‘Well, that’s obviously come from that prick Andrew Hastings,’ Gibbs interjected.
Moran ignored him. ‘The press is calling us inept and clueless. The Commissioner is livid and wants DCS Blake and me to explain the complexities of the investigation to the press and release the fact we now have Aiden Lang as a suspect, with forensic evidence to suggest he’s responsible for all three murders.’
Edwards and another officer entered the room.
‘Sorry we’re late, sir,’ he said sheepishly.
‘Where have you two been?’ Moran bellowed.
‘Making enquiries at Hampstead Police Station about Aiden Lang’s arrest for assault and theft — just as you instructed us to do first thing this morning, sir,’ Edwards replied.
Moran looked embarrassed again. ‘Uh, yes, sorry, Edwards. Things have been a bit hectic this morning. What’ve you got for us?’
Jane noted that she hadn’t got an apology from Moran for his brusque manner.
Edwards flicked open his notebook. ‘We spoke with the uniform officer who last arrested Aiden Lang. The circumstances were...’ Edwards paused to look at his notes. ‘The officer was walking past the public toilet block at Hampstead Heath at about two p.m., when he heard a commotion in the men’s. He entered the block and found Lang assaulting the victim — an accountant in his early thirties. The PC broke up the fight, and the accountant said Lang had attacked him and stolen his wallet. The wallet was in Lang’s possession and he was duly nicked.’
‘Did Lang admit the offences under interview?’ Moran asked.
‘Yep. His excuse for committing the offence was because he was homeless and needed money.’
‘What address did he give as his last residence for the charge sheet?’ Moran asked.
Edwards turned a page in his notebook. ‘The Golden Lion pub in Soho. Said he worked there and lived in a small room above it. He didn’t get on with the landlord so left and had been living rough in the West End. He also said he had a married sister who lived in south London, but he didn’t get on with her husband, so he didn’t visit her.’
Gibbs nodded. ‘That doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep in contact with her. Find out who she is and where she lives, Edwards.’
‘The Samaritans branch Mrs. Hastings worked at is in Soho,’ Jane said.
‘The Golden Lion is a gay boys’ pub in Dean Street, just off Shaftesbury Avenue,’ Edwards added.
Gibbs opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. ‘Didn’t take you for a shirt-lifter, Edwards!’
Edwards grinned. ‘Takes one to know one, guv. Funny thing is, the officer who arrested Lang said the area on Hampstead Heath where the incident happened is commonly known as “Gobblers Gulch,” where men go cottaging and looking for a blow job in the men’s toilets.’
‘What’s “cottaging”?’ a young detective asked.
Edwards laughed. ‘It’s a term used when referring to anonymous sex between poofters in a public toilet, or where they’re cruising for someone to have sex with. Some toilets have glory holes they stick their todgers through...’
‘Shut up, Edwards, and stop behaving like a school kid,’ Jane said sharply, annoyed at the way he was treating the subject as a joke.
‘Anything else to add, Edwards?’ Moran asked.
Edwards adopted a more serious tone. ‘The arresting PC suspected there was more behind the incident, but he had no evidence to prove it. Lang was charged and appeared at the local magistrates court the next day, where he pleaded guilty and was released on bail pending a probation service report by social services. He obviously did a runner as he failed to reappear at court for sentencing.’
Moran thought for a moment. ‘Tennison and Lawrence, I want you two to go to the Golden Lion and speak to the landlord and staff. And do a thorough search of the room Lang stayed in there.’
Lawrence frowned. ‘Can I send a local SOCO to meet Tennison there? I’ve got a huge backlog of stuff to deal with at the lab.’
Moran shook his head. ‘Sorry, Paul, you’ve been to all the crime scenes and the post-mortems. I value your experience and I know I can trust you not to miss anything of forensic value.’
Lawrence didn’t look happy, but knew he couldn’t argue.
Moran continued. ‘I agree with the arresting PC. Something doesn’t add up about Lang’s arrest in the toilets. Gibbs, I want you and Edwards to visit the accountant who was robbed by Lang. It’s possible they might have met for sex and are old acquaintances. Find out if there’s more behind the incident.’
‘Why do I always get the shitty jobs?’ Edwards muttered under his breath.
Moran glared at him. ‘You got a problem, Edwards? And before you answer, I’m not in the mood for any more of your frivolous remarks.’
Edwards looked chastened. ‘I just remembered something, sir. Although Lang’s mugshot doesn’t show it because his mouth’s closed, the arresting officer said he had an upper front tooth missing on the left side of his mouth. Believe it or not, Lang told the officer it was knocked out when someone robbed him.’
Moran looked happier. ‘Good, that should help with identifying him.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I want Lang traced and arrested within the next forty-eight hours. All of you need to keep up the hard work. We can’t rest until he’s found. There must be a connection between our three victims and Lang, and finding it will lead us to him. I don’t believe any of the murders are random, so it’s more likely the three women were lured to their deaths, especially as neither Summers nor Hastings were from Peckham. Likewise, I suspect our unknown victim isn’t either.’
Jane spoke up. ‘The Kentish Town primary school that Eileen Summers taught at, and her home address in Chalk Farm, are not far from Hampstead Heath, where Lang was arrested.’
‘Good point. Revisit Eileen Summers’ school and see if Lang was ever a pupil there.’
‘But Eileen is only twenty-three, so she couldn’t have been a teacher when he was at primary school,’ Jane argued.
‘Don’t question, Tennison, just do as I ask. It may be that Lang is an ex-pupil with a grudge against the school and he decided to take it out on one of the teachers. I know there’s more questions than answers right now, and the press are about to give me a grilling, so let’s find Lang before he kills again. Or we might all find ourselves back in uniform.’
Jane bit her tongue as Moran left the room. The impending press conference had clearly made him edgy.
‘Well, if he’s a gay boy, he shouldn’t be hard to break,’ Gibbs remarked.
‘He might just squeal like a piggy... Weee... Weee.’ Edwards grinned, adopting a hillbilly accent in imitation of the film Deliverance.
Some of the officers laughed as everyone began to leave the room.
‘Now that was a great film.’ Gibbs laughed.
‘Yeah, remember that bit where Burt Reynolds shot the pervert hillbilly with a bow and arrow, then buried him?’ Edwards added.
Jane noticed Lawrence shaking his head sadly at his colleagues’ childish and narrow-minded behavior.
As Jane left the team meeting, she saw Moran speaking to Blake in the corridor. She would have liked to have gone into the press conference, but Moran had made it clear he wanted them out on the streets doing everything they could to find Aiden Lang.
Blake lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and let out two streams of smoke through his nostrils. ‘Have Summers’ parents given us the OK to release their daughter’s name to the press?’
‘Yes. They’re coming down today to do an official ID on the body,’ Moran replied.