by ML Rose
“We have no choice, do we?” he said in a resigned voice. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll call the crime commissioner, as well as South London Command, and let them know.”
The Uber was pulling up at Clapham Common Station by the time Arla got Lisa on the line.
“Get Major Incident Room One ready. I want everyone in attendance.”
CHAPTER 20
The station had two major incident rooms and room one was bigger. It was next door to the detectives’ open-plan office, separated by a partition wall that was soundproof, but could be folded back.
The apex of the room was taken up by a large desk with three workstations, a laptop, and a pulldown white screen on the wall behind it. Desks lined the sides of the room, bearing printers, fax machines, and telephones. Chairs occupied the middle, where detectives sat.
Johnson’s instructions to Arla had been to involve as few people as possible. In reality, she knew that if half of the uniformed squads and detectives were involved, the whole station would know. However, to pacify Johnson, she had agreed.
Justin Beauregard sat in the front row, together with his team. He glared at Arla, making no attempt to hide his displeasure that she was the SIO and not him. Arla hoped he was also rankled by having the on-call duties for the week delegated to him. That should keep him busy, she thought with an invisible smile.
Parmentier was here, as was Mary Atkins, the forensic gait analyst. The financial crimes officer, Julia Ledbury, a plump woman in her mid-forties, was also present. Next to her sat John, the cybercrimes specialist, with straggly long hair from the back of his scalp reaching to his neck and a balding head. He had a perpetual sheen of sweat on his forehead, and he fidgeted constantly, like he was nervous of being in the incident room. John was a classic geek, and Arla smiled at him reassuringly. He was brilliant at his job and if someone had left a digital footprint somewhere, chances were John would find it.
She glanced at Roslyn, who was standing next to Lisa and Rob. “Are you okay?” Arla asked. Roslyn still looked pale, with bags under her eyes.
“Yes guv,” Roslyn said, and looked at her shoes. Arla felt a pang of sympathy. Infanticide was thankfully rare, but shocking when it happened. She could only remember one instance when she had come across it and she never wanted to relive the experience again. She thought of what Roslyn must be going through and it made her walk over and rub the woman’s back.
She spoke in a whisper in Roslyn’s ear. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” Arla said. “Lisa and Rob can fill you in later on.”
Roslyn’s jaw hardened and she looked up at Arla with a firm resolve in her dark eyes. “I’m fine, guv. Not the first dead body I’ve seen. These things happen.”
Arla maintained eye contact with her for a few seconds, then nodded. There was a knock on the incident room door and it opened. The slightly stooped form of Dr Banerjee entered the room. He wore a grey suit and his full head of hair was salt-and-pepper. His shoes had flecks of mud on them, despite having worn protectors. He adjusted his glasses, smiled at Arla, and shuffled inside.
“Hope I didn’t miss anything.” The pathologist smiled amicably. They called him Dr Columbo in the London Met. His bumbling appearance and advanced age hid a sharply analytical mind. Arla relied on him heavily, and to solve this case, she knew Banerjee would be indispensable.
She spread her arms. “Just the man I was looking for. Now we can start.”
Banerjee’s lips pressed together and the light in his eyes dimmed as he shook his head. All seats in the front row were taken. One of the uniformed inspectors rose to make space for him, despite the elderly pathologist’s protests.
Arla pointed to the photo of Rebecca Stone that was stuck on the whiteboard. Next to it she also had a photo of baby Reginald, downloaded from Rebecca’s Instagram feed. She gave the assembled officers a quick rundown of what had happened so far.
“The intruder had a small window of opportunity. He used it to maximum advantage. It’s the time between when Rebecca returned home, and when she saw baby was missing. It’s possible the intruder was hiding in the house before Rebecca returned. Neither the husband nor the housekeeper saw him. Or her,” Arla added, shrugging. “It’s unlikely a woman would carry out the dangerous task of climbing on top of the flat roof and gaining access through the open bathroom window, but you never know.”
She continued. “When we searched the garden there was no evidence of footprints. DI Mehta had a look near the woods that light to the rear of the property. Couldn’t see a great deal. But we do have two sets of boot prints in the property. One at the windowsill of the bathroom window, and another on the flat roof. It’s reasonable to assume that the intruder climbed on the flat roof to gain entry and jumped back down to escape.”
Justin held up a hand. “You said they escaped via the back. Then what happened to the footprints?”
“That’s what we need to find out. It’s possible he covered his tracks very well. Or there is another possibility.” Arla stopped and glanced around the room to make sure she had everyone’s attention. Then she looked behind her at Harry, who was staring at her intently.
“The intruder escaped through the front door. Jeremy Stone told us the front door has a chime, but he can’t always hear it in his study. I find it difficult, however, to believe that the housekeeper didn’t hear it either, if this indeed happened.”
Harry cleared his throat. “That would tie in with the body being found in the Common, opposite the house. Not in the woods at the rear.”
“Yes,” Arla agreed. “And maybe that’s why there are no human footprints in the garden. What about the CCTV footage outside the house?”
Harry said, “I rang the company who runs the Wi-Fi-based service. To cut a long story short, the router stopped working for three hours in the morning. The CCTV company has no idea why this happened. All the cameras were working normally, but they weren’t receiving a signal and hence were not active.”
