DCI Anna Travis was having an enjoyable Sunday morning at her private health club. She had recently taken up a post DCS James Langton had recommended her for, as DCI in charge of Specialist Casework Investigations running a team of experienced detectives finding new lines of enquiry in unsolved murder cases. Anna was happy in her new role, particularly appreciating that the hours were not as long as in her previous position and it was rare that she had to work weekends.
After an advanced aerobics class she relaxed in the Jacuzzi and sauna and was looking forward to a light lunch at the club bar followed by a lazy afternoon in front of the television with a glass of wine and a DVD. Having showered and dressed, Anna checked her mobile, only to discover there were three missed calls from James Langton and a curt text message saying, ‘Where are you, call me now!’ She was surprised by this and irritated by his intrusion on her day off; she knew he had lately undergone knee surgery and she had a sinking feeling that something had gone wrong, but she nevertheless pressed the call button. He picked up immediately.
‘Travis! Where the hell are you?’
‘I was trying to relax at my health club. Are you all right?’
‘I need you to come and see me a.s.a.p. I’m at home.’
‘I thought you were in hospital?’
‘No, I checked out yesterday. How long will it take you to get over to me?’
‘Well unless you’re dying I would like to have my lunch first. Is it really that important on a Sunday?’
‘Yes it is and I’ll tell you why when you get here.’
He hung up. Typically brusque without even a hint of why he suddenly needed to speak with her. Anna had not actually seen or spoken with Langton for months and although she was aware he would be on sick leave for at least eight weeks after his operation, she wondered what could be so urgent that he needed to disrupt her day off.
When Mike Lewis arrived at the station that morning he thanked the team for coming in on a Sunday and immediately put up on the incident board a picture of Fidelis Julia Flynn that had been taken when she was a bridesmaid at her sister’s wedding. Joan remarked on how much Fidelis had the Celtic look with her curly auburn hair, green eyes, freckles and soft complexion. Although her innocent beauty was evident it seemed overshadowed and saddened by the thought that Henry Oates had probably murdered her.
Mike informed the team that Fidelis liked to be known as Julia and that she had come over from Dublin, in September 2010, to study at the City University. She had spent her first term in the university’s halls of residence and over Christmas had answered an advert in Time Out to share a flat with two other female students in Kilburn. To help pay her rent she worked part-time at a nearby Texaco garage. Mike said that about eight weeks after she moved in Julia had told her parents that her flatmates were high and mighty and she had argued with them about paying equal rent as she had the smallest room. Although she seemed desperate to find another place to live her parents had encouraged her to ignore the other girls, stay put, and discuss the rent with the landlord. It was after this conversation that Julia’s parents became very concerned, as they suddenly heard no more from her, which was unusual as she called home most weekends. They had repeatedly called her mobile, leaving messages and texts, but all to no avail, so after about three weeks they contacted the Dublin Garda who then informed the Kilburn missing persons unit.
Barbara said that she had spoken personally with the officers assigned the Flynn ‘Misper’ investigation and that they had made extensive enquiries, even travelling to Dublin to interview the family. Her two flatmates had said that she just upped and left and wanted to know if her parents would pay her outstanding rent. City University said she suddenly stopped turning up for lectures, and her boss at the garage, aware she was looking for somewhere else to live, thought she had just ‘moved on’. Julia had no credit card, but her bank account was overdrawn to the limit, with no transactions just prior to or since the time she had gone missing. Her mobile phone had been ‘pinged’ by sending a signal to it to try and determine its location, but it was clear it was no longer in use and that the battery was long since flat. Calls and texts had been checked but nothing out of the ordinary turned up. Fidelis Julia Flynn, like Rebekka Jordan, had simply disappeared with no evidence of foul play, but the fact that it was eighteen months since she had gone missing matched the interview admission of Henry Oates.
