There came a tap on the door and DC Harry Slade appeared on the threshold.
‘Come in, Slade,’ said Melton. ‘Did you have any luck?’
‘Yes sir, we’ve established positive fingerprint ID. Do you want details?’
‘I most certainly do.’
‘Well, sir, the flat was remarkably spotless, but Graham recovered hair from the shower waste. The only prints we could find were on the suitcase handles—which I photographed, naturally. Realising it might turn out to be important, we locked and sealed the flat and came back here. To save time, we downloaded, ran for a computer match and got a result in next-to-no time. Here’s the printout sir. As you can see, sir, the prints match those taken from the body before it went to the mortuary.’
‘Well done, Harry. Now we really can get cracking. Providing there’s nothing pressing, I suggest you and Graham call it a day…’ he turned questioningly towards DS O’Connor, who nodded ‘…and carry on at the flat in the morning.’
‘Yes sir, thank you. I’ll go and tell Graham,’ said Slade and started towards the door.
‘Hold on a second. Before you knock off, take the hair to Forensics and tell Ferguson I want it compared immediately with the sample from the body. He’ll tell you he’s too busy, most likely, so tell him if I don’t hear from him within thirty minutes, I’ll come over there and confiscate his bloody microscope!’
It was 6.40 p.m. when Albert Ferguson knocked on Melton’s door.
‘The hair samples, Inspector—they seem absolutely identical. The microscope rarely lies, but to be absolutely certain I recommend DNA profiling. Would you like me to do the necessary?’
‘Yes please, Albert.’ Melton smiled to himself. Ferguson loved his microscope. On August 1st, just after 9.00 a.m. Melton briefed Detective Chief Superintendent Jarvis. Press policy was agreed, discretionary authority for overtime was granted and, later that morning, Melton organised a brief statement:
SURREY CONSTABULARY—SURBITON DIVISION
PRESS RELEASE No. 6729
Thursday, 01 AUGUST 2002
Acting on information received, investigating officers made progress towards establishing the identity of the young woman whose body was unearthed at Rodene Close, Esher, sixteen days ago.
Details of the injuries inflicted on the victim cannot be revealed without risk of compromising the investigation, but were of such a nature as to render formal identification difficult, if not impossible.
For this and other legal reasons and pending the outcome of further tests, the victim’s name cannot yet be released, but may be made known shortly. A reconstruction of the murdered woman’s last known movements is planned, at which time media publicity will be sought and gratefully acknowledged.
The statement was issued at 11.00 a.m. Newsmen pressed for further information, but were refused.
Moves to secure legal waiving of formal identification began. Having demonstrated a rapport with key witness Jennifer Montague, it became DS O’Connor’s brief to take her formal statement and establish Malandra Pennington’s known acquaintances to the best of Miss Montague’s knowledge and recollection. He was to set up a register and arrange for each to be traced, and to update the register as and when further names emerged. The objective was to interview every single one of Malandra’s work mates, friends, neighbours and acquaintances.
Later still, Robert Strudwick was brought up to date. He made a number of telephone calls…
04 August: DNA tests proved positive. Tissue from the corpse, blood from the anorak, hair from the cadaver and Malandra Pennington’s flat, all matched and were therefore from the same person. The Body in the Garden was, without question, Malandra Pennington, aged eighteen.
Formal identification no longer seemed necessary—much to DS O’Connor’s relief. But the ultimate legal responsibility rested with the coroner. The matter must therefore wait for a decision at the Coroner’s Inquest when convened.
Unannounced (but not unexpected) DI Melton called at Charlesworth’s sales office. He introduced himself and asked to speak to the salesperson on duty over the weekend of the thirteenth and fourteenth of July.
‘That would be me, Detective Inspector. I’m Tobias Charlesworth, Sales Manager.’
‘You seem very sure, Mr Charlesworth. Haven’t you any other sales staff?’
‘Yes, Inspector—part-timers, weekdays only. Our regular salesman walked out at the end of June—and left us in the lurch. Experienced staff are difficult to find, so I cover weekends myself.’
‘I see—but every weekend, Mr Charlesworth? That seems rather hard—your wife must be very understanding. Let’s hope you find someone suitable in the very near future.’
