‘And there’re more?’
‘There are.’
‘Right. Thanks. Keep working on the email access. If you have any joy, let me know immediately.’
As they walked back upstairs Romney patted his pockets for cigarettes but found none. ‘Come outside for a minute,’ he said to Marsh. ‘I need a smoke and a think.’
He scrounged a cigarette from the desk sergeant, and they found some shelter from the cold wind in the smoking area. Romney inhaled deeply and said, ‘That was grim.’ He let go of the lungful of smoke, turning the air around him white. ‘You all right?’
Marsh smiled sadly. ‘Yes, thanks. I’m not sorry you stopped it though.’
Romney studied the building opposite in the grey light of the day. ‘Things have changed, haven’t they?’
‘How do you mean, sir?’
‘I wanted Park in custody while I worked on Roper. I’m as sure as I can be without knowing it that Roper is going to prove the source of the sample that was taken from Jane Goddard. If he were alive we would have had some manoeuvring room, some leverage. We would have had Park as well. As it is, all we have is supposition, suspicion, opportunity and motive. It’s not enough. It’s what the CPS call insufficient evidence. If we could get him to trial, I could see him getting off. I don’t want that. I’m sure none of us does.’
‘So what do we do? Let him go?’
‘Maybe. If it’s not cast-iron. I can’t risk it.’
‘Sorry, sir, but that’s crazy. We’ve got to try him on it.’
Romney was still engrossed in the front of the building opposite. A banner had been hanging there in the summer months. Like much of the temporary fixtures and fittings of Dover, it had soon succumbed to the autumnal gales and rain. The freezing winter had all but finished it off. A length of the thin cord that had secured it to the building dangled and bucked in the breeze. It caught Romney’s attention. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to be cleverer than that. I’ve underestimated Park. Fool me once and all that. We’ve got to give him enough rope.’
‘Sir?’
‘I know. I’m not making much sense am I? Never mind. Let’s get inside and face the music.’ He stubbed the cigarette out in the bucket of sand provided for the purpose and re-entered the building. He told Marsh to go down and convey his apologies for the delay to Park and his solicitor. ‘Be nice. Be text-book polite. Tell them anything you like, but make it sound convincing and important. I’m going to talk to the super for a minute. I’ll see you down there.’
***
35
Romney entered the interview room to conduct what he knew was going to be a pointless interview. He looked tired and deflated and as though some of the fight had been knocked out of him.
‘I hope that Sergeant Marsh apologised for my delay,’ he said, looking down at a file he had opened in front of him. The duty solicitor nodded. Romney looked up and snared Park’s eyes with his own. He held them until the youth looked away.
The solicitor broke the silence. ‘My client would like it stated for the record that he has attended the police station of his own free will in response to it becoming known to him that the police wished to speak with him.’
‘Very public spirited, I’m sure,’ said Romney.
‘Also, for the record, my client would like it noted that this is the second time in two days that he has been asked to attend interviews. There has also been substantial delay.’
‘Your point being?’ said Romney.
‘The point being, Inspector, that my client does have a life to lead. He has better things to be doing than trailing down to the police station every day.’
‘Well if your client will be forthright and candid in assisting us with our enquiries, we can all get back on with our lives.’
‘I’m sure you can count on it, Inspector,’ said the solicitor, without a hint of sarcasm.
Romney said, ‘Carl, can you tell me where you went after you left the police station yesterday evening?’
‘You’ve no need to answer that,’ said the solicitor.
‘It’s OK,’ said Park. ‘I want to help. I want the police to see that I’ve got nothing to hide and then they might leave me in peace to grieve. I walked, Inspector.’
‘What are you grieving for?’
‘Not what, who. I’m grieving for the loss of Claire Stamp. As I told you before, we were lovers and we were close. I think we might have had a future together.’
Romney allowed a few long moments of silence to indicate his feelings for that. ‘Where did you walk?’
‘Just around Dover. I wasn’t really paying that much attention.’
‘How long did you walk for?’
‘All night.’
Again there was a prolonged silence. ‘You walked around Dover all night?’
‘Yes. I found some shelter in a bus stop. I think that I must have fallen asleep for a while.’
‘In this weather?’
‘It was very cold.’
‘Where was that?’
‘On London road.’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘I saw several people.’
‘Anyone you know?’
‘No.’
‘A pity, and very convenient,’ said Romney. ‘Do you know that while you were walking around Dover, we had reason to visit your home last night with a search warrant?’
‘My mother mentioned it when I called her to let her know where I was.’
‘Why was your phone turned off last night?’
‘I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m deep in thought. Mobile phones are quite intrusive.’
‘So you turned your phone on this morning after spending the night on the streets thinking and grieving, and when your mother told you we were looking for you, you came straight here to help us with our enquiries?’
‘That’s what happened.’
‘How many phones have you got?’
Park smiled, as at a realised irony. ‘I did have two, up until last night that is. I think that I lost one of them in the bus shelter.’
‘Why have two phones, Carl?’
