Barbara said their accounts of the evening matched Oates’s description of seeing the group of girls leaving the pub just
after closing time, but if Justine had been going to get her own taxi home it seemed strange that she should start to walk up the road as Oates had described. Mike wondered if yet again Oates was
lying and he had in fact hit her over the head and dragged her into the van whilst still in the Eagle car park.
Barolli had obtained a search warrant and gained access to Henry Oates’s property. It was a basement squat in a run-down Victorian terraced house and was only three miles
from the estate in Hackney. Although the present owner wanted to demolish it he was unable to do so due to a preservation order and the premises had not been lawfully occupied for six years. The
owner didn’t actually object to the squatters as he hoped it would encourage the council to lift the preservation order. The three rooms used by Oates were filthy and stank of stale food and
urine. A team of forensic officers began the careful search for evidence.
The wardrobes were full of dirty clothes and boots and there appeared to be no clean laundry. The single bed was disgusting, with filthy sheets and blankets heaped on a bare mattress. They did
find numerous items of women’s clothing in a black bin liner and these were removed for further examination. The bathroom contained worn, dirty towels and a shower curtain grey with a hideous
residue of grime hanging limply over a brown-stained bath. The toilet looked as if it had been out of order for some time; the bowl stank and the chain to flush it was broken. The team found
numerous knives in the small kitchen annexe, plus a carpenter’s bag that contained hacksaws and hammers and two large sharpened screwdrivers. These were also taken away to be tested by the
forensic team. The overpowering smell in the kitchen came from fifteen beer bottles lined up by the back door; they all contained urine. Opening the back door there were even more bottles, which
were smashed, and the officers could only presume that Oates had used them to piss into as his toilet was broken.
‘What an absolute shithole,’ Barolli told Lewis. ‘Toilet full of piss and crap, not to mention the floor and—’
‘For Chrissake, I don’t need any more description, Paul. The guy is a pig and obviously lived like one,’ Mike said, shaking his head.
‘They got bags of stuff to be sifted through at the forensic lab. Poor bastards’ll need to wear masks, everything stinks,’ Paul further informed Mike, who walked off into his
office.
As Lewis and Barolli prepared for a further interview with Oates, Joan again spoke with missing persons, hoping to identify the woman called Julia that Oates said he had killed
over a year ago, but as yet they had not found a match. Mike gave instructions for Joan to continue pressing them for a result and asked what she had found out about Oates’s background.
She’d discovered from her enquiries with Jobseeker’s that he was unemployed and living on benefits. He had worked spasmodically at various building sites as an unskilled labourer, but
had been in and out of work for many years. He was divorced and his wife and their two children had returned to live in Scotland eight years ago.
Mike Lewis and Paul Barolli questioned Oates for the second time with Adan Kumar, his solicitor, present. Oates was delighted that they wanted to speak with him again and he
seemed in an almost euphoric mood. Mike went over the Justine Marks murder first but Oates calmly and firmly maintained that her death was an accident and he had never meant to hurt her, repeating
that she had come on to him for sex. When Mike informed Oates of his visit to the mortuary, the bra round Justine’s neck, her head injury, torn clothing and the bruising consistent with rape,
Oates accused him of lying and trying to fit him up with murder. He then started spurting out one name after another, saying they were all well-known cases where the police had ‘stitched them
up’. Mike had never heard of any of the names and Oates was rambling so fast that he and Barolli had difficulty in following what he was saying. Realizing that he was not going to budge on
Justine’s death, Mike was content that Oates’s performance would show a jury he was a conniving but not a very convincing liar.
Mike now moved on to the disappearance of Rebekka Jordan. No sooner had he mentioned her name than Oates became noticeably irritated, chewing his bottom lip and repeatedly beating his right foot
on the floor like a distressed animal. Mike asked him if he had abducted and killed her. Oates snapped back that what he said before was all bullshit and made up ‘for a bit of a laugh’
and he knew Rebekka Jordan’s name because of all the news coverage the case had received. When Mike asked why he had suddenly become so upset and defensive, Oates replied it was because he
knew that the police would try and fit him up with the Rebekka Jordan murder as well.
