Jack arrived at the John Lewis car park to find that it didn’t open until 8 a.m. He drove around the back and parked close to the Turk’s boat yard. Maggie had been still in bed when he had left so he had stopped en route to buy two takeaway coffees. Ridley was waiting for him, and it seemed to Jack as though he had aged since their last meeting. He was wearing a heavy coat, a woollen beany hat and fur-lined gloves, as well as his usual corduroy trousers. Jack was wishing he’d put on a warmer coat as it was freezing cold.
A mist was coming off the river as Ridley took the coffee from him. They walked a short distance before sitting on the same bench as before. It was clear that he was depressed with the slow pace of the investigation, with the dead woman still remaining unidentified.
Jack told him that he had watched the video footage of the post-mortem, but without saying anything about her real age. He remarked that it was a very professional murder and Ridley agreed, saying they had found no fibres on her naked body apart from the small amount that matched the carpet in the boot of his Volvo.
‘I would say that whoever killed her used sticky tape to make sure nothing was found forensically, wiping her body of anything that might have helped identify her,’ Ridley said.
Jack sipped his coffee and nodded. He was feeling the cold, wrapping his hands around the warm cardboard takeaway coffee beaker. ‘First up, never mind being unable to trace Sandra Raynor for a minute. Give me the lowdown on Sammy Taylor – dressed up like a drag queen in the afternoon, then came round to my home – which I didn’t like, by the way – looking like a conservative MP, driving a Bentley.’
Ridley hesitated before replying. ‘He was a top agent for MI5, got caught in a blackmail scam twenty years ago which I sorted out – no press, no scandal. He’s a computer genius and until recently used to do covert work for the government and secret service.’
Jack was astonished. ‘You are joking! If he was blackmailed before, how come he’s now getting away with making a podcast dressed as a drag queen?’
‘There’s no need to be crass.’
‘Crass? Is that what you think I’m being? He fucking freaked me out of my head – he takes me into a room with more equipment and monitors than we’ve got at the station and is able to hack into private bank accounts and criminal records. My electric bill would come in at almost double if I had that amount of equipment. Are you telling me it won’t create suspicion?’
Ridley stood up, moving towards the waste bin.
‘Fine. I understand your concerns, and I’m sorry to have dragged you into this. So perhaps we should call it quits.’
Ridley tossed the empty coffee beaker into the bin. Jack sighed, but when it looked as if Ridley was going to walk away, he jumped up. ‘No wait, please, I’m sorry, but I needed to sound off, and it’s not as if I could let it rip with anyone else.’
Ridley turned. ‘I don’t want to put any more pressure on you. If it makes you feel better, the debt is repaid. There will be no further contact with Sammy – and he’s on his way to New York now.’
Ridley gave a small shrug of his shoulders.
‘I won’t ask you for another meeting, but if you have found out anything helpful, I’d appreciate you telling me before I go.’
‘Let’s sit down,’ Jack said. ‘Come on, you’re not going anywhere.’
Ridley came and sat back down beside Jack. Jack took his notebook out of his pocket, tapping it with his forefinger.
‘I have made some progress but not a lot. I’m still gathering as much information as I can on the agency, but I need to know the names of the first two women you had dates with. Can you recall if you mentioned anything to either of them about your job?’
Ridley frowned.
‘The first woman was called Jessica Phillips. The other was Daniella Foster. As I said, they were very nice women . . . just not my type. I certainly never discussed my real work. As you know, I used a different name and occupation . . . until I met Sandra.’
Jack nodded. ‘On the first two dates, you only had drinks?’
‘Yes, apparently on the first date it’s normal to just “meet and greet”. If you get along, the agency organises a second date, usually meeting for dinner at a restaurant agreeable to both parties.’
‘Did either of the first two women ask about your work?’
‘Yes, Daniella, did. But I said I was retired.’
‘Did either of them get into your car?’
‘Jessie had her own transport.’
‘What about Daniella?’
Ridley thought for a moment. ‘After we left the bar the first time we met, I drove her to her flat in Pimlico. But she realised she had left her gloves on the table, so we drove back to the bar. I went in to retrieve them. I was only gone a few moments.’
‘Was there anything in your car that could have given Daniella knowledge of your true identity?’
Ridley frowned, shaking his head. ‘I suppose there might have been something in the glove compartment, but I kept it locked.’
Jack nodded. ‘Can you recall any case, past or present, which might be connected?’
Ridley sighed. ‘I’ve been over this again and again. And we discussed it the last time we met as well. There’s nothing that I was recently working on that gives me cause to think that someone would want to fit me up with a murder rap.’
‘How far back did you go?’
‘Christ, Jack! I have been racking my brains over it ever since I was arrested! There is nothing I can think of that would make someone want to fucking screw my life up like this.’
‘What about anything that came in after you joined the dating agency?’
