When Jack returned to the station, he completed his report. He wanted to discuss it with Clarke before he filed it, but the DCI wasn’t in his office.
Just then Laura appeared, dropping a large envelope down on Jack’s desk.
‘They’re the press cuttings I’ve printed out for you from the case file.’
‘Thanks, Laura, I really appreciate it. You having a good day?’
‘No, I’m not. Had to go to Battersea to see if this woman’s poodle had been handed in. It’s beyond belief how many poor little things are found wandering the streets.’
Jack looked puzzled. ‘Why, if I maybe so bold as to ask, is an experienced officer such as you are, being assigned to look for a dog?’
‘It’s the woman who was found wandering the street outside the station.’
‘Had she been handed in, too?’ Jack grinned.
‘Very funny. She’s a witness to a hit and run and was coming in to be questioned. But she seemed disorientated and distressed because her dog had run off when it happened. She couldn’t find him, so I was asked to check out Battersea.’
Laura sighed and returned to her desk. Jack picked up his report and went over to Anik, who was using antibacterial wipes to clean up some coffee he’d spilt on his desk.
‘Any news about Ridley?’ Jack asked.
‘Nope, not a dickie bird; consensus is, he’s sick. DCI Clarke seems to be pressing for all the ongoing non-serious cases to be put to bed and I’m tracing this punk that knocked an old man off his bike and pinched his shopping and his wallet. The man’s in intensive care; if he doesn’t make it, then it could be a murder charge instead of robbery.’
Jack filed his report, deciding that he would interview Rodney Middleton’s father in Wandsworth prison. He returned to his desk, but before e-mailing the prison authorities, he opened the envelope from Laura.
The newspaper coverage was not extensive. The two little girls had burnt to death in the top-floor bedroom but arson couldn’t be proved. Anthony Middleton, Rodney’s father, had suffered extensive burns in an attempt to save his children. He had a long police record for petty crimes and burglaries and was presently serving a seven-year sentence for breaking into a corner shop and assaulting the owner. Jack found it strange that Rodney had now been arrested for a second similar assault at his local grocery store, only this time with a knife.
Jack e-mailed the appropriate forms to Wandsworth prison, requesting an interview with Middleton’s father. A short while later he received a return e-mail informing him that the prisoner had agreed to meet him. He could see him at nine the following morning. Jack noticed Laura approaching his desk.
‘Well, they’ve traced the poodle, and they want the owner to collect him. So that’s me having to schlep over to her place and take her to Battersea.’
‘I’m going to meet Rodney Middleton’s father tomorrow. I might tell him that there’s a chance I have to reinvestigate the fire. That means I’ve got to read the full case report before I go.’
‘What are you looking at me for? I can’t read it for you.’
‘More’s the pity. Do you know where the DCI is? I want a word with him about the case.’
‘No idea. He was here most of the morning. Have you heard anything about Ridley?’
‘Nope, I called a couple of times but just keep getting his voicemail. You know this investigation I’m on? I went to interview the girlfriend and his psychiatrist and from what I’ve gathered, I think he’s a very twisted bastard. There could be a lot more to his case than we first assumed. CID don’t usually handle this type of arrest. Basically, his girlfriend calls in to the local nick as he was abusing her, so they go round. Coincidentally, they’re looking for a suspect who had just assaulted a grocery store owner a block away. He comes out, hands over the knife and admits he’d done it so is arrested. Open and shut case.’
Laura yawned.
‘Sorry if I am boring you,’ Jack said with a frown.
‘I’m all ears . . . I’m totally attentive . . . open and shut case, right?’
‘What do you know about the DS that was handling the case before it was passed over to me?’ Jack asked.
Laura sighed. ‘Not a lot. His name was Mike Poulson, big bloke, and I don’t quite know all the details. I think he had an aneurism, serious, went up North to his family. What do you want to know about him?’
‘Anything, really. I mean, I’d only just taken over the case when Clarke arrived, and I’ve got a lot of schlepping around to do tomorrow myself to try and find out what’s going on.’
‘Just make sure whatever you’re doing is written up on CRIS. Clarke is a stickler for being made aware where everyone is and specifically what they’re doing, via the crime report system. So, what’s your concern?’