Mike Lewis walked away from Oates sickened, but determined to put the loathsome creature away for the murder of Justine Marks. He also intended to thoroughly investigate the
other cases. The CPS gave the go-ahead to charge Oates with the murder of Justine Marks and so he appeared at the magistrates’ court the next morning. Kumar made no application for bail and
Oates was remanded in custody in Wandsworth Prison to await trial for murder. Mike, who had attended the hearing, took the CPS solicitor aside to tell her about Oates’s admissions regarding
Rebekka Jordan and the girl called Julia, and that he would be making further enquiries.
Back at the incident room, Joan informed Mike that there were a few possible hits about Julia from ‘Mispers’ and that Barbara had gone over to their offices to get
copies of the reports. Meanwhile, the Rebekka Jordan case file and Langton’s investigation report had been collected from archives overnight and were in his office.
Mike was taken aback. The thick file of documents for the Jordon case made it obvious that Langton had left no stone unturned. After nearly two years of enquiries with hundreds
of statements, Langton had been unable to uncover a suspect. Rebekka Jordan had disappeared after taking a riding lesson at her local stables in Shepherd’s Bush. She was last seen on CCTV
footage walking from the stables towards Shepherd’s Bush Tube Station, wearing a backpack believed to contain her riding hat. There were no blackmail notes, no calls and no sighting of the
little girl, even after the extensive press coverage and television crime show requests for anyone with information to come forward. Thousands of photographs of Rebekka had been posted up by her
family as well as the police, along with a description of what she was wearing the last time she had been seen: a yellow polo-neck sweater, jodhpurs, a riding jacket and black boots. All these
items of clothing were replicated for a reconstruction using a lookalike girl to re-enact her last walk from the stables. Again, it had brought in no useful information. Rebekka had disappeared
without trace.
Mike Lewis was totally drained after looking over the files that now covered his desk for nearly three hours. Was it possible that Henry Oates was telling them the truth? Had
he been involved in the murder of Rebekka Jordan, or was he making up the details in some sick game that he wanted to play with them? There was a knock at his door and Paul Barolli entered.
‘We were wondering what time you wanted to call it a day. A few of the team have evening arrangements, it being a Saturday, but I’m up for a pint if you fancy one.’
‘Everyone can knock off at five and then tomorrow I want the case file and statements for Justine Marks put together so we can concentrate on the Jordan case from Monday.’
‘You think he’s bullshitting us?’ Barolli asked, thumbing through a file of witness statements.
‘Christ knows – he clearly lied about how Justine Marks died then says he killed Rebekka Jordan and a Julia who we don’t even know exists yet. To be honest I couldn’t
tell you, but I can’t just ignore his claims, lies or not.’
‘No way you can do that, especially not with the Jordan girl. It’s bloody Langton, Mike, he ran the enquiry into Rebekka Jordan’s disappearance. You’re going to have to
run all this by him.’ Barolli tapped the file in front of him.’ This must have hurt; no result after this amount of work.’
‘Yeah. I know he’s probably hurting right now, he’s just had knee surgery. I don’t even know if he’s out of hospital.’
Barolli grinned. ‘Well that should keep him out of our hair. He’ll come down on this like a ton of bricks. You know him, hates to lose and an unsolved case is always hard to
stomach.’
‘I’ve got to call Hedges first and update him as he’s the boss while Langton’s off sick. To be honest I’d like some guidance from Langton and if this Julia links to
a “Misper” there will be mountains of work, more staff needed and it’s all going to cost.’
‘Fancy that pint then?’
‘No thanks, I promised the wife a bottle of wine and a takeaway curry.’
Mike phoned Hedges, who seemed to be upset that his evening in front of the television was being interrupted. Mike tried to be as brief as he could, going over the salient
points of the investigation so far and requesting more staff. Hedges said that more staff was not an option as Mike had no direct evidence as yet to link Oates to Rebekka Jordan’s
disappearance and as far as he could see the name Julia had just been plucked out of thin air by Oates.
‘DCS Langton was in charge of the original investigation into the disappearance of Rebekka Jordan so I wondered if I should make contact with him about the latest development concerning
Oates?’ Mike asked cautiously, knowing that Hedges and Langton were not the best of friends.
