‘She was only fourteen, but she said she was nineteen. I’ve also been able to get death certificates for Aida Petrukhin and Count Antonin Petrukhin—’
Jane interrupted. ‘This is good work, Tim. Did you find any information on Muriel’s her jewellery?’
He hesitated. ‘Not too much... but there was definitely money in the family and reference to a valuable tiara brought from Russia.’
Jane nodded. ‘I’ll have a look through everything after my meeting with DCS Bridges. While I’m with him could you do me a favour and contact the Stockwell planning department and the developers? I meant to do it myself but got distracted. I need to know how much Jason Thorpe sold the house for and if he still has any material interest in the development.’
‘You think Thorpe might have done something dishonest?’ Tim asked.
‘Well, let’s just say I don’t entirely trust him.’
Detective Chief Superintendent Bridges appeared at her open doorway.
‘I was just coming to see you, sir...’ Jane said quickly.
DCI Bridges gestured towards DC Taylor to leave them and closed the door. Bridges had a rather bloated face, and his nose was particularly bulbous. His hair was cut army-style, with short back and sides; in fact, everything about him had a military air. He had quite a reputation as a disciplinarian as well as being known as an officer who had come up through the ranks. Standing with his feet slightly apart, he folded his arms across his substantial chest and looked at Jane with steely eyes.
‘Detective Inspector Tennison, I have a lot of questions I need you to answer, specifically about your handling of the Stockwell “House of Horrors” inquiry...’
Chapter Twelve
DCS Donald Bridges sat opposite Jane as she carefully went through the details of her investigation. She made no reference to her suspicions regarding possible fraud at the Stockwell property or her interest in the valuable jewellery. Instead, she focused on the possibility that Helena Lanark had buried the baby and the importance of questioning her younger sister, Beatrice.
Bridges began to tap his foot impatiently.
‘If Helena Lanark has dementia, even if you were to uncover enough evidence to arrest her, she wouldn’t be capable of standing trial.’
‘I know, sir, but I do think we need closure on the case by confirming exactly what took place in that shelter.’
Bridges frowned. ‘Have you contacted this sister? I mean, if she’s of a similar age, is she mentally sound?’
‘I have been unable to speak directly to Beatrice Lanark, sir, whose married name is Thorpe. Her son, Jason Thorpe, is extremely protective. He is aware of what was discovered at the Stockwell property, and he also has power of attorney for Helena Lanark’s estate.’
DCS Bridges leaned forward.
‘Detective Tennison, I have to consider the costs of a trip to Australia to question Beatrice Lanark, and presently there is absolutely no budget for that.’
‘I understand, sir, but as I’m sure you are aware from the appalling weekend press, it has been suggested that we have allowed the Stockwell property to be demolished before concluding our investigation. I am not making any accusations about unprofessional conduct, but I have only recently been given a piece of evidence that should have been examined immediately on the discovery of the dead baby.’
Jane had purposefully held her trump card back and now she opened the drawer in her desk to remove the forensic evidence bag delivered by DS Lawrence.
‘Sir, Helena Lanark moved from the Stockwell property many years ago. It remained boarded up until about ten years ago when her nephew, Jason Thorpe, was given permission to convert it into flats. The agreement was that no tenant could use the basement of the property or enter the garden. As you know, sir, the shelter was accessed via a tunnel from the basement.’
Bridges started tapping his foot again, impatiently. ‘Yes, yes... I have read the report.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, I just need to make it very clear to you that it is obvious Helena Lanark knew what was in that shelter. But when she was diagnosed with dementia, the Stockwell property was sold to a developer and placed under a demolition order.’
Bridges frowned. ‘Are you inferring that this Jason Thorpe is involved?’
‘No, not at all... I believe he was totally unaware of not only the first victim, Samantha Forgham, but also of the baby.’
Jane carefully opened the evidence envelope and eased out the belt. ‘This is the belt that was used to secure the breeze blocks. It had been tied so tightly that we had to cut the leather. As you can see by the size, sir, it is very obviously a woman’s belt.’ DS Lawrence carefully examined the buckle of the belt and discovered it was a costly-looking silver filigree design with monogrammed initials.
Jane could see that she now had Bridges’ total attention. He reached forward and looked carefully at the buckle.
‘HL... Helena Lanark. I see.’
Jane had been hoping for a bigger reaction. Bridges walked to the door then turned back.
‘Fine. I agree with you, Detective Tennison, we do need closure on this, and we also need to quieten the bad press. So find out whether Beatrice Lanark is able to be interviewed.’
As soon as Bridges closed the door, Jane put in a call to Arnold Hadley’s law firm, only to be reminded that he had retired and was no longer acting for the company. They would now be looking after his client, Jason Thorpe. But it didn’t take much persuasion for them to give her Arnold Hadley’s home number and when Jane queried the area code, she was told that it was Brighton.
Jane was just dialling the number when there was a knock on her office door. Barbara, now even blonder, entered in her usual over-casual manner.
‘TT asked me to hand this to you,’ she said breezily. ‘Everyone is caught up out there. I don’t know if you’ve been told, but DCI Carter has got eight arrests for all these break-ins. We’ve had to bring in two other clerks to cope with all the paperwork, never mind getting solicitors and God knows what, and—’
Jane held up her hand. ‘Excuse me, who is TT?’
Barbara waved her notebook. ‘Oh, that’s DC Tim Taylor... he’s had to go down to the cells, but he asked me to list some archive material that he felt you would be interested in.’ She started to rip out the page from her notebook. Jane held up her hand again.
‘Would you please type it out. I don’t want it scribbled on a piece of notepaper. In future, if you have anything for me, I’d be most grateful if you would present it to me in a professional manner.’
Barbara pursed her glossy pink lips.
‘Yes, ma’am. But I’m actually just doing this as a favour. It is a Sunday, you know, and it’s bedlam out there!’ With that she flounced out of the room, leaving the door open.
Infuriated, Jane got up to close the door and could immediately hear the commotion coming from the incident room, where it seemed that a jubilant DCI Carter was being congratulated on a successful raid. Jane closed the door and began dialling Arnold Hadley’s home number again.
When Hadley answered, Jane quickly explained who she was and got straight to the point.
‘I need to ask you a rather important question regarding Beatrice Thorpe, Jason Thorpe’s mother.’
‘Yes?’ he replied, sounding a little taken aback.
‘I think it is vital that I interview her, but I am concerned that she may be unwell.’
‘Unwell?’ he queried.
‘Yes, Mr Hadley. When Jason was picking up the photo album, he suggested his mother had been unwell, and that she would find it very difficult to discuss her family.’
‘Well, I think that was rather an exaggeration. Although I have not actually seen her physically for quite a few years, I have had communications with her, and she is exceedingly coherent. I think she even assists her son running the wine export company.’