Rope Enough - The Romney and Marsh Files #1

  ‘You think that they might strike again?’ said Mrs Roper, bustling back in with a tray of tea things.

  ‘We have to consider that possibility, Mrs Roper,’ said Romney.

  She set the tray down between them and sat on the sofa next to her son.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Roper,’ said Romney. ‘If you don’t mind, we need to chat with Peter, alone. DS Marsh can take care of the tea.’

  Mrs Roper looked momentarily taken aback. ‘Of course. I just thought that, you know, he might need me.’

  ‘It really would be best if we spoke to him alone. He’s a big boy now. I’m afraid it’s the way it has to be.’

  ‘Right, well, if you want me, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ve got things to do.’

  She left them to it. Marsh poured tea into the delicate porcelain cups. The youth declined.

  Peter Roper might’ve been through an horrific experience, but, like Park, Romney wanted to give him a good shake and wake him up. Slap some life into him. Where was their spark?

  Marsh laid her new digital recorder on the table between them.

  When they were all set, Romney said, ‘Just tell it as it happened. If we need to ask you anything, we’ll stop you.’

  The youth nodded, drew a breath and said, ‘Me and Jane were sitting in the kitchen. She was doing her studying, and I was watching the telly. That’s how it is most nights when they’ve all been tucked in – the old people. About eleven-thirty, Jane said she heard something in the house.’

  ‘You’re sure of the time?’ said Romney.

  Roper nodded. ‘The programme I was watching had just finished. Sometimes one of the old folk gets out and walks about a bit. We have to get them back to their rooms before they wake everyone else up. When I went out into the hall there was this bloke standing there in the shadows. He had a gun.’

  ‘Think carefully, Peter,’ said Romney. ‘Are you sure it was a real gun? Describe it to me.’

  ‘I don’t know if it was real, but it looked it. It was black. A pistol. Big.’

  ‘What about the aperture of the barrel?’ said Romney. ‘How big was the opening?’

  Roper made a small circle with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. It was too big to be an air-pistol.

  ‘What happened then?’ said Romney.

  ‘He pointed it at my face and told me to turn around.’

  ‘Anything unusual about his speech?’

  ‘He was foreign.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I hear them in the town.’

  ‘Could he have been putting it on? Faking it?’

  ‘I don’t know. It sounded just like them to me.’

  ‘Can you remember exactly what he said to you?’

  ‘Something like, be quiet and turn around. I felt the gun in my back and him pushing me towards the kitchen. When we got into the kitchen, he grabbed me by the collar and stuck the gun into my neck. He told Jane to get up and stand in front of the table.’

  ‘Again, can you remember his exact words?’

  ‘Just something like, get up and stand there. I can’t really, sorry.’

  ‘All right. Go on.’

  ‘He took out these plastic ties and told me to tie Jane to the table legs.’

  ‘Did you know what he was going to do to her?’

  ‘No. I didn’t have any idea. I thought he was going to rob the place. Use me to tie her and then tie me.’ Romney nodded for the youth to continue. ‘Jane started to cry, and he took out a knife. He told her, if she made a noise, he’d cut her. Then he threw this hood at me and told me to put it on her. I didn’t have any choice did I?’

  ‘It might have been much worse if either of you hadn’t done what he told you to.’

  ‘He waved me to him with the knife. He was still pointing the gun at me. He got behind me and hit me, and that’s the last thing that I remember until I came around later.’

  ‘Had he bound your hands too?’

  ‘Yes. Behind my back.’

  ‘How did you make the emergency call?’

  ‘I managed to get a knife out of one of the drawers and get it so I could cut through the plastic.’

  ‘And Mrs Goddard?’

  ‘I cut her free before I called the police.’

  ‘Did you touch anything?’

  ‘I just covered her up and then cut her free. And then I used the phone in the hall.’

  ‘Describe him. What was he wearing?’

  ‘Dark clothing: a hoody, black jeans and he had a balaclava over his face. He was quite tall. About your height.’

