‘No. Just asking the questions. No stupid questions when it comes to a murder investigation,’ said Erika. Melanie nodded.
‘Taro Williams has money, and he has the best of the best working on his behalf, and you know how good they can be at sniffing out a minor error in procedure. The hard copy file is there on top.’
‘I’ll look at it now.’
Melanie’s phone rang and she excused herself. Erika pulled the file off the pile, and started to look through it. There were statements from all the attack victims, from Marissa’s mother, Mrs Fryatt, and some of Marissa’s colleagues. What upset Erika was seeing Moss’s statement, where she described her ordeal of having been captured against her will.
Erika pored over the custody photos taken of Taro Williams. He was a big man, with a wide face and large features. He seemed so impassive in the shots, with dead eyes. She logged in to Holmes, and accessed the police interviews which were being submitted on a disc to the prosecution. He had been interviewed three times in the space of two days. In the first interview, Taro Williams sat impassive opposite Peterson, and in the other interviews, Peterson was joined by McGorry. Taro remained in handcuffs throughout all three interviews, despite his solicitor requesting that they be removed. Taro was gangly, and sat hunched over the table. The t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms he wore looked too small. Like he had been stuffed into his clothes. Erika ran the second interview forward to the end, and then watched as Taro stood to leave. He towered over the solicitor, McGorry, and Peterson, who was himself six foot tall.
Erika then went back to the CCTV footage taken from the school opposite Marissa Lewis’s house on the night she was killed. She watched as Taro Williams arrived at the house ahead of Marissa. The figure dressed in black, wearing a gas mask, walked into shot by the gate, moving carefully and purposefully along in the snow, almost staggering against the slippery surface. He reached the front gate and looked through into the front garden, and up at the house. Then he moved into the alleyway beside the house, to wait in the shadows.
She glanced down at the attached notes with the time stamp, and she ran the footage forward. Marissa appeared at the gate. She was such a beautiful girl, thought Erika, as she watched her move gracefully in her long coat, with her vanity case hooked over her arm. Marissa opened the gate and went through, vanishing in the shadows of the front garden. Ten seconds later, the figure in black, wearing the gas mask, moved out of the shadows in the alleyway and approached the gate, carrying a long knife.
‘There you are, Taro,’ murmured Erika. On the screen, he moved through the front gate and was swallowed up by the darkness.
Erika peered at the footage and felt panic rise in her chest. She ran it back to when the figure in the gas mask reached the gate post, and played it again, and then again. With shaking hands she went back to the footage from the third custody interview with Taro Williams, when Peterson led him into the interview room. She paused it, and compared it with the figure standing by the gate post. She picked up her phone and called Melanie.
‘You need to get up here, now,’ she said.
Sixty-Six
‘How tall is Taro Williams?’ asked Erika. Melanie was sitting beside her, as she played back the CCTV footage from outside Marissa’s house on Christmas Eve.
‘I don’t know. He’s tall …’ Melanie started.
‘He’s six foot four, or 193 cm,’ said Erika, holding up the report from the custody suite when Taro had been arrested and brought to the station. ‘Look at the footage again.’ She dragged the time stamp underneath the video window to just before Marissa Lewis appeared in shot, arriving back at her house. Erika paused the video as she reached the gate post. ‘Marissa Lewis was five foot two, that’s about 157 cm. You can see she is only a little taller than the gate post.’
‘Okay,’ said Melanie, sounding uneasy at where this was going. Erika took a small sticker and where the video was paused, she placed the sticker so it touched the top of Marissa’s head. ‘OK, moving the CCTV footage on,’ said Erika. ‘Bearing in mind the marker on the screen…’ The figure in the gas mask came moving through the snow with difficulty, head bent down. Erika paused the video when he reached gate post. ‘You can see here that the person in the gas mask…’
‘Taro Williams,’ insisted Melanie.
