Jack had only just sat down at his desk when DCI Clarke opened his office door and gestured for him to come in. ‘I cannot believe it,’ he fumed before Jack had got through the door. ‘In the middle of a huge case, one of my leading officers is pulled over for drunk driving. What in God’s name were you doing, Warr? And why were you on the A3 when you should have been here at the station?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I needed to get a breath of fresh air, a walk by the sea. I admit I did have a half pint, but the officers were real assholes about it. I just needed to clear my head, sir. I apologise... but we’ve made great steps forwards. I was right about Harold Miller providing Middleton with a mobile phone, and it seems he was also handy in transporting the acid and the rat poison, so I hope they’re being fingerprinted.’
‘Yes, Jack, obviously,’ Clarke said with a scowl. ‘The tech division are working on it right now. Give it another 24 hours and we’ll be bringing Middleton and Miller in. But that bloody Georgina Bamford woman has been bending my ear two or three times a day.’
‘What about his legal aid lawyer? Has she replaced him?’
‘Of course she has. She knows that legal aid wanker Colin Marshall can’t handle this. It’s going to hit the press any minute and I have to be ready. It’s taken a lot of work to keep a lid on it.’
‘Good work on that front so far, sir,’ Jack said, hoping to mollify him.
‘It’s not going to be easy, but I have to say the superintendent has been behind us one hundred percent. I’m still hoping we’ll find some remains, but it’s not looking likely. We need to get that Amanda Dunn talking. Anik is working on collating all the evidence against her ready for interview.’
Jack said nothing. He knew he should be the one to interrogate Amanda, as he had had more dealings with her than any of the others. But after his dressing down about being breathalysed, he wasn’t in a good position to argue. Clarke sighed and told Jack to get back to work, opening his office door.
‘Disappointed in you, Warr. There isn’t an officer on this investigation that wouldn’t mind a walk on the beach to get some fresh air, myself included.’
Jack returned to his desk, not exactly with his tail between his legs but certainly not in a very ebullient mood. He had a stack of statements that needed to be checked over and written up on the crime scene board. Laura called over to say that Maggie had rung a few times and that his mobile had been ringing. He checked his mobile and muttered to no one in particular that he was going to get something to eat in the canteen. He was starving hungry, having only had a bite of the ham sandwich in the car. He filled a plate with sausage, mash and baked beans and grabbed a bowl of apple pie with custard, eating quickly as he rang Maggie. She didn’t answer so he texted her to say he hoped to be home in time to kiss her goodbye before she left for work in the morning. He then sent a second text to say he loved her.
He finished eating, got a coffee and headed back to the incident room. The next couple of hours were spent making copious notes to be used for the interview. He then looked back at the notes he had taken on his original interviews with the probation officer and the various psychiatrists.
Jack was certain that Georgina Bamford would attempt to use Middleton’s spurious mental health issues, just as Middleton had done to hoodwink the judge and jury at every previous court appearance.
Jack was also attempting to match the dates of the previous assault cases with the murders of the three missing girls. It proved an impossible task, because they couldn’t be sure exactly when the murders had occurred. But he was convinced that Rodney Middleton was timing the assaults deliberately. He had dismembered the bodies, dumped them in the rubbish bins and then made sure he was incarcerated around that time by way of an alibi.
Jack rocked back in his chair, flipping a pencil up and down on his desktop, as he tried to make his theory fit the facts as they knew them. Then it hit him: Middleton might have been in prison or in mental institutions, but Amanda was at home. He matched the dates of the CCTV footage when she had been seen emptying clothes into the charity clothing bins. He began to believe that Amanda had played a significant role in the crimes.
‘Laura, do we know when they’re bringing Amanda in?’
She shrugged her shoulders and went back to selecting photographs and gathering them into a folder.
‘She’s in protective custody, apparently. She’s feeling fine, getting bored and wants her mobile returned. They’re arranging some clothes for her, so I would say the boss is getting ready to bring her in. Hard to believe, but as all her clothes were removed to be tested, she’s just been wearing hospital-issue gowns and dressing gowns this entire time. Apparently she said unless we buy her new clothes and shoes, she won’t be questioned!’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know, Jack. I just told you, she’s in protective custody.’
‘I know she is, but she has to be questioned soon, for God’s sake,’ he said irritably.
‘I think the boss is waiting for the tech team to analyse the contents of the mobile phones.’
Laura glanced towards DCI Clarke’s office as he came out and clapped his hands.
‘OK, everyone, as you know, the forensic teams have been working 24/7, and the tech support officers are coming in tonight to give us an update. I’ve ordered the canteen to remain open and I suggest everyone gets something to eat. I want a meeting in the boardroom in forty-five minutes. Glenda Bagshot, our CCTV investigator, is setting up a screen so we’ll be watching footage from mobile phones, plus any new video footage she thinks might be important to our enquiry. I wanted you all to be the first to see what we’ve got, and obviously it will also be accessible for the day shift tomorrow.’
Clarke paused to smile.
‘It goes without saying that I am very grateful to you all for all your hard work. I know these long night shifts aren’t easy, but I believe we’re very near to the interview stage with Rodney Middleton, and I feel we have a strong chance of a positive outcome.’
Clarke returned to his office as the team of officers began standing, stretching and leaving their desks to head to the canteen. Laura looked over to Jack who was staring into space.
‘You coming?’
He turned and smiled.
‘Yeah, but I might wait until the line thins out. I’ll see you up there.’
He rubbed his hair making it stand up on end. He had often been reprimanded for not being a team player because he had not shared information with his colleagues. He had always preferred to handle things himself, and time and time again it had proved beneficial to the case they had been working on. The fact was, if he had not persisted in investigating the Rodney Middleton case, none of them would be here working their bollocks off. He felt angry that nobody seemed to give him any kudos.
Fifteen minutes later Laura waltzed in with a tray of shepherd’s pie, swimming in gravy with carrots and peas and a custard-covered pudding.
‘You should go to the canteen. It’s a feast, thanks to Glenda Bagshot. She’s ordered everything in herself, and there’s fresh coffee, tea and a massive chocolate cake.’
Jack pushed his chair back and walked out, banging the door behind him. He went into the canteen to survey what was left of the spread and managed to grab the last piece of chocolate cake. Standing behind him was Hendricks, who had already had one serving and was back for more. He smelt like stale fish and Jack glared at him.
‘I know, I can’t get rid of it... even wearing protective clothes. It seeps into your skin and hair... it’s disgusting. I’m not going back to that bloody tip. I never signed up for this, and I’ve now been on it for two days straight.’
Jack raised his eyebrows, passing by him to get a mug of coffee.