The train had few passengers and they were virtually alone in their carriage.
‘You know this stops off at a shedload of stations?’ he whinged.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s going to take about five hours.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Didn’t the budget run to a plane – only that would have taken a fraction of the time?’
‘I know that, Paul, but by the time we got to Gatwick airport and allowed two hours before the flight took off it’d still be around the same time.’
He was about to argue but thought better of it, knowing it had to be down to the budget.
Anna opened The Times and suggested they not discuss the case until later.
‘Sure, why not. We’ve got five whole hours.’ He sat back in his very comfortable seat and closed his eyes. Anna read the paper, noticing as she turned a page that Paul was fast asleep. She put it aside and stared from the window. They had two days with a stopover in the B&B. She opened her briefcase and took out her notebook, intending to underline what she felt was a priority. But the rhythm of the train made her sleepy and she eventually dozed, resting her head on her arms on the table.
Back at the station, Langton was carefully going over everything on the incident board.
‘This caretaker stroke janitor at Tina Brooks’s block of flats – we have a contact number for him?’ he asked Brian.
Brian nodded.
‘I want to talk to him, today,’ Langton went on. ‘See if he’s available. I also want access to Miss Brooks’s flat, so arrange that at the same time. Unless, I suppose, he might have a master key. Check if he has.’
As Brian drove Langton to Newton Court, Langton grilled him about the breakin at Metcalf Auto garage.
‘The guy who runs it mentioned that he had taken delivery of a soft top for the Merc. Do you know if DCI Travis had it taken in or checked out?’
‘Not sure, Gov. I left her there so she might have looked at it.’
‘We go there next, and I want a visit to the salon.’
‘Right you are.’ Brian drove them into the horseshoe drive of Newton Court. Standing at the front doors was Jonas Jones. He watched them park up and then went inside.
‘Does he have a record?’ Langton asked as they headed towards the reception.
‘Petty theft, couple of prison terms, but nothing for ten years.’
Langton pushed open the doors and headed towards Jonas, who was using a duster-covered broom to sweep around the small entrance area.
‘Good morning, Jonas, I am Detective Chief Superintendent Langton. You got a place we can have a little chat?’
‘No. I only got a broom closet in the hall which is where I keep all the cleaning stuff. I just check the reception area and stairs.’
Langton nodded. ‘You keep it nice and clean.’
‘Thank you. That’s what I’m paid for. When I run out of stuff I phone the landlord and he replaces the Brasso and floor polish. I used to have an electric floor-polisher, but that broke recently and so I do it by hand now.’
‘You know Miss Tina Brooks?’
‘Yes, sir. Well, not know her – just to say good morning to.’
‘What about the other occupants?’
‘It’s about the same apart from Miss Jewell. She often makes me a cup of coffee so I’ve been inside her flat a few times.’
‘Must have had a good chat about the missing bloke, Alan Rawlins?’
‘Yeah, but like me she didn’t know him and she’s up on the top floor.’
Jonas sucked in his breath; he was minus a number of front teeth. He had iron-grey tight curls and his cheeks were sunken. His scrawny body looked as worn as his overalls.
‘What was the gossip?’ Langton asked, offering a cigarette.
‘What?’
‘What did you talk about?’ Langton lit the cigarette for Jonas and himself.
‘Oh, I see. Well, she was interviewed – like me, like all of us – and we talked about that and how we never knew the missing bloke. Just goes to show really, doesn’t it? Living on top of each other like that and never talking.’
‘Did you talk to him?’
‘Not much.’
‘What else do you do round here?’
‘I also sweep up around the garages. I keep all the grounds tidy, cut the bit of grass. We got an empty garage ’cos Miss Jewell doesn’t drive so that’s where I keep the lawnmower and hedge-cutters.’
‘What about the garbage, the bins?’
‘Well, they put their rubbish in them during the week and on a Monday I wheel them out to the front for the binmen. They used to collect twice a week, but now it’s just the once. After they’ve been emptied I put them round the back again. We’ve not got rubbish chutes or anything like that. The tenants take down their own rubbish and they’ve each got an allocated wheelie bin.’