Mike Lewis then told them he was going to call DCS Langton and he didn’t want to be interrupted. As he retired to his office the admiration and respect for Langton was immediately obvious as members of the team shouted out ‘Give him my regards!’ and ‘Tell the old bastard to get well soon, but don’t hurry back!’
Mike was on the phone for nearly an hour, but no sooner had he put the receiver down than the impatient Paul Barolli was knocking at the door, ever eager to find out what Langton had to say.
‘Come in, Paul. Before you ask, yes I have spoken with him and—’
‘So you talked to Langton?’
Mike tapped his right ear. ‘Is it still red? He hammered away at me for an hour, firing off questions like a machine gun.’
‘From hospital?’
‘Nope, he discharged himself yesterday, but he’s supposed to be resting up and doing physiotherapy as he can’t walk without the aid of a Zimmer frame.’
Barolli smiled. The image of the energetic Langton using such a thing amused him.
‘It’s not funny, Paul. He went off the deep end about the Rebekka Jordan case; I knew he would. I suspected he loathed having no closure on it and I was right. He’s something else, he is – it was as if it had happened last week instead of five years ago. I’ve always known he was obsessive, but he was barking at me like a Gatling gun, and I couldn’t answer half his questions because I’ve not even read his entire case file yet.’
‘Better get on with it then. I’ll also brief the team about familiarizing themselves with it. Do we focus on Rebekka rather than the Irish girl?’
‘No. Langton wants them both opened up, said we need to put the pressure on, so we’ll have to go back to Henry Oates and see if we can get any more details. I can’t organize a big search party until I can be sure he’s not stringing us along.’
‘That what he said?’
‘No. You know Langton, he’d have the fucking Army out. Good news is he’s going above DCS Hedges to the Commander to get clearance to beef up our team and get a bigger budget. Reopening these investigations is going to cost.’
‘Joan said that her social enquiries showed that Oates had done some building work. If he killed them he had to get rid of them, maybe buried them somewhere on site.’
‘Good point, Paul, ask Joan to find out where he worked but especially the dates, then we can prioritize any searches that fit the Jordan or Flynn timescale.’
‘Big career move for you though,’ Barolli said with a smile.
‘Yeah, or a desk job for eternity if I mess up. Whether that bastard Oates is lying or not I can guarantee it won’t be Langton that takes the backlash, it’ll be me.’
‘Sometimes, you know, it feels good to have not got my promotion – I don’t think I could take the pressure.’ Barolli chuckled as he headed out of the office.
Mike made no reply, but wondered if he was taking on too much. However, he put in a call to the Wandsworth Prison governor to arrange a visitation with Oates and then called Oates’s solicitor. He hadn’t liked the tall thin and waspish Adan Kumar when they had met previously, and now he disliked him even more.
Kumar was very well spoken, choosing his words carefully and continually repeating himself, in a rather condescending manner.
‘DCI Lewis, how can you expect my client to answer any further questions about Rebekka Jordan or a fictitious Irish girl called Julia? He has told you he read about the Jordan girl’s disappearance and he simply made up the name Julia.’
‘Well, Mr Kumar, let me remind you he said Rebekka was the first and Julia, a year and a half ago, was the second. He described Julia and said she came from Dublin—’
Kumar then interrupted. ‘As I recall my client never actually said he murdered either of these girls. Did he?’
‘No, but he intimated as much and I believe would have said more if you hadn’t advised him to make no further comment.’
‘You know full well that my role is to protect the legal rights of my client and give appropriate advice where I think fit during an interview.’
‘I am aware of that but we are still making enquiries.’ Mike was quietly seething at Kumar’s arrogance.
‘I am pleased you are aware, officer,’ Kumar said sarcastically.
‘Be aware then, Mr Kumar, that Fidelis Julia Flynn, a twenty-one-year-old from Dublin, was reported missing from Kilburn eighteen months ago. I personally did not know this until your client raised her name in interview so I want to speak to him in connection with her disappearance!’
