The Flyleaf Killer (17 page)

Tobias Charlesworth also rose, and smiled. ‘Any time, Detective Inspector, any time.’

As Melton drove away, Charlesworth slumped in his chair, drained.
God, what a mess. Why did I let him talk me into it? He wanted to ‘surprise the girl’, he said: Christ, some surprise! I’ll
have
to stick it out,—it would kill Dad if he knew the business was in hock because of me. What’s more, one wrong word from me and I’ll also be dead. I know that bastard of old!

Back at Surbiton, DI Melton and DS O’Connor conferred and reluctantly concluded they were no further forward, despite Jennifer Montague’s revelation.

‘I thought we were on to something,’ Melton said, disappointed. ‘Charlesworth admits knowing Malandra Pennington and that she visited his premises on two occasions in June, confirms she was looking for an Astra, but denies seeing her on July fourteenth. He swears he hasn’t retailed an Astra 1300 in months and I couldn’t shake his story. When he produced computer stock-records
and
sales-ledger to back his assertion, I had no alternative other than to let the matter drop—at least for the time being.’

‘Do you believe him, Guv’nor?’

Melton rubbed his chin.

‘I’m not sure; he’s a cool customer. If we pressure him without any sort of evidence to suggest he’s lying, we might find ourselves facing a writ for unfounded harassment.’

‘What about Miss Montague? Her statement confirms everything she said yesterday. It’s on file, sir, there on your desk. You don’t think she invented that conversation with Malandra, surely? She’s far too level-headed and sensible—I’d stake my life on it.’ O’Connor was unusually vehement.

Absently, Melton picked up the file and put it down again. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but even so, we’ll keep Tobias on ice for the time being. Don’t worry, Ben, our Mr Charlesworth hasn’t heard the last of this—not by a long shot.’

O’Connor frowned, unconvinced.

‘Now listen, Sergeant. Miss Montague’s integrity is not in question, but we must remember the conversation took place
before
the event and we’ve no proof Miss Pennington actually carried out her intention. I’m sorry, Ben, but in the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary, we’re obliged to give Charlesworth the benefit of the doubt.’

O’Connor was obliged to concede—for the moment.
Oh well
, he thought, ruefully,
another day, perhaps!

Melton picked up the file and began reading. O’Connor waited for him to finish before handing across a typewritten sheet.

‘There you are sir, a list of the murdered girl’s acquaintances, male and female, to the best of Miss Montague’s recollection. Two are middle-aged neighbours, the remainder from the deceased’s and Miss Montague’s age-group—and we’ve two men out interviewing already. Miss Montague also named several children she believes attended school about the same time as Jennifer and mentioned some teachers who might also be able to help.

‘As far as background is concerned, Malandra was an only child. She lost her father as a toddler and her mother died from cancer two years ago. She grew up in Lower Green—incidentally, I suggest we extend house-to-house to cover the whole area, while we’re at it.’

Melton nodded.

‘That’s fine. Do it a.s.a.p. but first, park your tail. I’d like to summarise what we have so far.’

‘Hang on sir, there’s something else. Other than hair and fingerprints, the search of the flat produced little, except mouldering food in a plastic food box inside one of the suitcases which turned out to be the remains of ham salad. I wonder sir,’ he suggested, ‘whether it was intended for Miss Pennington’s lunch, in which case where did the salad found in her stomach come from?’

‘Bought elsewhere, most likely,’ Melton said, absently, and continued with his line of thought. ‘I see from the statement that Miss Pennington planned to travel to Waterloo by train then take a taxi to Kensington. If so, in order to keep a three p.m. rendezvous with Miss Montague, she would need to have left Esher station around one-thirty. Check Sunday train timings, please, Sergeant. It follows that if she actually
did
call at the garage, it must have been between ten-thirty—the time the place opens, I checked—and twelve forty-five.

‘This narrows the period of her probable disappearance and strengthens my argument for reconstructing her last known movements—I’ll have another word with the Chief. And if somebody in the area just happened to see Malandra anywhere between those times, we’ll have another little chat with Mr Charlesworth and this time, we’ll haul him in.’

‘Good, I’d like to be in on that, sir.’ O’Connor responded, then added, ‘There was one other thing. It may not be important, but Miss Montague happened to mention that Miss Pennington was shy and had few boyfriends. She was extremely attractive—Miss Montague was not a little envious—and although there were plenty of admirers sniffing around, few got further than a trip to the pictures and a quick snog.’