‘Take me round there, would you please, Jonas?’ Langton asked.
Brian was fascinated, listening to Langton’s easy banter with the caretaker, realising he had got a lot more out of him than Travis when she had interviewed him. The pair of them puffing on their cigarettes.
The neat row of big green wheelie bins each had a number on them. Langton tapped the one marked for flat number two.
‘This is Tina Brooks’s, right?’ He lifted the lid and looked inside. There was one black bin liner in there. ‘You ever get any foul smells from one of the bins?’
‘Not really. I mean, I don’t look inside. They always have a bit of a stink as it’s only collected . . .’
‘Once a week – yes, you said.’ Langton closed the lid. ‘You ever feel one or other to be very heavy? Unusually so?’
‘No.’
‘You ever find anything useful to take home with you?’
‘No.’
They headed back to the reception. Langton tossed his cigarette butt aside. Jonas was smoking his down to the cork tip.
‘You took an order of new carpet for Miss Brooks, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir, about a week ago. She was leaving one morning and she asked me to sign for it and take it in as she knew it was being delivered, but wasn’t sure what time.’
‘She give a tip for doing that?’
‘Yes, sir, a tenner because I’d finished up my work and had to hang around waiting for the van, but it arrived at about ten so I didn’t have to wait long.’ Jonas flicked the last remains of the tobacco from the cork and pocketed it.
‘You have keys to the flats?’
‘Yes, sir. I have to have them for emergencies. We had a bath overflow one time a few years back and I had to open up and sort it out. They’d left a tap running – Mr and Mrs Maisell.’
‘But you didn’t deliver the carpet into Miss Brooks’s flat when it arrived; it was left out here in reception, wasn’t it?’
‘That is correct, sir. Reason is I’ve got a bad back and I wasn’t gonna make it worse. It was just here in the reception for when she got home.’
‘So how did she move it?’
‘I don’t know. When I came to work again it had gone. I only work two mornings a week here.’
‘I see. When you were cleaning around the garages, did you meet up with Alan Rawlins at all?’
‘Er, yeah, I did a few times. He was either driving in or out. She kept her car in there, a VW, but sometimes he had one so he would park it directly outside her garage doors or he’d put his car in and hers would be left outside.’
‘How did he seem to you?’
‘He was polite, give me a good tip at Christmas, but I wouldn’t say I ever had a whole conversation with him.’
‘You ever see him with anyone else apart from Miss Brooks?’
‘No.’
‘How about the bloke from flat one, Mr Phillips?’
Jonas shrugged.
‘Don’t like him?’ Langton asked.
‘Well, he’s got a very nice car, a Lotus, and a couple of times he asked me to give it a clean. I don’t have a hose over that way
so I’d give it a polish and I got a small battery hoover so I did the inside for him. He only gave me a fiver and he’s not been here as long as the other tenants so I’ve never really had much to do with him. But like I said, I only did the car a couple of times.’
‘Why don’t you like him?’
‘He’d have to pay more in a car wash, and when I done it the second time I said to him that it would cost him a tenner and he was just edgy with me, said he only had a fiver on him and he’d give me the rest when he next saw me. He never did.’
‘Did Mr Phillips seem friendly with Miss Brooks?’
‘I dunno. They leave for work when I’m here or they’ve already left and I don’t do weekends. Then I’m gone by the time they come home. I know he drinks a bit – lot of empty bottles of wine and vodka in his bin.’
‘Ah, so you do open them and check them out?’
‘No, they were left in a carrier bag beside his bin. We’ve got recycling containers that they’re supposed to put glass bottles and plastic into, but they can’t always be bothered.’
‘Single guy, was his bin full then?’
Jonas shrugged and said he couldn’t remember.
Brian shifted his weight, becoming impatient. So far Jonas hadn’t given them anything new and he wondered why Langton was spending so much time questioning him.