‘Mere coincidence and conjecture, DCI Lewis, not to mention a different Christian name.’
‘Just make sure you are at Wandsworth tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., remand wing, interview room two. Thank you for your time, Mr Kumar.’
Mike slammed the phone down. As much as it annoyed him he knew Kumar was right as Oates had not made a full and frank admission that he had murdered a woman he knew as Julia. Mike looked at the ‘Misper’ poster for the young Irishwoman. You idiot, he thought to himself, realizing that in his anger with the solicitor he had made a big mistake in revealing that Fidelis had been reported missing. Kumar could now advise Oates to say he got her details from a missing persons poster.
Mike was beside himself as Langton had told him to get the bastard to talk. The DCS had made it clear that if there were an element of truth in what Oates was saying then Mike would have to draw it out of him slowly and carefully.
Mike knew he needed to recover lost ground, particularly if he wanted to escape Langton’s wrath. He thumbed through the typed copy of his interview with Oates, using a highlighter pen to mark the relevant references: ‘ginger girl, exchange student, Dublin, Julia, year and a half ago’. In frustration he threw the pen across the room, racking his brain about his exact words to Kumar, almost certain he’d only said Julia was a twenty-one-year-old ‘Misper’ from Dublin. He again looked at the ‘Misper’ poster, comparing the details to those in the interview, and intuitively he knew something wasn’t right. Grabbing the Fidelis Julia Flynn file from his desk he hurriedly scanned the original report and her parents’ statement. Suddenly everything became clear. It wasn’t what was in the Flynn file, it was what was missing that was the possible link. Mike leapt out of his seat, shouting for Barbara before he had even opened his office door.
Anna parked her car almost directly outside Langton’s flat in Warrington Crescent. She knew the area well as she had lived a few streets away at one time, and Langton had also lived with her in that flat when he was recovering from a brutal attack that had left him with appalling injuries. His present kneecap problems were a result of that assault. It had been so severe that for a period it was doubtful if he would recover, but to everyone’s amazement, Langton had such focus and determination he had returned to work after only six months. Now her relationship with Langton was long over, though they had worked together since on numerous cases. Anna had at times found their friendship difficult to deal with, but Langton had been a strong support for her in her heartbreak after the man she was about to marry was murdered. In many ways she and Langton were very similar; Anna with immense strong will and ferocious determination had dealt with her grief by continuing to work case after case.
By the time her fiancé Ken had been killed, she had already moved away from Maida Vale to live in a top-floor modern apartment at Tower Bridge. His death had hardened Anna and she had formed a protective shell around herself. She kept her distance, allowing no one to get close, and was loath even to mention what had occurred. Langton had encouraged her to go for promotion to Detective Chief Inspector, a process that had been time-consuming, but Anna had no outside interests other than her health club. She was gaining a reputation as a very dedicated officer with her tough no-nonsense attitude and almost obsessive attention to detail, which had paid off, and she was firmly on the fast track, particularly in her new role.
Anna Travis had won respect from each of the various murder squad teams she had worked alongside, and yet it was only Langton with whom she continued to have a strong emotional bond, one she doubted she would ever break. They had been through too much on both a personal and business level. Even so, having had no contact with him for some considerable time, she felt a slight trepidation meeting him at his home. Since their break-up, Langton had married his second wife, adopting her daughter Kitty, and had a son with her, called Tommy.
Anna had only ever met Langton’s wife, Laura, once many years ago, and it had been very difficult as at the time she herself had been very enamoured with Langton and very young. She subsequently became personally involved with him after he had left Laura and, when their relationship didn’t work out, he had, or so she presumed, returned to be with Laura again. Attempting to discover anything further about Langton’s personal life was difficult, since he was very private and most of what she did know had come via incident-room gossip, rarely from Langton himself.
