'THEY SENT THAT LETTER,' he said to Llewellyn as they walked down the path. 'I'm sure of it. It would explain why they were outside Smith's flat—probably scared he'd do a bunk after receiving that ‘outing’ letter, so they were taking turns on guard duty. Making sure he didn't get a chance to escape whatever punishment they had decided on. We already know that from where they were positioned they would have had a good view of both entrances of Smith's place. They'd have seen anyone going in or out, especially as there are street lamps within a few yards of back and front. If they didn't kill Smith, the odds are they know who did, so let's work from there. Who, exactly, are Sinead Fay and her friends likely to try to protect?'
'Smith's young victims, obviously.'
'Not Stubbs and Thompson?'
'I can't see someone like Sinead Fay putting herself out to protect policemen, even ones who had supplied them with information. I'm sure, like the other women, they would have thought the two men more than capable of looking after themselves.'
'What about Frank Massey?'
Llewellyn hesitated. 'More difficult. He's what you might call a halfway-house as far as they're concerned. A victim of sorts, but again, I think it likely they'd feel that as a grown man he would be capable of protecting himself; even more so as he's already had one spell in prison. Whereas Smith's victims proper are still very young, possibly naive.'
Rafferty nodded as they got in the car. 'That's what I thought. We'll have to check with the neighbours. Put Hanks on to it. It's possible the neighbours noticed any comings or goings from Fay's house during the evening.'
He didn't hold out much hope. The neighbours on one side were an elderly couple. It was another dull, dismal day and, like many people they had their living room light on. He had noticed them on their arrival. The television had been on and plates of brunch in their laps, already engrossed in the day's viewing that probably continued till they went to bed. Perhaps they'd have more luck with the people on the other side.
'Get Hanks to check out Ellen Kemp's garage at the same time,' he added. 'If, as she says, Sinead Fay's car was there last week, her own vehicle could well have been parked on the street. The neighbours would have noticed and remarked on it, if so. After all, who's going to leave their car outside these icy mornings and give themselves the chore of scraping the frost off the windscreen if they don't have to? Better get him to check that she was telling the truth about the daughter, too, though she seemed too confident about that to be lying.'
Llewellyn nodded, then added, 'I was thinking.' Rafferty waited. 'Mrs Penny, Smith's landlady, said she rarely goes out in the evening. Don't you think it's strange that she should go out on the night Smith was murdered?'
Rafferty glanced at him, pleased that he was ahead of his sergeant. It was unusual at this stage of an investigation. 'Perhaps you should put that the other way round? Strange that Smith should be murdered on the night she goes out. It's clear that whoever killed Smith knew the flat downstairs would be empty that evening, and made use of the knowledge. Forensic found traces of blood on the fire stairs at the back of the building, and we found a navy thread, which presumably came from his blue and maroon tracksuit.'
Although they were still waiting to learn whether the blood and tracksuit threads had been Smith's, Rafferty felt it probable. He also felt they had enough evidence to guess what had happened.
'Getting a body, even a light one like Smith's, down those fire stairs is unlikely to have been a silent operation, so whoever killed Smith would have been keen to know the downstairs flat was unoccupied that night. Go and see Mrs Penny later today, Dafyd. Find out who knew she'd be going out. Ask her when she mentioned it to Smith. You might also ask around, and see if anyone noticed a strange car parked behind the house. We know the lock on the back gate was forced, recently too, as the wood is still clean; all the evidence points to the body being taken out that way. I reckon whoever killed him backed their vehicle onto the hard-standing, using the gate to conceal it. Then they walked round to the front, got the onceover from Smith via his spyhole, was let in, and killed him, bundling his body into a rubbish bag and down the back stairs.'
'Pretty cold-blooded.'
'Don't they say revenge is a dish best eaten cold?'
