Murder Mile

by Lynda La Plante

  When Jane knocked on the door of the flat, she was surprised when it was opened by a bleary-eyed and unshaven Andrew Hastings, still wearing his dressing gown.

  “What do you want?” he asked, regarding Jane with obvious disdain.

  Jane tried not to let his attitude affect her. “I just need to ask Agnes a couple of questions about your mother.”

  “She’s moved out to her sister’s.” He started to close the door.

  She remembered Agnes telling her she was no longer needed as a housekeeper and would have to find somewhere else to live. But she was determined to get a look at the photograph if she could. “Then you might be able to help me, Mr. Hastings. I’ll only take a minute or two of your time.”

  He opened the door. “I suppose you’d better come in then. Are you any nearer finding that queer bastard who murdered my mother?”

  Jane knew the fact that Lang was gay hadn’t been released to the press. She suspected DCS Blake was keeping Hastings updated on the investigation and had told him about Lang’s sexual orientation.

  “Not yet, Mr. Hastings. But I can assure you we’re doing everything we can to find him.”

  Jane followed him into the living room. It was in a state of disarray. Dirty plates, cups, knives and forks were on the coffee table, along with a half-eaten curry in a tinfoil container. There was also an empty whisky bottle and crushed beer cans on the floor. The ashtray was full of cigar stubs and, not surprisingly, the room smelt strongly of stale cigar smoke. Hastings didn’t seem bothered about it and didn’t apologize for the mess. Jane wondered why he was now living at the flat.

  “Was it you or Moran who told my wife I was having an affair?” he asked abruptly.

  Jane was taken aback.

  “I didn’t, and neither did DCI Moran. It’s not our job to get involved in your private life,” she replied.

  “Well, someone from your Keystone Cops department must have said something to her. She’s kicked me out the house and I’ve had to move in here.”

  Jane realized it must have been Gibbs since he was the only person on the team who had contact with Jo Hastings. She suspected he was still in contact, but in more than a professional capacity.

  Jane quickly changed the subject. “As part of the investigation we’re speaking to people who played golf with your mother. They could help with regards to her movements on the day she died.”

  She moved over to the photograph Agnes had shown her. She was certain now it was David Simmonds standing beside Andrew and his mother.

  Jane pointed to the picture. “Agnes showed me this picture when I was last here. Obviously we’d like to speak with them and—”

  Hastings interrupted. “The other woman’s Lady Helen Woosnam, but she’s died since the photograph was taken, which must have been at least three years ago. The other chap is David Simmonds. I haven’t seen him at the club or any functions for ages. He’s not much of a golfer,” he said dismissively. “I reckon he only joined so he could drum up business for his Harley Street dental practice.”

  Jane was excited that Hastings had confirmed Simmonds’ identity but didn’t want to make her interest in him obvious.

  “Oh, was your mother a patient of his?” she asked, as casually as she could.

  Hastings nodded. “Yes, along with quite a few other members of the golf club.”

  “Thanks for your time, Mr. Hastings. I’m sorry I didn’t have any positive news for you on the investigation. But I’m sure DCS Blake will keep you updated of any developments.”

  She felt elated as she got in the car. She now had Simmonds directly connected to Sybil Hastings, as well as Helen and Simon Matthews. Jane remembered Simmonds telling her he’d heard the news about the murders on the radio. She knew Helen Matthews hadn’t been identified at that point, but Sybil Hastings’ name had been released to the press. It seemed strange, if Simmonds had listened to the news, that he didn’t mention Sybil Hastings was a patient. If Simmonds was hiding something, she’d have to tread carefully from now on.

  Realizing she still had a bit of time before she had to pick up Brenda and Simon Matthews, Jane decided to go back to Harley Street, ask Simmonds a few open-ended questions and gauge his reaction. She knew it was risky, but Simmonds didn’t know she’d read the dental journal, or that she’d discovered Sybil Hastings was a patient of his.

  Jane parked her car a few minutes’ walk away from Harley Street. She felt strangely nervous and wanted time to compose herself. She knew she had to be careful with her line of questioning, as the last thing she wanted was for Simmonds to think she now considered him a suspect.

