The neighbor looked surprised. ‘I saw her last night. She’s a lovely young lady. Gets me newspapers and does me shoppin’, as I’m pretty much house-bound these days. I was a prisoner of war, you know — captured by the Japs and held in Changi prison until the end of the war. They treated us terribly and killed a lot of me mates. Me right leg was badly broken while I was being tortured for information.’ He gasped for breath and had a coughing fit before he could continue.
Jane felt sympathy for the old man but was keen to find out more information about their latest victim.
‘When did you last see Eileen?’
‘About five last night. She was going to the chippy down the road — got me a lovely bit of plaice and a portion of chips. I offered to pay but, bless her, she refused to take me money. She’s a teacher, you know. Loves her job, and the kids. You sure she’s not in?’
‘We tried knocking but there’s no answer.’ Jane didn’t want to upset the old man by telling him that his neighbor was now dead. ‘Obviously we’re concerned she might have had an accident indoors, so we’ll have to force entry to check it out.’
‘There’s no need to do that — I’ve got a spare key. Eileen leaves it with me in case of emergencies, and I also water her plants when she’s away.’ The old man went into his flat and returned a minute later with the key.
Jane took it. Lawrence had taught her that it was always worth keeping latex gloves in her bag. She pulled some out and handed a pair to Edwards. They both put them on and then let themselves into Eileen Summers’ flat. There was a strong smell of joss sticks, which Jane knew was sometimes used to cover the smell of cannabis, but she doubted Eileen was a user. The first room, to the right of the corridor, was the kitchen. It was very tidy, with a spotless electric oven and spotless work surfaces. It reminded Jane of her own small kitchen and it suddenly struck her that Eileen was very similar to her, being a single professional woman who was enjoying her career whilst maintaining her independence.
Jane noticed a knife, fork and plate in the kitchen sink, with remnants of white fish and tomato sauce on it. She opened the bin and saw the discarded fish and chip newspaper.
Edwards called out to her. ‘Someone’s turned the place over, Sarge.’
Jane hurried into what was obviously Eileen’s bedroom. The dressing table and bedside cabinet drawers were all half open, or pulled out completely. The mattress had been pulled off the bed and on top of the cabinet there was an open and empty jewelry box.
‘No forced entry, so whoever did this must have had a key,’ Jane remarked.
‘Well, I think we can rule out the old boy next door,’ Edwards replied.
‘Eileen Summers didn’t have any house keys in her pocket, and no handbag or purse was recovered,’ Jane stated.
‘Then that bastard Ben Smith must have burgled the place after he murdered her. You need cash or valuables to sell if you’re a heroin addict on the run.’
‘It’s possible, but we don’t know that for certain.’ Jane looked around the room.
‘It’s bloody obvious, I’d say,’ Edwards exclaimed, going over to pick up the empty jewelry box.
‘Don’t touch it! You might smudge any prints on it,’ Jane said firmly. ‘We need Lawrence down here to start fingerprinting the place.’
Edwards nodded.
‘I want to speak to the neighbor again. Edwards, you go and radio the station for DS Lawrence to attend.’
Frank’s living room was filled with military memorabilia and photographs, of which he was clearly very proud. He picked one up of himself and his colleagues and showed it to Jane.
‘Most got killed in the war or died in the prison camp.’
Jane was unsure about telling Frank that Eileen was dead, but she knew he would eventually find out through the newspapers or TV. She gently encouraged him to sit down.
‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Frank: Eileen was killed last night, and we’re treating her death as murder.’
Frank was beside himself and tears rolled down his face.
‘Is there anyone I can call to be with you?’ Jane asked.
‘I ain’t got no family... Eileen was like a daughter to me... She was so kind... What am I going to do without her?’ Frank wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jumper.
Jane comforted Frank, sitting on the edge of the chair with her arm around him. She didn’t know what to say and it was terrible to see a man who’d survived horrific torture and the horrors of war in such emotional pain. A feeling of sadness overwhelmed Jane as she thought about her parents and remembered the pain they suffered when her younger brother had drowned. She had cried at the time but had been too young to really understand what grief was. It was clear that Frank’s only connection with the outside world had been through Eileen Summers, and now that world had ended for him.
Edwards entered and realized that Jane had informed Frank of Eileen’s death. He took Jane to one side.
‘Lawrence is attending Summers’ post-mortem. I spoke to Gibbs and he’s sending a couple of SOCOs down to start printing the flat. I’ll stay with Frank for a bit whilst I wait for them to arrive. You may as well head off to the Samaritans.’ He handed Jane the CID car keys.
‘Thanks.’ Jane looked at her watch. It was quarter to three. She felt physically and emotionally drained, and would have liked to go home and execute the Samaritans warrant the next day.
‘Did you have a look in the living room for an address book?’ Jane asked Edwards, about to hand him Eileen’s flat key.
‘You said not to touch anything.’
‘I’ll have a quick look before I go.’ Jane held onto the key.
Eileen’s living room had also been ransacked, but Jane noticed a phone on a small side table and next to it was an address book. Wearing gloves, she picked it up and flicked through it, but didn’t see the names of Ben Smith or Sybil Hastings. There was also the latest edition of Woman’s Own magazine on the table, which Jane flicked through to see if any phone numbers or names had been scribbled in it. She suddenly came across a Samaritans advert giving a phone number, and Jane could see that the top right corner of the page had been folded over, as if to bookmark it. She wondered why Eileen Summers had done this and whether there could be a connection to Sybil Hastings.
Chapter Eleven
Moran and Lawrence were once again in attendance at Ladywell mortuary. Professor Martin was concluding his post-mortem on the hostel victim as the coroner’s officer entered and told Moran that DI Gibbs was on the phone.
After speaking to Gibbs, Moran returned to the mortuary, looking slightly less stressed. He told Martin and Lawrence that the body was believed to be that of Eileen Summers, a 23-year-old teacher from Chalk Farm, and explained the circumstances that had led to the headmistress reporting Summers as missing, finally updating them on Jane’s subsequent visits to the school and Eileen Summers’ flat.
‘Tennison’s having a pretty productive day,’ Lawrence remarked.
Martin laughed. ‘At this rate, she’ll be the first plonk in the Met to make DCI and run a murder squad.’
‘Yeah, and pigs might fly,’ Moran retorted.
Martin handed Lawrence the blood and urine samples he had taken during his examination. ‘There was undigested fish and chips in the stomach. Your victim must have eaten them shortly before her death.’
‘No sign of fish and chips wrappers at the crime scene,’ Lawrence said.
‘Edwards told Gibbs that Eileen Summers bought herself and her neighbor fish and chips at about five p.m. last night,’ Moran put in.
‘My time of death estimation is pretty good then.’ Martin smiled.
The pathologist had removed the brain and placed it on a small work table, where Martin now proceeded to examine it.