‘The person in the gas mask is only fractionally taller than Marissa.’ She placed another sticker on the screen, which was only slightly higher than the first. ‘Taro Williams is thirty-five centimetres taller than Marissa Lewis. That person in the gas mask is not Taro Williams. Unless he’s the incredible shrinking man.’ Melanie leaned in and ran the footage back and then forward, her face clouding over. ‘We have two people here to compare against one fixed object, the gate post,’ said Erika.
‘Shit.’
‘And this would be leapt on by the defence team. I’ve seen cases where it’s come down to a height difference on CCTV of a few centimetres. They would ask for the footage to be examined, and they would apply more rigorous tests than a couple of stickers on the screen.’
‘Fuck!’ said Melanie, slamming her hand down on the desk. ‘Our case is screwed. We have no case.’
‘Yes, we do have a case!’ said Erika. ‘Taro Williams assaulted five people, and we can link him with DNA, but I’m more concerned as to who the hell killed Marissa wearing the gas mask. It’s not Taro Williams.’
Sixty-Seven
Early next morning, Erika pulled up outside Moss’s house in Ladywell. She was going to get out, but Moss appeared at the gate and got in the car.
‘Morning. It’s good to see you’re in one piece,’ she said, giving Moss an unexpected hug.
‘Oh, you know me. I don’t fall down, I bounce,’ Moss said, her cheeks flushing red. Erika started the engine, and they rode in silence for a minute. She gave Moss a sideways glance. Her silence was unusual. She was always upbeat and chatty.
‘Are you crying?’ asked Erika.
‘No,’ said Moss, wiping tears away angrily.
‘It’s too early for allergies.’
‘I missed the height thing on the CCTV. It’s such a rookie mistake. I’m fucking embarrassed…’
‘Whose fault is it?’
‘Mine.’
Erika nodded.
‘You win brownie points for taking responsibility.
I’d be annoyed if you tried to blame someone else.’
‘Not my style, Boss.’
‘I know.’
‘When we caught Taro Williams we went into evidence gathering mode. Most of the team was re-assigned so I lost manpower. Again, that’s not an excuse. I’m not cut out to be SIO. I’ve realised I prefer playing second fiddle.’
‘But you caught Taro Williams.’
Moss shook her head. ‘I feel like I just blundered into it. And then nearly got myself killed in the process.’
‘But you didn’t,’ said Erika. ‘And he would have carried on attacking people, and now he’s off the streets.’
‘Off the streets, and still refusing to talk.’
‘That’s nothing new. He can talk or he can keep his mouth shut. Either way, we’ve got DNA.’
‘You’re a poet, and you don’t even know it.’
Erika grinned. ‘As I said. You did a great job.’
Moss waved it away, her cheeks flushing again. ‘Enough about me. How were things up north?’
‘Edward is doing good. For so many years he’s been the responsible adult, and me the youngster. It made me aware of how old I am, now I’m caring for him.’
‘You’re not old! What’s the saying? You’re only as old as the man or woman you feel.’
‘There’s nothing happening in that department, unless I count the old geezer in Sainsbury’s who rubbed up against me at the till.’
Moss grinned. ‘Good to have you back, Erika.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling in return. ‘It’s good to be back. Now, onwards and upwards. Let’s hope today gives us a breakthrough.’
>
Erika indicated and they turned into Coniston Road, and drove towards Mandy Trent’s house.
* * *
They parked a few doors down from Mandy’s house. The snow was long melted, and it was break time at the school opposite. The playground was full of kids, their loud playing and chatter filling the street. Erika and Moss got out of the car, and joined a small team of four forensic height analysts who were setting up their equipment outside the front gate of the house. Half of the playground opposite had been cordoned off, giving a clear view to conduct the test using the CCTV camera mounted on the wall at the end of the school building. One of the guys was positioning an oblong of plastic, like a giant ruler, next to the gate post outside the house. It reached up to two metres tall, and 5 cm increments were marked out on it with red lines. Another woman was unpacking a tripod and camera, and setting it up at the same height and angle further along the pavement towards the top of Coniston Road. Some of the more curious children who weren’t running around and playing were lined up at the railings, watching.
