Moran looked glum. ‘There’ll probably be hundreds of mispers across the country who fit his size and age range. We don’t even have a definitive hair color.’
‘We know he’s got blue eyes,’ Gibbs said, trying to sound positive.
Moran frowned. ‘Well, that should crack it, Spence. Maybe I should circulate an appeal for information poster of the flayed head with: Do you know this man? scrawled across it!’
‘Might be worth getting a forensic odontologist to check the teeth against dental records of male mispers,’ Gibbs countered.
‘That could cost a bloody fortune. Check Missing Persons first for any likely matches, and then I’ll decide about the odontologist.’
‘Do you think, in your professional opinion, this murder is linked to the murder of the three women?’ Blake asked Martin.
‘That’s not for me to decide, DCS Blake. My job is to give the cause of death from a pathologist’s viewpoint. I’ll have my report done by mid-week. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’m off home.’
Blake looked at Moran. ‘In my opinion, this murder has all the hallmarks of a gangland killing.’
Moran nodded. ‘Well, the first thing I’m going to do is put out a press release making clear it has no connection to the three female victims.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jane arrived at work at eight o’clock on a freezing Monday morning and went straight to the collator’s office on the ground floor. Every police station had a collator, and at Peckham it was PC Burt Oliver, a rotund officer with a bald head. He had worked there for nearly twenty-five years, and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about the criminal underworld. He received and collated information about criminals in the division and dispersed intelligence to the beat officers about criminal trends and people suspected of particular crimes. His accumulated knowledge was invaluable, and he was highly respected by everyone in the station. He also happened to be a genuinely nice man who had time for everyone, male or female.
‘What can I do for you, Sergeant Tennison?’ He smiled as Jane entered his office.
‘It’s about the dismembered body in Peckham Rye Park.’
‘Yeah, I heard about the flayed head. Must have been a real sickener for the officer who found it.’
Jane nodded, but decided not to tell Burt it had been her. She was eager to get to the point of her visit. ‘Whoever skinned the head also cut out the tongue. DCS Blake is convinced it’s a gangland murder. He thinks the tongue was removed because the victim was a grass.’
Burt laughed. ‘That’s more the mafia’s style, not your South London mobsters.’
‘Even so, I was wondering if you knew of any local gangs who’re at war with each other?’
‘I haven’t heard anything on the grapevine recently. Mind you, Eddie Harrison might be trying to reclaim his manor.’
‘Eddie Harrison? I’ve not heard of him.’
‘That’s probably because you’ve always worked north of the big divide,’ Burt laughed.
Jane knew he was right. The Met was a sprawling force, covering over six hundred square miles of London, and it was hard to keep tabs on everything that was going on. She’d only ever worked at Hackney and Bow Street, in the West End, and felt she hardly knew what went on south of the river since she’d just arrived in Peckham.
Burt continued. ‘Eddie and his brother Charlie are serious South London gangsters. They pretty much ruled South London in the sixties when they were known as the “torture gang.” Charlie got sentenced to fifteen years. He’s still inside, but Eddie was released only recently after an eight-year stretch. While they were inside, some other villains took over their patch, and did very nicely out of it.’
‘What did the Harrisons do?’ Jane asked.
‘They pulled rivals’ teeth out with pliers, cut off toes and fingers with bolt cutters, nailed people to the floor. Basically they got pleasure from other people’s pain.’
‘No, I meant how did they make their money?’
‘Oh, fraud and extortion mostly.’
‘Do you think the dismemberment could be the work of Eddie Harrison or one of his henchmen?’
‘It’s possible. But like I said, I’ve not heard anything. Between you and me, there’s a guy who used to work for them as an enforcer called The Clown. There’s a sort of mutual respect between the two of us. I can have a word with him, see if he’s heard anything.’
‘That’s a strange nickname for a villain,’ Jane remarked.
Burt chuckled. ‘He liked making people smile with a razor. He’d cut their mouth open from ear to ear, so it looked like a clown’s smile.’ Burt drew a finger across his face to illustrate what he meant.
Jane winced. ‘If he’s capable of that, then maybe he skinned the head and cut out the tongue.’
‘I doubt it. He’s been in a wheelchair since a rival gang threw him off a roof five years ago. He still drinks in the villains’ pubs and keeps his ear to the ground, though. More to the point, in my experience, people like the Harrisons wouldn’t skin the head or remove the tongue of a grass. They’d want their rivals to know exactly who it was.’
‘Why?’ Jane asked.
‘Because it sends out a message not to mess with them.’
‘Thanks, Burt. As ever, you’ve been a fount of wisdom.’
Jane went up to the CID office, thinking about what Burt had told her. The clerk handed her a large brown envelope with her name on it from Peckham Social Services. She also told Jane that Moran wanted a team meeting at 10 a.m.
Opening the envelope, Jane found it contained two reports. One was from Mary Williams, detailing her interview with Simon Matthews, and the other was from the pediatrician. Jane started to scan Mary Williams’ report but quickly realized it didn’t contain anything she hadn’t already discussed with her. Jane sighed as she put the report back in the envelope and wrote on the front: Social Services Reports — Simon Matthews — No Further Action.
Jane was about to give the CID clerk the envelope, so it could be filed with the case papers, when she recalled something Lawrence had said at dinner on Saturday night. He had called her tenacious, and advised her to go over everything connected to Simmonds with a fine-tooth comb. Despite Moran’s insistence that they focus on Lang, something about Simmonds was nagging at her. Jane also knew she lacked experience in child abuse cases, so looking at the types of questions Simon was asked would also be beneficial.
She removed the report from the envelope and read it again. What stood out this time was the part where Simon said his mum was angry because he told her he didn’t like the dentist touching him. Jane remembered Mrs. Williams telling her a listener hears what they want to hear if they are already convinced something bad has happened. It struck Jane that even if Helen Matthews had dismissed Eileen Summers’ fears about Simon being abused, it might still have created doubt in her mind. In turn, it was possible that the doubt became a conviction when Simon told his mother he didn’t like the dentist touching him. Jane flicked through her notebook. Brenda Matthews had said Helen could be impulsive and had confronted the bullies who tormented him. Jane wondered: was it possible that a volatile Helen went to Peckham that Friday to confront Simmonds?
Jane flicked through her notebook to the time she first met Agnes. She’d asked her if she knew where Mrs. Hastings was going when she left the flat on the Friday afternoon. Agnes said Mrs. Hastings was going to see a friend from the golf club. Jane now knew that Simmonds wasn’t just Sybil Hastings’ dentist, but she also played golf with him — so he could surely be considered a friend. It was reasonable to assume that Sybil Hastings would have known Simmonds worked in Peckham on a Friday. Even more significant was the fact both Mrs. Hastings and Helen Matthews were murdered on the same Friday, around the same time, and their bodies were found in Peckham a short distance from each other.