‘Apart from Middleton being aggressive and keeping an underage runaway locked in his flat, something doesn’t sit right. I want to talk to his father to see what he has to say. According to his girlfriend, who was twelve years old when he picked her up at the station . . . twelve! I mean, she was dismissive about any kind of sexual abuse, but admitted to being knocked around by him. She’s just turned seventeen and I need to get advice on who should be dealing with her at the hostel.’
‘Is Middleton out on bail?’
‘No, he’s on remand. He’s got this over-keen legal aid lawyer who has asked for a pre-trial psychological assessment. I reckon the lawyer’s hoping Middleton isn’t mentally fit to plead or may offer a manslaughter plea on the grounds of diminished responsibility.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t get your knickers in a twist; he’s in custody, and you know the legal sods will try anything they can.’
‘I don’t want him released, though. I don’t trust him. He bit one of the uniforms, but because he handed over the weapon they never even entered his flat. It’s unbelievable! I’m not taking a swipe at that DS Poulson, but they should have searched the flat.’
Laura shrugged and started writing an update on the CRIS system, giving details of her day and proposed work for the morning. Jack remained perched on the corner of his desk flicking through the thick case file, banging his heel against the side of the desk.
‘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.’
‘What can you tell me about the young girl that was living with Mr Middleton?’
Mrs Delaney shrugged. ‘To be honest, I didn’t know she was living down there, but then I saw her a few times. I mean, it’s not against his lease, I don’t think. I haven’t seen the landlord here for years; I believe he owns properties all over London.’
‘What’s his name?’
Mrs Delaney tossed another peeled potato into a bowl of water. ‘William St Edwards. He’s got to be getting on in years . . . his lawyers handle everything.’
‘When you said that you had only seen Mr Middleton’s girlfriend a few times, can you tell me anything about her?’
‘There was an incident a few years back. Police came round – she had called them – but nothing came of it. In fact, they came a few times, but Rodney came up to see me and apologised. He said there had been an argument but it was just a misunderstanding.’
‘What did you make of Rodney?’
‘He was a hard one to make anything of, if you want my honest opinion. He was good about carrying all the bins up to the road, though. The bin men won’t go down to the basement now, and there’s no way I could do it, and Lionel has a bad chest . . . so I was very grateful that Rodney did it every week. You have to make sure you got the right bin out on the right collection day. In the old days coal used to be tipped into the coal hole at the side of the basement, but that was years ago now. And we no longer have a fire in here as it’s against the law.’
‘Did you talk to his girlfriend?’
‘I was a bit concerned about the coppers being called, so I went down to have a word with her one day after I saw him going out. I mean, I wasn’t scared of him. Like I said, he was always pleasant and helpful, but I’m the caretaker here and I need to know what’s what and if I should tell the lawyers there had been an altercation.’
‘I understand . . . and so you talked to her?’
‘Yes, she was a frail little thing, very nervous. She said it was all her fault because Rodney had met another girl, and she didn’t think it was right.’
‘Did you ever see another girl there?’
‘I didn’t, but Lionel did. He said he thought she was Jamaican like him, but I never saw her. The only other time I went down to check things out was because there had been a bad smell coming from outside their front door. I thought the drains might have been blocked. Rodney came out and said he had found rats, and he was getting some traps set in the coal hole.’
‘And did you find rats?’
Mrs Delaney shrugged her shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t go into the coal hole, but he told me he got rid of them and washed it down with bleach. From then on, he made sure there were traps set . . . you know, the boxes with poison in them? Some of the tenants put their food waste in the wrong bin . . . that’s what attracts the rats.’
‘Do you know anything about Rodney’s past?’
‘No, all I knew was that he was on benefits and didn’t seem to work or have a job of any kind. He told me once that he had a family tragedy that had made him ill and unable to work.’
‘Did you ever see him acting in an aggressive manner?’
‘No, but he’s very strong, lifting those bins up and down the basement stairs.’
‘Did you ever hear any arguments, or fights, from his flat?’