She rang his doorbell and then had to wait at least five minutes before he answered the intercom and buzzed her in. Her mind raced with all their past history as she moved slowly up the stairs to the second floor, where the front door to his flat was open. She gave a polite knock and entered.
The flat was a jumble of kids’ toys, tricycles and skate-boards, and propped on a hook on the wall was Langton’s racing bike. Anna called out, at which there was a bellow from Langton telling her he was in the bedroom. Unsure of the layout of the flat, she walked into the main living room, which was yet another jumble of children’s toys, including a large doll’s house, which lay on its side with miniature furniture littered around it.
‘There’s some coffee on in the kitchen if you want one,’ he called out. Anna found the kitchen, which was in the same state as the rest of the flat. There was dirty crockery stacked in the sink, with empty containers of microwave and takeaway meals spread out on the table. She rinsed a mug clean and then looked around for the coffee percolator.
‘What are you doing?’ he shouted.
‘Getting a coffee, do you want one?’
‘No.’
Carrying the mug, Anna walked along the narrow corridor. One door was open and it was obviously Kitty’s bedroom, judging from the pink duvet left on the floor alongside various clothes. She pushed open the next door with her elbow and walked into the master bedroom. It was huge with high ceilings, a massive double bed with a carved headboard and fitted wardrobes, but like the rest of the flat it was untidy.
Langton was wearing a threadbare blue dressing gown and a T-shirt. One leg was propped up on a stack of pillows and sporting a plaster cast from mid-thigh down to just above his ankle. He was unshaven, which made his face look sallow, and he had dark circles around his eyes. Littered over the bed were stacks of files, with more loose on the floor, and he had a notebook open with a pencil stuck behind his ear.
‘Sit down. Chuck everything off and sit on the bed.’
‘Where’s Laura?’
‘In the country with the children for the school holidays. Said she might pop home for the weekend, but I had to get them out of the way. They prefer it there anyway.’
‘Don’t you have anyone cleaning or cooking for you?’
‘No. I send out for takeaway or microwave what I need. Look, don’t start . . . I know the place is a tip and she’ll sort it when she gets here. Half the stuff needs to be chucked out anyway; it’s like a minefield out there.’
‘I saw the doll’s house.’
‘I fell over it last night.’
She sipped her coffee; it was tepid. She noticed an array of dirty coffee mugs and bottles of pills on the bedside cabinet.
‘Well I’m here. Was the operation a success? I thought maybe something had gone wrong.’
‘It’s excruciatingly painful and I can’t – or I’m not supposed to – walk until it’s all set, or the plaster has dried or whatever, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. You seen anything of Mike Lewis?’
‘No.’
‘He’s on a murder enquiry; woman found in the back of a van, Justine Marks, uniform patrol caught the guy red-handed with her body trussed up along with kids’ entertainment gear. His name’s Henry Oates, no previous record, admitted to killing her but claims it was an accident. They’ve not got the full post mortem report yet so no exact cause of death but from an early overview it appears that she was struck from behind, dragged off the street into the back of the van then probably raped. But that’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you either.’
He hardly drew breath in his agitation, at times shifting his weight as if to relieve the pain in his knee, and moaning as he reached over for a dog-eared file at the end of the bed.
‘During the first interview, this Oates character claimed that he had killed before, a girl by the name of Julia, said it was around eighteen months ago. Mike tried to get more out of him but his brief Kumar interrupted the flow, advised no comment and demanded a private consultation.’
‘That’s always been Kumar’s tactic when his client’s in a corner,’ Anna remarked with a shrug of her shoulders.
‘Second interview Oates said nothing more except that he had made it all up for a laugh. Anyway, he was charged with the body in the van and remanded in custody.’
‘Do you think he was lying then?’
‘I don’t fucking know, that’s Mike’s problem, but since Oates was charged they found a possible “Misper”. Irish girl called Fidelis Julia Flynn, been missing for eighteen months and liked to be called by her middle name.’
‘Well that’s something solid to work on, so what’s the problem?’