Erika and Moss introduced themselves to the team, and then went through the front gate. The hedge had been chopped down, leaving just the low wall surrounding the tiny garden, which without snow was just a patch of flattened earth. Marissa’s mother, Mandy, was also watching the proceedings from her front doorstep. She was dishevelled, and smoking a cigarette. They said hello, and asked how she was doing. She said she was making the preparations for Marissa’s funeral, which would be taking place in a few days.
‘I want to have ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ play, cos I loved singing that hymn when I was at school,’ she said, sucking on the butt of her cigarette. ‘Do you think that’s nice?’
‘Yes, I love that hymn,’ said Moss.
‘And with all the flowers. I’m gonna have lilies. Marissa liked lilies. Joan’s ex-husband runs the florist down in Honor Oak Park… He’s gonna do me a good deal, get some nice ones which are open. I hate lilies on bunches when they’re closed,’ she said. ‘I went to Joseph Pitkin’s funeral the other day, I sat at the back, mind. They got lilies for the top of his coffin, and they was all closed up. It was a burial, and all I could think was that they would never open, what with the cold weather we’ve been having. They would just die, before they had the chance to bloom… And then it made me think of Marissa. She was killed before she got the chance to bloom. What do you call it?’
A look passed between Erika and Moss,
‘It was a tragedy,’ said Erika.
‘No,’ said Mandy, impatiently flicking the cigarette butt into the hedge. ‘It’s what you call it? A metaphor. The lily not opening, that’s a metaphor for Marissa, and for Joseph.’
Erika and Moss nodded in agreement.
‘So why are you all measuring my gatepost?’ she added.
‘It’s for the CCTV evidence. Standard procedure. It helps give us more detail in court.’
‘Does it matter that I had the hedge cut down? I just didn’t feel safe with it there. There’s nowhere for anyone to hide.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Erika. They could now see up and down the street, and Don Walpole emerged from his front door with a bag of rubbish. He noticed them, and nodded his head, and then went back indoors. Mandy lit another cigarette.
‘Jeanette’s home from hospital. They put an implant in her stomach, to stop her drinking. One sip of anything alcoholic and she pukes it back up… I just hope he’s stocked up on carpet cleaner.’
‘Have you packed away any of Marissa’s belongings yet?’ asked Erika.
‘No. I can’t bring myself to do it. Not until she’s buried. Joan’s good with cleaning; she said she’d come and help me, we can work out what to keep and what to give to charity. A lot of her costumes can go on eBay,’ said Mandy.
‘You take your time, there’s never any rush with these things.’
‘I’m glad you’ve got the bastard who done this to her… I’d seen the stuff on the news about him, skulking around the streets at night. I know this is a rough area, but you never expect this kind of thing to happen, literally on your own doorstep.’
‘Would you mind if we took one last look in Marissa’s bedroom, just to make absolutely sure we have everything for the court case?’ asked Erika.
‘Yes, go on up. Of course, you know where it is,’ said Mandy. The sun came out, and she rested her head against the brick wall, closing her eyes and tilting her pale lined face upwards.
They came inside and went up the stairs to the front bedroom. It looked just as it had when Erika had come to look at it with McGorry. The same posters were on the wall, and all of the burlesque gear was untouched. She went to the window and looked down at the street below. Several of the neighbours had come out to gawp at the team of forensic height analysts. A bell rang opposite, signalling the end of break time, and the children all started to run to line up at the top end of the playground. Mandy had crossed the road, still in her slippers, nightie and thick winter coat, and she was talking to Joan, who was smoking a cigarette on her front step.
‘The diamond earrings are still bugging me,’ said Erika. ‘They feel like they are the key to this. Why did Marissa go to the jeweller where Charles Fryatt worked? And did he know she was there? I’ve read the reports, and he says he only knew when McGorry went back with Marissa’s friend, Ella. And they deny that the earrings were even the same ones belonging to Mrs Fryatt.’