  Jane walked up the marble steps, took a deep breath and pressed the intercom.

  “Who is it, please?”

  Jane recognized the receptionist’s voice. “It’s Detective Sergeant Tennison.”

  A buzzer sounded and the electric latch on the door was released.

  “Good morning, Sergeant Tennison. How can I help you?” the receptionist asked with a wide smile that showed off her gleaming white teeth.

  “I’d like to speak with Mr. Simmonds, please.”

  “I’m afraid he’s not here today. He works in his Peckham practice on Mondays and Fridays, treating his non-paying patients.” She beamed.

  “Oh, I thought he owned the Peckham clinic but someone else ran it for him.”

  “No. He does all the work there himself.”

  “Can you give me the address?”

  “Certainly.” She proceeded to write the address on a piece of paper.

  “Do the other dentists mind him working in the Peckham clinic?” Jane asked.

  The receptionist looked up at Jane. “This is Mr. Simmonds’ clinic and they work for him, so he can do as he pleases, but between you and me, it does annoy some of them.”

  Jane recalled Simmonds had told her he hadn’t kept a record of Simon Matthews’ treatment in case the other dentists in the practice were upset he was doing dental work for free. This was clearly a lie if he owned the business.

  “You can’t please everyone,” Jane said.

  “Unless you’re Mr. Simmonds,” the receptionist replied, and handed Jane the address.

  61 Brayards Road. Jane knew from the house-to-house enquiries that Brayards Road was close to Copeland Road, where Sybil Hastings’ body had been found. Jane thought about asking the receptionist when Mrs. Hastings had last attended the clinic, but worried she might tell Simmonds.

  As if she was reading her thoughts, the receptionist leant forward and whispered, “I heard on the news Sybil Hastings was a victim. She was a patient here, you know.”

  Jane hesitated. She didn’t want the receptionist to think that Simmonds hadn’t shared that information with her. “Yes, Mr. Simmonds told me. He was most upset, especially with Helen being a victim as well. I expect he didn’t talk about it so as not to worry you.”

  “He’s so considerate,” the receptionist agreed.

  “Yes, he is,” Jane said, slipping the address in her pocket. She looked at her watch and realized she’d have to get a move on to pick Brenda and Simon Matthews up. “Thanks for your help.”

  Jane ran back to her car, then headed to Mrs. Rowlands’ house.

  Jane sat with Brenda and a frail-looking Simon, who was clutching his grandmother’s hand, in the social services waiting room. It was painted a dull grey, with wooden chairs lined along the wall and a small coffee table with a few tattered magazines on top. Jane was disappointed to find it was as dreary and unwelcoming as police station interview rooms.

  A tall woman in her mid-forties with short brown hair walked in, accompanied by a woman in her early thirties, casually dressed in a red turtleneck jumper and grey skirt. The older woman introduced herself as Mary Williams, the senior child care worker.

  Jane stood up, shook hands and introduced Brenda and Simon.

  Mrs. Williams knelt in front of Simon. “Hello, Simon. My friend Claire wants to show you our special children’s room. It’s got lots of t
oys in it. Would you like to see it?”

  Her colleague smiled and put her hand out towards Simon.

  Simon looked anxiously at his grandmother. Jane felt for the boy, who didn’t really know what was happening.

  Brenda hugged Simon, then took his hand and placed it in Claire’s. “It’s OK, sweetheart. The nice ladies just want to speak to you about how you’re feeling since Mummy died. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Reassured by his grandmother, Simon left the room with Claire as Mrs. Williams waited behind to speak with Jane and Brenda.

  “The interview with Simon will probably be about an hour or so, then there’ll be a physical examination by the pediatrician. You’re welcome to wait here or there’s a café just up the road.”

  At the café, Jane ordered two coffees and teacakes. Brenda sat quietly as she picked at her teacake and pushed the pieces around the plate.

  “Don’t worry, Brenda. Mrs. Williams and her colleagues are well trained and very experienced. They’ll make sure Simon feels at ease, and so will the doctor who examines him.”