Harry spread his hands. Arla hooked her eyebrows at him. “So did you check out the router?”
Harry pointed to John and said his name out loud. Arla turned towards the cybercrimes specialist, who appeared more nervous than before. A gentle wave of hilarity swept across the room, because everyone knew what John was like. Arla felt sorry for the poor guy. He was an introvert and computers were his life. He was a whiz kid with anything digital, but human contact freaked him out. She smiled at him warmly. “Glad you’re here, John.”
John took out a dirty white handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. “Err, me too. So I, uh, checked out the router make and serial number, and called the manufacturer. They say the Wi-Fi signal was jammed for three hours in the morning.”
Silence followed John’s statement as several faces looked at each other. Arla said, “You mean like someone used a signal jamming device?”
John nodded. “Yes, like we sometimes do, to block signals from a criminal’s phone. It’s not difficult, as you know. Wi-Fi signal-jamming devices can now be bought online. Most of them are illegal, especially the high-band ones. For example—” John’s voice grew stronger as he spoke. “—we use sixteen-band jamming devices, which can interrupt signals on a wide variety of Wi-Fi and GPS, including police radio. Of course, when we do, we tune our own radios to different frequencies.”
Arla held up her hand. “John, I don’t need a tutorial. Can you find out what device was used to block Jeremy Stone’s router and when?”
John blinked. “It’s almost impossible, DCI Baker. Like I said, anyone can buy an illegal jammer these days. However, I can get you the time.” He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a few seconds. “The jam lasted from seven in the morning till twelve o’clock.”
Arla had planted her butt on the corner of the table with her arms folded across her chest. She tapped an index finger on her lips thoughtfully. “Baby Reggie was reported missing at ten-thirty a.m. So that’s bang on the money.”
A voice clear
ed from her left and Roslyn spoke up. “My son works in IT, and he told me about this. He wanted to make our router signal safe, so a random hacker can’t use it to surf the net and drive up our bills. He said it was easy to block our own frequency, using our router. Pretty sure he showed me how to do it as well, but I can’t remember.”
A lightbulb switched on at the back of Arla’s mind. She snapped her fingers and pointed to Roslyn. “Excellent point. I guess we have to thank your son for this. Jeremy Stone spends a lot of time in his office. Is it possible he jammed his own device?”
She smiled at Roslyn, who was starting to get some colour back into her cheeks. “Guv, are you saying he abducted his own son, then killed him?”
Arla stared at her, feeling a sudden chill sending icicles down her veins. It was a terrifying thought, but one she needed to bear in mind. Most murder victims knew their killers. Why should baby Reggie’s killer be any different? Arla looked away, fighting the iron grip of unease twisting in her heart. She faced the room and cleared her throat.
“So, it would appear that we don’t have any CCTV footage from the house between seven and twelve this morning. Which was when the crime occurred.”
Arla looked at Banerjee, noting the frown on his face. She skipped over him and looked at Mary Atkins, seated in the row behind.
“Mary, do you have the boot prints from Parmentier?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, guv, I’ve got them. I’ve run them through the database once, but not come up with any matches so far.”
“Anything else you can tell us at this stage?”
“The prints were fresh, obviously, done this morning. They were size eleven, which indicates a tall man.”
Arla frowned. “Can you tell us anything more?”
“Just that, for now. I need to see a few more prints before I can analyse his gait.”
“Carry on with your testing, Mary. Let us know when you have more information.” She turned to Dr Banerjee. “Doc, would you like to come up here? It’s best if you face all of us when you present your findings.”
“Preliminary findings, and very rough ones, at this stage.” Banerjee rose slowly to his feet, knees creaking. He shuffled towards Arla, his lips pinched together, cheeks sucked in. He nodded at her without smiling. Then he turned round to face the room and cleared his throat.
CHAPTER 21
Dr Banerjee said, “Victim is a neonate, which means under the age of twelve months. In this case, I would say no more than five weeks.”
He stopped, and his head hung on his chest. There was pin-drop silence in the room, the air as heavy as a concrete block. The individuals in attendance were hardened police officers, but Arla could see the shock and dismay written plain on every face. Her own heart was withered and shrunken. She wished she was standing next to Harry, wanting to feel his arms around her. She rested against the table, both hands clutching its edge.
Banerjee continued. “I need to do a proper examination, as it is difficult to carry out forensic pathology on a neonate. I will also have to get in specialised help from other hospitals. My own experience in these matters is limited.” He coughed into a closed fist.
“Bruise marks were present at the throat, which signifies strangulation. I cut through the garments, and could not find any evidence of fractures or other injuries. Non-accidental injuries are suspected in all cases of child abuse, as you know. The tell-tale fractures were missing in this case, which means this baby was not physically abused. However, as I said, I need to take a closer look.”
Arla asked, “So, death was by strangulation?”
“Probably. But it would have occurred by asphyxiation in any case, as the body was inserted and then tied into that plastic bag.” Banerjee pointed to Parmentier. “Scene-of-crime officers were present and they have taken the garments as evidence.”