‘Would you stop interrupting and listen? That case isn’t my main concern, this one is.’
He flipped open the file and passed a photograph to Anna.
‘That is Rebekka Jordan, aged thirteen, went missing five years ago, and this prick Oates claimed that he also killed her.’
Anna looked at the photograph and in the back of her mind she did vaguely recall the case. Rebekka was exceptionally pretty, with straight blonde hair worn past her shoulders, and she was wearing a white shift dress. Langton took out more photographs, of Rebekka laughing with a pet poodle, standing by a pony, on a horse wearing jodhpurs and a velvet riding helmet and holding a large cup and a rosette. The more photographs Langton passed her, the more Anna began to remember the case, in particular that it still remained unsolved and had been headed up by Langton. Rather than interrupt she decided to act as if she was unaware and let him continue.
‘Rebekka was last seen at four-thirty on March 15th 2007. She walked out of the riding stables in Shepherd’s Bush and headed for the Tube station; her parents lived in Hammersmith. It was only two stops, but no one saw her on the Tube; no one had seen her since that last moment she left the stables, which was caught on CCTV footage. She never returned home.’
He opened the file and removed a stack of photocopied papers.
‘I led the investigation. These are just a few samples of the thousands of statements. It was beyond belief that she seemed to have simply disappeared off the face of the earth, and after a year, one of the most frustrating years of my life, I had no suspect, nothing. Eventually I had no option but to cold-case the enquiry and keep an open-ended investigation. Since then, nothing has surfaced, not even a tip-off, no gossip, no prisoner coughing up to a cellmate . . . that was, until this guy Henry Oates was picked up.’
Anna watched as he opened a pillbox and took out two tablets, which he swallowed with water before he continued.
‘Henry Oates claimed that Rebekka Jordan was his first victim and Julia the second. He got the time frame right for Rebekka, and if Julia is in fact Fidelis Flynn then he was right there as well.’
‘You said that in interview he told Mike Lewis he had made it all up for a laugh.’
Langton leaned back, closing his eyes. ‘I think the son of a bitch said that because Kumar told him to and he also advised him to say that he knew about Rebekka Jordan because of the press coverage.’
Anna was slightly thrown by Langton’s comment. ‘So are you saying Kumar is aiding and abetting Oates by telling him to lie to the police?’
He opened his eyes and leaned forwards. ‘Not directly, no. Kumar’s not that stupid, but Oates is a bit dense and obviously open to suggestion. Second interview he said that not only had we fitted him up with the Justine Marks murder but we would fit him up with Rebekka Jordan’s as well. Now that stinks of suggestion by Kumar!’
‘Yes I agree, but if that is the case then it also suggests that Kumar thinks Oates may be telling the truth or he simply doesn’t want his client to drop himself further in the shit for crimes he may not have committed.’
‘Whose side are you on?’
‘Yours of course, but without further reliable evidence you know his admission is worthless.’
Langton sifted through a thick dossier and took out a single page. ‘We had used every angle possible: TV reenactments of her last sighting, girl dressed in the identical clothes, et cetera. But we did retain one piece of information – it’s small and it could be inconsequential, but we had thousands of sickos calling up claiming they’d seen her, knew where she was. I don’t have to tell you, you know what it’s like, but you also know they all had to be checked out, so we never revealed the fact that Rebekka was wearing a pink Alice band on the day she disappeared. In the photographs you can see she had that long fine silky hair, but her mother always said Rebekka hated it over her face and she knew that on the day she last saw her, Rebekka wore the Alice band to the stables and would have taken it off to wear her riding hat, then replaced it to go home.’
