Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1) (18 page)

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9

‘Hello Peter. I’m Detective Inspector Romney and this is DS Marsh.’

‘Sit yourselves down, won’t you?’ said the lad’s mother. ‘Would you like tea?’

‘Thank you, that would be very kind,’ said Romney.

Romney and Marsh removed their coats and settled themselves into the good leather furniture. ‘How’s the head?’ asked Romney.

‘Sore.’

‘Stitches?’

Peter Roper shook his head. ‘They glued it.’

‘We appreciate you talking to us so soon, Peter,’ said Romney. ‘How do you feel? Must have shaken you up?’

‘I’m OK.’

The youth perched on the sofa opposite the police officers reminded Romney a lot of Park. The same gawky features, spindly limbs, spotty face and aura of apathy. It added to the whole surreal nature of the similarities surrounding the two rapes. Rapist aside, the fact that both were committed at night and at work premises; both attacks were made on locations where only the victim and a co-worker were present; both attacks used the co-workers – both young men – who were forced to restrain the victims before being bludgeoned unconscious and who were both so similar in age, appearance and character. Such similarities should have narrowed the tracking of the assailant significantly. How many people would know such details of the two places of work and the patterns of the employees that went with them? But, so far, even after all their digging around, not one link could be found to tie the two businesses together. Romney refused to believe that there wasn’t something.

‘We need to know exactly what happened last night. The quicker we’ve got that information, the better the chance we have of catching whoever is responsible before they do it again.’

‘You think that they might strike again?’ said Mrs Roper, bustling back in with a tray of tea things.

‘We have to consider that possibility, Mrs Roper,’ said Romney.

She set the tray down between them and sat on the sofa next to her son.

‘Thank you, Mrs Roper,’ said Romney. ‘I wonder if you’d mind if we had our chat with Peter alone. DS Marsh can take care of the tea.’

She looked momentarily taken aback. ‘No, of course not. I just thought that, you know, he might need me.’

‘It really would be best if we spoke to him alone. He’s a big boy now. I’m afraid it’s the way it has to be.’

‘Right, well, if you want me, I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ve got things to do.’

She rose awkwardly and left. Marsh poured tea into the delicate porcelain cups. The youth declined.

Peter Roper might’ve been through an horrific experience, but, like Park, the DI wanted to give him a good shake and wake him up, slap some life into him. Where was their spark, their spunk?

Marsh laid her new digital recorder on the table between them.

When they were all set, Romney said, ‘Just tell it as it happened. If we need to stop you for anything, we will.’

The youth nodded, drew a breath and said, ‘Me and Jane were sitting in the kitchen. She was doing her studying and I was watching the television. That’s how it is most nights when they’d all been tucked in – the old people. About eleven-thirty Jane said she heard something in the house.’

‘You’re sure of the time?’ said Romney.

Roper nodded. ‘The programme I was watching had just finished. Sometimes one of the old folks gets out and walks about a bit. We have to get them back to their rooms before they wake everyone else up. But when I went out into the hall there was this bloke standing there in the shadows. He had a gun.’

‘Think carefully, Peter,’ said the DI. ‘Are you sure that it was a real gun? Describe it to me.’

‘I don’t know if it was real, but it looked it. It was black, a pistol. Big.’

‘What about the aperture of the barrel?’ said Romney. ‘How big was the opening?’ Roper made a small circle with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. It was too big to be an air-pistol. ‘What happened then?’ said the DI.

‘He pointed it at my face and told me to turn around.’

‘Anything unusual about his speech?’

‘He was foreign.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I hear them in the town.’

‘Could he have been putting it on? Faking it?’

‘I don’t know. It sounded just like them to me.’

‘Can you remember exactly what he said to you?’

‘Something like, be quiet and turn around. I felt the gun in my back and him pushing me towards the kitchen. When we got into the kitchen he grabbed me by the collar and stuck the gun into my neck. He told Jane to get up and stand in front of the table.’

‘Again, can you remember his exact words?’

‘Just something like, get up and stand there. I can’t really, sorry.’

‘All right. Go on.’

‘He took out these plastic ties and told me to tie Jane to the table legs.’

‘Did you know what he was going to do to her?’

‘No. I didn’t have any idea. I thought he was going to rob the place. Use me to tie her and then tie me.’ Romney nodded for the youth to continue. ‘Jane started to cry and he took out a knife. He told her if she made a noise, he’d cut her. Then he threw this hood at me and told me to put it on her. I didn’t have any choice did I?’

‘It might have got much nastier if either of you hadn’t done what he told you to.’

‘He waved me to him with the knife. He was still pointing the gun at me. He got behind me and hit me and that’s the last thing that I remember until I came around later.’

‘Had he bound your hands too?’

‘Yes. Behind my back.’

‘How did you make the emergency call?’

‘I managed to get a knife out of one of the drawers and get it so I could cut through the plastic.’

‘And Mrs Goddard?’

‘I cut her free before I called the police.’

‘Did you touch anything?’

‘I just covered her up and then cut her free. And then I used the phone in the hall.’

‘Describe him. What was he wearing?’

‘Dark clothing: a hoody, black jeans and he had a balaclava on over his face. He was quite tall. About your height.’

‘Do you know what he did to Mrs Goddard?’ said Romney. The youth nodded and looked down at his hands, again. ‘Don’t go discussing this with anyone Peter. Is that clear? People will ask you what happened and you must tell them that you can’t talk about it. All right? Don’t lie. Just say you’ll get in trouble with the police if you do. Is that understood?’ The youth nodded. ‘We need the details kept secret and think of Mrs Goddard. She won’t want that kind of information bandied about.’

