After a couple of minutes looking at the computer print out, Doyle programmed Jonathan’s post code into his sat-nav and started the engine.
“Good evening, madam,” said Harrington.
“Good evening, sir.”
“I am hoping to speak to Dr Askew.”
“Dr Reynolds is taking surgery this evening. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t”
“We only take emergencies between eight and ten in the morning. I could make you an appointment for the Monday or Tuesday of the week after next. What did you say your name was?”
“Harrington, DS Harrington.” He placed his warrant card on the reception desk.
“I see.”
“Is Dr Askew available?”
“No, his last appointment was eleven-thirty. After that a drugs rep went through to see him. Dr Askew was gone before twelve-thirty I would think.”
“Is he your average sort of doctor?”
“Well, yes.”
“He gets on well with his patients, does he?”
“As far as I know, I am only the receptionist. I am not privy to what happens inside the consulting room.”
“Receptionists tend to hear things.”
“I really don’t know what you are suggesting. If you have something to say, say it.”
“Does he have a patient called Rashida?”
“Probably, that is not an uncommon name around these parts. Do you have another name to go with it?”
“No, not as yet I don’t. That is what I was hoping you could help me with.”
The receptionist started tapping away at her keyboard.
“I have three, but I’m not sure I should give you their full names. I should check with Dr Reynolds first.”
“I could get them from the NHS database, but this will save me a lot of time.”
“Really?”
“Look, have another look at my warrant card. Make a note of anything you want. If you find out this is not legit, then all you have to do is report it and I’m for the high jump.”
She started to write down the names, double checking the spelling of each.
“Do you think Dr Askew will have gone home?”
“I am not aware of him being out on his rounds. Here you are.” She tore off a page from a notebook and passed it to him. “What he does after work is his business.”
“What does he do, after work that is?”
“As I just said, that is his business.” Her eyes kept dropping to something Harrington could not see under the desktop. “He doesn’t say much about it at all.”
“Is he married?”
“No, and I get the idea he doesn’t want to be.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“I think his first marriage put him off women. He tends to keep us at arm’s length.”
“Do you think he is gay?”
“No, I am quite certain the Dr Askew is not gay. Now, if you would like to give me that piece of paper back, I have just found a fourth one.”
He gave it back to her. She wrote on it and returned it to him.
“Thank you, it’s been good to talk to you. If Dr Askew does pop back in, don’t mention our little chat, will you.”
“He will not be back tonight.”
Harrington walked down the stairs, quite proud of himself for being so jolly polite throughout the conversation. He had struggled, but he was learning that different courses needed different horses. And every doctor’s receptionist he had ever encountered had ideas above her station.
After ringing Jonathan’s bell several times, Doyle was back in his car trying to decide whether to stay put for a while or to go back to the station. He was just about to phone Collins for a second opinion when he saw a couple approaching in his wing mirror. As they drew close, he realised it was the couple who had leant against the house back in St John’s Wood.
He climbed out of his car and opened the back door. “Would you care to join me?” He opened his warrant card.
“Why?” asked Jonathan.
“You’ve just come from St John’s Wood, haven’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“You may have switched the phone off, but I still have a list of the numbers it has called. It was very active until a dirty great five-year gap, then very recently, one to Latvia, and then yours on more than one occasion.”
“Sounds like a fair cop to me, Anna.”
Doyle looked at Anna. “You are Sue, I presume?”
Anna nodded.
“Don’t look so worried. So long as you have nothing to do with Rashida’s murder, our deal still stands.”
“I want to tell you. I need to tell you. Have you arrested the horrible doctor?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“You must arrest him.”
“We must talk. Now climb in and let’s go somewhere a bit more comfortable to do so.”
“Somewhere with a tape machine?” said Jonathan.
“That’s right.”
“Are you happy to talk in front of your husband?” asked DC Muirhead.
“We have no secrets, Raymond knows all about my first marriage. We have to be open with each other. I couldn’t go through all that again.”
“All what, Mrs Challow?”
“Should I start at the beginning?”
“Wherever you think is most appropriate.”
“Has Freddy abused another young girl?”
“No. We are looking into the backgrounds of a number of people that may be connected to a case on our books at the moment. I emphasise the word ‘may’.”
“What do you need to know?”
“Why did you separate?”
“Because of his fixation with young girls, that’s why.”
“Would I be right in thinking you started divorce proceedings after the allegation.”
“Yes. If it had been just that, I’m sure we could have worked through it.”
“I sense a ‘but’.”
“People have more sex in the first year of marriage than they do in all the subsequent years put together, isn’t that what they say?” She expected Muirhead to respond. When she didn’t, Mrs Challow continued. “We didn’t want our marriage to be like that, so we worked at our sex life. One of the things Freddy liked me to do was to dress up as a schoolgirl, which I had no objection to. I still like to dress up.” Her eyes flicked to her husband. “Just not as a schoolgirl, that’s all.”