‘That’s entirely up to you, DCI Lewis, but while he is off sick I am in charge of the murder squads so any lines of enquiry he raises will go through me for approval,’ Hedges
curtly replied.
‘Yes, sir, and I’m sorry for bothering you when you’re busy but have you considered getting Sky Plus so you can pause live TV when your viewing pleasure is interrupted?’
Mike asked tongue-in-cheek but his irony was wasted on Hedges who simply put the phone down.
Mike was just switching his office light off when he saw Barbara come through the door, clutching a folder.
‘I’m just off home – I thought you’d be long gone by now.’
‘No, sir, I’ve been at “Mispers” all day looking over files.’
‘The look on your face tells me I’m not going to like this.’
‘Well it’s only a possible, but her name’s Fidelis Julia Flynn, aged twenty-one. She’s originally from Dublin but was living in Kilburn, had ginger hair and has been
missing for about eighteen months.’
‘You said her name was Fidelis.’
‘Yes but all her friends know her as Julia. Told them she preferred it to Fidelis.’ Barbara handed the file over to Mike. ‘“Mispers” made a lot of enquiries, took a
shedload of statements, but nothing, just like Rebekka she disappeared without a trace.’
Mike looked at the young woman’s photograph on the front of the file. ‘In some ways I hoped that Oates was lying. Not because I don’t want another case to investigate, but
it’s the thought that another young girl has probably been beaten, raped, then murdered, leaving a whole family destroyed by one man.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Don’t be sorry, you’re just doing your job. I’ll look over the Flynn file at home tonight.’
Mike checked the time and decided he’d put off the call to Langton until he’d read the Flynn ‘Misper’ file. He also felt way out of his depth, but
wouldn’t want anyone to know it. The Henry Oates investigation could make or break his career. He needed a good night’s sleep to determine how to approach the case because it could
easily spiral out of his control. Mike knew if he was to take on the Rebekka Jordan and Fidelis Julia Flynn investigation as well as that of Justine Marks then Hedges would have to give him a very
big team of officers, even more so as one of those cold cases had been headed up by DCS James Langton.
D
CI Anna Travis was having an enjoyable Sunday morning at her private health club. She had recently taken up a post DCS James Langton had
recommended her for, as DCI in charge of Specialist Casework Investigations running a team of experienced detectives finding new lines of enquiry in unsolved murder cases. Anna was happy in her new
role, particularly appreciating that the hours were not as long as in her previous position and it was rare that she had to work weekends.
After an advanced aerobics class she relaxed in the Jacuzzi and sauna and was looking forward to a light lunch at the club bar followed by a lazy afternoon in front of the television with a
glass of wine and a DVD. Having showered and dressed, Anna checked her mobile, only to discover there were three missed calls from James Langton and a curt text message saying, ‘Where are
you, call me now!’ She was surprised by this and irritated by his intrusion on her day off; she knew he had lately undergone knee surgery and she had a sinking feeling that something had gone
wrong, but she nevertheless pressed the call button. He picked up immediately.
‘Travis! Where the hell are you?’
‘I was trying to relax at my health club. Are you all right?’
‘I need you to come and see me a.s.a.p. I’m at home.’
‘I thought you were in hospital?’
‘No, I checked out yesterday. How long will it take you to get over to me?’
‘Well unless you’re dying I would like to have my lunch first. Is it really that important on a Sunday?’
‘Yes it is and I’ll tell you why when you get here.’
He hung up. Typically brusque without even a hint of why he suddenly needed to speak with her. Anna had not actually seen or spoken with Langton for months and although she was aware he would be
on sick leave for at least eight weeks after his operation, she wondered what could be so urgent that he needed to disrupt her day off.
When Mike Lewis arrived at the station that morning he thanked the team for coming in on a Sunday and immediately put up on the incident board a picture of Fidelis Julia Flynn
that had been taken when she was a bridesmaid at her sister’s wedding. Joan remarked on how much Fidelis had the Celtic look with her curly auburn hair, green eyes, freckles and soft
complexion. Although her innocent beauty was evident it seemed overshadowed and saddened by the thought that Henry Oates had probably murdered her.