Langton went on to say that Rebekka’s riding hat was never recovered. She would have been carrying it home with her that day, a fact that was revealed to the public in the hope that it might have been found and so given some indication of where she might have been abducted or dumped. It was obvious his recall of the case was very clear, but what he had not made clear to Anna was why he had wanted to see her. He was very emotional, perhaps due to the fact that his stepdaughter Kitty was around the same age. Anna knew that with Oates as a new suspect the Jordan case should be investigated by the murder squad. She wondered if Langton had just wanted a sympathetic ear, so she remained silent.
‘The name Henry Oates never came up in my investigation. If it wasn’t for my bloody knee and being off sick I’d be having a real session with him right now. Christ, I don’t even know what he looks like.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Late thirties, lives in a shithole property in Hackney that’s due for demolition. Unemployed, mostly living on benefits, but has done some part-time labouring work.’
‘Any history of mental illness?’
‘Don’t know. Police doctor who examined him said he was fit to be interviewed.’
He searched through a file and brought out a loose sheet.
‘This is the Jordans’ address. I’ve kept in touch, but not for the past six months. To be honest I found it harder every time I saw them, that look of expectant hope on their faces cut like a knife. Even after five years it never diminished. I used to feel I had failed them. It’s obvious that I have, in retrospect, but for them to get some kind of closure would give me peace of mind.’
‘And for the parents?’
‘The guilt that on this one occasion they let their daughter travel home by herself and she disappeared out of their lives, the “if only” syndrome, has never left them. The mother feels it the most, but if you could find the evidence to convict Oates and maybe even recover Rebekka’s body that would give them some peace.’
Anna pointed out to Langton that at present, with a new suspect, it was not a review case. Langton firmly reminded her that her remit as DCI on Specialist Casework was to identify and advise on new lines of enquiry in unsolved murders. He then informed Anna that he had already got the Commander’s approval for her to take on the revived investigation into Rebekka Jordan’s disappearance. Langton started to gather up the files. She helped pick up the scattered photographs and papers from the floor beside his bed, handing them to him to stack and replace into the many dog-eared, well-thumbed folders.
‘I’m depending on you, Anna, to see if this Henry Oates is a nutcase or the lead I’ve been waiting for.’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘Don’t put me in a position that will make Mike feel like I’m undermining him – it’s not fair on him or me. This is now his investigation and I don’t think bringing me on board is ethical, or not at this stage anyway.’
‘Bullshit. You don’t run Specialist Casework just because you’re experienced in murder investigation. It’s your attention to detail, lateral thinking and ability to spot new lines of enquiry that got you the post.’
‘Thanks for the compliment but all the same I’d rather—’
‘I don’t want allegations from Kumar that Mike has been subjective and tried to make the crime fit where the Rebekka Jordan investigation is concerned. I need you to carry out an independent review and concentrate on whether or not you can discover any new evidence connecting Oates to Rebekka Jordan’s disappearance and murder.’
‘But if Mike is to continue with the Fidelis Julia Flynn enquiry we’ll have to cross-reference. It’ll be imperative we work together.’
‘So get on with it. I won’t take any crap about treading on anyone’s toes. Life is too short, especially Rebekka Jordan’s. I want you to liaise with me and keep me abreast of any new information. I know you’re available and I reckon you will be diplomatic enough to make it work between you and Mike.’
She sighed and he reached out to take her hand.
‘Do it for me, Anna. Forget about everything else, please? You know if I could I’d be taking over but right now it’s impossible. I’ve got to stay put until I’m healed, I can’t fucking walk straight, and I promise you I’ll sort it out with Mike in the morning. He’s got his hands full with the Marks and Flynn cases so there won’t be any hard feelings.’
‘All right. Let me familiarize myself with the files, but please make sure Mike gets to know I’m on board first. He has been a DCI longer than me, after all.’
He grinned and still held on to her hand. ‘You look good, still too thin though. You eating properly?’
‘Yes,’ she said as she withdrew her hand.
‘You’re hair’s got longer – I like it. Still see you are wearing the same Travis uniform: smart suit, white shirt and . . .’ He leaned over to look at her feet. ‘How you manage to totter around on those high heels I’ll never know.’