Llewellyn frowned, then reminded him, 'According to his landlady, Smith was very careful about opening his door to strangers. Understandable, of course; he'd had to move from his previous address when a sharp-eyed neighbour recognised him and caused trouble. With this ‘outing’ threat, he'd have been even more cautious, especially when his friendly landlady was out for the evening. He must have felt he had nothing to fear from whoever he opened his door to. So—who would be likely to fall into such a category?'
Rafferty provided the obvious answer. 'Police, family, old friends, if any exist. Though, as Mrs Penny said he had no friends, that just leaves the police and his own family.'
'Jes Bullock, you mean.'
Rafferty nodded. 'He'd certainly stand further questioning, though to be frank, I can't see the ladies of the RSP protecting such a man. Still, something's eating at him, I'm sure of it. We'll go and see him again this evening, as soon as we're free,' Rafferty decided.
Thoughtfully, Llewellyn put forward another possibility. 'You said, other than his family, Smith would be most likely to open the door to a uniformed officer, like Thompson. If we take that together with Mrs Nye's information that she thought maverick policemen were supplying Sinead Fay and her friends with information on possible ‘outing’ targets, Thompson may well have left a computer trail behind him.'
'Doubt it. No, if Thompson has been supplying the breakaway RSG women with information, either the information he obtained wasn't taken from a traceable source like a computer, or he got someone else to access it for him. That's another area to look into. You're the computer buff, can I leave you to check that out?'
Llewellyn nodded.
'Check with the Social as well. They might have Smith cross-referenced in their files under his original and his current name. It's possible they gave his address out to someone. Whoever's responsible for this local spate of ‘outing’ threats are getting their information from official sources. Trouble is, it may be difficult to get to the bottom of it. Most of the coppers I've spoken to about the case were of the private opinion that whoever killed Smith did an excellent job. If one of them provided Thompson with Smith's whereabouts, he's unlikely to admit it.'
Rafferty was sure that if Thompson was guilty, he and his informant would be likely to hang together, scared, as the saying went, that if they didn't, they'd hang separately.
'Anyway,' he decided. 'After what we learned from Mrs Nye, we'd better make checking the alibis of Stubbs and Thompson a priority. If they were supplying information to those three women we need something to tie them together. All we've got at the moment is the fact that Smith opened his door willingly, tied to the probability that Sinead Fay's old Zephyr was parked outside his flat. What we need is some proof.'
He fastened his seat belt. 'Come on, let's get back to the station. Maybe, by now, Liz Green and Lilley will have turned up a nosey neighbour or two for us.'
Chapter Nine
THEY DROVE BACK TO the station. The Council workmen had finished the belated erection of the Christmas decorations and were standing about admiring their handiwork as throngs of busy shoppers bustled past.
With a guilty pang, Rafferty remembered he hadn't yet been to see his niece, Gemma, as he'd intended. Hopefully, if nothing broke between now and Christmas, he'd be able to make time to get round to his sister's house.
It wouldn't be today, though, he realised, when they entered the office. Although Lizzie Green and Lilley had yet to return to the station – with or without a few nosey neighbours in tow – there was plenty to keep them busy. On his desk, a pile of reports awaited attention, among them statements from householders near the woods, from motorists who had been in the vicinity and had come forward, as well as those routinely stopped an
d questioned.
Rafferty read through them swiftly and pounced on the several that reported seeing an old Zephyr on the road to the west of the wood. The time was about right, too, he realised excitedly. As he read them, he passed them to Llewellyn, waited impatiently for the Welshman to finish, and then said, 'first we had a Zephyr parked outside Smith's flat; now, we've got a sighting of the same make of car by Dedman Wood at the appropriate time and not just by one witness, but by several. What would you say to us pulling Ms Fay and her friends in for further questioning?'
'I'd say it would be unwise—unless you're anxious for some bad publicity. It seems likely, given that Ms Fay and her friends seem able regularly to put forward their views and opinions in the media, that if we do, they must have several tame newspaper editors more than willing to supply damning front-page headlines. We've no more than circumstantial evidence to link them with Smith, no more than our own suspicions to say they had anything to do with his murder. A clever lawyer would tear such evidence apart in five seconds.'
