‘Thank you, sir.’ Jane looked at Gibbs. ‘Did you ask Lawrence about the indented writing?’
‘Yeah. He said the lab were still working on it.’
Moran stood up. ‘Right, Spence, you can buy me lunch. If you need me, Jane, give me a shout.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Jane sat quietly in Moran’s office, concentrating hard on remembering everything Simmonds had said. Thankfully a lot of her suspicions had proved to be right, which helped in compiling the statement. She wondered how Simmonds had managed to appear a pillar of society for so long, when underneath his kind and gentle persona raged an unstable mind. Jane reflected on how his carefully constructed façade had crumbled to pieces when Helen Matthews said she was going to tell the police he was a child abuser and he’d snapped — causing a brutal chain reaction. Jane also wondered if Simmonds’ relationship with Lang, sexual or not, had precipitated a psychological crisis that acted as some sort of catalyst for the murders. She doubted Simmonds would ever tell the truth about his sexuality or the nature of his relationship with Lang. But it didn’t matter now. The important thing was that Simmonds had confessed to murdering him.
It was nearly two hours later when Moran entered the room with Gibbs.
Jane looked up. ‘I’ve nearly finished, sir.’
Moran looked pleased, opening his notebook. ‘I just spoke with Lawrence on the phone about the bin bags.’
‘And?’
‘Thankfully he gave me the details in layman’s terms, which were...’ Moran read from his notes. ‘‘The striation marks on the body part bags are the same as the ones under the sink at the Peckham surgery. There’s also a perfect mechanical fit on the torn edge of the bag the head was in and the next bag on the roll under the sink.’ That’s enough to nail him for Lang’s murder even if he retracts his confession.’ Moran turned a page in his notebook. ‘Fibers from the curtain ties used to strangle Helen Matthews and Eileen Summers matched fibers recovered from the waiting room curtains. The same fibers were also found in the pocket of Simmonds’ winter coat, which I’m guessing he wore when he went to kill Eileen Summers.’
Jane’s eyes lit up. ‘He’s not as forensically savvy as he likes to think. What about the testing of the eye fluid for novocaine?’
‘We’re waiting for a result on that,’ Moran said.
‘Everything you just said about the forensic results on the ligatures fits with what Simmonds told me in his confession.’
Moran’s desk phone rang. He spoke briefly with the caller. ‘You can take Davidge through to the interview room and tell him one of us will be with him shortly. But don’t let him see Simmonds yet.’ Moran put the phone down.
‘I’ll make a copy of my statement so far for Davidge to read, then get Simmonds out of his cell so he can write his confession with Davidge present.’
‘Whoa, slow down, Jane. I want to read your statement before Davidge or Simmonds. You don’t need to tell Davidge anything for now. Just give him and Simmons the confession forms and let them get on with it. You can finish your statement later.’
‘I’ve already finished it, sir.’ But she knew it wasn’t a complete record of what had been said between them. She had made no reference in her statement to the fact that Simmonds had threatened her, or that the custody PC had entered the room after hearing him shouting at her. And she had omitted her comments about Simmonds’ mother, and his dishonorable conduct in the army.
Jane took the cell keys from the duty sergeant and asked the custody PC to accompany her when she escorted Simmonds to the interview room. She opened the wicket on Simmonds’ cell door and peered in, but couldn’t see him.
Jane turned to the PC. ‘Has he been taken for a walk in the yard, or for a wash?’
‘Not that I know of.’
Jane turned back to the door and raised her voice. ‘Mr. Simmonds, please show yourself. Mr. Davidge is here to see you.’
‘I checked on him half an hour ago and he was there,’ the PC assured her.
‘Well, he can’t have bloody well escaped. Open the door,’ Jane told him.
As the cell door opened, she could see Simmonds lying face down by the door, with a pool of blood around his head.
‘Get an ambulance!’ Jane shouted.
The PC knelt and put two fingers on Simmonds’ neck. ‘There’s no pulse. He’s dead.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jane felt for a pulse herself, but there was nothing.
Chapter Thirty
The PC left Jane with Simmonds’ body whilst he went to inform the duty sergeant of the death. Jane couldn’t believe it. She crouched down and looked at the back of Simmonds’ head, but there was no noticeable injury. Could he have fallen over and split his forehead open on the floor? She slowly lifted his head. His face was covered in blood, but there was no visible injury.
‘What the hell have you done to him?’ Davidge shouted.
‘Nothing. We opened the cell door and found him like this.’
Davidge scowled at her. ‘I don’t believe you!’
The duty sergeant approached the cell. ‘Back off, Davidge. Simmonds was checked half an hour ago and he was fine.’
‘I want Simmonds examined by an independent doctor,’ Davidge insisted.
‘I’m calling a forensic pathologist to examine the body in situ, and a lab liaison sergeant to examine the scene,’ the sergeant replied firmly.
‘I want to be present when that happens,’ Davidge told him.
The duty sergeant ushered him away from the cell. ‘Please go and wait in the station foyer.’
As Davidge walked off, the sergeant took Jane to one side.
‘I’m playing this by the book, Sergeant Tennison, and not just because Davidge is here, but to protect you, Moran and everyone else involved in the investigation.’
Jane knocked nervously on Moran’s door before opening it. He was on the phone with a smile on his face and waved for her to sit down.
‘That’s unbelievable... Cutting his first tooth... But isn’t he too young?... Are you sure he said it?... I can’t wait to come home... Yes, I hopefully won’t be too late.’
Replacing the receiver, Moran clapped his hands. ‘Did you hear that? Cutting his first tooth, which explains why he’s been so ratty. And he said “Dada”! Could just be wind, of course, but—’ From the expression on Jane’s face, he knew something was wrong. ‘What is it?’
Before she could say anything, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. The duty sergeant entered and looked at Moran.
‘SOCOs finished taking photographs and Professor Martin should be here in about five minutes. I spoke with A10 and they’re happy for DS Lawrence to deal with the scene.’
Moran looked confused. ‘What? Don’t tell me we’ve had another bloody murder. And what’s A10 got to do with it?’
The sergeant looked at Jane.
Moran banged his fist on the desk. ‘Will someone tell me what’s going on?’
Jane took a deep breath. ‘I found Simmonds dead in his cell.’
Moran, Gibbs, Jane and the duty sergeant watched as Professor Martin and DS Lawrence carefully examined Simmonds’ head. Davidge was taking notes.
‘How do you think he died?’ Moran asked.
‘In the interests of my client, Mr. Simmonds, I’d like to see the detective sergeant’s notes of his alleged confession.’
Moran turned on him. ‘For Christ’s sake, shut up, Davidge. Your client’s hardly in a position to deny it now, is he!’