‘Come on, Jonas, give it up. You pick through those wheelie bins, don’t you, see if there’s anything worth taking?’
‘Sometimes, yeah – all right, I do. No harm in it ’cos they’re for the rubbish tips and occasionally there’s been something worth taking home.’
‘Carpet? Did you find any sections of carpet in Miss Brooks’s bin?’
‘Yeah, but not worth taking as the piece was so small. I reckon when she lays the new one she’ll give me the old one.’
‘Anything else?’
‘From hers?’
‘Yes, from Miss Brooks’s bin.’
‘There was some clothes once, but I think they was old ’cos they was in a bin bag.’
Langton looked around casually as if the conversation was finished but then he turned back to Jonas.
‘Men’s or women’s clothes?’
‘Don’t know. I didn’t look real close but I know she has a lot of thick sort of bandages she tosses out.’
‘Bandages? How do you mean?’
‘Like wide elastic ones, but they’re covered in gunge and not worth taking.’
‘Gunge? Like blood?’
‘No, green stuff. It smells a bit rancid, but like I said not worth taking.’
‘The time you found the carpet, Jonas, what else was in the bin?’
‘Bleach cartons – empty. The tenants never toss anything worth my while.’
Langton patted him on the shoulder, thanking him. He then asked to be let into Miss Brooks’s flat. Jonas didn’t hesitate but led them straight to the door and unlocked it. Only then did he ask if this was all right and if Miss Brooks had given her permission. Langton said he didn’t need it as they had a search warrant. Jonas asked if he wanted him to stay as he had another block of flats he was due to clean.
‘You go ahead, I’ll lock up after we leave. And Jonas, thank you for your time. I really appreciate it.’
Jonas hurried back to his broom closet and stuffed his brush and dusters inside. He then got into his beaten-up old van and opened the glove compartment. Tucked inside was the touch-screen mobile phone he had found under the piece of carpet in Tina Brooks’s bin. The battery was dead and he had planned to go to the market near him in Portobello Road to get a new SIM card. Now he thought he would just toss it. He reckoned it had been thrown out by mistake but he wasn’t going to admit he’d got it in case he could be accused of stealing. He had no idea that it was actually Alan Rawlins’s additional mobile used for his gay and business contacts.
Langton didn’t say a word as he examined Tina’s lounge. He moved the sofa aside and inspected the patch cut out from the carpet. He eased the sofa back into position and walked into the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door. Although there had been extensive cleaning after the forensic team had left, there was still a residue of their powders.
He glanced at Brian, muttering, ‘Lazy sods not done a good clean-up, have they?’
He opened the bathroom cabinet that contained rows of hair solutions, hair-dye and shampoos. Moisturisers and face creams were lined up alongside soaps and bath oils. There was also a large can of mechanic’s special soap, the only item obviously connected to Alan Rawlins. In the small drawer under the cabinet were bottles of nail varnish, a manicure set and bottles of vitamins and paracetamol tablets. There was only one battery-powered toothbrush and toothpaste, and in a jar were an array of very clean hairbrushes and combs. He knew they had not found any hairbrush or comb belonging to Alan Rawlins.
Brian stood watching as Langton walked back into the hall and checked the measurement scale markers left on the wall by the forensic team.
‘She’s moved back in, right? So she’s not cleaned up either.’
Next he paused in the doorway of the bedroom and then crossed to kneel beside the bed. He had to push it with his shoulder to move it to show the second section of cut carpet. The bed was bare, with just the base remaining, no mattress or pillows. He lay down on it and had to lean quite far over to see the bloodstained area. He reckoned whoever was killed had to have had his head, neck and the top part of his shoulders over the side of the bed. Could whoever it was have been held down by someone maybe kneeling on his back?
Getting off the bed, Langton opened the wardrobe: there were a lot of dresses and evening clothes, shoes in their boxes, and on a shelf above, some flowery hats.
‘Where is she sleeping?’ Langton asked.
‘There’s a box room next door.’
