Destruction of Evidence (10 page)

‘We have.’

‘Not murder?’

‘No.’

‘He was found at the scene?’

‘He was,’ Reggie concurred. ‘And that was the first anomaly that alerted me. It seemed too much of a coincidence for the perpetrator to be found lingering in the vicinity of the crime. Especially, as he was seen comatose drunk only three and a half hours before. Apart from the things found on him…’

‘What things?’ Trevor broke in.

Reggie frowned. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll come to that later. I’ve given the forensic teams all the time they want to carry out their investigation because to date they haven’t discovered a shred of physical evidence that places Larry Jones in the Pitcher house. Not a hair, fingerprint, or fragment of DNA. I am loath to hurry them and demand reports because haste can lead to sloppiness and we – you – Trevor, need to be sure of the facts.’

‘Because of the number of South Wales Police Force cases that have resulted in overturned verdicts at a second trial?’ Peter suggested bluntly.

‘There have been miscarriages of justice,’ Reggie acknowledged.

‘More than in any other force in the country.’ Peter had made a statement not asked a question.

‘Are you suggesting there are corrupt officers on my force, Sergeant Collins?’ Reggie enquired defensively.

‘You deny the possibility?’

‘It’s every straight copper’s nightmare,’ Reggie conceded. ‘The over-zealous colleagues who’re so certain they’ve caught the villain they fabricate evidence to secure a conviction. I can’t deny we’ve had some high-profile cases turn sour. The Cardiff three, the Swansea two, the murder of a Cardiff newsagent and the tampering with witness statements that led to the wrong man being convicted. Last year ten officers were suspended from the South Wales force, four for alleged offences of dishonesty, perjury and deception. As I’ve already explained, Alun Pitcher was a popular man. His family were well liked. I don’t want questions raised about the way this case was handled by the locals because of the actions of an over-enthusiastic officer, especially as we’ve an ex-con in custody.’

‘The right ex-con?’ Trevor couldn’t resist asking.

‘Again, that’s now your, not my, question to answer. Why do you think I asked for help? Every interview and piece of evidence on this case, not only needs to be seen to be carried out and collected by the book, but also objectively and professionally. When I asked for a capable and honest officer to head this investigation because I suspected my team to be out of their depth, yours was the first name mentioned. You have a reputation for being incorruptible, Trevor.’

‘I told you,’ Peter crowed. ‘You get the lousiest jobs because you’re good at cleaning up other people’s messes.’

‘This ex-con…’ Trevor began.

‘Can we return to the photographs of the victims,’ Reggie interrupted. ‘What I can tell you is that all of them were beaten.’

‘Weapon?’ Trevor asked.

‘Pathologist wouldn’t commit himself other then to say that in three cases it was long, thin and cylindrical, possibly with a sharp edge or point at one end.’

‘And the fourth?’

‘A large heavy object.’

‘So, we’re looking for a raving nutcase or nutcases, possibly out of their, his or her tiny mind on drink or drugs, with the strength to wield blunt instruments,’ Peter concluded.

‘I’d hold back on the psychiatric angle unless you’re talking socio or psychopath.’ Trevor recalled the conversation he’d had with Bill. ‘Would a disturbed person who’d bludgeoned four victims about the head have the presence of mind to set fires to destroy the evidence?’

‘Again, that, Trevor, is your question to answer.’ Reggie failed to keep the relief from her voice.

‘If he, she or they weren’t “mad, bad and dangerous to know”,’ Peter quoted, ‘He, she or they must have had a bloody good motive for doing what he, she or they did. Any ideas, Superintendent?’

‘Apart from theft, none.’

Silence settled heavy in the atmosphere as they all studied the photographs of the corpses.

Trevor pushed one photograph in front of Reggie. ‘This corpse isn’t as badly burned as the others. It appears to be wrapped in something.’

‘Brown paper tied with string before being set alight,’ Reggie informed him. ‘All four were treated the same way. Forensic said the murderer or murderers couldn’t have come up with a better way to destroy evidence.’