‘Do you need a water or coffee before I go?’
‘Nope. You get going and thank you for coming.’
Returning to her car, loaded up with the files in a large cardboard box, Anna felt not only put upon, but angry at herself for not having been firmer. She could have point-blank refused but with the Commander backing Langton there was little point in arguing. Then she started to feel guilty about leaving him alone in his flat and that maybe she should have sorted out something for him to eat, even cleaned up his mess in the kitchen, but she told herself to straighten up. He had a wife, let her look after him; she didn’t want to get involved. She knew from old that as a patient he was a nightmare. She drove off, heading back to her flat, passing her old one on the way. A lot of time had passed since she had lived there with Langton and, she supposed, in some ways, she should feel honoured that of all the officers Langton had worked alongside, it was she whom he had wanted to oversee the Rebekka Jordan case.
Langton eased himself from the bed in a lot of pain and used the walking frame to edge himself slowly into the kitchen where he opened the fridge and took out a bottle of vodka and some ice, just managing to get a glass from the cupboard without falling over. He poured himself a large measure of vodka. Even though he felt hungry, he couldn’t be bothered to call up and order something from the local Chinese or pizza parlour. Manoeuvring himself with the walking frame and his drink, he eventually made it back to the bed; he took two more painkillers and eased himself back to lie prone. Heaving his leg up to rest on the cushions, he reached for the phone and called the Commander to request more staff for DCI Lewis and report that DCI Anna Travis had said she would be happy to reinvestigate the Rebekka Jordan case.
Mike Lewis was not available when Langton rang the murder team office on the Monday morning, and so Barbara took the call and listened as Langton described his knee operation in detail and what agony he was in. She hung on, making all the right sounds, as he moaned and groaned about being unable to get out for weeks, before he eventually asked her to make sure Mike called him as soon as he was back in the incident room. He made no mention that DCI Travis would be joining the team, but instead he questioned Barbara about the developments to date. Barbara left a Post-it note on Mike’s desk to ask if he would please call the DCS. In brackets, she suggested he didn’t ask about the operation.
Mike Lewis was with Barolli and Henry Oates’s solicitor Kumar at Wandsworth Prison. Whilst they waited for Oates to be brought from his cell Barolli set up the portable DVD and camera to record the interview. Kumar asked if there was anything to be disclosed to him prior to the interview. Mike said that he wanted to speak with Oates about the missing girls Rebekka Jordan and Fidelis Julia Flynn. Kumar told Mike that he didn’t think his client would have anything further to add to his previous interview other than he had seen a missing persons poster for Fidelis Julia Flynn. This statement did not surprise Mike, though Paul Barolli wondered how he had come to know about Fidelis prior to the interview.
Oates was brought into the interview room by a prison officer and sat in a chair next to Kumar. He was dishevelled and unshaven, kept his head down and appeared noticeably depressed. Before the tape was started he asked in a hushed voice how long he would get for Justine Marks’ death. Paul Barolli asked him if he meant murder, which caused Oates to look up and sulk even more. Kumar told Oates that as yet he had not been found guilty and the officers wanted to speak to him regarding other matters. Barolli started the tape and cautioned Oates, who then said that he hadn’t been sleeping well, was suffering from diarrhoea, unable to eat and feeling very down. Barolli sarcastically apologized for the poor living standards Oates found himself in but to Mike’s surprise there was no reaction or reply from the prisoner. Kumar of course used his client’s appearance and situation to reflect on how good it was of him to assist police and be interviewed.
Mike went over Oates’s initial interview, concentrating on his comments about Rebekka Jordan and the girl he referred to as Julia, and asked if it was a correct account of what he had said. Oates nodded and Mike asked him if he could take that as a yes. Mike then asked him if it was still his position that he had made up admitting to the murder of the two girls and again Oates nodded. Mike pointed out for the benefit of the DVD recorder that Oates had nodded yes to his questions and asked Kumar if that was correct and Kumar agreed that his client had indicated yes.