Automatically straightening the reports that Rafferty had disordered, Llewellyn went on. 'You said yourself that what we need is proof. Don't you think it would be better to wait to see if Lizzie Green and Lilley come back with some? After all, we don't yet know if these three women were even acquainted with any of Smith's victims, so if they saw one of them dragging a suspicious-looking shape down the fire stairs, why should they interfere?'
It was a point Rafferty hadn't previously considered. 'You're right—we don't know if they even met or counselled Smith's victims. Maybe it's time we found out.'
He began hunting through his desk; bits of paper fluttered to the floor as he shifted and shunted the contents. 'What did I do with Mrs Nye's phone number?'
Llewellyn, to save Rafferty's desk from any more wanton trashing, produced his own notebook. 'I've got it here.'
Rafferty read the number and dialled. His call was answered almost immediately. He knew it was a policy of Mrs Nye's; as she warned her staff and volunteers, it might be a distraught young girl on the other end and an endlessly ringing telephone could be enough to put her off trying again. Once put through to Mrs Nye, Rafferty explained what he wanted.
'I'll have to go through my records for the other two, Inspector,' Mrs Nye told him, 'but I know Ellen Kemp did similar work in Burleigh, some years ago. I'm not sure exactly when, though.'
'Perhaps you could let me have the details of your opposite number in Burleigh and I'll check it out myself.'
Mrs Nye supplied the details with her usual efficiency, and also checked on Sinead Fay and Zonie Anderson, ringing back with the information that neither had worked as a support volunteer ten years earlier. Zonie Anderson, could, anyway, have been no more than fifteen at the time—hardly old enough to counsel rape victims.
After thanking her and ringing off, Rafferty told Llewellyn what he'd learned. 'It would be a turn-up if Ellen Kemp did counsel one of Smith's victims. It would give us our link—and the third circumstantial connection.'
After some minutes' difficulty, he managed to decipher his scribbled notes and dialled the number for the Rape Support Group in Burleigh. But his hopes were dashed as quickly as they'd been raised. The link he had hoped to establish between one of the breakaway RSG women and Smith's victims didn't exist. Ellen Kemp hadn't become a volunteer until nearly two years after the Smith case and had never counselled any of his victims. Rafferty scowled, and as soon as Llewellyn set off to see Smith’s landlady, Mrs Penny, he bent his head back to the reports, hoping to find evidence that would satisfy even the Welshman's requirements.
LLEWELLYN WAS GONE for more than an hour. When he returned, Rafferty pushed aside the paperwork with a frustrated sigh, and asked, 'How did you get on?'
'Smith knew several weeks beforehand that Mrs Penny would be going out that night.'
'Time enough for him to confide the information to his loving family, then,' Rafferty concluded. 'Go on.'
'Apart from the local shopkeepers, Mrs Penny was certain she told no one else. She told me there was no one else for her to tell.'
'Mmm. Gives us a lead to Jes Bullock, if nothing else. What about the neighbours? Did any of them notice a strange car on Mrs Penny's hard-standing?'
'Unfortunately, that alleyway leads not only to the back gardens of the houses, but also to a row of rented Council garages. One of the men who rents a garage there works as a mechanic in his spare time and uses it for his workshop, so there are often strange cars parked there; I gather he tends to park the overflow where he can fit them, though, for what it's worth, none of Mrs Penny's neighbours could remember seeing a strange car parked on her hard-standing that night. If there was one, it wasn't there long.'
Rafferty was just digesting this when Liz Green and Lilley reported back. He was gratified to learn that one, at least, of his ideas had borne fruit.
Miss Primrose Partington hadn't been the only one of Smith's neighbours to notice the strange car parked on the street. With the single exception of the baker's, it was a residential road, the nearest parade of shops was half a mile away. So apart from the residents and their visitors few strangers would have reason to park there; certainly not for longer than the time it would take to make their purchases at the baker's.