  ‘Do you know what he did to Mrs Goddard?’ said Romney. The youth nodded and looked down at his hands. ‘Don’t go discussing this with anyone, Peter. Is that clear? People will ask you what happened. You must tell them that you can’t talk about it. All right? Don’t lie. Just say you’ll get in trouble with the police if you do. Is that understood?’ The youth nodded. ‘We need the details kept secret and think of Mrs Goddard. She won’t want that kind of information bandied about.’

  As they were leaving, Romney turned back to Peter Roper and said, ‘Was the front door locked, do you remember?’

  The youth thought a moment. ‘I should think so. It was always locked at night. Mr Logi is very strict about it.’

  In the car outside the Ropers’ post-war, semi-detached bungalow, Romney said, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Definitely weird, sir. Whoever this bloke is, he seems to know such detail. He just walks in, frightens the life out of everyone, has them doing exactly what he says, no problems, no fuss, no bother. He has his dirty way with the women and disappears. He’s like a ghost.’

  ***

  23

  Marsh learned that Jane Goddard was still at the hospital. She hadn’t woken from the sedation. Marsh left word that she be notified the moment the woman regained her senses.

  Romney visited the station chief. Falkner made it clear that he expected regular updates regarding any developments in the case and progress. Quickly.

  The local paper rang fishing for details about the incident. The reporter did his best to get confirmation that the incidents at the petrol station and the old peoples’ home were related. Romney passed it up to the station chief. Superintendent Falkner used his influence with a contact high up at the paper and received assurances that the newspaper would play down reporting of the incident in return for exclusive access to the story, when the police finally had something they could share. It was an easy promise to make, said Falkner to Romney. Might be harder to keep.

  Romney returned to his desk to find a message asking that he call down to forensics. He did that and was asked to hold. When Diane Hodge came on the line her perky voice was bubbling with enthusiasm.

  ‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’

  ‘Mrs Hodge.’

  ‘Call me Diane, won’t you? And it’s Miss. Just for the record.’

  ‘OK, Diane. What have you got for us?’

  ‘Good news.’

  ‘I could use some.’

  ‘Traces of semen and a pubic hair that doesn’t belong to the victim.’

  Strange, thought Romney, what some people considered good news. ‘Where were these traces found?’

  ‘Taken from the victim.’

  ‘He didn’t use a condom this time?’

  ‘That’s the odd thing. We also recovered traces of the spermicidal that is used by condom manufacturers to coat their products, which suggests that he did use a condom, but of course it’s possible that it came off in the act. It happens.’

  The comment surprised Romney. ‘Does it?’

  ‘It does in some cases,’ said the young woman. ‘Under certain circumstances.’

  ‘Right,’ said Romney, not wishing to explore the details of those with her. It was enough for him to know that it happened.

  ‘I’m going to compare the sample with the saliva sample that we got from the first incident, and then I’ll get back to you. But there may not be
a match.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s possible that the traces we took from the victim aren’t related to the incident. People do have sex, you know?’

  ‘Ah, of course. I see.’ A feeling of awkwardness washed over Romney as things became clear.

  ‘But I thought I’d just let you know how things are proceeding for us.’

  ‘Thanks very much. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to talking to you,’ she said and rang off, leaving Romney thinking that was a strange thing for her to say. But at least she was friendlier than the usual miseries who he spoke to there.

  His phone rang almost immediately.

  ‘Crow here,’ said the Ashford policeman.

  ‘Hello, Malcolm. How are things going with the Stamp case?’

  ‘Good news and not so good news.’

  ‘Give me the good.’

  ‘We know what vehicle we’re looking for. The paint sample recovered from the dead woman’s clothing is specific to BMW – Mars Red. The not so good news is that there is no record of Simon Avery owning, or ever having owned, a BMW.’

  ‘What about the break in?’

  ‘Nothing. It never ceases to amaze me that a house can be broken into in broad daylight, pulled apart, and no one sees or hears a thing, not to mention a woman being run down in the middle of the day and left for dead. Whoever broke in was experienced enough, or just careful enough, to have left no trace of themselves. About all we have to go on is the fact that these two incidents happened within such a short space of time. There can’t be much doubt that they’re are related, which gives us somewhere to start. And brings me back to our Mr Avery. Don’t mind if I refer to him thus, do you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Romney. ‘Have as much of him as you like.’

