At the station Jane was perched on the edge of her desk whilst Sergeant Hunt went over what he had been able to discover about the Lanark family. The property had been inherited by a Charles Henry Lanark in 1923 from his father, also named Charles. Along with the property was a substantial fortune made from very successful printing companies. At the age of twenty-nine he had married Muriel Petrukhin, aged nineteen, and they had three children: Helena, Beatrice and Marjorie.
‘I’ve been over at the general registry office at St Catherine’s House, but it’s really complicated going that far back and I’m not that certain I have the correct dates.’
Jane was making notes and held up her pen. ‘How old are the three daughters now?’
‘Helena sixty-one, Beatrice is fifty-six, and Marjorie died aged twenty-two.’
‘Do we have the date of her death?’ Jane asked.
‘April 1955.’
Jane flicked through her notebook. ‘What about cause of death?’
He shook his head. ‘But the time frame means that the child could have been Marjorie’s.’ He frowned. ‘It could also have been either of the other daughters. We have the mother deceased aged fifty-five, and the father five years after that. She was very young when they married...’
Jane pursed her lips. ‘Well, we’ll have to check all this out. So, when Charles Henry Lanark died, do we have any information on his heirs?’
‘All we have been able to come up with so far is that his eldest daughter Helena was the main beneficiary. As you know, she retained ownership of the Stockwell property until it was sold by her nephew.’
‘What about the printing works that all the money came from?’
‘I believe they’ve long gone. But we really need more time to clarify everything... and this has taken up hours already.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Jane said. ‘And I think you’ve done a good job. My next thing will be a visit to Helena Lanark. I’ve been waiting on a return call from her lawyer, Mr Hadley. Thank you for all this. I’ll let you know what else I’d like you to work on.’
Detective Sergeant Hunt raised an eyebrow and headed for the door. ‘I think DCI Carter is back. Do you want me to run this by him?’
Jane frowned. ‘I’ll have a conversation with DCI Carter when I’m ready,’ she said curtly.
DS Lawrence had carefully removed the mummified infant, who remained encased in the blanket and waterproof wrapping. He placed the remains on the table, which had been covered with white paper, alongside an instrument tray. He checked through the pathologist’s notes, stating where he had cut the waterproof wrap and the time he had done so. The material was still pliable and reminded Lawrence of an old Burberry rainproof coat his father had worn. It even had the same almost greenish hue to the material.
The second note Johnson had made was regarding the blue blanket, which he judged to be fine cashmere. To Lawrence’s irritation, the blanket had been partly unfolded and cut away from the remains of the infant. Lawrence now paid more attention to the second page of notes. Johnson had identified the remains of the umbilical cord, which therefore indicated that the infant was a newborn. He also estimated that the baby had probably weighed six to seven pounds at birth and appeared to have no physical deformities or injuries. An underlined note stated that by opening the rib cage, thus losing the outer level of mummification, he had discovered minute fibres of the blue blanket. He had also discovered similar fibres at the back of the infant’s throat and nasal passages, indicating that the baby had been alive when it had been wrapped in the blue blanket.
Lawrence physically jumped when Emra Saddell tapped him on the shoulder.
‘So, you’ve got it now? I did a bit of a sidestep, to be honest, because I really didn’t fancy having to work on this little soul. I doubt that there can be any firm conclusion due to its age... and I believe Professor Johnson was of the same opinion.’
Lawrence gave her a small smile. ‘I’ve heard you’re working on that banker’s murder case. I always find it invigorating to be working on a fresh murder, but I’m really keen to find out just how much more information I can come up with on this old case. For example, someone cut this waterproof square to wrap around the child. Someone also must have owned this fine cashmere blanket which was wrapped around the baby so tightly shortly after the birth.’
‘Rather you than me,’ Emra said. ‘As sad as it is, it could all be a waste of time.’
Lawrence really wished Saddell would just leave him in peace if she was not going to say anything more positive. He then remembered the missing belt. ‘Did you ever see a belt, or whatever it was that was tied around the two blocks of cement?’
She nodded. ‘I did see it somewhere, but I don’t recall where it went. I believe Detective Inspector Tennison was with the foreman when he cut the leather strap at the building site, but I’ve got no idea if it’s still at the mortuary, or perhaps it was brought into the lab here.’
Lawrence shook his head. ‘I find this totally unacceptable. All exhibits seized by the police should be recorded in an exhibits book, with a reference number so the items can be tracked.’
‘OK, well, I’ll make some inquiries,’ Saddell said with a shrug. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
The incident room was a hive of activity. There had been a spate of burglaries and a shop keeper had been held at gunpoint; in addition, a local man had been found hanged and a woman had been reported as missing from a nearby nursing home. Samantha Forgham and the dead baby seemed to have been long forgotten as officers busily worked the phones and updated the incident board.
Jane knocked on DCI Carter’s door, but before she could even announce herself, the door swung open and Carter was standing in the doorway, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
‘I don’t believe this! I go out to have a meeting with the super and all hell breaks loose.’
Jane stepped aside. ‘I just wanted to run a few things by you, sir.’
‘Listen to me, Jane, I’ve had more things running by me in the past half hour than in the past six months. Do you know about these burglaries?’
‘I don’t have any of the facts yet, sir... but I just wanted to give you an update on the infant found in the shelter.’
He stopped in his tracks. ‘What about it?’
‘We’ve been tracing who owned the property thirty years ago. There were three women living there, and one of them may have given birth. In particular, I want to question Helena Lanark, who inherited the Stockwell property after her father’s death.’
Carter frowned. ‘What?’
‘It seems to me that a member of the family had to have been aware of the child in the shelter because the house had been deliberately left empty for many years. Then this Helena Lanark’s nephew gets power of attorney and had the house is turned into flats.’
‘Yes, yes, I read that. It was on the incident board,’ he said tersely.
‘My main concern is that no one was allowed to use the basement, and no tenant was allowed to use the garden. This is obviously rather suspicious...’
‘Suspicious? I tell you what, Jane, I wish to God whoever killed that baby had taken it out and buried it somewhere else.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘So, what do you want to do about it?’
‘I would like to proceed by interviewing Helena Lanark. And there is a possibility that there could even be a fraud involved.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing really adds up, sir. The owner’s nephew, Jason Thorpe, had power of attorney which allowed him to convert the house into flats, and when that was no longer financially viable, the tenants were evicted before Mr Thorpe sold it for a very high figure. It’s possible that Mr Thorpe may have filtered some of the money into his own account.’