‘Poor buggers,’ Peter said feelingly. ‘If they were alive…’

Reggie interrupted him. ‘It’s useless to speculate. The pathologist won’t commit one way or the other until he’s had a chance to examine their lungs for smoke inhalation.’

‘This suggests we’re looking for a cool-headed killer,’ Trevor said thoughtfully. ‘It takes time and intelligence to wrap damaged or, hopefully for the victims’ sake, dead bodies in paper and string and set fire to the paper to destroy all traces of the assailant’s DNA. And, then to move on to set fires in the house, presumably with the intention of destroying evidence that could implicate the criminal. I use “criminal” loosely. Four healthy adult victims all brutally battered suggest more than one killer to me.’

‘Look at the last photograph,’ Reggie flicked to the final page of photographs.

Trevor recognised the fragments. ‘Slivers of latex. Proof gloves were worn?’

‘Two slivers of more or less identical size found in the attic bathroom. The forensic team have suggested at least two sets were worn, one on top of the other. The bathroom in the attic didn’t suffer as much as the studio. The door was closed and it protected the area from the worst effects of the fire. The fire service managed to douse the flames before they spread. The floor, walls and suite had been cleaned with bleach. There were pools of it on the floor and in the shower.’

‘Bleach doesn’t destroy all traces of blood,’ Peter said soberly.

‘No, it doesn’t,’ Trevor agreed. ‘But it will dilute and destroy any traces of DNA. Given the victims’ injuries, what do you think the chances are of the murderer sustaining wounds?’

‘Impossible to say until we get the PM results,’ Reggie said. ‘As you see all the corpses have been burned. Alun and Gillian Pitcher’s less than the other two but even if any of them fought back I doubt any traces of skin, blood or DNA will be found under their fingernails. Their hands have been reduced to ash and charred bone.’

‘Forensic occasionally produce miracles,’ Trevor said.

‘Look at the positions of the victims. All are flat on their backs, their arms at their sides.’ Peter studied the photographic evidence. ‘No obvious sign of a struggle.’

‘They were wrapped in brown paper and tied up,’ Reggie reminded him.

‘Given that no one in their right mind would allow themselves to be parcelled without putting up a fight, I think they were either dead or unconscious before the fire was lit. What do you think?’ Trevor turned to Reggie.

‘It makes sense.’

‘The killer could have been threatening to kill one of them unless the others complied. The men wouldn’t have put up a fight if someone had a knife to the throat of the woman.’ Peter continued to flick through the file.

‘Do we know if anything valuable was taken?’ Trevor asked.

‘Jewellery identified as being taken from Lee Pitcher’s attic was found in Larry Jones’s pocket. His statement is in the appendix.’

‘Valuable jewellery?’ Trevor checked.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve only charged him with arson.’

‘And breaking his parole. He was supposed to sleep at home.’

‘You do have him in custody here?’ Trevor sought confirmation.

‘At the moment he’s in the cells and he’ll remain there until he’s finished helping with our enquiries. Then he’ll be returned to prison.’

Peter scanned the statement. ‘Looks like you’ve a case against him for theft and arson given what you found on him.’

‘Theft possibly. Arson would be circumstantial. We have possession of matches and we’ve had the forensic report on his clothes. The soot and smuts on them could be down to him being physically close to the fire in the yard. But as I said there’s no physical evidence to place him in the house. As for anything being missing, we haven’t taken the surviving member of the family back into the house and won’t until after the bodies have been moved,’ Reggie divulged.

‘Was Larry Jones known to the Pitchers?’ Trevor asked.

‘They hardly moved in the same social circles. But Larry’s family are notorious. They’re known in town and to anyone who reads the crime reports in the local papers.’

Peter pulled a cigar from his pocket and proceeded to unwrap it.

‘No smoking in this building,’ Reggie warned him.

‘He never lights them indoors,’ Trevor assured her after giving Peter another warning look. ‘I take it Larry is known to the local force.’