  “I think you’re right about Simon being abused,” Brenda said, with deep sadness in her eyes.

  “I’d prefer to be wrong,” Jane replied.

  “I spoke with him last night. Not in detail—it makes me sick to my stomach to even think about it. It’s not right Simon should have to suffer so much pain. He’s done nothing wrong, he’s harmed no one …” Brenda’s voice trembled as she held back the tears.

  “I know it hurts more than anyone can imagine, Brenda, but you need to tell me what Simon said last night.”

  “I asked him if anyone had touched him down there … you know. He didn’t answer, but he was upset. He started to cry. I told him it was OK to tell me if someone had touched him.” Brenda paused and took a deep breath. “Simon said his mummy had asked him the same question. He said he didn’t want me to get cross like she did and … leave him.” Brenda was struggling to get the words out.

  Jane noticed a few people in the café staring at them, and she decided it was best to continue their conversation away from prying eyes and ears. She took Brenda to her car, which was parked nearby, and asked what else Simon had told her.

  “I didn’t want to push him too much as he was obviously distressed talking about Helen. He told me when he saw his mummy last Friday, she said he’d have to go back to the dentist to have his braces checked. He told her he didn’t want to go because he didn’t like the dentist touching him, and his mummy looked angry and left.” Brenda began to sob.

  Jane patted her arm. “You’re doing really well, Brenda. Did Simon say anything else about the dentist touching him?”

  Brenda shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I couldn’t bring myself to ask. He looked so upset. I just hugged him, told him he’d done nothing wrong and his mummy wasn’t angry with him. I told him he must tell the social workers the truth.”

  “Did Helen tell you or Simon where she was going?” Jane wondered if it was to see Simmonds.

  “No. I was in the kitchen cooking supper when all this was happening. When I came out Helen had gone. I asked Simon where she was. He said she’d gone to a cleaning job. Helen can be a bit impulsive at times, so I didn’t think anything of it. Do you think the dentist might be involved?”

  Jane didn’t want to reveal her suspicions, but this was a big step forward.

  “I don’t know. Mrs. Williams’ interview with Simon will be critical to the investigation. That and the pediatrician’s expert opinion will be strong evidence if he did. For now, I’d ask you not to say anything about the dentist to Mrs. Rowlands or anyone else. Come on, shall we go back?”

  Brenda nodded, wiped her eyes again with a tissue and blew her nose.

  As they sat together in the social services waiting room, Jane was on the point of phoning Moran and telling him her suspicions about Simmonds. She was sure when he heard Simon had been sexually abused, Moran would straight away send a team to arrest him and get a warrant to search the Harley Street and Peckham clinics. She was about to go and make the call when Simon came into the waiting room with Mrs. Williams. He was sucking a lollipop and smiled to see his grandmother again.

  “I told the truth like you said, Grandma.” He took another lick of the lolly as Brenda gave him a big hug.

  Whilst Brenda and Simon chatted, Jane took Mrs. Williams to one side and recounted what Brenda had just told her.

  Mrs. Williams nodded. “Simon told us about his last conversation with his mother and his fear of the dentist. However, in my professional opinion and that of the doctor who examined him, he has not been sexually or physically abused in any way.”

  Jane was shocked. “Are you sure?”

  Mrs. Williams looked offended. “I understand it’s not what you wanted to hear, Sergeant Tennison, but let me assure you I am experienced enough to know when a child has been sexually abused.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude, but it’s hard to understand why Simon would lie to his mother about it.”

  “I don’t believe Simon did lie to his mother,” Mrs. Williams said.

  Jane was confused. “But he told her the dentist had abused him.”

  She shook her head. “No, he only said he didn’t like the dentist touching him. Even as adults we don’t like having needles and probes stuck in our mouths, so imagine how a child must feel. The bullying at school, being called Jaws because of his braces, also added to his dislike of the dentist. In his mind it was the dentist’s fault the other boys picked on him.”

  Jane felt disheartened. “How could his mother have been so wrong?”