Langton followed Brian. The small box room had a single bed, which was made up and a duvet cover thrown to one side. There was also the roll of new carpet. Langton lifted it a fraction and found it was, as Jonas had said, heavy. The roll was probably intended to re-carpet the lounge. A fitted wardrobe contained a few clothes, but most of the space was taken up by a box of thick bandages in rolls, each roll fastened with a safety pin. Next to this was another box with containers of seaweed solution in large green cans. He took one out and read the label before replacing it.
‘So she’s sleeping in here.’
‘Don’t blame her,’ grunted Brian, waiting in the doorway as the room was so small. He watched Langton lift the bedcovers to look beneath them and then as he checked through the drawers of a dresser.
‘Nice underwear,’ he murmured, sniffing a lace bra. ‘Shalimar perfume, isn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Brian glanced at his watch.
‘You in a hurry to go somewhere?’
‘No, Gov, just wondered what time it was.’
Langton looked at the top of the dresser, which was filled with make-up and bottles of perfume. He opened one then replaced the top.
‘Shalimar. I was right. Very distinctive smell, sort of old-fashioned, but very pungent.’
‘If you say so. I’ve got a terrible sense of smell.’
‘Right – let’s see the kitchen.’
Brian had to stand and watch as Langton went through every drawer and cupboard, checking all the cans of food.
‘I wouldn’t say she was a good cook.’ He was going through the freezer now. ‘All frozen diet dinners. He was a fitness freak, wasn’t he, Alan Rawlins? This doesn’t look like the kind of stuff he would want to eat: lean cuisine, low-carb spaghetti and meatballs?’
‘I expect she just cooks for herself now.’
‘Yeah maybe.’ He shut the freezer door and then looked into the fridge which contained yoghurts and fruit juices and half a tomato.
‘Any carving knives missing?’ he asked.
‘Nope. There’s a block on the side there, and all the knives are in their slots.’
‘What about tools – any tools in the flat?�
��
‘Didn’t find any.’
Langton opened a closet that contained bleach and cleaning fluids. He dragged out a cardboard box of screws, nails, light bulbs and screwdrivers.
‘Odd? No hammer.’
‘Forensics took it but didn’t find anything on it.’
‘Shame.’ Langton replaced the box and went to close the door, but swung it open again as he noticed an apron and a plastic overall with Tina’s Salon printed on them. The apron looked as if it had never been used, but the overall was stained and smelled of bleach.
‘One more look into the lounge, then that’s it.’
Brian nodded, following behind. Langton squatted down in front of a small bookcase. He carefully checked one title after another. On the top row were mostly chick-lit novels, Martina Cole paperbacks and eight Danielle Steel novels. There were a few books on racing cars, vintage cars and motor-racing manuals. There were also numerous true crime books and one about the latest developments in forensic science. He thumbed through every page of this one. The book did not appear to have been well-read; no corners were turned down, nothing was underlined, and the chapters detailing DNA evidence appeared to be unmarked.
Langton replaced it.
‘Hard to get my head around the fact that Alan Rawlins even lived here. We got his clothes, right – but no shoes. No shaving equipment, no toothbrush, and they found no brush or comb used by him.’
‘That is correct.’
‘You get anything from his work locker?’
‘Nope.’
‘Anything from the garage out back?’
‘Nope. Are you thinking he packed up some of his clothes and stuff and pissed off?’
Langton sighed, shaking his head.
‘Or somebody else packed it for him to look like he pissed off,’ he said grimly, crossing to the small side table close to the large flatscreen TV.
Brian rolled his eyes. He knew the SOCO and lab teams had gone over the flat in detail and he felt this was all a waste of time.
‘Maybe whoever killed him had time to give his possessions a good clear-out,’ he suggested. ‘If Alan was murdered shortly after Tina says she left for work, the killer or killers would have had five or six hours to clean up.’
‘Thank you for that insight, Brian. You have any idea how long it would take to carve up a body, wipe the place down, make up the bed again?’
Blood Line Page 27