“Freddy also never lost his eye for teenage girls. I am not naïve. I think women who try to stop their husbands looking at attractive women are heading for a divorce or a shit marriage. Sorry.”
“That’s alright, I’ve heard a lot worse.”
“All I am trying to say, is that as we got older, I expected Freddy to, well, divert this attention to older women. I guess I wasn’t surprised when he opened up to me that night. He tried not to tell me about it at first, but I knew something was wrong.”
Muirhead raised an eyebrow.
“The poor sod couldn’t perform. We went months without sex.”
“You come across as still having some affection for him.”
“Oh I do. Freddy was a kind loving husband. I doubt if we would have parted if he had been more open about his problem, instead of…”
“Instead of what, Mrs Challow?”
“If you think about it, I had a husband who I knew had a fetish for schoolgirls, and was accused of sexually assaulting one. I had my suspicions that there might be other things I didn’t know about. So I came straight out with it one night. I asked him if his impotence was something to do with his fetish. He burst into tears and eventually confessed everything.”
“Later that evening when he had composed himself a bit, he showed me the DVDs he had. We even watched a bit of one together, it was very cathartic for him. So you don’t get the wrong idea, there was nothing illegal about them. The girls looked young but they were legal R18 videos, the type you can buy in sex s
hops. Freddy is not a paedophile. You don’t suspect him of that do you?”
“No, Mrs Challow.”
“That’s good, because if you did, I would want to speak to a solicitor.”
“I can assure you that we have no suspicions whatsoever about him being a paedophile, far from it.”
“If he did abuse his position with that girl, it would have been a moment of weakness. Oh, I was going to say, he had a portable hard-drive full of the stuff as well. It was the secrecy that got to me, not the kink. I happily pandered to the kink. It was all those hours he spent in his study, pretending to be studying the latest research on this or that medical problem. I could not get his deceitful ways out of my head, that’s what did for us. I felt I couldn’t trust him, and trust is the foundation stone on which all marriages are built. That is why I wanted Raymond by my side this evening. And that’s it, Detective; I have told you everything now.” Her husband put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Can I ask you something a bit personal?”
“Has what I’ve told you not been personal enough?”
“It has, but… Did Freddy play the head teacher when you played the schoolgirl?”
“Did he spank the naughty girl’s bottom? Is that what you are asking?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Sometimes.”
“Did he like to tie you up?”
“Now you are getting personal.”
“Did he?”
“No more than the next man. Doesn’t your boyfriend tie you to the bed now and again?”
“Would you describe Freddy as being into bondage?”
“Oh no, that’s not what you are thinking?”
“What’s that?”
“The girl in the woods?”
“Girls,” injected her husband, “There have been a few of them over the years.”
“Is that the case you are working on?” asked Mrs Challow.
“It is, yes.”
“Freddy wouldn’t do something like that. So to answer your question, Freddy used to tie me to the bed sometimes, and blindfold me. But it was in a very loving way. It was always for my pleasure, not his. He was never rough. Freddy is not a violent man. I do not want to be accused of not cooperating with your enquiries, so let’s get on with it. Ask me what you want to ask me.”
“What did he tie you with?”
“Huh, I don’t think this will help you. He used what can best be described as a joke bondage kit. I gave it to him one Christmas. I bought it from Anne Summers.”
“I see. Did you attend fetish clubs together?”
“No, we did not.”
“Okay, Mrs Challow, thank you for being so honest with me. I know this can’t have been easy for you.”
“I am getting the idea you did not get the answers you were hoping for,” said Mr Challow.
“It’s all information worth having. I was not looking for specific answers, just the truth.”
“And do you think you got that?”
“I do, yes.”
“Well, perhaps you could leave my wife and I to have a quiet cup of tea together.”
“Certainly, sir.” She rose to her feet. “Thank you again, Mrs Challow.”
“Freddy would not kill anyone, Detective, and certainly not like that.”
Muirhead stopped in her tracks. “I am not sure what you mean by ‘not like that’.”
“All I am suggesting is that everybody is capable of committing a crime of passion, given the right circumstances. Freddy is probably no exception, but he would not be capable of premeditated murder.”
“Can I just check, you are not going away in the near future, are you?”
“We have a hotel in Stow-on-the-Wold booked for this weekend. Is that permitted?”
“I have no problem with that.”
“I will see you out.”
“No, that’s okay. You two have that cup of tea you talked about.”
Chapter 18
It was almost eleven-twenty that evening when Anna and Jonathan climbed into the back of a squad car to be taken home. As they did so, Collins was sitting his team down in front of him.
“Quieten down everyone. I want to start with you Chas, have you arrested this Dr Askew by any chance?”
“No, sir, I haven’t. I haven’t even tracked the bastard down.”
“Me neither, guv,” said Cusack. “His recycling bin was outside his house, left like the bin-boys leave bins, but the house was in total darkness until I came away at ten. Walmsley replaced me and reported in at eleven. Askew has still not turned up.”
“Does he have a woman?”