‘No, this is an old house with very thick walls. Like I said, I didn’t know anything when the coppers came round those few times. The last time they never even had to go inside his flat. He came out and they took him away in handcuffs. That night was the first time I had heard a ruckus going on because I was at the front door taking in an Amazon delivery. I keep telling them not to ring my bell as I don’t use Amazon, but the tenants up top are always getting deliveries and they leave them on the step. Round here that’s asking for trouble.’
‘This was the night Rodney was arrested?’
‘Yes. I heard her screaming, so I went down and banged on the door. Rodney comes out and I asked him what was going on. He told me she had burnt his dinner. He was very sorry about causing a problem and seemed really upset, so I just went back up the steps and before I got to the main front door he was heading out.’
‘This same night? What happened then?’
‘I’ve already told the copper exactly what I know. They had a blue light flashing on their police car and two of them was down in the basement. Rodney was outside his door, and they was arresting him, and I was told to get back inside.’
‘How long after you had seen him leaving did this happen?’
‘About three quarters of an hour, maybe less.’
‘Do you know when his girlfriend left?’
‘No, I just know the flat is empty now. As his rent is paid directly out of his benefits, I have no reason to go inside.’
‘So, who moves the bins now that he’s not living there?’
‘One of the other tenants agreed to do it, with Lionel.’
‘Was Rodney friendly with any of your other tenants?’
‘No, I don’t think so . . . kept himself very much to himself.’
‘But you have access to his flat?’
‘Yes, I have the keys for all the flats in case there’s an emergency, burst pipes or that kind of thing.’
‘In the past, have you ever had any need to go into the basement flat?’
‘No, Rodney was a very good tenant, and he didn’t like anyone being admitted without his permission.’
Jack was itching to enter the basement flat but knew he would be in trouble without a warrant. He intended to get one, and as Mrs Delaney had keys, the sooner the better.
*
On the way home, Jack decided to take a detour and stop off at Ridley’s. Jack had stayed there once, the night before his wedding, so he knew exactly where to go. He had been surprised about the dismal flat: the décor was all a dull cream, the furniture mostly G Plan, and the kitchen appeared to have hardly ever been used. He had slept in a cheerless box room with a small single bed.
He had also been moved when Ridley had told him that apart from his elderly mother he had no relatives, and he had also mentioned that should the cancer take over his life he would leave everything he had to Jack for his family. Jack had obviously been touched but then had joked about it; he said even if he was left the flat, it would be a hard one to sell as it hadn’t one single redeeming feature. Ridley laughed, explaining that he had at one time intended to smarten the place up, but as always work was his priority.
There weren’t any photographs or memorabilia around the flat and Jack had always found it difficult to draw any personal details from Ridley about his past, so it had been a surprise when Ridley, after a few glasses of whisky, appeared at the box room door.
‘I was close to getting married a long time ago,’ Ridley confided. ‘We had been childhood sweethearts, and I was never sure who broke whose heart, but I think it was her who broke mine because I’ve not had what I would describe as a loving relationship since. I envy you finding Maggie. You’re a very lucky man. Get a good night’s sleep, Jack. I’ll wake you in good time.’
Jack parked the car and headed up the path. He checked down the bells for the different flats. He recalled that Ridley had had no name plate, but he was sure it was on the second floor. Flat 2, however, seemed to belong to a TL Harvey. He rang the bell anyway, and a man answered who was clearly not Ridley. After a brief conversation, Jack dialled Maggie’s number.
Maggie answered Jack’s call sounding flustered. She was always concerned when he rang her at work, worrying that something had happened to him, but he quickly told her that he just wanted to ask her something.
‘Mags, I went to Ridley’s flat. You know, I spent the night before our wedding there, but I spoke to this bloke who told me he’s bought the flat more than six months ago, and he has no address for Ridley.’
‘Surely you can check at the station. They have to have his address.’
‘Yeah, I know that, but I don’t want anyone tipped off that I’m trying to see him.’
Maggie sighed and was about to tell Jack she had to get back to the ward when she remembered something.
‘Listen, Penny got all the addresses for people who wanted wedding photographs sent and, if I remember correctly, Ridley asked for a couple as he was your best man. Penny was going to check with you, but you were in Ireland, so give her a ring and see if she has his new address.’