‘Thank you, but it’s not a problem—I’m not married. Now, what can I do for you, Inspector?’
Melton looked meaningfully towards an office at the rear. ‘Can we talk in private?’
‘Certainly. This way, Inspector.’
Preceding Melton into the office, Charlesworth cleared a space on the desk and sat down, indicating a chair directly opposite. Melton observed Charlesworth carefully.
‘We are investigating the disappearance of Miss Malandra Pennington who, we have reason to believe, is a client of yours. Is that correct, Mr Charlesworth?’
The salesman didn’t turn a hair.
‘Not exactly, Inspector. we haven’t sold her a car—yet. But I certainly remember her—a very pretty girl. She came in—let me see—’ (he turned the pages of a desk diary)—‘ah, yes, June eleventh—oh, and again on the twenty-sixth. She was looking for a 1300 Astra under three years old and wanted to part-exchange a worn-out 1988 Mini Traveller which, quite frankly, we wouldn’t touch although I couldn’t hurt her feelings by saying so. Recent one point threes are like gold-dust, Inspector. We haven’t handled one in months.’
Melton’s dislike of the man deepened. He bridled.
‘I had better warn you, Mr Charlesworth, this is a murder investigation. Miss Pennington disappeared on Sunday the fourteenth of July and her body was found buried in a local garden the following day. The case has been particularly well publicised. Am I to believe you’ve heard nothing about it?’
‘Oh, was that the same Miss Pennington? I didn’t realise. Yes, I did read something about it now you come to mention it. Terrible shame, lovely girl. But what’s all this to do with me?’
The man’s expression revealed nothing. Salesman—or consummate liar and gifted actor? Melton decided to put on pressure.
‘Mr Charlesworth,’ he said, sternly, ‘we have every reason to believe Miss Pennington called at these premises the day she disappeared—Sunday fourteenth July, to look at a Vauxhall Astra…’
How the hell did they find out? He said no-one would ever know!
‘…and I’m not satisfied you are telling me the complete truth. Perhaps we should continue this interview at the station.’
‘If you like, Inspector.’ Charlesworth shrugged, apparently unconcerned. ‘But as I’ve already told you, we don’t have an Astra—and you’re perfectly welcome to look at the books.’ So piss off, copper!…
Charlesworth downloaded stock printouts for May, June and July and gave them to Melton, produced the sales ledger from the safe and placed it on the desk.
‘There you are, Detective Inspector … see for yourself—and then can I get on with my work?’
Melton checked. No Astras. Stalemate! He put the printouts in his briefcase and stood up.
‘Thank you for your time, Mr Charlesworth. You’ve been most helpful. But hold yourself in readiness,’ he warned, ‘we may wish to talk with you further.’
Tobias Charlesworth also rose, and smiled. ‘Any time, Detective Inspector, any time.’
As Melton drove away, Charlesworth slumped in his chair, drained. God, what a mess. Why did I let him talk me into it? He wanted to ‘surprise the girl’, he said: Christ, some surprise! I’ll have to stick it out,—it would kill Dad if he knew the business was in hock because of me. What�
��s more, one wrong word from me and I’ll also be dead. I know that bastard of old!
Back at Surbiton, DI Melton and DS O’Connor conferred and reluctantly concluded they were no further forward, despite Jennifer Montague’s revelation.
‘I thought we were on to something,’ Melton said, disappointed. ‘Charlesworth admits knowing Malandra Pennington and that she visited his premises on two occasions in June, confirms she was looking for an Astra, but denies seeing her on July fourteenth. He swears he hasn’t retailed an Astra 1300 in months and I couldn’t shake his story. When he produced computer stock-records and sales-ledger to back his assertion, I had no alternative other than to let the matter drop—at least for the time being.’
‘Do you believe him, Guv’nor?’
Melton rubbed his chin.
‘I’m not sure; he’s a cool customer. If we pressure him without any sort of evidence to suggest he’s lying, we might find ourselves facing a writ for unfounded harassment.’
‘What about Miss Montague? Her statement confirms everything she said yesterday. It’s on file, sir, there on your desk. You don’t think she invented that conversation with Malandra, surely? She’s far too level-headed and sensible—I’d stake my life on it.’ O’Connor was unusually vehement.
