Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1) (22 page)

Before midnight Julie quietly left him sleeping, collected together her things and, with little interest in her surroundings, dressed and let herself out into the winter’s night.

*

Romney woke early as was his custom. He lay in his bed pondering the previous evening. He had no regrets, other than the gentle throbbing at his temples, for how things had gone. Elaine Davies had needed the company, Marsh had gone up in his estimation and Julie, in his own mind at least, had become a force in his life. The evening had been a release and would stay with him as something good and unexpected.

He ordered a taxi, had a long shower, his coffee and toast. He thought about ringing Julie, but settled on a text in which he hoped to strike a balance between suggesting something of his gratitude for the previous evening and something of his growing affection for her.

*

Despite having to retrieve his vehicle from the car park of The Connaught, Romney was still first into the squad room. Another pile of largely pointless bureaucracy awaited his attention.

Marsh arrived soon after. Romney beckoned her in. ‘Thanks for coming to the rescue last night.’

‘No problem, sir. I had a good evening. Should have all samples of people who work at the garage taken by lunch time today. Diane Hodge in forensics has assured me of priority.’

‘Good.’

‘Carl Park doesn’t work there anymore. I’ll have to find him at his home address.’

‘Oh, why?’

‘Mr Patel said he quit. The day after the incident was his last, apparently. Never showed up again and didn’t return any calls.’

‘That’s odd. I didn’t tell you, he was at the funeral yesterday.’ Marsh gave him a look. ‘There were just the four of us: Avery, Park, Elaine Davies and me.’

‘Why would he go to the funeral?’

Romney thought. ‘He said something about liking her. Felt bad about what happened to her.’

‘He’s a strange one.’

‘Well, I doubt very much he’ll give us a match on the saliva sample but you’ll have to eliminate him anyway.’

*

A little after nine o’clock Marsh received a phone call from Jane Goddard. In the early hours of the morning, she had received three photographic images sent to her phone by the rapist. She was calm, but naturally they terrorised her. Goddard read out the phone number they had been sent from. It was different to the one that had been used to send images to Claire Stamp. Marsh arranged to visit her within the hour. But she knew that it was largely just a gesture. As with the number that had been used to send images to Stamp, she was as sure as she could be without knowing it that the SIM card used would be of a similar disposable type and its origin virtually untraceable.

All they got from this was that the rapist must either have a connection to both of the victims, or access to the means by which to get their phone numbers.

Romney discussed with Marsh the comprehensive list that had been compiled of ways to get mobile phone numbers. Now it was confirmed that the attacker had both victims’ numbers it was an avenue of enquiry – no matter how tedious and unlikely to reveal the identity of the attacker – the police had to be seen to be exploring. Both Romney and Marsh had little hope that the perpetrator of the crimes was going to be unveiled so simply.

Marsh got hold of Park’s mother on the third ring. She identified herself and asked to speak to Carl. The surly voice told her that he was in bed. Marsh made it clear that he had better get out of bed and get to the phone. A long couple of minutes later his voice came on the line.

‘Hello.’

‘Sorry to get you out of bed, Carl,’ said Marsh, trying not to sound it. ‘We need you to come down to the station.’

‘Why?’

‘As part of the investigation into what happened at the garage, of course.’

‘I’ve told you all I know.’

‘I know that you have, Carl. It’s something else. Would you like me to send a squad car for you?’

‘No. I’ll call in this morning.’

‘Good. See that you do.’ Marsh hung up, irritated at his response that typified so many of the people she had to deal with: the general public.

She left word with a colleague that when Park showed himself he was to be directed to volunteer a mouth-swab sample. She then left for her appointment with Jane Goddard.

*

Goddard let Marsh into her neat little terraced home. She was understandably and visibly distraught about receiving the images. She showed Marsh through into the kitchen area and passed over her phone. The photographs were all of a similar nature to the ones they had of Claire Stamp – full images of the woman’s bare backside in a cruel and undignified pose.

Marsh felt her spirits sink. ‘Does your husband know?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want him knowing either. This would be too much for him.’ Marsh had been invited to sit at the small circular kitchen table and the woman joined her. ‘We don’t have a perfect marriage. Jeff, well, he doesn’t function properly down there if you know what I mean? It’s not his fault. I love him. I’ll never leave him. It’s why I sleep with Clive. Slept, I should say. I’m not sure that that can carry on now. Just knowing that it happened to me has driven a wedge between me and my husband. He’s so frustrated. It’s like an insult to his injury.’ She gave an ironic smile in response to Marsh’s look. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s men all over. I’m the one who was raped, abused, defiled, humiliated, and he’s the one who’s taking it personally. He can’t help himself. But I don’t want him to know about these.’

‘They’re evidence,’ said Marsh.

‘I know. That’s why I’ve asked you round here. I want this bastard caught. If these can help, well, you know. I can’t keep them on my phone. I can’t risk it and I don’t want to see them. I can send them to your phone. Girls at college swap stuff all the time.’ Marsh nodded. ‘I wouldn’t like to think these would become any sort of police station amusement. My sister’s husband was a copper. I know some of the things that go on.’

‘Not in our station, they don’t Mrs Goddard. You have my word these will only be used in conjunction with our attempts to apprehend the perpetrator of the crime. If the day ever comes when they might be needed as some kind of evidence, I will speak to you before we do anything.’

‘That’ll have to do then.’

The woman’s face was grim as she went through the motions of sending the offensive images: the scenes of her rape. When it was done and Marsh confirmed that they had been received, Goddard deleted them from her own phone.