‘Bloody hell, Jack, I had three dates and had only been signed with the agency for a few months. I don’t think that route is going to be productive.’
‘OK . . . then what about Sandra? Is there any possibility that you might have crossed paths with her under her real name at some point before?’
Ridley sighed. ‘I’ve been over that, too, over and over. I cannot recall anyone that resembled Sandra, whatever bloody age she was when I had the dates. I simply have no recollection of anyone like her. But then God knows what the hell she used to look like before the surgery.’
Jack could understand Ridley’s frustration, but he was starting to feel annoyed at having his anger directed towards him. He was doing the best he bloody could.
‘OK, let me go down a different route,’ he said. ‘The agency contacted you to arrange a date with Sandra. Which of the two women at the agency organised it?’
‘It was Eva Shay. I only had one brief meeting with Mrs Da Costa.’
‘So, you saw Sandra’s photograph and you agreed to meet her for a drink?’
‘Yes!’ Ridley snapped.
‘Did you choose the venue, or did Eva Shay?’
‘I did, and this is all in my notes, Jack. Then Sandra chose the restaurant for the dinner.’
‘Then, after this dinner you . . .’
Ridley answered tetchily. ‘I took her home to my house, for more drinks and mutual sex. I put all this in my notes, Jack. But if you want me to spell it out, obviously it was a big mistake for me to have taken her home; she could have found out exactly who I was. She had time to poke around when I took a shower, and when I went out to buy another bottle of champagne. I left her in my bed, for God’s sake! There’s no fucking idiot like an old sexually frustrated one, right?’
Jack felt bad about making Ridley go through it all again, but the truth was that he had not had the time to go through all of Ridley’s meticulous notes. Now he wished that he had.
‘I’m working on a possible lead connected to Eva Shay,’ he said. ‘She was an accountant and so was Sandra – or she claimed to have been one.’
‘It’s a waste of time, Jack. The company Sandra claimed to work for never employed her, and Eva Shay hasn’t worked as an accountant for many years. I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound ungrateful.’
Ridley turned, reaching for Jack’s hand to shake.
‘Anything, Jack, anything you can do. I am so indebted to you, but time is running out.’
Jack didn’t take his hand. ‘To be totally honest with you, I’m finding it very difficult to understand how you’re being investigated for Sandra’s murder but you haven’t been arrested. If the evidence is so overwhelming, how come you’re not in a cell – or at least out on bail? It just doesn’t add up, and it feels as if you’re not being entirely honest with me. I mean, why get Sammy Taylor to do all that illegal digging around when the investigating team could have done the same thing themselves?’
Ridley sighed. ‘You’re right, I haven’t been entirely honest.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The truth is, because of my high profile in the Met, I am under a form of house arrest until the investigation is concluded, so they can keep it from being made public. I need you to know how desperate I am. So far they’ve come up with nothing – not even Sandra Raynor’s real identity – let alone any connection with me or any motivation to frame me. I am no nearer to being exonerated than when they found her body in the boot of my car. I need you, Jack!’
Ridley lifted his right trouser leg to show Jack he was wearing an electronic tag on his ankle. Jack could tell how humiliating it was for him, and quickly put an arm around his shoulders.
‘Let’s just walk and talk for a while,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll fill you in on some other stuff that I’ve been working on that may be of interest.’
‘Let’s do that. But please hurry, Jack. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be allowed out of the house, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had someone tailing me right now.’
*
Jack did not get back home until after 11 a.m. Penny had taken Hannah to Sunday School at the local church, and Maggie was still dozing in bed, so he made himself a bacon sandwich and went up to work in his office. He re-inserted the memory stick he had accessed before to search through the dating agency’s female clients. Eventually he found Jessica Phillips and Daniella Foster. He printed out their CVs and photographs and took a good look at them both. They were not very flattering images. Jessica looked very homely and Daniella had an equally ordinary presence, but it was Daniella’s CV that caught Jack’s attention. She had trained as a nurse and described herself as a widow and a retired consultant for a prominent plastic surgeon. It was a long shot, but he put Jessica and Daniella’s papers to one side, with a view to questioning them both.
Jack finished his bacon sandwich, dropping tomato ketchup onto his note pad. He then inserted the next memory stick into his laptop and trawled through the agency’s male clients. It was a lengthy and tedious process, looking for any face that he recognised or who might have a criminal background, but nothing stood out from the catalogue of well-off middle-aged men looking for a relationship, many of whom were widowers.
Then Jack came across Ridley’s photograph, with his fake name, Arnold Radley. He had listed his profession as a retired surveyor, stating that he was single, had never been married, slim build, fit and 6ft tall. In addition, he enjoyed sports and would like to meet someone with similar interests, with a view to a serious relationship. Finally he had £30,000 in savings and investments. Jack printed all of Ridley’s information out, putting it with the other clients of interest.