Absently, Melton picked up the file and put it down again. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but even so, we’ll keep Tobias on ice for the time being. Don’t worry, Ben, our Mr Charlesworth hasn’t heard the last of this—not by a long shot.’
O’Connor frowned, unconvinced.
‘Now listen, Sergeant. Miss Montague’s integrity is not in question, but we must remember the conversation took place before the event and we’ve no proof Miss Pennington actually carried out her intention. I’m sorry, Ben, but in the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary, we’re obliged to give Charlesworth the benefit of the doubt.’
O’Connor was obliged to concede—for the moment. Oh well, he thought, ruefully, another day, perhaps!
Melton picked up the file and began reading. O’Connor waited for him to finish before handing across a typewritten sheet.
‘There you are sir, a list of the murdered girl’s acquaintances, male and female, to the best of Miss Montague’s recollection. Two are middle-aged neighbours, the remainder from the deceased’s and Miss Montague’s age-group—and we’ve two men out interviewing already. Miss Montague also named several children she believes attended school about the same time as Jennifer and mentioned some teachers who might also be able to help.
‘As far as background is concerned, Malandra was an only child. She lost her father as a toddler and her mother died from cancer two years ago. She grew up in Lower Green—incidentally, I suggest we extend house-to-house to cover the whole area, while we’re at it.’
Melton nodded.
‘That’s fine. Do it a.s.a.p. but first, park your tail. I’d like to summarise what we have so far.’
‘Hang on sir, there’s something else. Other than hair and fingerprints, the search of the flat produced little, except mouldering food in a plastic food box inside one of the suitcases which turned out to be the remains of ham salad. I wonder sir,’ he suggested, ‘whether it was intended for Miss Pennington’s lunch, in which case where did the salad found in her stomach come from?’
‘Bought elsewhere, most likely,’ Melton said, absently, and continued with his line of thought. ‘I see from the statement that Miss Pennington planned to travel to Waterloo by train then take a taxi to Kensington. If so, in order to keep a three p.m. rendezvous with Miss Montague, she would need to have left Esher station around one-thirty. Check Sunday train timings, please, Sergeant. It follows that if she actually did call at the garage, it must have been between ten-thirty—the time the place opens, I checked—and twelve forty-five.
‘This narrows the period of her probable disappearance and strengthens my argument for reconstructing her last known movements—I’ll have another word with the Chief. And if somebody in the area just happened to see Malandra anywhere between those times, we’ll have another little chat with Mr Charlesworth and this time, we’ll haul him in.’
‘Good, I’d like to be in on that, sir.’ O’Connor responded, then added, ‘There was one other thing. It may not be important, but Miss Montague happened to mention that Miss Pennington was shy and had few boyfriends. She was extremely attractive—Miss Montague was not a little envious—and although there were plenty of admirers sniffing around, few got further than a trip to the pictures and a quick snog.’
‘That’s interesting—might even come in useful,’ Melton remarked, thoughtfully. He rose and checked his watch. ‘Four-thirty,’ he said. ‘Press briefing at five. Coming?’
‘No, sir, not unless you need me. I’ve still a mountain of paperwork to plough through.’
‘OK, you carry on. I’ll go to see the Chief and catch up with you later.’
During a major investigation, every day was a working day. The press-briefing did more than simply revive media interest, it brought it to life with a vengeance. There came a flurry of sightings and demands for information on a scale unprecedented, keeping telephone operators busy until well after midnight.
Melton stopped for a newspaper on his way to headquarters and picked up a copy of Mail on Saturday, struck by the double headline which thundered across the front page. He returned to his car, and read:
BODY IN GARDEN MURDER –
MYSTERY GIRL IDENTIFIED!
TRAGIC VICTIM MALANDRA PENNINGTON,
EIGHTEEN
Last known movements of beautiful blonde
—re-enactment planned.
Police hunting killer to seek witnesses
Following yesterday’s dramatic announcement naming the Body in the Garden victim, the last-known movements of beautiful blonde Malandra Pennington of Esher are to be re-enacted on Sunday 11th August, four weeks to the day the attractive young woman disappeared.