Arla asked Parmentier, “Did you send off the DNA?”
He made a face. “Sorry. Just as I was finishing up at the house, I got the call from Harry. The DNA samples will go out first thing tomorrow morning. But I did get the prints checked.” He shook his head. “No matches on IDENT-1.”
Arla had suspected as much. She would’ve been surprised if any fingerprints from the house matched the UK’s most extensive criminal database. But that didn’t absolve guilt for any of the residents.
“Time of death, doc?” Harry asked.
Banerjee said, “That’s tricky. The body’s rectal temperature was lower than ambient, but babies have small bodies, so they lose heat very quickly. It’s far more difficult to tell time of death for a child, or a small human being.”
Arla fought the black weight pressing against her own throat. She knew everyone in the room was feeling the burden, an emotional weight bearing down upon them. No one wanted a case like this. But they were also the last line of defence, the final barrier against the violent contortions of an insane mind.
“You’re doing well, doc,” she said encouragingly. Banerjee shrugged.
“Given the limitations, I would say time of death could be anywhere between ten to three hours.” He held up both hands as murmurs spread through the room.
“I know that’s vague, but it’s deliberately so. For such small bodies, we often have to do a post-mortem and get the temperature of the deeper, inner organs. There’s also a formula which takes into account surrounding temperature, moisture, and the difference between air and ground temperature. Snow is also a compounding factor. What I’m saying is, I need a couple of days to come up with a reasonably correct time of death.”
There was silence for a while, then Arla asked, “Anything else?”
Banerjee shook his head. “I’ll extract as many DNA and other samples for chemical analysis as I can.”
He turned to Arla. “I’d better get back to my office. You want me to treat this with priority, right?”
Arla nodded. “Yes please, doc. And if you could send off the DNA samples by first thing tomorrow morning, I’d be grateful.”
Banerjee nodded, then prepared to leave. She watched him shuffle away slowly, his back slightly more stooped than usual. She called out after him.
“One last thing, doc. Can we come around later this evening, say in a couple of hours, with the family to identify the body?”
“No later than eight p.m.,” Banerjee said.
“Okay.”
The pathologist shut the door behind him, and Arla walked over to the whiteboard. She pointed to the photo of Rebecca Stone and started writing.
“We need to speak to both of her parents, and her sister. A lot of her life is public already, but let’s get talking to people who know her from work, and any friends she has.”
She drew a circle around Jeremy Stone’s photo. “There’s more to him than meets the eye. His father’s passed away, but get in touch with his mother who lives up north in Doncaster. Dig up his past as well.”
Harry asked, “What about the housekeeper, Edna Mildred?”
“She’s an automatic suspect, having been in the house already. She has a son who lives in Birmingham, I think she said. Find out the son’s whereabouts this morning.”
Arla turned to face everyone, folding her arms across her chest. “Last but not the least, I need to speak to Grant Stone.” A ripple of whispers spread across the room.
She said, “We need more information on Grant Stone’s relationship with the crime commissioner, as well as his alibi.”
Justin Beauregard snorted. “His alibi? He’s one of the biggest rock stars in the whole world. Do you really think he’d do a Jackie Chan and climb through his nephew’s bathroom window to steal their son?”
“The basis of a successful investigation is to leave no stone unturned,” Arla said calmly, pinning Justin with a glare. “I’m sure you remember that from the detective’s handbook.”
A few voices murmured around the room, while Justin locked eyes with Arla, his nostrils flaring as his jaws clamped tight.
Arla looked away towards the uniformed squads
in the back rows. “Darren and Steve.” She singled out two uniformed inspectors by their first names. “I want a door-to-door of all the houses on that row, and within a five-mile radius. Ask residents about a car they’d not seen before, or anything unusual. Use the description that Rebecca gave us of the man she saw outside her house.”
She continued. “We need the family to identify the body. Harry and myself will sort that out.” She glanced at her team, and caught Harry’s eyes, who nodded, his lips set in a grim line.
Normally, with a case of this magnitude, there would be a frisson of excitement. This time, the buzz was missing. Instead, Arla could read in everyone’s eyes a dull, cold hatred of the beast who had committed this crime.
“How far are we with the CCTV images?”
Roslyn spoke up. “I’m going to sit down in the control room with Rob later tonight.”
Arla glanced at her watch. It was nearing six p.m. already. “If it’s getting late—”
Roslyn shook her head. “No problem, guv.”
Rob chimed in with his agreement. “It’s been almost twenty-four hours already. Let’s get the images done tonight.”
“Good.” Arla smiled. “Lisa, please help them if they need anything.”
She swept her eyes across the room, then turned to her team, before facing the room again. She clapped her hands together once. “Let’s catch this sicko.”
CHAPTER 22
Rhys Mason had moved farther back into the Common after he had seen the black BMW for the second time.
He knew they were cops, and there was something about the female, pregnant cop that bothered him. It was the way she had stood and stared almost directly at him, like she could see him. Not much got under Rhys’s skin. But that woman made him uncomfortable, for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint.
His hunch was correct. The tall detective had returned with reinforcements later on and, judging by the screams he heard, they had found baby Reggie.