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By four o’clock that afternoon very little progress had been made. The detectives who had been dispatched to Commercial Street had quickly reported back that, thanks to the ongoing police activity, it had become a ‘dross free zone’ by the time they arrived. They had promptly been redirected to commence preliminary house-to-house enquiries, but so far all they had to show for their efforts were sore feet.
Not long after the briefing, a few more staff had arrived, and Tyler had dispatched two detectives to see the old watchman at the hospital. That hadn’t yielded anything significant either.
DC Dean Fletcher and DC Wendy Blake, the two researchers from his Intel cell had been sent back to Arbour Square to start researching the victim and her known associates, but nothing was jumping out at them yet, much to Tyler’s displeasure.
South London officers had conducted a call on at the address on the benefit book found in the victim’s purse, and they had spoken to Tracey Phillips’s mother, who described the clothing her daughter had been wearing when last seen; it matched their victim exactly. She had also given the officers a recent photo, which had been brought over to Whitechapel and shown to the continuity officer when he returned from escorting the victim’s body to the mortuary. Although a formal identification would still have to be made when the victim was cleaned up, there was no doubt that their victim was Tracey Phillips. DC Flowers, the FLO, was with the family now, but they had no idea who might have done this to her.
After the hot debrief, Inspector Speed popped his head around the door and asked if there was anything else he or his team could do before they left for the day. Tyler said no, thanked them for their hard work, and told the Inspector to go home and get some much-earned rest.
“Oh, one last thing,” Tyler said. “I’ll need a leg up for a week or two from someone who knows the area and the local working girls. Have you got any idea where I might find a suitable candidate?”
Speed smiled. “Well, funnily enough, I think I have the perfect person for you in Nick Bartholomew. He was on the Safer Neighbourhood Team covering Commercial Street for a year and knows all the main faces fairly well. Also, he has expressed an interest in applying for the TDC scheme next time it comes out, so this would be a good chance to gather some evidence, I suppose.” The Trainee Detective Constable scheme came out once a year, and it was the only route into the Criminal Investigation Department. Successful candidates were required to sit various exams and undertake a comprehensive training syllabus before becoming substantial detectives and pursuing a career within the CID.
“What’s he like as a copper?” Jack asked.
“He’s very good. He’s switched on and he’s been involved in this right from the start, which is a bonus, I suppose.”
“Would my borrowing him cause you any hassle?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. We go off core shifts for a few days now anyway so he would only be walking around doing Sector based stuff. You might want to consider taking Grier as well. They’re currently partnered, and the kid has a lot of potential.”
Tyler nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” he told Speed. “Tell them to be at Arbour Square for an 8 a.m. meeting tomorrow, and to dress smartly.”
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Tyler was lost in thought as he sat in the back of the car during the journey back to Arbour Square. The first few days of a murder investigation were always the most crucial.
George Copeland and Dillon would have to attend the special post mortem. Sam Calvin had called him to say it was being carried out at Poplar Mortuary in the morning.
Other than that, tomorrow’s main thrust would be to push on with the CCTV. They would have to identify and seize all CCTV in the area, private systems as well as the local authority ones. So far, there was no news from the Paul Evans, the feisty Welshman he’d put on CCTV duties earlier today.
House-to-house would have to start in earnest, but he’d been promised additional resources for that.
His team would have to go out on the streets again tonight, canvassing the local prostitutes. He suspected it would be hard to gain the girls’ confidence and he anticipated that they might have to go back several nights on the trot before anyone started to talk to them. Perhaps Bartholomew would be able to help with that if he was the known and trusted face of the local plod. He would also speak to the people on ‘Clubs and Vice’, see if they had any ideas on how to break down the barriers between his team and the working girls. A sudden thought occurred to him. “I wonder if she was freelance or if she had a pimp?” he said.
“Maybe we’ll find out later,” Dillon suggested. Hopefully, Kelly would get detailed background information about the victim from her family.
Tyler had telephoned Chief Superintendent Holland with an update before leaving. They would talk further in the morning.
As Bull glided the car to a halt outside the gate at Arbour Square, Dillon leaned into the back.
“You shoot straight off; go to your mum’s birthday party for a few hours. I’ll hold the fort here.”
“Thanks, Dill.”
“There’s no need for you to come back in later, either, Jack. I’ll be there and if we get anything, I’ll call you on your mobile.”
“We’ll see.” Tyler was tempted to accept the offer, but he knew he should be there with them. “I’ll phone you in a couple of hours. I can delay any decision about coming back in until then,” he said, getting out of the car.
“You’re the boss,” Dillon sighed.
As soon as they got to the office, Tyler grabbed a log book and set of keys for a pool car and waved goodbye. He would try to put this case
