Kapoor directed Manning to stay, then hurtled up the stairs. She looked inside the bedroom. Other than tossed bed clothes, it looked tidy. But there was nobody in it. She ran back downstairs. “Where is he?” she asked Wilkinson. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. I told him you wanted to speak to him. That’s all.”
Then she heard a toilet flush, followed by a door lock turning. Another twenty something, dressed in collar and suit, ambled down. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Who are you?” Kapoor asked.
“I’m Mark Flanagan.”
Kapoor felt her shoulders lighten. “About bloody time too. We need to ask you a few questions.”
“Come into the kitchen. I need a coffee.”
He walked ahead, and the detectives followed. They sat at a small table that required serious scrubbing. Kapoor reckoned this was a house full of males, with some of them yet to shed the student attitude to home life. Manning touched the tabletop with her hand. “Jesus.” She wiped her hand on the sleeve of her jacket, then fished out her notebook and pen.
Kapoor wrinkled her nose. “You ever leave out your garbage? Stinks in here.”
“It’s the heat. Makes it smell worse.” Flanagan opened a window and sat back down.
“You have a late night, Mark?” Kapoor brushed her fringe out of her eyes.
“Not really, no. Who are you guys? What do you want?”
“I’m DS Kapoor and this is DC Manning.” Kapoor leaned in closer and studied him. “Where were you between midnight and 4AM this morning?”
Flanagan knotted his brow. “Got back from the pub around 12:30. Went to bed after 1:00.”
“Anybody here that can vouch for that?”
“Sure.” He stood and poked his head into the hall. “Yo Pete? Can you come here a sec?” He sat down again. “You can ask him.”
Wilkinson strolled in. “Yeah?”
“Did you see Mark last night?”
He nodded.
Kapoor spread her arms in exasperation. “Can you be more specific please?”
“Uh, we were down the pub, left, I dunno, before 12:00. Got back here maybe 20 minutes later. Went to bed.”
“When did you last see Mark?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Down the pub. Maybe 11:50?”
Kapoor glanced across at Manning. Flanagan could have made it to Portobello Road within that time frame. She dismissed Wilkinson with a nodded thanks and turned to Flanagan.
“Anyone see you after midnight?”
“Uh, I thought Pete did. But maybe not.” His eyes flitted between Kapoor and Manning, and he shifted in the chair. “What’s this about?”
“There was an incident in a house your agency is selling.”
“What?”
“Someone let themselves in with a key, disarmed the security system and assaulted the occupant.”
“Who? Where?”
Kapoor’s gaze locked on him. “Portobello Close. Alice Madsen.”
“You don't think...” Flanagan’s face reddened, and he swallowed. “Shit.”
“Shit is the operative word, all right, Mark. We need you to come to the station with us. We’re not arresting you, but the sooner you help us eliminate you from our enquiries, the better for you.”
“What? Are you saying I did something to her?”
“I don’t know, Mark. Did you? You had the keys and code to access the house unnoticed. You fancied a bit of Alice for yourself. Perhaps you knew she was alone, so you broke in, assaulted her, and only for the fact she fought you off, who knows what would have happened? Not only that, the woman identified you.”
Manning looked up. “Not looking good for you, is it?”
“But I didn’t do it,” Flanagan’s earlier redness paled, and he swallowed several times.
“We’re not convinced, Mark. You need to accompany us to the station.”
“But why? To do what?”
Manning smiled. “To answer a few more questions.”
“I want to call my dad.”
“Fine. You can do that at the station. We’ll need your phone too. Let’s go.”
Before Kapoor got into the car with Flanagan and Manning, she typed a text for Alice. We have the suspect in custody. Will keep you updated. You’re safe. She looked at it, then deleted the last sentence prior to sending it.
73
Alice sat alone in her kitchen. The adrenaline had worn off and the detectives had left, leaving the SOCOs upstairs in the bedroom. She got off the stool, then sat down again. The phone still trembled in her hand, but not as bad as earlier. It would be easy to put her head in her hands and give in to tears, then slink off to bed with a sleeping pill.
As her eyes wandered around the room in search of something to focus on, she picked up the paper the paramedic had given her. She stared at the telephone number for two or three minutes before she gave a nod to herself. Then she tapped the number into her phone.
“Paddington Haven, Jill speaking. How can I help?”
Alice’s instinct was to kill the call, but she persevered. “Um, hi. My name is Alice. A paramedic gave me your number. Said to call.”
“That’s good, Alice. Are you able to tell me what happened?”
Alice breathed in through her nose and felt her chest expand. “Someone broke into my house and assaulted me in my bed.” Another deep breath. “Sexually.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night. The forensic police are still here.”
“Would you like to come to us now?”
“Can I?”
“Yes. Someone will see you immediately. Did the police assign a SOIT? That’s a...”
“I know what it is, but I’m waiting for my partner. He’s on a train home.”
“That’s up to you, Alice. But the sooner we see you the better. We can help.”
“Okay.”
“Alice, I need to ask you something. Was there any penetration?”
“Y... Yes. But only his finger.” She brought her knuckle to her mouth and bit hard on it. “I don't mean only. It’s... It’s difficult
