They had measured the body and determined that their victim was five feet six, and the shoulder-length hair, which had now been washed through, was clearly auburn and still reasonably undamaged. They had recovered a small gold crucifix on a chain still snagged to one of the woollen remnants. It had been swabbed for DNA, photographed and then put in an evidence bag so Barolli could take it away with him to show Fidelis’s two known boyfriends.
The forensic pathologist could not determine time or cause of death because of the level of decomposition. Although there didn’t appear to be any broken bones or stab wounds he couldn’t rule out the use of a knife and also suggested she might have been strangled or suffocated to death.
Mike had put off contacting Fidelis’s parents until the odontologist had checked out the dental records. Finally, at five that afternoon, he had a confirmed match, and not only from the dental records: the DNA comparison to her parents showed that the remains were those of Fidelis Julia Flynn.
They now had evidence that Oates had worked at the construction site on both the day before and after their victim went missing. What they did not have was any witness that saw him with Fidelis.
By six that evening the team of three detectives had returned from interviewing the residents in Oates’s street. Shown a photograph, one neighbour was able to confirm that he did live in the basement, and she could give an exact date she knew him to be living there because he had helped her husband put up new gates. Oates had been living in the basement for even longer than they had anticipated, for at least five and a half years, because the gates had been bought in March 2007. She also said that he came and went and was sometimes absent for days or even weeks on end, but as he was no trouble and often helped wash cars for cash, no one bothered making a complaint about him. She had never seen Oates with any children, and as far as she could recall she’d never seen anyone else entering or leaving with Oates. She also implied it was disgusting that the house had been left unoccupied for so long because the owners were waiting for planning permission to demolish all three buildings and build a block of flats. She had never seen Oates with a car, or a Jeep, but claimed he was always helpful and pleasant and had shovelled up the snow from her pathway the previous year.
Although the evidence linking Oates to Rebekka Jordan and Fidelis Julia Flynn was mounting, they still had no eyewitness who had seen Oates in the company of either girl. The hope of finding any forensic evidence from Fidelis’s remains or clothing that might implicate him was slim.
‘Could he have killed Rebekka in the squat?’ Anna wondered.
Barbara pointed at the photographs of the house, boarded up on three floors.
‘I know this neighbour said she never saw anyone coming or going apart from Oates, but don’t tell me she was at her window twenty-four seven. He could have snatched her, hidden her body in the house.’
Anna came over to stand beside her.
‘It’s possible, but how did he get her there? We still haven’t established that he was driving the Jeep – the neighbour never saw it parked up and we have no witness that saw him in it. We suspect he stole it, but only by supposition because someone saw a man fitting his description outside the owner’s house. We have no proof that it was Oates that took it.’
‘Still no trace of it either,’ Joan said, joining them.
She had been contacting every garage, auction house and dealership, plus the wreckage yards, and there was no trace of it.
‘Any luck with the crime reports?’ Anna asked.
‘I’ve given all the details to the station crime analyst and I’m waiting for her to get back to me.’
Anna went into Mike’s office.
‘Did the search team who went over Oates’s place look under the floorboards?’
‘Yeah, they used an optical cable attached to a monitor. Nothing untoward, though.’
‘So they didn’t lift the floorboards?’
‘No, they thought using the lens would be quicker.’
‘Rebekka could be buried under the floorboards! I want Oates’s basement stripped, in fact the entire house – pull the bloody place apart.’
‘Wheels are already in motion.’
‘What?’
Mike gave a wide-handed gesture.
‘Langton, he implied the house should have been searched properly as soon as the doll parts were discovered. We didn’t realize they had cut corners so the search team’s going back in tomorrow morning. Crime Scene Manager’s going to keep an eye on them.’
‘Good, but he should have been there to supervise the first search.’
‘Langton had a lengthy conversation with our Joan and she brought him up to date. I’ll give him a visit tonight; let him know we have identified the recovered body as Fidelis.’
‘Don’t let him use you as his housemaid.’
‘Listen, can you do me a big favour, the Flynn parents are flying in and I’d appreciate it if you could see them over at the mortuary.’
Anna was so wrong-footed she wasn’t sure how to react.
‘But she’s been identified by dental records.’
‘I know, but they insisted. It’s a grotesque sight, and the remains are not recognizable as their daughter.’
‘Okay, what time are they due?’
‘I’ve got a car picking them up from Heathrow and taking them straight to the mortuary, should be there around eight tonight. Barolli left this on my desk. You might want to take it with you,’ Mike said, handing her an evidence bag containing the crucifix and chain.
‘Was this on the body?’
‘Caught in some clothing. Probably Fidelis’s but we need to be sure.’
Anna went back to her desk. It was not yet seven, so she decided to grab a bite to eat, then go straight to the mortuary. Joan and Barbara had already left. Written up on the board were the details of the search teams for Oates’s flat, and she could see ten officers were assigned to the job. She suspected Mike’s budget was going through the roof. She partly wished she had taken the call from Langton. It really irritated her that even holed up unable to walk he was overseeing the cases. Her case specifically.