He inserted the final memory stick, unsure what Sammy – or whatever his name was – had been able to hack into. What he found was newspaper coverage and advertising for the dating agency, and various related women’s magazine articles. Mrs Da Costa seemed to have less coverage than Eva Shay who was featured as a successful career woman promoting a special agency for an older clientele, stating that privacy and security were the company’s top priorities. In the article she also said that it was important that anyone applying was given an in-depth interview ensuring that they would be matched with the right partner. This reduced the risks sometimes associated with online dating.
Jack noticed that Eva Shay was very well preserved for her age, perhaps as a result of plastic surgery. She appeared to be quite glamorous, despite a rather old-fashioned hairstyle which was heavily lacquered. She also wore too much makeup. Pictured wearing evening gowns and velvet suits with frilly white shirts, most of the magazine articles about her said the same thing about the discreetness of the agency, which claimed to have an impressive success rate, with a number of matches ending in marriage.
The landline on his desk rang and he left Maggie to answer it. She called out to him from downstairs.
Jack went onto the landing and looked over the banister. ‘Is it for me?’
‘No, it was for Penny. They’re back from church. I’m just taking Hannah to the park. You’ll notice that I’m wearing my running kit, as I’m going to jog with the buggy. I don’t suppose you fancy joining me for some exercise?’
‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’m still working. But I promise to finish so we can have dinner together this evening.’
‘OK, see you later.’
Jack returned to his office and looked out of the window to see Maggie running down the path pushing the buggy. She looked so young, with her curly hair tied up in a ponytail. He felt a rush of emotion as he watched his wife and his little girl. He loved them both so much, and it pained him that he couldn’t join them as he went back to his desk. Just as he resumed scrolling through more footage his mobile rang. He scrambled around trying to find it amongst all the papers, and eventually located it underneath one of the files. He didn’t recognise the number but answered anyway.
‘Hello?’ The voice was very faint and nervous-sounding.
‘Hello, who is this?’ Jack replied.
‘Can I speak to Mr Warr please.’
‘Yes, this is him speaking. Who is this?’
‘It’s Amanda Dunn. You gave me your number when I was at the hostel.’
*
Jack pulled on his leather jacket as he ran down the stairs, carrying a large manila envelope. Penny was speaking to someone on the phone in the hall and laughing. She quickly covered the mouthpiece when he stopped in front of her.
‘Please tell Maggie I had to go out, but it won’t take too long. I’ll call her when I know what time I’ll be home, but I’ll be back in time for dinner.’
‘Alright, dear.’
Penny waited until Jack had closed the front door behind him before continuing her call. Her cheeks were flushed pink as she said that her son had just left and that she was having a nice restful Sunday as her daughter-in-law had taken her granddaughter out to the park. She gave a rather embarrassed laugh in response to the other person’s next comment, saying that she was flattered, but she was definitely old enough to be a grandmother.
Jack drove to Euston Station, and as it was Sunday, the traffic was fairly light. He parked on a meter before heading into the station via the side entrance, looking around for the Café Nero coffee bar. He spotted it across the virtually empty station forecourt and headed for the three small tables outside. Amanda was sitting at one of them, with a cappuccino in a large white cup with two biscuits in the saucer. Jack waved and she started to stand but then sat down again.
‘Looks like you don’t need another coffee yet?’ he said.
‘No, thank you. I don’t really like this frothy stuff, but the biscuits come free with it. I’ve been here for quite a while and wasn’t sure if you would come. I just wanted to let you know that I’m going home to Liverpool . . . at least that’s what I want to do, but like I said on the phone, I’m a bit short on the train fare. I didn’t know who else I could call, so I hope you don’t mind.’
Jack pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. He was unsure if she was telling the truth about going to Liverpool. Sara had spoken to her parents on Friday, and they had said she wasn’t expected.
‘They were very nice at the hostel, but they kept on asking what my intentions were and whether I was going to see my mother. So eventually I just said that I was, and I left.’
Amanda looked down beside her chair at a small worn holdall.
‘So where have you been since then?’ Jack asked.
‘Oh, mostly just walking around, trying to think what I should do about the money.’
She looked very dishevelled. Her hair was lank, her face was dirty, and she had badly bitten fingernails. She quickly tucked them into her worn coat sleeves when she noticed Jack looking at them.
‘You’ve been sleeping rough, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but not here – it’s too dangerous. I went into the West End and slept in a shop doorway. A lot of them are still all shuttered after Covid, and there was a van serving hot soup to the homeless, so I was alright. But I kept my eyes open, just in case.’
‘You’re very brave, but you should have stayed at the hostel until it was time to catch the train. They’ve been very concerned about you.’
‘I needed to get away. Can you lend me the money?’