Detective Inspector Melton, CID, the officer heading the investigation, revealed that a friend of Miss Pennington returned from holiday on 31st July and reported Malandra missing.
Asked to name the mystery witness, Inspector Melton refused to be drawn, raising the possibility police fear for the safety of Miss Pennington’s friend, who may unwittingly hold the key to the killer’s identity.
It is further believed injuries to the girl’s body were so horrendous as to render identification impossible. Exhaustive tests, including DNA profiling, were carried out to establish beyond doubt the body recovered from Rodene Close in July was Miss Pennington.
Full details regarding the re-enactment will be made public in due course, but in the meantime, anyone who saw Malandra Pennington in Esher on Sunday 14th July should contact the police immediately. Police would also like to hear from anyone who knows of someone who may have had reason to harm Miss Pennington or wish to see her dead.
‘Flaming reporters!’ O’Connor remarked, returning the newspaper. ‘They always manage to print more than is actually said.’ He tapped the paper. ‘I’d bet a pound to a penny you didn’t even mention the girl’s injuries, much less anything about formal identification.’
Melton merely shrugged, resignedly.
‘It’s the nature of their business, Ben. They become expert at reading between the lines. It can be irritating but they do have their uses, so we learn to live with it.’
He folded and returned the newspaper to his briefcase, effectively closing the subject.
Response to the appeal was remarkable. Lines into police headquarters came alive a little after 8.00: Malandra Pennington, it seemed, had been spotted in places from as far afield as Aberdeen, Norwich and Exeter. Five sightings were logged before ten and a further six were to follow, bringing the day’s total to eleven. Each would be checked, none dismissed out of hand.
Disappointingly, just two informants claimed to have seen Malandra Pennington in Esher on Sunday July 14, and arrangements were put in place for interviews to be conducted forth
with.
Detective Chief Superintendent Jarvis stormed in and buttonholed Melton. He tossed Weekend Guardian on the desk, its front page remarkably similar to Melton’s paper. Angrily, Jarvis singled out two particular paragraphs that read:
Detective Inspector Melton, CID—the officer heading the investigation, told our reporter that a friend of Miss Pennington returned from holiday to find Miss Pennington missing, heard about the Body in the Garden murder and called the police.
Although Inspector Melton seemed reluctant to name the witness, it subsequently became known that the person was Miss Jennifer Montague, aged nineteen, also of Esher.
Jarvis positively fumed. ‘Exactly how do you suppose the press got hold of that little snippet, Inspector?’
Melton reddened. ‘I’m sorry sir, I really don’t know,’ he said, ‘but it certainly didn’t come from me. I can only assume somebody informed the reporter of Miss Montague’s round-the-clock protection.’
‘Oh,’ grunted Jarvis, ‘suppose I should have realised…’ He subsided, but with very bad grace.
A few minutes later, the Chief Superintendent left for his Saturday round of golf. With him safely out of the way, Melton and his assistant put their heads together. They went over the forthcoming reconstruction in detail and agreed that O’Connor should invite Jennifer Montague to stand in for her murdered friend rather than enlist the services of a policewoman. Dark-haired Jennifer would need a wig, but she resembled Malandra in build and would be familiar with both her walk and her mannerisms.
Shortly afterwards, Melton tilted his chair backwards and rested his head against the wall.
‘I’m hopeful the re-enactment will jog a few memories, Ben, but we have to be realistic. Three weeks have elapsed since the girl was killed and whatever trail the killer left behind will long since be cold.’ Pausing to collect his thoughts, he went on, ‘We’ve made progress, but too many questions remain unanswered—not least, the sort of man we’re up against. Doctor Matthews’ analysis may prove useful; just how remains to be seen. The killer seems to have disappeared like a puff of smoke, yet he was a local man—he has to be! I can’t help but wonder about the combination of circumstances which allowed the girl’s absence to go unnoticed, and I ask myself, “Did luck favour the killer or was the killing the end-product of masterful planning?” Witness the false trail, the blood-stained anorak, the footprint, the trainers. But whichever way you look at it,’ he concluded, ‘nothing we do can make up for the fortnight we lost between Malandra’s death and Jennifer’s return from holiday.’
The Flyleaf Killer Page 13