“No. Chas and me have been through all the obvious options while you and Stuart were interviewing the Latvian girl. He could be anywhere, couldn’t he? The cinema, a boozer, the list goes on. Like you say, he is a bachelor now, he might have got lucky.”
“Okay, none of us will leave this building before midnight, just in case he does turn up. How about you Heather, did you dig up any juicy bones?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. As you know, his wife has remarried. To her credit, she was very candid, particularly as her new husband was sitting there.”
“What?”
“I judged that to be the right thing to do, sir. Mrs Challow is not a suspect, I played it by her rules. And as I say, she couldn’t have been more honest about her sex life. I thought that is why you…” She cut herself off.
“You’re right, that is why I assigned you to Mrs Challow. Sorry. Well done.”
“Anyway, sir, it seems our Dr Askew is into young women, but not bondage. I have written it all up if you want to read it, but Mrs Challow said nothing to make me think he is our man.”
“Tomorrow, I will read your report tomorrow. Has anyone got anything else to add that may move us forward?”
He was met by silence; and a chorus of head shakes and pursed lips.
“That leaves Stuart and me then. All we have managed to do is extend the net even wider. It will not surprise you that the Latvian girl is an illegal immigrant. She has brushed up against a prostitution racket or two but managed to keep out of it thus far.”
“I am starting to think we have been barking up the wrong tree, that is why I am getting the vice squad involved tomorrow morning. The evidence we have is flimsy to say the least, but there seems to be a vice undercurrent flowing everywhere we go. We have always entertained the notion that these killings could be related to human trafficking and, or, prostitution, I am now absolutely convinced of it.”
“The Latvian girl bumped into a couple of unsavoury characters on her journey into the country. One is a chap called Dave. He drove her onto the ferry in Calais. We believe him to be from London.”
“Well, that narrows it down,” laughed Cusack. “Does that mean I’m off the case until I can prove my innocence?”
“I’ll put your sarcasm down to tiredness, shall I?”
“Sorry, guv.”
“As I was saying, a possible Londoner called Dave. The chap that drove her off the ferry was a Scotsman who told her his name was Ken. He lives in Glasgow, works in London and has at least one child.”
“She came over on a ferry,” said Harrington. “Get onto it in one car, and off it in another. They’re getting a bit sophisticated, aren’t they?”
“Aye, and they gave her a blonde wig to wear,” chuckled Collins. “Oh, and that’s the other thing, this Dave has a blonde girlfriend called Julie. So that’s you out of the frame Cusack. Now where was I?”
“It might be worth mentioning tomorrow’s mug-shot session, sir,” said Doyle.
“Yes, that’s right. Once I’ve made the arrangements with vice, I’m getting the girl back in to work with them tomorrow. To see if she can’t recognise these two miscreants from some mug-shots.”
“Back in, sir? Have you not banged her up?” asked Cusack.
“She surrendered her passport.”
“That’s the first thing they lose. If she absconds, the next
time she is picked up she will claim to be Ukrainian or something. They will have no record of her and refuse to take her. And with no passport, our immigration officials will have no option but to let her stay in the country.”
“I trust her. In fact, they should make a documentary about her and make it compulsory viewing in schools. The Play Station generation might then realise how well off they are and start pulling their fingers out, instead of their hoodies up.”
“Okay, sir, I’ll shut up now.”
“Who knows, Dr Askew might well be on his way back home as we speak, and may have confessed all before the birds are tweeting away in my back garden. Chas, have you checked if Hetherington-Jones has an alibi for when Rashida met her maker?”
“My old friend Mulvey has done so, sir. But I am still minded to go and have a chat with him myself when I get time.”
“I’m beginning to think we should let that line of enquiry go, Chas.”
“I realise that, sir, but there are still rather a lot of coincidences, aren’t there?”
“Do you mean the geographical coincidences?”
“Yes, I do. One body found in Epping Forest. He used to ride in Epping Forest as a teenager. He discovers the body in Berkshire. He went to Cambridge University and another body turns up in some woods not too far from there. That’s why I wanted to talk to him again, to see if he ever went over Abbotsley way when he was a student.”
“Keep Dr Askew in your sights. Hetherington-Jones can wait a while.”
Anna walked into the police station with a heavy heart. The police woman who picked her up had outlined what was going to happen. First she was to meet a detective who specialised in prostitution within London. After that, she had an appointment with an immigration official. Jonathan had offered to accompany her, but she knew he was desperate to spend some time in his shop.
She had to wait for fifteen minutes before being shown through to a small room where a computer was sitting in the middle of a table against the wall. Two blue, plastic chairs sat facing the computer.
“Hello, Anna. My name is Helen, or DC Armstrong if you prefer to be more formal.”
“Hello, Helen.” Anna’s voice betrayed her apprehension.
“There is no need to be nervous. I will start by asking you to tell me about how the arrangements were made for you to get into England. Not because I am investigating you, but if something sounds familiar to me, I may be able to narrow down the number of photos I ask you to look at. It will be better if I can get it under forty.”
Down in the Woods Page 25