beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
‘Did you and Melissa have a sexual relationship?’
When Langton repeated the question, Mark started to cry.
‘Is this really necessary?’ said his father quietly.
‘I need to know, Mark, if you and Melissa had a full sexual relationship.’
Mark shook his head.
‘There is a possible witness who said he might have seen Melissa talking to someone in a car.’
Mark raised his head.
‘Was Melissa the type of girl who would ask for a lift?’
‘No. She wouldn’t do that.’
‘Was she promiscuous?’
The boy’s eyes widened in shock.
‘No, no. No!’
‘What did you argue about, the night she walked away from you?’
Mark’s fingers gripped the pen so tightly it looked as if he was going to snap it.
‘I’m trying to ascertain the mood she was in; that’s all I’m trying to do, Mark.’
‘I told you. She was angry.’ Mark threw the pen across the table, then he started to sob, his whole body shaking. After a few moments, his father moved over to comfort him, gripping his arm tightly.
‘She wouldn’t let me do it.’ Mark muttered something else, his face red with torment.
‘What?’
‘I said, she wouldn’t let me have SEX WITH HER,’ he shouted. ‘That’s why she walked away: because I wanted her to come home with me. I wanted to have sex with her but she wouldn’t, she refused …’ He broke down.
‘Are you telling me that Melissa was a virgin?’
Mark struggled for self-control. ‘Yes, and she would not have got into a stranger’s car; she wouldn’t have done that. What you’re trying to make her out to be is disgusting! You are disgusting!’
It was a while longer before Langton released father and son. As they left the interview room, Mr Rawlins glanced at him over his shoulder with disdain.
‘My son is bereft. To imply that Melissa was anything but an innocent in all this is most cruel. I hope to God you treat her parents with more respect.’
The door closed quietly behind him. Anna shut her notebook. She was of the same opinion, not that she could say anything. She was, therefore, surprised by the quiet fury in Langton’s voice.
‘A virgin and she gets sodomized, raped and murdered! Life stinks.’
‘Yes.’ She suddenly had an almost overpowering impulse to reach out and comfort him.
He sighed, rubbing his head. ‘Right, let’s get over to forensics. See if they’ve come up with anything.’
He strode out of the room. She just made it to the door before it closed in her face.
In the forensic department, Melissa’s clothes had been laid out on the bench tables. Langton and Anna stood before a black T-shirt with a pink sequinned logo that spelled out the word ‘strip’. To one side there was a small square of pink velvet and on that, a single diamante stud.
Langton shook his head. ‘Strip?’
‘It’s actually a very expensive T-shirt,’ Anna hastened to explain. ‘See the way the “t” is picked out? That’s the logo for Theo Fennel.’
‘Who?’ he snapped.
‘Theo Fennel. He’s a high-society jeweller, has a shop on the Fulham Road.’
Langton turned to the forensic assistant. ‘Did you get any fibres from it? The sequins have sharp edges.’
Coral James, the forensic scientist, took off her glasses.
‘No; we had hopes, but the T-shirt was drawn up, covering the sequins. As you can see, one is missing.’
Langton and Anna looked closer. On the V, picked out in sequins, one stone had gone, leaving the four small claws empty.
They turned their attention to a pink cotton mini skirt with an elasticated belt. The fabric was expensive and shiny and offered little hope of anything clinging to it. Melissa’s shoes, low-heeled and expensive, were scuffed, but with little trace of mud. Langton turned to Coral James.
‘No mud? It was like a mud bath when we were there. We are hoping for confirmation soon that she was killed at the site.’
‘Well, it was cold. Then we had that odd snowstorm. It’s hard to tell; the ground might not have been muddy when she was taken there.’
‘Or carried.’
Next, they scrutinized Melissa’s white sports bra, which the pathologist had cut and pinned to a sheet. Next to it were drawings of the fabric knot itself and then photographs of how the knotted bra had been found on the body.
‘We finished the tests you requested. Over at the far side, you’ll see other tests we’ve been working on.’
Across the lab, on the table by the wall, the bras from the other victims had been laid out. There were more photographs, arrows or markers to show similarities. The dirty discoloured underwear was an unpleasant sight.
Coral led them to a table where a life-size dummy was lying face down.
‘The way each of the victims’ bras were tied we think is virtually identical. Let me show you.’
Coral expertly crossed the dummy’s wrists with a black bra, demonstrating how Melissa’s bra had been wrapped twice around and the section with the hooks and eyes used to secure the knot.
‘They were all drawn very tight, cutting the wrist and almost wrenching the arms out of their sockets. You can see the bonds are very secure. But the sports bra was more difficult; it’s not got as much give as the other ones; they were elastic and nylon. The silk bra was torn in the process of tying it.’
Coral now moved on to the tights. It had been necessary to cut them away from the neck. In each case, she indicated that the tights had been wound three times around the victim’s throat and drawn in a knot. Anna found it hard to believe the smallness of the garrotte, no more than two inches in diameter.
She made copious notes, following Langton from bench to bench. Sealed in plastic bags were some of the previous victims’ clothes that had been retained. Langton had declined to view them again. He kept looking at his watch impatiently. He asked the vital question when they returned to Melissa’s clothes.
‘So, is it good or bad news?’ he said quietly.
‘I wouldn’t say it was good, whatever way you look at it.’ Coral removed her rubber gloves. ‘But I know what you’re asking me and the answer is yes. We believe your little girl was killed by the same person: the knots, the method of tying them, are identical.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, tight-lipped.
‘We are still working on her clothes, so you might get something new there; but, as yet, we have nothing.’
Outside in the car park, Langton lit a cigarette. ‘Unbelievable, isn’t it? Not so much as a carpet fibre.’ He sucked in the smoke and half turned towards Anna. ‘The fucker must know exactly what he’s doing.’
‘You think there’s a place he takes them to?’ Anna asked. ‘Maybe he kills them and dumps the bodies elsewhere.’
‘Nope. Killed at the site, or near it. In all the cases, they had to agree to go with him.’
‘That’s true with the prostitutes. But Melissa wouldn’t have agreed to go with him unless she knew him and she was found a long distance from her flat.’
Anna would have continued speculating, but Langton had flicked his cigarette aside and was walking towards the waiting patrol car. ‘We’re going to see Henson next, at the pathology lab,’ he shouted to Anna behind him. ‘Maybe he’ll have something for us.’
He slammed the passenger door shut. She just managed to scramble in the back seat before the car drew away.
