Louise Pennel. Hair and semen stains had been tested from the plastic-covered operating table which also gave a DNA match for Sharon Bilkin. There were five other blood samples of unknown origin.
Langton stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets as Lewis gave him the update.
'Jesus Christ, how many women did that bastard kill down there?'
Anna watched him taking in all the new evidence. If Charles Wickenham had not escaped, it would have been a very jubilant morning; as it was, depression hung in the air. Langton tried to make a joke of it, saying that they now had enough to arrest him ten times over. He held up a cartoon from the
Langton had arranged for Anna and Lewis to accompany him back to the Hall, as the forensics chief was ready to pack up: he needed to make out the official report and have it signed off by Langton. The three drove in silence; it was pointless making light conversation as there was nothing light about what they would have to face. The press had surrounded their car as they drove out from the station car park. Langton had wound down his window and told them that the police were not looking for any other suspect. He then wound his window back up and muttered, 'We just can't fucking find him.'
All three tensed as they drove past the field where Sharon's body had been discovered. The flapping police cordons were now even more tattered. Langton pointed to a small hill beyond the field, ringed with elm trees.
'Bastard rode out with his son. He must have got a kick out of seeing her lying there, with Louise Pennel's coat draped over her naked body!'
The atmosphere remained strained as they drove into the long winding lane that led to Mayerling Hall's pathway; there were now hundreds of markers where the teams had searched and signalled clearance.
Langton got out of the car and winced, his long legs had cramped up. More yellow crime scene markers were all over the driveway; two white forensic vans being loaded up with equipment. Arc lamps were being carried out from the barn to be dismantled and packed up. Walking out of the front door was a tall, grizzle-haired scientist, John McDonald. He wore a tweed suit with a striped shirt and bright red braces. He carried his jacket in one hand and a large clipboard in the other.
Anna watched as Langton shook his hand; they conferred for a few moments before Langton introduced Anna and Lewis. McDonald had been coordinating the forensic teams and listing their findings as they were sent to the lab; he was eager to walk Langton through the crime scene results. He said that, although they wouldn't be ready to leave the premises for some considerable time, they had designated 'signed off' areas that had been cleared. This meant that the officers could go through some parts of the house and grounds without protective suits. He had been there almost day and night for three consecutive days; some of his team had been staying at a local hotel.
They all stood in the drawing room as McDonald listed the work that was still being carried out at the lab. 'We have your suspect's Range Rover being dismantled for evidence and his Jaguar; both are with a team in London.' In a rather tired voice, he ran through the items that had been taken and the evidence to date. 'Eight saws of various sizes, two electric; ten surgical knives; eight scalpels; one operating table; handcuffs; leg irons; various chains; rubber suits; six black body bags, army issue; two bottles of morphine; six large containers of acid; two acid baths; gynaecological equipment; stirrups…'
Anna sat down. The list was endless. McDonald, in his clipped, bored tone, continued to elaborate on the amount of drugs, from cocaine to heroin via speed and two hundred tabs of ecstasy; he even joked about the large quantity of Viagra.
Langton was the next one to take a seat, as McDonald said they had positive results from only half the blood samples taken. He continued checking off his list. 'White gowns, masks, and white rubber Wellington boots, three pairs!' Blood samples had been traced on the heel and sole of two pairs.
It had been a very unpleasant task for his officers, he said. Blood had blocked the drainage system from the cellar to the main sewer pipe, so they had been squelching around in human faeces and coagulated blood.
Lewis parked himself on the arm of the wing-backed chair that Charles Wickenham had sat in to smoke his cigar.
One arm of the sofa had a bloodstain where Ed Harris, the officer guarding Wickenham, had fallen. He had been struck with a solid silver candlestick; the edge of the base had left a deep laceration to the right side of his skull and he had required eight stitches. He had, however, been released from hospital. When he was questioned about what exactly had happened, he could hardly recall how he had been attacked. Wickenham had asked for a drink of water; when Harris turned to pick up the jug, he was knocked unconscious. Harris swore that he had only turned away from Wickenham for a few seconds. How many was immaterial: he had allowed their killer to walk out and escape.
McDonald continued, listing the clothes they had removed to test for fibre matches: shoes, slippers, sweaters, suits, riding habits, riding boots. Every item had to be checked and signed out in the event it would be used as evidence at a trial.
Finally, McDonald turned over his last sheet, and then tapped his board with his pen. 'Well, I'd say you've got enough to put your man away for a very long time. We'll be working at the lab for weeks to come. Maybe in that time, you'll have picked him up!'
McDonald checked his watch, then walked over to the fireplace. He gestured expansively to the brick overlay and the massive slab of wood that acted as a mantel. 'The SOCO teams were busy; we had, as you know, the plans of the house, barn, stables, outhouses and the thatched cottage. They checked over the two listed hiding holes and they found a third one, behind some panelling in the dining room: quite a find, and historically very interesting. The families would hold secret masses; if it was discovered their priests were holding services, they would be hung, drawn and quartered for an act of treason, not to mention losing their property. These hiding places were very well disguised and, I have to say, very intriguing.'
For the first time since they had arrived, McDonald was energised. The discovery of the extra hidden chamber had created a lot of interest; it would be examined by the local historical society.
'You think that Wickenham could have hidden out in one of these chambers?' Langton asked.
'To be honest, we considered it, but they are not in this section of the house; this wing is part of an extension built a couple of hundred years after the original house.' McDonald checked his watch, then suggested they follow him down to the cellar. 'Just to clarify what I think this monster got up to.'
They went from the lounge into the hallway; passing the suit of armour, Lewis flicked up its visor and grinned. 'Just checking!'
It clanged back into place.
'That's a fake,' McDonald said, rather disgustedly.
They went into the laundry room. All the machines had been removed and were stacked outside the small room. The partition was open, and as they moved down the steps, McDonald pointed out how well soundproofed the chamber would have been. 'We reckon these walls must be about a foot and a half in width, with hard-board casing which was covered in two inches of thick cement.'
The stripped cellar smelt of disinfectant. Some of the stone flags had been raised, others removed. There were empty hooks where the various equipment had been hung up. 'Down here he could do his dirty tricks; he was even filming himself: there was a very good camera and video equipment. We've literally hundreds of videos; you need a very strong stomach to watch them.'
They were shown the dismantled sink and drainpipes, and McDonald described how they forensic team had unclogged the drains. 'Poor chaps were masked up for hours; it was obviously where he had drained your victims' body fluids. We know now from the DNA results that much of the blood was Louise Pennel's.'
They stood silently as McDonald lifted a grid to show them the ventilation shaft. It felt like they had been down there for a very long time; as they returned into the hallway, Anna checked her watch. It had only been twenty minutes, but it was such a sickening monologue, that they were all desperate to get out into the fresh air.
McDonald spent some time with Langton checking over the lists as Anna and Lewis walked round to the front of the house. She looked up at the gables and the latticed windows, and stepped back onto the grass verge. The disgusting nature of what had been carried out inside this elegant Tudor house made Anna shudder.
Lewis was standing on one of the steps, staring at the manicured lawns and flowerbeds, the clipped hedges