  ‘Is it possible that you can get some of your people to check out his circle of acquaintances? See if anyone owns a red beamer?’

  ‘I’ll do that. No problem.’

  ‘Thanks. I hear your plate got a little fuller last night.’

  Romney sighed. ‘It did.’

  ‘Same man?’

  ‘Little to no doubt.’

  ‘Well, Tom, good luck with it. I know how the hierarchy can get over these things. You find out who your friends are that’s for sure. If you need any help – maybe just someone to run something past – or a fresh pair of eyes to take a look at something, let me know.’

  Romney was touched by his older colleague’s offer. ‘Thanks very much. I’ll bear that in mind.’

  Marsh tapped and put her head around his office door. ‘Mr Logi’s downstairs, sir. Wants a word with you. Only wants to talk with you,’ she said, in response to the look Romney gave her. ‘Also, Jane Goddard has been discharged from hospital. I’ve spoken with her husband. They would rather call in here to make her statement. Don’t want the neighbours getting all twitchy and inquisitive at the windows. I get the feeling that they want what happened to her kept as quiet as possible.’

  ‘Understandable, I suppose,’ said Romney. ‘When is she coming in?’

  ‘On their way. They should be here within the hour.’

  ‘Good. DI Crow at Ashford has just been on to me about the car that ran Helen Stamp down. Apparently, it’s a Mars red BMW. Get a few of our lads to make some subtle enquiries about whether anyone who makes up part of Avery’s clique has something like that. And pass a message that I’ll be down to talk to Logi in a minute, will you?’

  ***

  24

  Mr Logi looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  Romney said, ‘Hello, Mr Logi. Something occurred to you about last night?’

  Romney sat down on the opposite side of the table.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Logi. He swallowed and his brow creased to show his age and the burden he was obviously carrying. ‘It is to do with last night, sort of.’

  Romney waited while Logi ordered his thoughts.

  ‘I imagine that as a matter of procedure Jane, Mrs Goddard, will be checked for evidence of the attack, for body fluid samples and the like?’

  ‘That is normal with victims of rape,’ said Romney, surprised at the direction the conversation had taken.

  Mr Logi took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, Inspector, Jane and I have been having an affair for some months. It’s our private business, of course, but in light of what happened last night, I thought that it would be best to volunteer this information.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure that...,’

  ‘I’m not finished, Inspector. We made love yesterday afternoon. Jane can’t conceive, and so we don’t use protection. I’m telling you this because I would suppose that an intimate examination of Jane might well reveal evidence of our time together.’

  ‘I see,’ said Romney. ‘I understand. Does your wife know about this?’ The man shook his head. Romney realised that the hope forensics had just given him could be short-lived. ‘I’m glad you came to see me so soon. As it happens, forensics have been in touch with evidence developments arising from their investigations. We will have to rule you out. You’ll need to provide us with a DNA sample for that. You understand?’

  Logi nodded. The embarrassment of his admission was clearly affecting the man. ‘Will it be necessary for this to come out?’ he said, and Romney glimpsed what was probably his overriding reason for being there.

  Romney said, ‘I don’t see why it should. Not from us anyway.’ Who was he to judge the man? There could be many reasons why he would be sleeping with the help, and none of them would be his or police business. ‘It would be best if we got it done sooner rather than later. I can get someone to take you to forensics now, if you’ve time?’

  ‘I’d like to do it now.’

  Romney called CID for Marsh. He met her in the corridor outside the interview room and explained things to her. He told her to see Logi over to forensics.

  Romney called the forensic laboratory. Diane Hodge answered the phone. When Romney identified himself she assumed a brightness that he found disconcerting.

  ‘Hello again, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m sending a man along to you. I’d like you to organise the taking of a sample from him in order that he might be eliminated from our enquiries regarding last night’s assault at the care home. He’s not a suspect by the way. It’s likely the evidence you recovered is from him.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That would be a shame. From the investigation side of things, I mean.’