‘That’s interesting—might even come in useful,’ Melton remarked, thoughtfully. He rose and checked his watch. ‘Four-thirty,’ he said. ‘Press briefing at five. Coming?’

‘No, sir, not unless you need me. I’ve still a mountain of paperwork to plough through.’

‘OK, you carry on. I’ll go to see the Chief and catch up with you later.’

During a major investigation,
every
day was a working day. The press-briefing did more than simply revive media interest, it brought it to life with a vengeance. There came a flurry of sightings and demands for information on a scale unprecedented, keeping telephone operators busy until well after midnight.

Melton stopped for a newspaper on his way to headquarters and picked up a copy of
Mail on Saturday
, struck by the double headline which thundered across the front page. He returned to his car, and read:

BODY IN GARDEN
MURDER –

MYSTERY GIRL IDENTIFIED!

TRAGIC VICTIM MALANDRA PENNINGTON,

EIGHTEEN

Last known movements of beautiful blonde
—re-enactment planned.

Police hunting killer to seek witnesses

Following yesterday’s dramatic announcement naming the
Body in the Garden
victim, the last-known movements of beautiful blonde Malandra Pennington of Esher are to be re-enacted on Sunday 11th August, four weeks to the day the attractive young woman disappeared.

Detective Inspector Melton, CID, the officer heading the investigation, revealed that a friend of Miss Pennington returned from holiday on 31st July and reported Malandra missing.

Asked to name the mystery witness, Inspector Melton refused to be drawn, raising the possibility police fear for the safety of Miss Pennington’s friend, who may unwittingly hold the key to the killer’s identity.

It is further believed injuries to the girl’s body were so horrendous as to render identification impossible. Exhaustive tests, including DNA profiling, were carried out to establish beyond doubt the body recovered from Rodene Close in July was Miss Pennington.

Full details regarding the re-enactment will be made public in due course, but in the meantime, anyone who saw Malandra Pennington in Esher on Sunday 14th July should contact the police immediately. Police would also like to hear from anyone who knows of someone who may have had reason to harm Miss Pennington or wish to see her dead.

‘Flaming reporters!’ O’Connor remarked, returning the newspaper. ‘They always manage to print more than is actually said.’ He tapped the paper. ‘I’d bet a pound to a penny you didn’t even
mention
the girl’s injuries, much less anything about formal identification.’

Melton merely shrugged, resignedly.

‘It’s the nature of their business, Ben. They become expert at reading between the lines. It
can
be irritating but they do have their uses, so we learn to live with it.’

He folded and returned the newspaper to his briefcase, effectively closing the subject.

Response to the appeal was remarkable. Lines into police headquarters came alive a little after 8.00: Malandra Pennington, it seemed, had been spotted in places from as far afield as Aberdeen, Norwich and Exeter. Five sightings were logged before ten and a further six were to follow, bringing the day’s total to eleven. Each would be checked, none dismissed out of hand.

Disappointingly, just two informants claimed to have seen Malandra Pennington in Esher on Sunday July 14, and arrangements were put in place for interviews to be conducted forthwith.

Detective Chief Superintendent Jarvis stormed in and buttonholed Melton. He tossed
Weekend Guardian
on the desk, its front page remarkably similar to Melton’s paper. Angrily, Jarvis singled out two particular paragraphs that read:

Detective Inspector Melton, CID—the officer heading the investigation, told our reporter that a friend of Miss Pennington returned from holiday to find Miss Pennington missing, heard about the
Body in the Garden
murder and called the police.

Although Inspector Melton seemed reluctant to name the witness, it subsequently became known that the person was Miss Jennifer Montague, aged nineteen, also of Esher.

Jarvis positively fumed. ‘Exactly how do you suppose the press got hold of
that
little snippet, Inspector?’

Melton reddened. ‘I’m sorry sir, I really don’t know,’ he said, ‘but it certainly didn’t come from me. I can only assume somebody informed the reporter of Miss Montague’s round-the-clock protection.’

‘Oh,’ grunted Jarvis, ‘suppose I should have realised…’ He subsided, but with very bad grace.

