‘What was his expression like? I mean, did he look threatening?’
‘No, he was calm — very calm — and that’s all I can remember. I know he was charged with assault with a deadly weapon, but to be honest the way he acted was very confusing, like he didn’t know what he had done, like he was mentally ill.’
Jack thanked Mr Kumar and left to drive back to the basement flat. It was now very dark but there was still a lot of movement in and around the basement. Anik had left, but the surveillance team were still there. The white and blue-suited forensic team were examining the interior of the coal hole and Jack stopped one of the team to ask if there had been any developments. He was given a brief rundown of the items that had been removed for testing, but the huge wheelie bins were still waiting to be taken in as they needed replacements to be delivered before they could remove them. Behind his hooded protective suit, the scientist looked tired, his eyes red-rimmed.
‘The chemicals in that place are giving us all headaches; we’re going to have to call it quits for today and return in the morning.’
‘Have you found any blood traces?’ Jack asked.
‘Not to my knowledge, but tomorrow we’ll be spraying the entire area. In my opinion that place has been chemically cleaned, and the walls have clearly been whitewashed numerous times. There’s also a heavy-duty spray washer and two drums of what could be acid. We had to get the specials in to remove them because in that confined space we didn’t want to prise them open. If there’s been any dismemberment in there the luminol will show it up. No matter how hard criminals try to hide blood stains, there is always something they miss. We might have to dig up the concrete floor as well.’
On his way back to the car Jack called in to the station to say that he was leaving for home unless there was anything urgent. He was put through to DCI Clarke, who was also just heading home. He instructed Jack to be in first thing in the morning to go through the personal items taken from the coal hole. ‘I hope to God we got some evidence today. But we just have to wait for the scientists to do their stuff.’
When Jack got home, he was unsure exactly how he felt. It seemed as though he had been moved aside and that DCI Clarke had taken over the running of the show. But the reality was that whenever an investigation team suddenly expanded, it always felt as if things were being taken over. The thing that was beginning to really bother him, however, was that despite all the items they had removed, they still had no evidence of any murders. Without something new, and most importantly bodies, they had nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
Maggie was on late call and said that she might even have to sleep over at the hospital as they had so many staff off sick. After having dinner with Penny and Hannah, Jack went into his office to focus on the Ridley situation, as all the activity on the Middleton case had prevented him from dedicating any time to it. He googled the Brighton and Preston Cemetery, which turned out to be an eerie, old-fashioned graveyard — it was even suggested that it would make a good place for a ghost hunt, which Jack thought was ironic, given that it felt as if that was exactly what he was doing as he searched for the real Sandra Raynor.
Jack couldn’t decide whether it was necessary for him to physically go and see the grave of the child. He was on early call at the station and knew he couldn’t get out of that. It was now almost 8.30 p.m., so driving to Brighton was unlikely to achieve anything.
Next on his list was interviewing both of the women who owned the dating agency. He thumbed through all the data that Sammy had given him and decided that he would try to contact Eva Shay first. He hesitated about calling her, and instead decided that he would pay her a visit. He popped his head round Hannah’s bedroom door to let Penny know that he would be out for an hour or so, then put Eva’s address into his mobile phone.
By the time Jack had arrived at Chelsea Wharf it was after 9.30 p.m. The apartments in the riverside complex looked very upmarket, and he wished he’d at least changed his shirt. He parked in a visitors’ space and walked to the reception area. It was manned by a uniformed doorman and the elegant interior matched his pristine grey tailored suit and peaked cap. He opened the tall glass-fronted door for Jack, who made his way down a thickly carpeted corridor to the elevators. A male receptionist sat behind a small desk, wearing a red waistcoat and bow tie. His hair had such a deep parting that it looked as if it had been cut into his scalp.
‘Good evening. I’m here to see Ms Eva Shay in Apartment 43A. She’s expecting me.’
The receptionist squinted at Jack and reached for the telephone. Jack hastily showed his ID and leant forwards.
‘No need. As I said, she is expecting me.’
‘It’s the fourth-floor apartment, at the end of the corridor, sir.’
Jack stepped into the elevator and checked his reflection in the polished chrome wall, using a comb to tidy himself up. There was nothing he could do about his six o’clock shadow but he straightened his tie and tightened up the collar on his leather jacket anyway. On the fourth floor the same thick carpet ran the length of the corridor. All of the apartment doors had cream frames with brass doorbells and numbers. At the end of the corridor there was a large floor-length window and a massive floral display on a plinth.
Jack rang the bell and waited. He heard the sound of a yapping dog, so he rang the bell again. The yapping got a bit louder.
The door opened and a frowning Eva Shay, holding a very small Chihuahua, peered out.
‘I am so sorry to disturb you, Ms Shay, but I’m investigating the Sandra Raynor case.’
‘It’s very late,’ she frowned. ‘You should have made an appointment.’
‘I know, I apologise, but I just need a few moments of your time. It is very important.’
Eva hesitated, then opened the door wider. She was wearing a pale-blue quilted robe with satin slippers, and her hair and makeup were immaculate. Still carrying the tiny dog, she ushered Jack along the corridor, lined with large gilt mirrors. She stood back to allow Jack to walk ahead of her into the living room, which made up for its lack of size by having long windows with views of the river.
The furnishings were rather dated, with cream-covered and fringed oval chairs, as well as a settee with stacks of satin cushions. There were flimsy curtains, gathered with a satin bow, and the coffee table had a selection of illustrated books along with a pile of Vogue magazines. On every space possible there were ornaments, and on a side table next to the settee was a large glass of wine, a bowl of crisps and an open laptop.
Eva gestured for Jack to sit down, but she remained standing as she shifted her dog from one arm to the other.
‘Do you have a card?’
‘I don’t. We’re all so used to seeing TV cops handing out cards, but actually we usually just show our ID. My name is Angus Seymour.’ It was the first name that came into Jack’s head as he took out his leather ID wallet, flipped it open quickly, then put it back into his pocket.
‘So, what do you want to ask me? I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been questioned, and I’ve told each officer everything I know. I have to say that this whole thing is very distressing, especially in my line of work as we go to such lengths to protect our clients.’
Jack knew that Eva was in her late fifties, but she definitely looked younger. Her makeup was expertly done; she wore false eyelashes with shadowed cheek bones, and a deep red lipstick that matched her long fingernails. Her curly, shoulder length reddish-brown hair gleamed so perfectly, Jack wondered if it was a wig. She put the dog down on the settee and sat down beside it, reaching for the glass of wine as Jack spoke.