At eight-fifteen, Anna was waiting in a small ante-room off the mortuary set aside for relatives. By eight-thirty there was still no sign of Mr and Mrs Flynn, and Anna was becoming impatient. What was left of Fidelis’s body was now shrouded in a white sheet and laid out on a trolley in the chapel of rest. All that could be seen of her was a skeletal face and her auburn hair. The mortuary assistant played with the light dimmer in a futile effort to dull the shock that awaited the Flynns before pulling the shroud up over where her face had been.
Anna was about to call flight arrivals at Heathrow when Mr and Mrs Flynn were ushered into the room. Their flight had been delayed owing to fog, and they were very apologetic, but their nervousness made it even more difficult for Anna to prepare them for what they would see. Mr Flynn was a robust man with a barrel chest, and bright very blue eyes; in contrast his wife was ashen-faced, with deep circles beneath her eyes, and she clutched a tissue, close to tears.
In as gentle a way as possible Anna told them how their daughter’s body had been found and that her dental records had identified her. They didn’t interrupt but sat tightly holding each other’s hands. Anna then explained to them that Fidelis’s body was badly decomposed and what they were about to see would not look like the daughter they so lovingly remembered. Mr Flynn put his arm around his wife and said that perhaps it would be best for her to stay in the waiting room.
Mrs Flynn refused, so Anna escorted them into the chapel of rest. It was wretchedly sad as they stood side by side holding each other, both trembling with the anxiety of what was to come. Anna nodded for the assistant to ease away the sheeting from the skull, which he did very carefully, and there was a terrible pause. They did not move closer but remained standing a little away from the body.
‘When they are finished will they let us take her home?’ Mr Flynn asked, and Anna assured him
that it would be arranged. He then gave a small nod of his head, and the sheet was drawn back over what was left of Fidelis Julia Flynn’s head.
They walked slowly back to the waiting room, holding onto each other for comfort. Anna asked if they would like a cup of tea, and they accepted. It was a relief because it meant she could leave them alone for a while. She heard Mrs Flynn begin crying as she closed the door.
Tracking down the tea-making facilities took a while, but at least it gave the Flynns time to compose themselves before the next part of their ordeal.
As they sipped their beakers of tea, Anna took a small plastic evidence bag out of her briefcase.
‘Is this your daughter’s crucifix?’ she asked gently.
They asked if they could take it out to have a closer look. Mr Flynn cupped it in the palm of his hand; the chain was broken in two places. He stared at it, and then held it out to his wife.
‘I’ve never seen this before, have you?’
‘No. I have never seen her wearing this. Is it gold?’ Mrs Flynn touched it lightly with her forefinger. She gave a nervous look at Anna. ‘Do you mind if I pick it up?’
‘Do, please.’
Mrs Flynn held the cross in her hand, turning it over to look at the back; she rubbed it with her thumb, and then chewed at her lips.
‘I don’t think this could belong to her, it’s rolled gold, and she was allergic to anything that wasn’t real gold. You remember the St Christopher?’ she asked her husband.
‘No.’ Mr Flynn watched her as she continued rubbing at the cross.
‘My sister gave it to her for her sixteenth birthday, but it left a terrible rash on her neck just like the swimming medals she won. Doctor said it was the nickel in them that gave her eczema. I tell you it was the same with her pierced ears, they got itchy and started weeping because the posts weren’t real gold . . . It’s the ones where the posts go through the ear I’m talking about.’ Mrs Flynn handed the cross and chain back to Anna.
‘So you never saw her wear this and doubt that she would have worn it?’
‘That’s right.’
Anna replaced it into the small plastic evidence bag. She knew that she had to say something, knew that they would be thinking this meant that perhaps the remains they had just seen were not their daughter’s.
‘I’m afraid the dental records sent from your daughter’s dentist in Dublin were a confirmed match. Also we’ve compared the DNA samples you sent over. I’m very sorry, and if there is anything I can do whilst you are here . . .’
Somehow, through all of this, the couple were able to maintain control over their emotions, impressing Anna with their quiet dignity.
As soon as she got home, Anna called Barolli, who had been to see Fidelis’s boyfriend Barry Moxen, the nurse at Charing Cross Hospital, about the crucifix; she repeated the concerns of Mr and Mrs Flynn.
Barolli said that he had shown Moxen some photographs of the crucifix and although not one hundred per cent certain he ‘thought’ that it did belong to the victim.
‘Thought isn’t good enough, Paul, you have to go back with the actual crucifix itself and get him to look at it, also go to the ex-boyfriend who worked at the garage and her flatmates and see if they recall her wearing it.’
‘Right, will do, have you still got it with you?’
‘Yes, I’ll bring it in first thing in the morning; you do realize the importance of this, don’t you?’
‘Course I do – if she wasn’t wearing it, then it could belong to the killer.’
‘Exactly.’
She replaced the phone, and closed her eyes, sighing. Nothing she knew about Henry Oates led her to believe that he would wear a crucifix, let alone a cheap rolled-gold one. The chain was broken, as if it had been snapped, the tiny links flattened. She knew if it had not been worn by Fidelis, or Oates, then they would have yet another massive round of enquiries to trace its origin, unless they struck lucky and got a hit for Oates with the DNA swabs taken from it. But if the DNA on it was unknown, or absent altogether, Anna knew it would open up the door for Kumar to allege that Oates was not their killer.