  “She never asked him what he meant by being touched, so misconstrued what he’d said. Children don’t always understand the importance of context in what they say. They can also have difficulty in expressing themselves clearly. Sometimes the listener hears what they want to hear, especially if they have a preconceived notion that something bad may already have happened.”

  Jane knew what Mrs. Williams was telling her made sense, but still found it hard to accept she was wrong. “Simon’s teacher, Miss Summers, had a boy in her class who’d become withdrawn, and she suspected he was being abused—”

  Mrs. Williams interrupted. “If she said as much to Simon’s mother, it could explain any preconceived notion she had about him being abused. I fear his teacher may have misread things. It was the bullying about his braces that was affecting his behavior.”

  Jane thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t shared her suspicions with Moran and ended up making a fool of herself.

  “What about our suspect, Aiden Lang? Is there a possibility he could have abused Simon?” Jane asked.

  “We showed Simon a picture of Lang from a newspaper cutting. He didn’t recognize him. People who abuse young children have a specific sexual interest in them. It’s nothing to do with being homosexual, or indeed a lesbian,” Mrs. Williams added.

  “What if Simon’s abuser threatened to harm him or his mother? He might have been too frightened to tell you what happened.”

  “That can happen, of course, but I don’t believe it did in Simon’s case. He said he didn’t tell his grandmother because his mother told him not to, plus he didn’t want his grandmother to be upset. The only sexual act he spoke about was with a young girl his age about a year ago. They touched each other playing doctors and nurses, which is all part of growing up. I’ll type up a full report and hand-deliver it to the station, along with the pediatrician’s, for your case file.”

  Jane was worried Brenda would be upset that she had put Simon through a traumatic experience for no reason, but there was nothing but relief on Brenda Matthews’ face when Jane took her to one side and explained that Mrs. Williams and the pediatrician were of the opinion Simon had not been abused.

  “I only wish Helen could have been with us to hear it for herself,” Brenda said tearfully.

  “I’ll drive you and Simon back to Mrs. Rowlands’.”

  “It’s all
right. I’ll take him to the café for some ice cream as a treat first. He likes trains and tubes, so we’ll make our own way back.”

  They walked out of the social services building together.

  Jane turned to Brenda. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we have any developments. See you later, Simon.”

  “Bye, bye, Jane.” Simon smiled as he trotted off towards the café holding his grandmother’s hand.

  Jane watched them go with mixed emotions: happy that Simon hadn’t been abused, but angry with herself that she’d got it all so wrong about David Simmonds. She nipped back into social services and tried calling Moran to update him, but he was at the Yard with Blake and wasn’t expected back in the office.

  Walking to her car, Jane reflected on Mrs. Williams’ words about “misconstruing” information and Moran’s advice about not letting her emotions cloud her judgment. Sitting in the driver’s seat, she slammed the palm of her hand against the steering wheel. “You bloody idiot, Jane!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jane arrived at the Churchill Arms to watch Gibbs’ band just before 8 p.m. She’d dressed casually in jeans, a red dagger collar shirt, which she’d tied at the waist, and black boots. The pub was packed and virtually the whole team were there, although the band hadn’t started. Gibbs came over, dressed in a white frilled shirt, tight leather trousers and blue suede shoes, and sporting a large peace sign medallion. She was pretty sure it was the same outfit she’d seen him in at the Helen Matthews murder scene.

  He kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, great to see you. How you doing?”

  “Bit of a disastrous day, if I’m honest. Luckily Moran was at the Yard when I got back to the office, so I didn’t have to incur his wrath again by telling him the result of—”

  Gibbs put his hand over her mouth to shut her up. “Rule one: no job talk tonight; rule two: let your hair down and have a good time; and rule three is: you let me buy you a drink.”

  Jane said she’d have a small glass of white wine, but Gibbs came back from the bar with a large one. An attractive girl in her early twenties, with shoulder-length dyed blond hair, came over and stood beside Gibbs. She was wearing a low-cut, figure-hugging short white satin dress and knee-high red leather high-heeled boots.