‘Charles Fryatt has an alibi, his wife, and he’s also a very tall man,’ said Moss, picking up a fire-eating rod from in front of the tiny fireplace and examining the tip.
‘According to Martin, the costume guy at the Matrix Club, and Ella, one of the dancers, Marissa said she took the diamond earrings from Mrs Fryatt, but who is telling the truth? We don’t know where those earrings came from, or where they are now.’
‘Could Mandy have taken them off the dead body?’ asked Moss, joining her at the window. Joan and Mandy were lighting up fresh cigarettes.
‘There’s still a question mark where Mandy was sleeping on the night Marissa died. She told us that she was sleeping upstairs in the back bedroom, but there was evidence that she slept downstairs on the sofa.’
‘There was a duvet on the downstairs sofa,’ said Erika. ‘But that’s hardly evidence. She could have just been napping.’
‘Erika. This case comes down to the height of whoever did it. It’s not all about diamonds, or should I say, the diamond earrings.’
‘What did you just say?’
‘This case is about the height of the person who killed her, we know it’s not Taro Williams…’
‘No, after that.’
‘It’s not all about the earrings. At least, I don’t think it is.’
Erika was now pacing up and down the room.
‘When me and Peterson went to the Matrix Club, the guy who does the costumes told us Marissa kept saying it was all about “the diamond” not “diamonds”. That it would be “the diamond” that would make her fortune… He said something along the lines, like, “I know Marissa was stupid, but she did know the difference between the singular and plural”. If she wasn’t talking about the diamond earrings, then what was she talking about?’
‘Now I’m getting confused,’ said Moss. ‘There’s a diamond embroidered on her costumes.’ She went over to the three mannequins, which were lined up along the wall and wearing some of Marissa’s costumes, embroidered with the diamond logo. ‘She was planning to go off to New York, and perform as Honey Diamond. Maybe she thought she was going to make her fortune there?’
Erika shook her head, and looked out of the window. Mandy and Joan were still deep in conversation. Joan said something out of the corner of her mouth, and Mandy hooted with laughter, expelling a long stream of cigarette smoke. The last of the kids were filing back into the school building, and one of the forensic guys was shouting at a group of the neighbours.
‘Please get back!’ he said, waving his gloved hands at them. They were walking
backwards – two old ladies, and a young lad, much like sheep do when they are being herded.
Erika looked back at the bedroom, and spied a large framed photo on the wall, amongst the framed publicity shots of Marissa. It was of a huge diamond, mounted on a ring, sparkling with clarity. She crossed to the picture and carefully lifted it off the wall. She started to examine it. There was a thin paper backing on the frame.
‘Do you have any latex gloves?’ she said. Moss rummaged in her pockets and handed her a pair.
Sixty-Eight
Erika placed the framed print face-down on the bed, and they stared at the thick backing paper.
‘The frame is pretty old and crappy,’ said Erika. ‘And the diamond image is faded, like it’s been on the wall and caught the sun, but this backing paper looks brand new.’
Erika took a pair of nail scissors from a pot on the desk by the window, and Moss held the frame as she neatly scored the thin backing paper, and then carefully peeled it away. They stood back and stared. There was nothing inside but the print, which was on a piece of card. Erika lifted it gently away from the frame. It felt thick, and she held it up to the light.
‘It’s faded yellow on one side, but the back is white,’ said Moss. ‘But then again, only the side facing the window would fade.’
Erika examined the edges of the card. ‘There’s a slight overlap here, look, with this white side, and the other which has the yellower shade.’
‘It’s two pieces, they’ve been stuck together,’ said Moss. Erika gently moved her gloved fingers over the diamond print. Her fingers stopped in the centre.
‘There’s a slight ridge, here; it feels like there’s something inside. Oblong: could be folded paper, or an envelope which has been glued in between the two pieces of card.’
* * *
Erika and Moss bagged up the print and rushed it over to Lewisham Row station, where they took it into one of the sterile medical examining rooms. They donned gloves and masks, and using a scalpel Erika carefully cut between the two sheets of glued-together card.