DC Jones watched as she closed the case and turned to him. “Will you bring me two pairs of shoes…”
She spent a considerable time looking over the dressing table, checking the make-up, opening the small drawers. By the time she seemed satisfied, Jones’ stomach was complaining loudly. He suggested it was time to eat. Tennison paused on her way downstairs and looked back at him.
“I’m OK, but if you can’t hold out, go and get yourself something while I interview the landlady.”
When Jones got back to the house he found Tennison sitting in the dirty, cluttered kitchen in the basement, listening to Mrs. Salbanna moaning.
“The rents are my living, how long will you need the room for? I could let it right now, you know!”
Tennison replied calmly, “Mrs. Salbanna, I am investigating a murder. As soon as I am satisfied that we no longer need the efficiency, I will let you know. If you wish you can put in a claim for loss of earnings, I’ll have the forms sent to you. Now, will you just repeat to me exactly what happened the night you found Della Mornay? You identified her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I’ve told you twice, yes.”
“How well did you know her?”
“How well? You’re jokin’,” I didn’t know her. I let a room to her, that’s all.”
“How often did you see her?”
“As often as I could, to get the rent off her. God forgive me for talking ill of the dead, but that little bitch owed me months in rent. She was always late, and it gets so if you throw her out on the street you’ll never get the money back, right? She kept on promising and promising…”
“So you saw her recently?”
“No, because she was in and out like a snake. I hadn’t seen her for… at least a month, maybe longer.”
“But you are absolutely sure that it was Della Mornay’s body?”
“Who else would it be? I told you all this, I told that big bloke too.”
“And that night you didn’t hear anything unusual, or see anyone that didn’t live here?”
“No, I didn’t come home till after eight myself. Then, because I’d had such a time with my daughter-she’s had a new baby, and she’s already got two, so I’ve been looking after them… Well, by the time I got home I was so exhausted, I went straight to bed. Then I was woken up by the front door banging. I put notices up, but no one pays attention. It started banging, so I got up…”
“You didn’t see anyone go out? Could someone have just left?”
“I don’t know… See, it’s got a bit of rubber tire tacked on it to try and stop the noise, so if they didn’t want to be heard… But it was just blowing around in the wind, it was a windy night… I told the other man all this.”
Tennison closed her notebook. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Salbanna.”
Tennison stopped off at Forensic on her way to view the body, and sat in silence while Willy Chang explained the complex details of the DNA test that had resulted in George Marlow being picked up on suspicion of murder. She looked at the slides.
“There was a big rape and murder case up in Leicester. They did a mass screening, every man in the entire village, and they got him. The semen tests took weeks to match, but in the case of such a rare blood group it’s much easier to define. He’s an AB secreter and belongs to group two in the PGM tests, so it narrows the field dramatically. We’ve been doing test runs on a new computerized cross-matching system, just using the rarer blood groups, for experimental purposes. Your man was tested in 1988, and was actually on record.”
“So you got a match from the computer, out of the blue?”
“Yes. When we got the read-out it was mayhem in here, it was such a freak piece of luck.”
“So the computer is infallible, is it?”
“Not exactly, it’ll give you the closest match it can find. We have to confirm the results with our own visual tests on the light-box. Want to see it?”
Tennison was shown two sets of negatives that looked like supermarket bar codes, with certain lines darker than others. The black bands on each matched perfectly. She made some notes, then asked to use a telephone.
She placed a call to her old base at the rape center in Reading and requested the records of all suspected rapists charged as a result of DNA testing. She wanted to see how the judges had reacted, if they had allowed the DNA results to be the mainstay of the evidence.
Felix Norman slammed the phone down as a corpse, covered by a green sheet, was wheeled into the lab. Five students, all masked, gowned and shod in white wellington boots, trailed in after the trolley.
He gestured for them to gather round, then lifted the sheet. “Well, you’re in luck, this is a nice fresh ’un. I’m gonna have to leave you for a few minutes, but you can start opening it up without me.”
He picked up a clipboard and strode out to where Tennison and Jones were waiting. Greeting them with nothing approaching civility, he led them to the mortuary. At the far end of the rows of drawers he stopped and pulled on a lever, releasing the hinge, and slid out the tray with “D. Mornay” chalked on it.
Before removing the sheet from the body, Norman reeled off a list of injuries from the clipboard, including the number and depth of the stab wounds.
“I hear you had a lucky break with the forensic results. Your suspect has a very rare blood group?”
Tennison nodded, waiting for him to draw the sheet back. He did so slowly, looking at DC Jones’ pale face.
The body had been cleaned, the blond hair combed back from her face. The dark bruises remained and the gashes on the head were deep and clear. Tennison frowned, leaning forward.
“Pull her out further, will you?”
Norman drew the drawer out to its fullest extent. Tennison walked around, peering at the dead girl’s face, then turned to DC Jones.
“Shefford identified her, didn’t he?”
“Yes, ma’am, and her landlady, Mrs. Corinna Salbanna.”
Tennison made a note on her pad, walked back again, then leaned in even closer. She stared for a long time before she asked to see the wounds on the torso. Norman pointed out the incisions, then indicated the deep weals on the tops of the arms.
“These seem to indicate that she was strung up. We’ll do some tests with weights… And here, on her wrists, you can see the marks of the ropes, tied so tightly they left imprints, the mark of her watch strap too, see…”
“Where’s the cut? Small cut on her hand?”
“Here.” He showed Tennison the corpse’s right wrist. “Small, but quite deep. Would have bled a fair bit.” He continued reading from his notes. “Extensive bruising all over the front of the body, plus a good deal around the genital and anal areas, but nothing on the back or buttocks.”
Tennison nodded and again peered closely at the victim’s face, then turned to DC Jones.
“I asked for another set of prints, will you make sure they’re on the way, and the set from Della Mornay’s file.”
Jones shifted his weight and muttered that he’d check it out. “We already have a set, ma’am.”
Tennison snapped back, “I need another set, and fast.”
Norman looked at his watch. “My students are waiting, Inspector.”
Tennison was frowning. She turned again to Jones. “Go and check on those prints now, Jones.” Then she addressed Felix Norman. “I’ve got a few more questions I can ask while you work, OK?”
Norman sighed, covered the corpse and closed the drawer while Tennison added to the notes she had made during her inspection, then he led her into the dissection room.
For the next few minutes, Tennison watched as Norman, with apparent relish, helped a student remove the specimen’s heart.
“That’s it, ease it out…”
Jones returned and stood at Tennison’s side. “Prints are organized, ma’am.”