Lilley and Liz Green found several of Smith's neighbours who had noticed the strange car, and one, a man who worked as a commercial traveller, had even taken down the number as a prelude to ringing the police, but his wife had persuaded him against it. Only trouble was, he was back on the road, and could be anywhere as he followed no particular schedule. His wife said he’d forgotten his mobile phone as he had been running late, but he generally rang her several times while he was away.
Lilley said she expected a phone call from her husband this evening, and had promised she would ask him about the car. Rafferty, not one to rely on such promises, told Lilley to go back early that evening and wait for the husband to call, adding, that if the man didn't have the number on him, he could at least tell them what he had done with it. He prayed it hadn't been lost or thrown away in the meantime.
More reports came in, and Rafferty dismissed Lilley. The forensic teams that Rafferty had sent to Smith's flat and Dedman Wood had finished their on-site investigations. They had turned up little enough at the Wood; the ground had been too hard for tyre tracks. And, so far, all they had been able to find out about the rope used in the second hanging and the few fibres left behind from the first were not encouraging. Whoever had strung Smith up had used rope commonly available from marine stores supplying the yachties up and down the Essex coast and beyond. It sold in huge quantities in all coastal areas and it was doubtful if further investigations would turn up anything more.
Rafferty and Llewellyn had debated on the difficulty of suspending a body and whether one could do it alone or would need assistance. Forensic had confirmed that, although the task would be made no easier by being done at night, it was not impossible to do it singlehandedly, particularly as Smith had been slight, weighing only eight and a half stone.
Of course determination would provide extra strength if any were needed, Rafferty knew. And whoever had killed Smith and carted his body to Dedman Wood for his ritualistic hanging had been very determined. Pity they'd chosen the dead of winter for the deed. Pity too, that the body had vanished after its first suspension. It meant they couldn't be sure that the rope used the second time had been the original. It could have been removed, like the wrist bindings and hood, and another substituted. Consequently, they couldn't afford to let the type of knots used encourage them to jump to conclusions about the killer's identity; the professional-looking noose could easily be a deliberate red herring intended to lead them astray.
Of course, as Rafferty now remarked, whoever had strung him up the second time was unlikely to know that the police had already learned of the first hanging. They must have hoped to conceal the ritualistic aspect of his killing, maybe even the cause of death. If so, as Sam Dally
had commented, it had been a forlorn hope. Were they blind, stupid or just panic-stricken? Perplexed, he shook his head. But if the body-snatchers had merely hoped to sow doubt and uncertainty they had succeeded very well with him at least.
Obfuscation, Llewellyn had called it. Rafferty had merely nodded his head when Llewellyn had made this pronouncement, and had taken the first opportunity to surreptitiously check up in the office dictionary. To obfuscate, he had read: ‘to obscure or darken; to perplex or bewilder’. That sounded about right, he agreed, though he wished Llewellyn would give up using long words when a short one would do. It was an irritating habit.
While Llewellyn had been with Mrs Penny, Rafferty had checked on local Zephyrs. There were only twelve within a twenty-mile radius and a check had revealed that nothing was on file against their owners. Of course, as Rafferty commented, that didn't mean another family member hadn't taken the keys and "borrowed" it. That was the trouble. Every time you found a worthwhile area to investigate, it meant checking out all a person's friends and relations, which meant a reduced team to check out everything else. It was important that they pin down the Zephyr parked outside Smith's flat. If they could at least get as far as a probable on Sinead Fay's car, they'd have a little more to go on.
Trouble was, of course, it still wouldn't be proof and he decided to leave further checks on the Zephyr owners till Lilley had been able to speak to Smith's other neighbour.
The work of the forensic team had proved more fruitful at Smith's flat. Although the only fingerprints found in the room were those of Smith and his landlady, forensic had confirmed that the small patches of blood on the armchair and the fire escape stairs were Smith's. They had also confirmed that the threads found on the stairs had definitely belonged to the tracksuit in which Smith had been found.
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