Jack took out his wallet. He then placed the manila envelope down on the table.
‘I need you to do something for me in return, Amanda. The money for your train fare won’t be a loan. I am just relieved you are going to go home.’
She grimaced, then looked around the station.
‘What do you want me to do? I mean, it’s very public here.’
Jack shook his head, realising that she was thinking he was suggesting sexual favours. He opened the envelope.
‘I want you to look at some photographs, and all you have to do is tell me if you’ve seen any of these girls at Rodney’s basement flat. That’s all I want you to do, Amanda, nothing else.’
‘Oh . . . alright. Do you have any cigarettes?’
Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t smoke. But I’ll buy you a pack as well as helping you out with the train fare. So, I am going to lay out the photographs and I just want you to tell me if you recognise any of them.’
Jack pulled out the photographs that Sara had brought up from missing persons and laid them out side by side on the table in front of Amanda.
‘Take your time and look at them carefully. Don’t worry if you can’t recognise any of them – you’ll still get your cigarettes and your money. I need you to be very sure.’
Amanda chewed at her bottom lip, and Jack noticed a nasty cold sore at the corner of her mouth. She pulled her filthy hands out from her coat sleeves and leant forwards, scrutinising each photograph as Jack waited patiently.
‘I’m ready,’ she said quietly.
‘Point to any ones you recognise,’ Jack said.
Amanda pointed to the missing Jamaican girl, pushing the photograph forwards slightly. She then tapped the photograph of another missing girl, and a third.
‘None of the others,’ she said nervously.
Jack quickly gathered up the photographs of the ones she had not chosen. He then put the three girls side by side and asked if she could recall their names.
‘It was quite a long time ago, but that black girl was called Jamail. The second one I think was Trudie and the third was something like Nadine or Naomi?’
‘These girls all stayed at the basement flat when you were there with Rodney?’
‘Yes, he picked them up from here, from Euston Station, and brought them back to the flat.’
‘How long did they stay with you there?’
Amanda shrugged. ‘Sometimes a couple of days, sometimes longer. I never liked them being there, and we had big fights about it. Then he would lock me up and tell me to mind my own business, said he was just being friendly to them.’
‘How friendly?’
‘I dunno. When they was there I was locked into the other room. They would stay with him in his bedroom. In fact, funnily enough, I was thinking about the one I said was called Jamail, although that might not be her real name; anyway, reason I was thinking about her was because . . .’
Amanda bent down and picked up her small overnight bag. She unzipped it and began searching through the contents, then took out a dirty plastic makeup bag and rooted through it, eventually pulling out a silver bracelet. She kept it in her hand as she replaced everything and then zipped the bag up again.
‘I thought it was maybe one of them Pandora charm bracelets, but I don’t think so, cos they’re quite expensive, aren’t they?’
She uncurled her hand to show Jack the bracelet. It was a silver chain with a few small silver charms on it.
‘You can have it if you like. It was Jamail’s. I found it in the bedsheets after she’d gone. The clasp is broken so it’s not much use to me.’
Jack could feel his heart thumping as he smiled and took the bracelet from her. ‘Thank you, Amanda. I appreciate it.’ He placed it inside the envelope along with the photographs.
‘Can I have the money now, so I can get the next train?’ she asked.
Jack was just in time to stop her reaching out to take his wallet. ‘How much did you say you needed?’
‘A standard ticket is nearly seventy quid and I’ve only got thirty-two. You said you’d buy me some fags and I smoke the Silk Cut purple, and . . .’
Jack opened his wallet and took out three twenty-pound notes and a five-pound note.
‘Thank you ever so much,’ she said, grabbing them. ‘I really appreciate it. I’ll get right over to the ticket kiosk.’
Jack stood up as Amanda bent down to pick up her holdall. He was about to follow her when the waiter came out of the Café Nero and asked if he wanted to pay the bill. Jack smiled when he discovered that not only had she had two large cappuccinos but a toasted ham sandwich and two chocolate brownies! He gave the waiter a twenty-pound note and told him to keep the change. Walking back across the station forecourt towards the side entrance he caught sight of Amanda at the ticket kiosk leaning in to talk to the ticket seller.
Jack was just driving away from his parking bay when he saw Amanda crossing back over to the other side of the station to get into a taxi. He knew she had lied about needing the money for a train fare home to her parents, but he had gained so much information from her that he didn’t care.
When he got home Maggie was upstairs playing with Hannah. He went straight into his office and tossed the envelope down on the desk. He was certain that with this new information he could get a search warrant, and he would do it first thing in the morning. At least he was getting somewhere with the Rodney Middleton investigation at last, which was more than he could say about Ridley’s. He would have to conduct a lot more interviews, which would need to be very carefully planned in order to avoid alerting the Essex team. If it became known that he was involved, Jack would be in serious trouble.