basement flat. He wondered if Seymour had chosen it because of the location, hopeful that Rodney might be more likely to keep his appointments.
The clinic was in a new build, hemmed in between two residential properties just off the high street. Once again Jack had trouble finding a parking space and drove around for a while until he found a single yellow line, then parked leaving his police vehicle logbook on the dashboard in full view.
By the time he had walked to the clinic it was just before midday and he was relieved that he was going to be on time. There was just a small desk with a young girl sitting behind it, using a computer. The clinic looked as if it had been built in the sixties and was definitely in need of refurbishing.
‘Excuse me, I have an appointment to see Dr Natalie Burrows. I’m Detective Sergeant Jack Warr.’
The receptionist continued typing before looking up. She then opened a large appointment diary and flicked through the pages. Jack waited patiently before she reached for the phone and pressed two numbers.
‘There is a Mr Warr here, for his twelve o’clock.’
She replaced the receiver and pointed to a glass door, telling Jack to go up to the second floor where he would be met and taken through to see Dr Burrows.
A threadbare ivy-green carpet ran up the stairs, turning into a brick red lino on the second floor. It looked very clean and there was a strong smell of disinfectant. The numerous closed doors all had name plates, and Jack stood looking around at the plethora of framed landscape reproductions. He could hear the murmur of voices before a door opened and a woman in a white coat appeared. He was surprised by how young Natalie Burrows was. She had shoulder-length silky hair and wide brown eyes, along with a rather prominent hooked nose.