‘He is,’ Reggie agreed. ‘You can look at his file but I can sum up by saying he’s the product of a single mother who is herself a product of several generations of an extended dysfunctional matriarchal family who have produced vast numbers of children from different fathers. School recorded him as an illiterate truant. He has no legal employment record. Larry spent his teenage years in and out of youth custody. Since the age of eighteen he has served five prison terms. The last sentence was six years for aggravated burglary, rape and GBH. He spent some time in custody before the case came up but even so he served only ten months from the date of sentencing. He was released the morning before the fire in the Pitchers house.’

‘Has he ever been convicted of arson?’ Trevor asked.

‘No.’

‘Murder?’

‘No. But he has been convicted of rape and GBH.’ Reggie took another file from her desk and handed it to Trevor. ‘Larry’s record. I’ll have copies made for you. Breaking and entering, robbery with violence, drug dealing, stealing cars, driving without tax, licence and insurance, aggravated burglary, drunk and disorderly, receiving stolen goods, threatening behaviour – as well as rape and GBH.’

Trevor scanned the list while Reggie updated him on the events on the night of the fire.

‘A police patrol stopped at the scene a few minutes after Ken Lloyd and Tim Pryce had moved Larry into the archway.’

‘Coincidence?’ Trevor closed Larry’s file.

‘No. A resident had telephoned the station to report a disturbance in Main Street.’

‘The resident been interviewed?’

‘Probably.’

‘You don’t know?’ Trevor returned Larry’s file to her desk.

‘If she hasn’t we’ll get round to it. Have you any idea of the number of people we’ve had to interview. Of the volume of work…’

‘Yes.’ Trevor cut her short as he flicked through the witness statements. ‘This Ken Lloyd who reported the fire at three o’clock, what was he doing out at that hour of the morning?’

‘He’s a fisherman and often visits the river at night. He has domestic problems,’ Reggie explained briefly but Peter wasn’t prepared to let it go.

‘Adulterous or nagging wife?’

‘Nagging,’ Reggie replied tersely. ‘He noticed Jones had left the archway when he returned to the street after reporting the fire. At four forty a m, when the fire was still burning in some areas of the Pitcher house, Larry Jones was discovered asleep in a derelict building in the Pitcher yard. I supervised the initial search. Exhibit A was found in Larry’s pocket.’ Reggie pushed a photograph across her desk. ‘You have copies in your files.

Peter looked at it and whistled. ‘Is it paste or the real McCoy?’

‘Diamond and emerald, necklace, bracelet, ring, tiara and brooch. Lee Pitcher was a goldsmith and, according to his youngest brother Michael, was restoring the set for a Hatton Garden jeweller.’

‘Fingerprints?’ Trevor asked.

‘Only Larry’s on the bag.’

‘On the jewellery?’

‘None. The set had been washed possibly under pressure from a hose or shower head according to the expert who examined the pieces. He discovered moisture caught in the intricate gold setting. A few stones had been slightly loosened.’

Trevor stroked his chin. ‘I can see why you called us in early in the investigation.’

‘I thought you might. Shall we visit the crime scene?’

Ten minutes later they left the station and the square, turned into Main Street and headed down the lane that ran at the back of the houses. Trevor allowed Reggie to walk ahead while he stood back and surveyed the width of the thoroughfare that was bordered for the most part by shoulder-height old stone walls.

‘I wouldn’t like to drive a HGV down here,’ Peter commented.

‘You haven’t a licence,’ Trevor reminded him.

‘No doubt if I tried I’d be picked up. Until now the local coppers probably haven’t had anything better to do than pull over motorists.’

Trevor looked back at Main Street. ‘This lane may be known in the town, but Superintendent Moore’s right. It’s not a feasible short-cut.’

‘Which means it’s principally used by local residents.’

‘Are you two coming?’ Reggie called back.

‘On our way.’ Trevor started walking again.

‘Do you think Larry Jones burgled the Pitcher house?’ Peter asked.