Chapter Eleven
It was mid morning and Anna was in the incident room with Mike Lewis, going over the details of her meeting with Mr and Mrs Flynn and the conversation about the crucifix. Paul Barolli entered the room looking annoyed and slammed the crucifix in its plastic evidence bag on Anna’s desk.
‘Bloody Moxen. Now he’s seen the real thing he’s not so certain. I pressed him on it and he came out with a load of crap about another girl he knew who had a similar one that was silver.’
‘Thanks for going back to him,’ Anna said.
‘It doesn’t get any better. While I was out I also visited the other ex-boyfriend who worked in the garage and her former flatmates. Not one of them recognized the crucifix as ever being worn by or belonging to Fidelis.’
‘Well, the plus side is that it’s now more likely that it belonged to Oates himself,’ Anna reminded Paul.
‘Yeah, but the lying bastard is never going to admit that, and there was no DNA on it.’
‘So we keep digging until we find the connection,’ Mike said in an effort to lift Paul’s mood.
Mike asked Joan if she had spoken with the Polish worker Pavel who had supervised Oates at the work site.
‘Yes, guv, and he’s been very helpful and given us a list of contracted and casual labourers who worked on the car park. Barbara and I are trying to track them down.’
‘Good. So we can ask them if they knew Oates and if he ever wore or had a crucifix like the one that was recovered,’ Mike said with enthusiasm before Barbara interjected.
‘Well, tracking them down is not proving as easy as it sounds, bearing in mind they are all now on different jobs, moved house or gone back to God knows where in Eastern Europe!’
‘Keep up the enthusiasm, Barbara,’ Mike said as he walked off towards his office.
Barbara looked at the others, who were now all laughing.
Anna anxiously checked the time, as she knew that Samuels would have received the DVDs and documents Mike had sent to him by now and she was eagerly awaiting his reply.
Barbara handed to Barolli the details to be passed on to the officers checking out the crucifix.
‘It’s unbelievable, they’re all working in different parts of London or have gone home to Poland,’ Barbara went on. ‘Personally I think it’s a waste of time. I mean, it could have been dropped there by anyone.’
‘Not at all,’ Anna snapped. ‘On the contrary, it could prove to be invaluable evidence. In case you are not aware of it, Barbara, the crucifix was found snagged to clothing on the body. So it coincides with her body being carried and dropped into the lift shaft, and the cement being poured on top of her at the same time, all right?’
She got up and put her coat on. Sometimes it really ratted her, not having her own office so she could have time alone.
‘Where you off to?’ Barolli asked.
‘Going over to see how the search is getting along.’ She had a good idea that they’d be talking about her as soon as her back was turned, but the reality was, the Rebekka Jordan case was now very much lagging behind the discovery and identification of Fidelis Julia Flynn. Although she had uncovered new evidence, there was still no tangible proof that Oates had abducted Rebekka. No witnesses. No sign of the Jeep. Even then they had no sighting of him driving it, they could only assume he’d stolen it.
The police vans were lined up outside the house. The team had already started the second search, this time lifting floorboards and taking down false ceilings. A few neighbours stood watching the comings and goings, and two of the officers were standing outside in white suits drinking coffee.
When Anna showed them her ID, one smiled, suggesting she use a face mask as there was a really pungent stink inside, especially in the basement. She hesitated.
‘Pungent?’
He put up his hand, and said it was not the smell of a de
caying body, that smell was different. This, he said, was sewage.
Anna carefully stepped inside the hallway; floorboards had been lifted up and stacked, leaving a narrow passage. The search teams were literally ripping the house apart, dismantling all they could find in every room. It was hazardous walking around and Anna knew she should have worn a hard hat, but it was too late now. She turned back to the hallway and then through a narrow door heading down into the basement.
The stench was disgusting – urine and sewage; it was a filthy hovel. As the officers were busy, she tried to not get in their way. The main room where it appeared Oates had slept and lived had already been searched, as the floorboards lay stacked against one wall by a filthy floral bedhead. The iron bed was turned on its side, the springs showing the rusted frame, since the mattress had been taken to the lab. Cardboard boxes contained broken mugs, teapots, and plates. She could see a dresser with its drawers hanging open, and a broken mirror, which was part of the wardrobe door.
Anna had seen, and smelt, enough, so she spoke with the Crime Scene Manager to make sure the search was done properly this time then left the officers to get on with it. The fresh air outside came as a huge relief. Opposite was a terraced house, the garden of which had been paved over to use as car parking. A Ford Escort was parked on it, and the gates closed. She crossed the street, glanced back towards the derelict house, then looked up to the curtained windows. No other house on the terraced side had gates; this had to be the one with the ‘helpful neighbour’.
Anna unhooked a gate, closed it, and walked up the neat paved drive to the immaculate front steps and dark green front door. She rang the bell, observing a notice for no circulars above the letterbox. Two clean empty milk bottles stood by the thick doormat.
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