‘It’s just the fashion. To be honest I hardly ever used one of them. It was just an accessory.’
‘Do you have a record of the number?’
Park hesitated then tried to cover himself with an impression of a thoughtful frown. ‘It didn’t have a SIM card in it. Like I said, it was just an accessory.’
‘But you also just said that you hardly ever used it. If you used it at all, you must have had a SIM card in it.’
‘Sometimes I’d switch the SIM card from my normal phone into the one that I’ve lost. Just for a change. I get bored with the same thing all the time.’
‘Did your mother tell you that we took away your computer?’
Park’s face darkened. ‘No, she didn’t. Why did you do that?’
‘You know why, Carl.’
Park squirmed a little, and Romney got what satisfaction he could from it. ‘You know what we found on your hard-drive, Carl?’ The youth didn’t answer. ‘We found some very disturbing, sick and perverted pornography.’
‘That’s objectionable, Inspector,’ said the solicitor. ‘That is just your opinion.’
‘Why don’t you tell him, Carl. Tell him what’s on your hard-drive – what we found.’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ said the solicitor.
Park couldn’t.
Romney shrugged. ‘There is one particular video that we need to discuss with you, Carl, because of its close resemblance to the two serious sexual assaults we are investigating. You know the one I’m referring to, don’t you?’ Romney continued without waiting for responses. ‘It’s the one of the woman being tortured and raped by four men. Do you have anything to say about that?’
Regaining some of his confidence, Park said, ‘It’s just Internet porn. Everyone who has the Internet looks at porn.’
‘I don’t,’ said Romney. ‘Do you?
’ he asked the solicitor. He just stared blankly back at the policeman. ‘When was the last time you saw Peter Roper?’
‘I told you: a couple of months ago.’
‘Where?’
‘I told you: the job agency.’
‘What sort of contact did you have with him after that?’
‘We exchanged email addresses and phone numbers. Then a few messages.’
‘But you didn’t actually see him?’
‘I might have done on the street. Just around town. But I didn’t meet up with him by arrangement. He struck me as a bit odd actually. He kept sending me this stuff over the Internet: links to websites. In fact, I’m sure that he sent me that video you were talking about. Yes, that’s right, I looked at it, but it didn’t interest me much. Not my kind of thing.’
‘What is your kind of thing, Carl?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ said the solicitor, finding his voice again.
‘It must have interested you enough to download it to your hard-drive.’
The solicitor said, ‘Inspector, do you have anything in particular that you wish to discuss with my client? I’m having a job seeing the point of all this.’
Romney stared at the priggish little man. He made a mental note to make his life difficult the first opportunity he got. He turned back to Park. ‘Did you see Peter Roper last night?’
‘My client has just told you that he hasn’t seen him for...’
‘Carl?’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘Were you on or anywhere near Dover cliffs last night?’
‘No, I wasn’t.’
Again, Romney let the quiet fill the room.
‘Do you have any further questions, Inspector?’ said the solicitor.
‘No, I don’t.’
Park barely suppressed a smirk.
‘In that case, we will leave you to your investigation.’
‘You can do what you like,’ said Romney, not gracefully. ‘Carl Park, I’m arresting you on suspicion of being involved in the death of Peter Roper. You do not need to answer any questions at this time, if you so choose. Your detention period will start now.’
‘What?’ said Park. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Indeed I am,’ said Romney. ‘I have good reason to believe that you are involved in Peter Roper’s death.’
’What reason?’
‘You’ll find out. I don’t think that you are as clever as you think you are. Your detention period will be twelve hours in the first instance. After that we can get an extension without much difficulty for another twelve. I’m pretty sure though that we’ll find what we’re looking for in that time. My superintendent has offered to draft in all the help we need.’ Park was simmering and silent. Romney said, ‘Take him back to the cells, Constable, please.’
As Park was being led away, Romney said, ‘You made another mistake, Carl.’ Park stopped and turned to face him. ‘You showed no surprise to the news that Peter Roper is dead.’ And then remembering something that DI Crow had said, he added, ‘Sometimes it’s hard to see the wood for the trees, Carl.’
Carl Park glared at Romney.
Struck by Romney’s comment, Park’s legal representation turned to look with barely concealed suspicion at his client.
Romney said, ‘We both know you killed him, and we both know why. We found you, and you were afraid that we’d find him. You teamed up with him to rape those two women. You were lucky with Claire Stamp’s death because that was your first mistake: you left evidence of your involvement behind. Roper was the only other person alive who knew the details of your dirty secret, and you had to shut him up. Why, Carl? Were you afraid he wasn’t as strong as you?’ Park showed nothing. ‘If you can make two mistakes, Carl, you can make three. I’m positively encouraged that we will find what we’re looking for when we take your home apart.’
Romney nodded at the constable. Park was led out of the room without another word.
‘So what are we looking for, sir?’ said Marsh, when they were alone.
‘Come and have a coffee on me, and I’ll tell you all about it,’ said Romney, trying to exude a confidence that he suddenly didn’t particularly feel.