‘If I get anymore, I’ll contact you and only you.’

‘Of course. Thank you, Mrs Goddard. We are doing everything that we can to find this man.’

*

By late morning Marsh was back at the station. After speaking with Romney, it was agreed that the images should be file transferred from her phone to the computer in Romney’s office. From here they would print out images to be kept on file. The images relating to Claire Stamp’s attack were still kept only on her phone, which was in an evidence bag. These too were to be uploaded to Romney’s computer for safe-keeping and hard copies printed off for the record. It was not something that Romney found himself comfortable having to do, so he left Marsh with the task and the privacy of his office and his printer.

Marsh went to grab a coffee to sustain her through it. On the way to the machine she met DC Spicer, the officer who had been delegated to supervise the taking of a mouth-swab sample from Park when he showed his pimply face.

‘That boy, show up, yet?’ she said.

‘Park? Yes, Sarge. What a wet one he is. When I told him we wanted a sample, I thought he was going to faint on me. Moaning he couldn’t stand needles.’ Spicer shook his head in memory of the youth. ‘He did the mouth-swab, though it seemed to make him just as miserable.’

Marsh was engrossed with leads and technology when the phone rang on Romney’s desk making her jump. ‘DI Romney’s office.’

‘Hello, is that Sergeant Marsh?’

‘It is.’

‘Diane Hodge, forensics. Is the inspector there, please?’

‘Sorry, he’s not,’ Marsh could imagine the pained disappointment on the features of the young SOCO.

‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

‘Can I help you?’ said Marsh.

‘We’ve finished all the tests on the petrol station employees. And we have a match with the saliva sample that we lifted from the top of the contraceptive packet.’

***

11

‘What?’

‘That’s what she said, sir.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

Marsh had a fifteen minute advantage on Romney’s incredulity. She had experienced the same reaction herself, only to be categorically assured by the forensic officer that there was no doubt.

‘She said his sample and the sample from the condom packet recovered on the night were a perfect DNA match.’

‘How the hell? Where is he?’

‘He left the station after giving his sample. As soon as I heard from forensics, I came to find you. DC Spicer said he was reluctant when he found out what we wanted from him.’

‘Find him. Get him back here and call me the moment you do.’

For the first time since she’d been at the station she saw Romney approaching real anger.

Marsh rang Park’s home number. Again the mother answered. Again she was testy. Carl hadn’t returned home, she said. Marsh coerced his mobile phone number out of the woman and tried it. It rang a dozen times without answer.

Marsh had tracked down some photographic quality paper and using the printer in Romney’s room finished churning out the pornographic glossy A4 images of the two rape victims. She gave them a cursory glance. Gawping at them alone made her uneasy. She scribbled on the back of each, separated them with sheets of ordinary paper and slid them into the file. She tried Park’s phone again. It was ringing as the DI came back into his office.

‘Got him?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ve got his number, but he’s not answering. His mother said he hasn’t been home. I’ve printed off the images of Claire Stamp and Jane Goddard. They’re in the folder on your desk.’

Romney looked at it as though it might bite him. He opened a drawer and hid it away. ‘Ring the mother again. Find out where he could be. Go round there if you have to. I want him in here this afternoon.’

*

Marsh returned to the station with Carl Park just over an hour later. She hadn’t given him any idea of what the DI wanted to talk to him about.

Having phoned ahead to let the DI know she’d caught up with him at his home and was bringing him in, Marsh knew to lead the lanky youth up through the building and to Romney’s office where he was waiting for them.

Romney looked up from the file he was studying when Marsh tapped on the glass. He fixed a smile for Park and waved them in. ‘Hello, again, Carl. Sit down.’ Marsh positioned herself off to one side, but with a clear view of the youth’s face. ‘Sorry to drag you back in like this, but we have a bit of a complication I hope you can clear up for us.’ The youth stared intently at the DI. ‘Do you remember that I asked you if you knew of any hanky-panky going on in the back room of the petrol station?’ Park nodded. ‘You told me no. Do you remember that?’ More nodding. ‘Do you know what happens at a crime scene when a serious crime has been committed, Carl? A team of specially trained people go in there and they scour it for evidence that could help bring someone to account for that crime. That’s what happened after Claire Stamp was raped. The team that went in there, Carl. They found something we believed could help us find whoever did it: a clue, evidence. They found the top off a condom packet.’ The officers were to agree later that Park’s face altered colour at this point to be more in tune with a fluorescent lighting bulb than a human being. ‘It appears that whoever opened that packet did it with their teeth. We know this because they left traces of their saliva on it. Guess whose saliva matches that trace exactly, Carl?’

‘I want a lawyer,’ said Park. ‘I’m not saying a word without legal representation.’

Romney looked seriously at the lad. ‘Are you sure?’ He nodded and Romney realised that he shouldn’t even try to press him further. ‘Take him downstairs, Sergeant. Book him in and get him the duty solicitor. Let me know when all’s ready.’

Romney didn’t take his eyes off Park as Marsh led him away.

Marsh was back inside thirty minutes. ‘They’ll ring us when he arrives.’

‘What do you make of that?’ said Romney.

‘I don’t know what to make of it, sir. He’s not the rapist. His sample doesn’t match the sample taken from Jane Goddard’s body. He’s scared though.’

‘He’s been watching too much bloody TV. All that I want a lawyer crap. That boy is trying my patience, Sergeant. And I’m not in the mood for it.’