As they were leaving the DI turned back to Peter Roper and said, ‘Was the front door locked, do you remember?’

The youth thought a moment. ‘I should think so. It was always locked at night. Mr Logi is very strict about it.’

In the car outside the Ropers’ post-war semi-detached bungalow, Romney said, ‘What do you think?’

‘Definitely weird, sir. Whoever this bloke is, he seems to know such detail. He just walks in, frightens the life out of everyone, has them doing exactly what he says, no problems, no fuss, no bother. He has his dirty way with the women and then disappears. He’s like a ghost.’

*

At the station Marsh learned that Jane Goddard was still at the hospital. She hadn’t woken from the sedation. It was early afternoon. Marsh left word that she be notified the moment the woman regained her senses.

Romney visited the superintendent. Falkner had made it clear that he expected regular updates regarding any developments in the case, and progress.

The local paper rang fishing for details about the incident. The reporter who spoke to Marsh did his best to get an admission that the incidents at the petrol station and the old peoples’ home were related. Marsh passed him on to the DI who passed it up to the super. Superintendent Falkner used his influence with a contact high up at the paper and received assurances that the newspaper would play down reporting of the incident in return for exclusive access to the story when the police finally had something they could share. It was an easy promise to make, said Falkner to Romney. Might be harder to keep.

When Romney came out of his meeting with Superintendent Falkner he found a message waiting for him that he should call down to forensics who had good news for him. It was Diane Hodge who he was asked to hold for. When she came on the line her perky voice was bubbling with enthusiasm.

‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’

‘Mrs Hodge.’

‘Call me Diane, won’t you? And it’s Miss, just for the record.’

‘OK, Diane. What have you got for us?’

‘Good news.’

‘I could use some.’

‘Traces of semen, and a pubic hair that doesn’t belong to the victim.’

Strange, thought Romney, what some people considered good news. ‘Where were these traces found?’

‘Taken from the victim.’

‘So he didn’t use a condom, this time?’ Romney felt some elation at the breakthrough.

‘That’s the odd thing. We also recovered traces of the spermicidal that is used by condom manufacturers to coat their products, which implies that he did use a condom, but of course it’s possible that it came off in the act. It happens.’

The comment surprised Romney. ‘Does it?’

‘It does in some cases,’ said the young woman. ‘Under certain circumstances.’

‘Right,’ said Romney, not wishing to explore the details of those with her. It was enough for him to know that it had happened.

‘I’m going to compare the sample with the saliva sample that we got from the first incident and then I’ll get back to you. But there may not be a match.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it’s possible that the traces we took from the woman aren’t related to the incident. People do have sex, you know?’

‘Ah, of course. I see.’ A feeling of awkwardness washed over Romney as things became clear.

‘But I thought I’d just let you know how things are proceeding for us.’

‘Thanks very much. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

‘I’ll look forward to talking to you,’ she said and rang off leaving Romney thinking that that was a strange thing for her to say. But at least she was friendlier than the usual miseries who he spoke to down there.

His phone rang almost immediately.

‘Crow here,’ said the Ashford Inspector.

‘Hello, Malcolm. How are things going with the Stamp case?’

‘Good news and not so good news.’

‘Give me the good.’

‘We know what vehicle we’re looking for. The paint sample recovered from the dead woman’s clothing is specific to BMW – Mars Red. The not so good news is that there is no record of Simon Avery owning, or ever having owned, a BMW.’

‘What about the break in?’

‘Nothing. It never ceases to amaze me that a house can be broken into in broad daylight, pulled apart and no one sees or hears a thing; not to mention a woman being run down in the middle of the day and left for dead. Whoever broke in was experienced enough, or just careful enough, to have left no trace of themselves. About all we do have to go on is the fact that these two incidents happened within such a short space of time. There can’t be much doubt that the two are related, which gives us somewhere to start. And brings me back to our Mr Avery. Don’t mind if I refer to him thus, do you?’

‘Not at all,’ said Romney. ‘Have as much of him as you like.’

‘Is it possible that you can get some of your people to ask around his circle of acquaintances, see if anyone owns a red beamer?’

‘I’ll do that. No problem.’

‘Thanks. I hear that your plate got a little fuller last night.’

Romney sighed. ‘It did.’

‘Same man?’

‘Little to no doubt.’

‘Well, Tom, good luck with it. I know how the hierarchy can get over these things. You find out who your friends are, that’s for sure. If you need any help, maybe just someone to run something past, or a fresh pair of eyes to take a look at something, let me know.’

Romney was touched by his older colleague’s offer. ‘Thanks very much. I’ll bear that in mind.’

Marsh tapped and put her head around his office door. ‘Mr Logi’s downstairs, sir. Wants a word with you. Only wants to talk with you,’ she elaborated in response to the look Romney gave her. ‘Also, Jane Goddard has been discharged from hospital. I’ve spoken with her husband. They would rather call in here to make her statement. Don’t want the neighbours getting all twitchy and inquisitive at the windows. I get the feeling that they want what happened to her kept as quiet as possible.’

‘Understandable, I suppose,’ said Romney. ‘When is she coming in?’

‘On their way. I impressed upon them the urgency of her statement. They should be here within the hour.’

‘Good. DI Crow at Ashford has just been on to me about the car that ran Helen Stamp down. Apparently, it’s a Mars red BMW. Get a few of our lads to start making some subtle enquiries about whether anyone who makes up part of Avery’s circle of confederates has something like that. And show Mr Logi up will you.’