  *

  Romney had just got himself a coffee when the desk sergeant called up to let him know that Mr and Mrs Goddard were at reception. He told the officer to have them shown through to an interview room and offered the best coffee and biscuits that could be found. He rang forensics and told Marsh to meet him downstairs.

  Romney found Mrs Goddard in Interview Room One sitting in silence with only a female constable for company. Despite a lack of make-up and her understandably cheerless expression, Mrs Goddard was a good looking woman, decided Romney, without needing to give it much thought. She looked anxious, upset and troubled, as she was entitled to. Marsh entered. Introductions were made.

  ‘I understood that your husband was also here?’ said Romney.

  The woman pursed her lips in a thin and sad smile. ‘He’s not dealing with this very well. We thought it best if he went for a walk.’

  ‘I see. Thank you for agreeing to get this over with so quickly. It could be a great help to us.’

  Romney was struck by the difference between this woman and Claire Stamp. Stamp had appeared far more philosophical regarding what had happened to her, far more determined to not let it destroy her. Across the table from him, Jane Goddard appeared as a crumpled character with the life crushed out of her. But maybe he’d been wrong about Stamp. Maybe it had been a false bravado, a facade. Maybe what happened to her had pushed her to take her own life, after all. He shoved the thought away. He didn’t want to believe that.

&n
bsp; ‘I understand it will be unpleasant for you to have revisit and relate the details of last night, Mrs Goddard, but as I’m sure you can appreciate, it is vital for our investigation, if we are to have a chance of catching this man. Every detail you can remember – no matter how small – we want you to voice it. We’ll decide what’s relevant.’

  Before Mrs Goddard could begin, Romney said, ‘Mrs Goddard, I think you should know that Mr Logi has been in to see me. He explained to me the situation that exists between you both.’ The woman flushed a deep crimson. ‘He only did this because he knew that we would need to take samples from you after what happened, and he felt that there was a chance there might be something of him in evidence that could confuse our investigation. I wouldn’t want that additional burden to be causing you added anxiety.’ She nodded and reached into her handbag for tissues. ‘Would you like some time, Mrs Goddard?’

  ‘No, thank you. Will it come out, about Clive and me, I mean?’

  ‘As I told Mr Logi, I can’t see any reason why that information should need to.’ She seemed relieved. ‘We’ll get started then, all right?’ She nodded again. ‘Like I said: every single detail you can remember. We’ve spoken to Peter Roper this morning. He told us that you heard a noise and that he went to investigate. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. We were in the kitchen. I’m not sure of the time. Between eleven and twelve. I thought I heard a noise. Peter offered to go and see what it was. He was gone a couple of minutes, I suppose. He came back into the kitchen being pushed by a man dressed in black carrying a gun. I couldn’t see anything of his face. He was wearing a mask. A balaclava type thing. It all happened very quickly. He told me to turn away so that I wasn’t looking at him. He made Peter tie my ankles to the table legs then he pushed me down on the table, and Peter tied my wrists to the table too. A hood was put over my head. I couldn’t see anything after that. I remember starting to cry, and he stuck something sharp into me. He threatened to cut me, if I made noise. I suppose that’s when he knocked Peter out. I heard him grunt and fall to the floor.’

  The woman stopped and seemed to be struggling to gather her composure for what she was about to say.

  ‘It went very quiet. Maybe it was just because I had the hood on. It was very thick and hot and disorientating. I wondered if maybe he’d left the room. Then I felt his hands on me.’ She dabbed at the tears that were prompted by the recollection. ‘He wasn’t rough with me. It was like he knew he had as much time as he wanted. He touched me a lot. Just running his hands over me before he stripped me. It seems a strange thing to say, but it was almost like fore-play. He was getting off on it. I imagined that to be raped would be a violent and painful thing. But it wasn’t.’ Her tears had stopped. ‘He cut my clothes away, but even that was gently done. He was very careful. It was like he didn’t want to hurt me more than he had to.’ She looked at the officers with her red, puffy eyes. ‘Do you want details of what he did to me?’