A few minutes later, the Chief Superintendent left for his Saturday round of golf. With him safely out of the way, Melton and his assistant put their heads together. They went over the forthcoming reconstruction in detail and agreed that O’Connor should invite Jennifer Montague to stand in for her murdered friend rather than enlist the services of a policewoman. Dark-haired Jennifer would need a wig, but she resembled Malandra in build and would be familiar with both her walk and her mannerisms.

Shortly afterwards, Melton tilted his chair backwards and rested his head against the wall.

‘I’m hopeful the re-enactment will jog a few memories, Ben, but we have to be realistic. Three weeks have elapsed since the girl was killed and whatever trail the killer left behind will long since be cold.’ Pausing to collect his thoughts, he went on, ‘We’ve made progress, but too many questions remain unanswered—not least, the sort of man we’re up against. Doctor Matthews’ analysis may prove useful; just how remains to be seen. The killer seems to have disappeared like a puff of smoke, yet he was a local man—he has to be! I can’t help but wonder about the combination of circumstances which allowed the girl’s absence to go unnoticed, and I ask myself, “Did luck favour the killer or was the killing the end-product of masterful planning?” Witness the false trail, the blood-stained anorak, the footprint, the trainers. But whichever way you look at it,’ he concluded, ‘nothing we do can make up for the fortnight we lost between Malandra’s death and Jennifer’s return from holiday.’

Later that evening DS O’Connor rang his superior at home. The news wasn’t good.

‘You asked me to ring, Guv’nor,’ he said. ‘Well, neither of those sightings was worth a fig. But it’s getting late,’ he complained. ‘Can I give you the details first-thing Monday?’

‘Damn!’ Melton exclaimed. ‘I hoped we’d find out what Malandra was wearing, at least. Oh well, never mind. Thanks for ringing, Ben. I’ll see you Monday—goodnight.’

August 5: Melton dumped his briefcase on the desk and sat down. He sighed. The start of another week, destined, he feared, to end much as the last. It wasn’t like him to be discouraged. Usually, the more difficult a case the harder he strove and the cheerier he became. But this was altogether different.

DS O’Connor tapped the door, entered at Melton’s bidding and sat down. He duly reported. The first interviewee—a Mrs Mavis Green—had peered short-sightedly at Malandra’s photo and shaken her head. ‘I’m sorry, officer,’ she had said, ‘that’s not her. The girl I saw had much darker hair. She was the other side of the road, but I think her nose was more pointed than this. I hope I haven’t put you to too much trouble.’

Edward Newnes, a retired gardener, was positive he’d seen Miss Pennington—the girl in the snapshot—when he was going for his Sunday pint. ‘She was walking down the High Street towards the council offices,’ he had said, ‘wearing a yellow summer frock. She was pretty as a picture. But me memory ain’t all that it was, and I can’t be sure of the date, either. It might’ve been the second or third Sunday in June—or maybe even the last!’

Apart from the information provided by Jennifer Montague, little was known of the murdered girl’s background and it seemed extraordinarily difficult to unearth anything about her social life.

A blank was drawn at Malandra’s place of work. She was the only female who worked at the place and studiously avoided social contact with any of her colleagues. Nor could Jennifer Montague help, having never been Malandra’s confidante where matters of the opposite sex were concerned. All that remained was the list of acquaintances supplied by Jennifer, several incomplete or missing addresses established—eventually, thanks to DS O’Connor’s diligent researcher.

Melton and his assistant left headquarters at 10.30, determined to question all nine before the day was out. Listed in alphabetical order, they were:

Bridgwater, Francis, 37 Poplar Causeway, West End

Carpenter, Brian, 27 Gaston Avenue, Esher

Gleave, Phyllis, 21 Penfold Mews, Esher

Lucas, Caroline, 24 Rombole Crescent, Long Ditton

Pearce, Steven Vincent, 11 Rodene Close, Lower Green

Pearson, Janice Anne, 25 Penfold Mews, Esher

Roberts, Fletcher, 11 Douglas Lane, Lower Green

Smith, Calvin, 14 Lombard Road, Lower Green

Strudwick, Robert William, 7 Kenward Crescent, Claygate

Only three were at home, obliging them to ascertain, not without difficulty, the workplaces of as many of the remainder as possible, following which they set about conducting interviews in situ. Pressed for time, Melton and O’Connor made do with sandwiches and coffee around 1.00.