‘OK, will do, sorry to bother you, and I’ll see you later.’
‘I won’t be too late – love you.’
She ended the call before Jack replied and he immediately dialled Penny at home. The phone rang for ages, and he was about to hang up when she answered.
‘Warr’s residence,’ she said using her posh voice.
‘Mum, it’s me, Jack.’
‘Oh, hello, love, I was just running a bath for Hannah. Is everything alright?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask you if you had Ridley’s home address. Mags said you may have sent him some of the wedding photographs.’
‘Yes, I did, one outside the registry office and one from the dining room or maybe it was from when you both left. Do you want me to check which photograph he wanted?’
‘No, Mum, I just need for you to tell me where you sent them.’
‘Didn’t he get them?’
‘It’s the address I want, Mum. Did you make a note of it?’
‘Hang on, it’s in my notebook.’
Jack sighed impatiently as Penny said she would have to go into her bedroom. He waited and could hear her telling Hannah to go into the bathroom, and it was at least five minutes before she came back on the phone.
‘I’ve got it. It’s a Putney address. Is that the one you wanted?’
Jack jotted down the address on his phone as soon as he ended the call, then got back in his car and headed for Putney.
When he got there, he wondered if Penny had given him the correct address. The house was part of a modern, upmarket estate and each identical property had a neat front lawn and an attached garage. All the curtains of Ridley’s house were drawn, but there was clearly a light on in the front room. Jack took out his mobile and was about to dial Ridley’s mobile number when the front door opened. Ridley stood there wearing a thick turtle-necked sweater, baggy cord trousers and old, worn slippers, along with a woollen hat. He pulled the front door partly closed and walked down the path.
‘We can talk in the car,’ he said.
Jack unlocked the car and got in. Ridley opened the passenger door and joined him.
‘Not many CID officers would drive around in a pea-green contraption like this. I knew it was you as soon as you parked up.’
‘I’ve been worried – ’ Jack began, but Ridley cut him off.
‘I’m sure you mean well, son, but this situation is serious, I can’t discuss anything with you.’
‘Are you sick?’
‘No, I’m touched at your concern, but I told you months ago I was in complete remission; truth is, past few months I’ve felt better and fitter than I have for years. I’m sorry, Jack, I have to ask you to leave now.’
Jack persisted. ‘I went to your previous address. You never mentioned to me that you’d moved. I’ve just been trying to find out if you’re OK.’
‘I don’t want to get into a lengthy conversation, Jack, but this was my mother’s place. She died a year or so ago and left it to me. I sold the flat; in fact, it went within a week, not only did I get a good price, but the chap bought all the furniture.’
He gave a small shrug of his shoulders and smiled, almost like the old Ridley.
‘Remember you said to me when I thought I was on the way out that it’d be a hard sell as it didn’t have any redeeming features? Turns out you were wrong.’
‘Well, I’m glad about that,’ Jack said, beginning to lose his patience, ‘but I still don’t understand what the hell is going on. I’m relieved you’re not sick, but there are things I need to run by you. You put me on the Rodney Middleton case, remember? You said it was low priority with CID but you had an intuition that it shouldn’t be. I’m now having major concerns that something is not right but I’m not bloody sure what it is.’
Ridley sighed. ‘Cross reference, cross reference – and if you can’t go forwards, go back. Answer your own questions, Jack. I can’t help you.’
‘But what was it that made you suspicious?’
‘Look,’ Ridley said, ‘it just didn’t make sense. He’s a very intelligent young man, so you can maybe excuse his first assault, but the second appeared to me to have some ulterior motive, that’s all.’
Ridley looked back towards his house and reached for the door handle. Jack looked round too and saw it – just a momentary glimpse of a man wearing a dark uniform standing partly hidden by Ridley’s front door. Ridley got out of the car and leant back towards Jack.
‘I promise you, I will be in contact when I can, but please don’t come round to see me again. Give my fondest to Maggie, and to little Hannah. Goodnight, Jack.’
Jack watched Ridley hurry back to his posh little house and saw the dark figure usher him inside before the front door closed.