‘I really need a warrant to search his flat. Clarke’s not around to approve one, and even if he was, a magistrate would then need to sign it, which could take ages if the courts are busy...’
‘You can enter without a warrant if you think someone’s life is in danger... like another young runaway’s.’
‘Good thinking, Laura!’ Jack smiled.
‘What else do you think Middleton’s guilty of?’
‘I don’t know. I just have my suspicions, but I’ll wait until I’ve sat on it for a while. I used to like to have a chat with Ridley about stuff — it’s strange not having him here.’
Jack returned to his desk and as he sat pondering his meeting with Amanda, DCI Clarke walked in and went straight into his office, without acknowledging anyone. Jack got up and knocked on his door.
‘Excuse me, sir, I just wanted to run something by you...’
Clarke nodded at him to enter, and Jack closed the door behind him.
‘I had a meeting this morning with Middleton’s girlfriend. Something about her concerns me. She said that she was a runaway aged twelve when she first met Middleton. She’s been held virtually prisoner by him; he made sure she couldn’t leave the flat, by tying her up, drugging her and locking her in. But she was afraid of being returned to her family. When I asked if he had ever brought home any other girls, she said he had. I think he picked them up from Euston, or other London mainline railway stations, and took them back to his flat.’
Clarke nodded, and Jack found his quiet staring unnerving. He wasn’t sure if what he had just told him had even registered.
‘How long has she been with Middleton?’ Clarke said eventually.
‘She’s seventeen now so that’s over four years.’
‘And she has been held there for that length of time?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did she complain about it? Or try to leave him?’
Jack frowned. ‘My concern is how many other young girls he took back there. We haven’t searched his flat as he was arrested on site.’
‘Sergeant, there’s no major crime here. He’s been arrested for assault at his local grocery store, albeit with a knife. Right now, I don’t think we should be attempting to uncover further criminal activities when we have no complaints or witness statements other than for the crime he was arrested for.’
Jack frowned. ‘What about the fact that his girlfriend was underage, beaten, scared he would kill her if she contacted the police?’
Clarke sighed. ‘She was interviewed, Jack, by the previous officer handling the case and she refused to make any accusations against Middleton. We also have to take into consideration that in the four years she has been living with him, during which time he was sent away, she had the opportunity to report him.’
Jack was disappointed but continued. ‘Yes, sir. The other matter was the possible arson when his family home was set on fire and his two young sisters died. This is one of the reasons I’m keen to talk to his father.’
‘How did the meeting with his psychiatrist go?’
‘Well, I could only interview Angus Seymour, and he’d referred Middleton to another therapist when Middleton turned eighteen and was no longer eligible for CAMHS. I can’t speak to his current psychiatrist as he’s on holiday, but according to Seymour, Middleton was prone to violence and it seems he couldn’t wait to shift him on to someone else. One of Middleton’s parole conditions was that he kept his appointments, but Seymour said he often missed them.’
‘If Seymour reported Middleton’s breach of parole he should have been returned to prison.’
‘I don’t think he did.’
‘Sounds like he couldn’t be bothered. Again, with the time lapse I doubt anything can be done about it now.’
‘For my own satisfaction I would really like to search his home,’ Jack pressed.
Clarke straightened in his chair. ‘I’m sorry, but in my opinion, you don’t have reasonable suspicion for a search warrant. Talk to his father if you want, but then I suggest you proceed with some of the more pressing cases we have under review.’
Jack returned to his desk, feeling deflated. He then jotted down his following morning’s meetings as requested using CRIS and took off.
He was intending to go straight home, but instead he found himself driving to Middleton’s flat. They had already taken a statement from the caretaker, Mrs Delaney, but Jack wanted to have a conversation with her himself.
The semi-detached property was in a side street, close to Shepherd’s Bush Market. The building was divided into numerous flats and bedsits, and Middleton and Amanda had occupied the basement flat, which had iron railings and steps leading down to it.
Jack looked down into the area outside their front door. There were a few large rubbish bins on wheels, and several piles of dead leaves. Next to the front door was a small window with bars across it. Jack walked up the three stone steps to the main front door of the building, which had bells for the various tenants. Mrs Delaney was listed as being on the ground floor, so Jack rang her bell and waited. He was about to ring it again when the door opened a few inches.
‘Mrs Delaney? I’m DS Jack Warr.’ He was wearing his mask, but showing her his ID, which she studied before opening the door wider.
‘You gave a statement to one of my officers when Rodney Middleton was arrested. I would like to ask you a few more questions. May I come in?’
Mrs Delaney was almost as wide as she was tall. She was wearing a stained wrap-around apron over a thick woollen jumper and tweed skirt. Her swollen legs were covered by thick, wrinkled stockings and she wore battered old slippers.
‘I told them all I knew.’
Mrs Delaney shrugged as she ushered Jack into the hallway, with its ancient lino, in places worn down to the concrete. She walked slowly back to the open door of her flat and gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen.
‘I was just getting dinner ready for when my husband gets home.’
The kitchen units were old fashioned, but everything had obviously been cared for. There were gleaming glass-fronted cabinets containing crockery, and a polished gas cooker with a row of pans lined up on the wooden draining board next to a large double sink.
The folding kitchen table had one flap down and was covered with a plastic, floral tablecloth, and two hard-backed chairs tucked underneath.
Jack pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, whilst Mrs Delaney stood at the sink and resumed peeling a pile of potatoes in a bowl of water while twisting to face him.
‘I’m making a stew. I do it every week... keeps us going for a few days. My mother could make hers last all week!’
‘What does your husband do?’ Jack asked.
‘He’s on the Tubes. But he’s due for retirement... should have finished last year but they was short staffed, and then with the pandemic there’s been so many of them off sick or having to take time off.’
Jack took out his notebook. He noticed a photograph on the mantelpiece showing Mrs Delaney with a very tall dark-skinned man. She saw him looking and immediately pointed to the photo with her peeling knife.
‘Before you ask, that is my present husband. My ex-husband was a right bugger and left me high and dry with two kids. He’s now back in Dublin, with nine children and no teeth!’ She laughed loudly and returned to peeling the potatoes.
Jack smiled. ‘Can I ask you about Rodney Middleton, who occupied the basement flat?’
‘Yes, his rent is paid by his benefits, same as a few of the other tenants. At one time some of the flats were rented out and there was no end of problems with them not paying, always being in arrears. Now the landlord gets the rent paid to them directly from the tenants’ benefits.’