***
36
Because of the hour it was too dark to do anything about Romney’s greatest hope. That would have to wait for daylight. In the meantime, Romney busied himself with organising things for a return in the morning to Carl Park’s flat for a more thorough search. Romney had already had assurances that an extension of Carl Park’s detention order, if it were needed, for a further twelve hours would not be a problem. He had to hope it would be enough.
Final parts of the information jigsaw fell into place. A communication from forensics confirmed what Romney was already certain about: Peter Roper was the rapist of Jane Goddard. The officer charged with tracking phone records of the primary numbers of Park and Roper reported that while they had exchanged calls some months before there had been no communication through those numbers since.
Superintendent Falkner made one of his infrequent visits to CID on his way home. After Romney had briefed him on the parts of the puzzle, Falkner said, ‘Looks like you are right about everything so far, Tom. You’ve played a good hand. Let’s hope that you’re right about your trump card, or none of us is going to come out of this smelling very sweet.’
‘It’s Hobson’s choice, sir,’ said Romney. ‘We’ve got nothing solid on him. If we don’t push our luck, he’s going to walk.’
‘We still have the suicide text to fall back on,’ said Falkner.
‘With respect, sir, I’ve never been much of one for the convenient statistical aspect of crime solving as policing. I’d always rather get the guilty party. I’m old fashioned like that.’
‘Try having the kind of people on your back that I have, Tom. See how long you keep your old-fashioned values. Go home, and get a good night’s sleep. I have a feeling you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.’
Romney sent his team home with similar predictions about the following day ringing in their ears and reminders about what time they should be showing their faces in the morning. They were going to need every minute of daylight.
As the office gradually emptied and the workplace bustle died awayRomney’s energy seemed to drain away with it. The activities, excitement and exertions of the previous night and the strain of the investigation were taking its toll on his reserves. It was with some effort that he roused himself from his chair, pulled on his coat and left the comfortable warmth and agreeable silence of his office for the wind and wet of the winter world outside.
Romney hadn’t seen Julie Carpenter for nearly forty-eight hours. It felt longer. He was grateful to Providence for setting her aside for his enjoyment, temporary of otherwise. The short time that he had snatched from life with her had reopened his eyes to what lay outside of work. It had impressed upon him the necessity of the distraction, without which he would gently slide down into that sterile, miserable pit, void of emotion that it would be so difficult to climb back out of. That acknowledged, Romney was not sorry that she had a prior social engagement for the evening, unused as he was to juggling a professional life with a private one, especially one with such an energetic and insatiable woman.
***
37
Romney made his way to work with the kind of excitement fermenting in his gut that he associated with first dates. He’d been right about everything regarding Park and his involvement. He was certain of it. He’d read the youth like a favourite comic, and now he needed to be able to tie it all up. Being right meant nothing without convictions.
After a final briefing, Marsh was put in charge of the search of Park’s home and common areas of the building in which he and his mother lived. She left with four other officers to make herself unpopular and with little expectation that anything pertinent to the investigation would be recovered. But appearances had to be maintained. As far as the operation was concerned, her remit was
to give the impression that the police had taken the place apart searching for that crucial piece of evidence that Romney was almost certain wouldn’t be there.
At the last moment and to his obvious disappointment, Romney held the seasoned officer Grimes back from the search. ‘How do you fancy a nice stroll on the cliffs, Peter?’
‘In this weather, guv? What on earth for?’
‘Grab your coat, and check out some wellies. I’ll tell you on the way.’
Grimes made a face to no one. ‘You’re the boss, guv.’
‘I know,’ said Romney, smiling. ‘See you in the car park in ten minutes.’
*
They stopped at a bakers. Romney treated them both to take-away coffee and a pastry. It seemed to take the edge off Grimes’ apprehension at being singled out by his DI with no explanation, although the mystery of their outing appeared to still disconcert the long serving officer.
At nine o’clock in the morning their vehicle brought the total number of cars in the white cliffs car park to one. The cafeteria behind them was boarded up for the season. The only people attracted to the bleak and open landscape at that time of year were hardy ramblers, the occasional joy-rider and the odd couple engaged in something mucky. As they sat looking out over the heaving brown mass of the English Channel, sipping their drinks from Styrofoam beakers and chewing on their food, Grimes wondered what Romney had in mind for them. He hoped it was just a walk.
‘I want what we’re doing up here to remain between us for the time being, OK?’
Grimes didn’t find that encouraging. ‘OK, guv,’ he said.
‘The super knows and so does Joy, but that’s all. You still regularly walk up here?’ Romney had chosen Grimes for his well known local knowledge and experience of the area as well as his experience as a copper.
‘Yes, guv. I still do the walk to St Margaret’s Bay a couple of times a year.’
‘Good. I want you to think about places where someone could conceal a pistol up here.’
Grimes breathed out as he understood. ‘From the rapes?’
‘Yes. I’m working on the idea that Park gave Roper his send off from here the night before last. The pistol hasn’t been recovered, and it’s the only thing I can think of that would persuade someone to the cliff edge.’