Paul Barolli was finding the interview a deeply frustrating waste of time, especially if Mike was only going to go over what had been said before, as it was clear that Oates would say he had already seen the ‘Misper’ poster for Fidelis Julia Flynn. Mike produced the poster and slid it across the desk in front of the prisoner.
‘This is Fidelis Julia Flynn from Dublin, aged twenty-one, and as you can see she has ginger hair. She went missing about a year and a half ago. Do you recognize her?’
‘Is that the poster you saw, Henry?’ Kumar interjected, and Oates nodded. ‘As you can see, officer, Henry is a bit under the weather today but he would like you to be aware that he recognizes the poster and its details although not Miss Flynn personally.’
‘So you only remembered the name Julia from the poster and you recited the details as part of your having a laugh whilst making up you killed her,’ Mike suggested. Oates again nodded, then, encouraged by Kumar, answered yes. Barolli couldn’t believe that Mike was not only asking such a question but was also giving Oates the answer as well. Thinking the interview would now end he had his finger ready to press the ‘off ’ button when Mike raised his hand, indicating he hadn’t finished.
‘Can you tell me, Mr Oates, how you knew she was an exchange student?’
Oates, without looking, pointed at the ‘Misper’ poster and Kumar accused Mike of going round in circles.
‘Mr Oates has just pointed to the poster of Fidelis Julia Flynn. Is that correct, Mr Kumar?’
‘DCI Lewis, what is the point in continuing this interview? Henry, you’re not denying you said she was an exchange student, are you?’
‘No, it was on the poster.’
Mike deliberately paused, saying nothing. Both Barolli and Kumar were perplexed, but Mike waited until Oates looked up at him, picked up the poster and held it in front of Oates’s face.
‘Show me on this where it says she was an exchange student.’
Oates took hold of the poster and traced his finger along the information on it and his demeanour began to change. Kumar leaned over to look.
‘Look as much as you like, the word “exchange” is not there.’
‘I read it somewhere – it must have been on another poster about her.’
‘No. All the posters, large or small, were the same. One of my staff confirmed it with her parents this morning. Julia was, as you rightly said, an exchange student from Dublin University.’
‘Someone told me but I can’t remember who.’ Oates then sat upright and looked Mike in the eyes.
‘You’ve never seen the poster until now. You knew about her because you met her, didn’t you?’
‘I think you said to me, DCI Lewis, that she was an exchange student.’
‘How could I tell you something I didn’t know, Mr Kumar?’
‘I made it up,’ Oates said and then asked to be taken to his cell. Kumar insisted that he needed to speak with him but Oates just stood up and walked towards the door, hurriedly followed by the solicitor.
‘What a good guess, Mr Oates. I will keep digging and finding more evidence against you and each time I do I will come back and interview you again. Interview terminated 10.45 a.m.’
Mike turned on the ignition as Barolli got into the car beside him.
‘That bastard Kumar schooled him about Fidelis Julia Flynn. I wondered where on earth you were going with the interview but you really fucked him with her being an exchange student.’
‘Not as much as I hoped – it’s circumstantial and doesn’t take us much further,’ Mike pointed out, shifting into gear.
‘Do you think Kumar will prime him to say that he did meet Julia but didn’t kill her?’ asked Paul.
‘Kumar makes me want to puke. He knows Oates is lying but won’t encourage him to give it up. We need to find some direct evidence so we can get him out of prison and back in police custody for a few days. Then we can really put the pressure on him.’
Mike knew it was going to be hard to report the outcome of their interview with Oates to Langton as they were no farther forwards with the Rebekka Jordan case. It was clear to both officers that Oates had met Fidelis Julia Flynn but they both knew that, without a witness, that fact alone, even if Oates admitted it, would never be enough to charge him with her abduction or murder.