Although she had mentally prepared herself for this, Marsh felt her spirits sink. ‘Does your husband know?’
The woman shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want him knowing either. This would be too much for him.’ Marsh had been invited to sit at the small circular kitchen table. Jane Goddard joined her. ‘We don’t have a perfect marriage. Jeff, well, he doesn’t function properly down there, if you know what I mean. It’s not his fault. I love him. I’ll never leave him. It’s why I sleep with Clive. Slept, I should say. I’m not sure that can carry on now. Just knowing that it happened to me has driven a wedge between me and my husband. He’s so frustrated. It’s like an insult to his injury.’ She gave an ironic and bitter smile in response to Marsh’s look. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s men all over. I’m the one who was raped, abused, defiled, humiliated, and he’s the one who’s taking it personally. He can’t help himself. But I don’t want him to know about these.’
‘They’re evidence,’ said Marsh.
‘I know. That’s why I’ve asked you round here. I want this bastard caught. If these can help, well, you know. I can’t keep them on my phone. I can’t risk it, and I don’t want to see them. I can send them to your phone.’ Marsh nodded. ‘I wouldn’t like to think these would become any sort of police station amusement. My sister’s husband was a copper. I know some of the things that go on.’
‘Not in our station they don’t, Mrs Goddard. You have my word these will only be used in conjunction with our attempts to apprehend the perpetrator of the crime. If the day ever comes when they might be needed as some kind of evidence, I will speak to you before we do anything.’
‘That’ll have to do then.’
The woman’s face was grim as she went through the motions of sending the offensive images: the scenes of her rape. When it was done and Marsh confirmed they had been received, Goddard deleted them from her own phone.
‘If I get anymore I’ll contact you and only you.’
‘Of course. Thank you, Mrs Goddard. We are doing everything we can to find this man.’
*
After speaking with Romney, it was agreed that the images should be file transferred from her phone to the computer in Romney’s office. From here they would print out images to be kept on file. The images relating to Claire Stamp’s attack were still kept only on her phone, which was in an evidence bag. These too were to be uploaded to Romney’s computer and hard copies printed off for the record. It was not something that Romney found himself comfortable having to do, so he left Marsh with the task and the privacy of his office and his printer.
Marsh went to grab a coffee to sustain her through it. On the way to the machine she met Spicer. He had supervised the taking of a mouth-swab sample from Park when he’d shown his pimply face.
‘That boy show up, yet?’ she said.
‘Park? Yes, Sarge. What a wet one he is. When I told him we wanted a DNA sample, I thought he was going to faint. Moaning he couldn’t stand needles.’ Spicer shook his head at his memory of the youth. ‘He did the mouth-swab, though it seemed to make him just as miserable.’
*
Marsh was engrossed with leads and technology when the phone rang on Romney’s desk making her jump. ‘DI Romney’s office.’
‘Hello. Is that Sergeant Marsh?’
‘It is.’
‘Diane Hodge here. Is the inspector there, please?’
‘Sorry, he’s not.’ Marsh could imagine the disappointed look on the features of the young woman.
‘Oh, that’s a shame.’
‘Can I help you?’ said Marsh.
‘We’ve finished all the tests on the petrol station employees. And we have a match with the saliva sample that we lifted from the top of the contraceptive packet.’
***
28
‘What?’
‘That’s what she said, sir.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
Marsh had a fifteen minute advantage on Romney’s reaction. She had experienced the same feelings only to be categorically assured by the forensic officer that there was no doubt.
‘She said his sample and the sample from the condom packet recovered on the night were a perfect DNA match.’
‘How the hell? Where is he?’
‘He left the station after giving his sample. Derek said he was reluctant when he found out what we wanted from him.’
‘Find him. Get him back here. Call me the moment he arrives.’
For the first time since she’d been at the station she saw Romney approaching real anger.
Marsh rang Park’s home number. The mother answered. Again, she was testy. Carl hadn’t returned home, she said. Marsh coerced his mobile phone number out of the woman and tried it. It rang a dozen times without answer.
Marsh tracked down some photographic quality paper, and using the printer in Romney’s room she finished churning out the pornographic, glossy A4 images of the two rape victims. She gave them a cursory glance. Gawping at them alone made her uncomfortable. She scribbled on the back of each, separated them with sheets of ordinary paper and slid them into the file. She tried Park’s phone again. It was ringing as Romney came back into his office.
‘Got him?’
She shook her head. ‘I keep calling his number, but he’s not answering. His mother said he hasn’t been home. I’ve printed off the images of Claire Stamp and Jane Goddard. They’re in the folder on your desk.’
Romney looked at it as though it might bite him. He opened a drawer and hid it away. ‘Ring the mother again. Find out where he could be. Go round there if you have to. I want him in here this afternoon.’
*
Marsh returned to the station with Carl Park just over an hour later. Having phoned ahead to let Romney know she’d caught up with him at his home and was bringing him in, Marsh knew to lead the lanky youth up through the building and to Romney’s office where he was waiting for them.
Romney looked up from the file he was studying when Marsh tapped on the glass. He fixed a smile for Park and waved them in. ‘Hello, again, Carl. Sit down.’ Marsh positioned herself off to one side, but with a clear view of the youth’s face. ‘Sorry to drag you back in like this, but we have a bit of a complication I hope you can clear up for us.’ The youth stared intently at Romney.
‘Do you remember that I asked you if you knew of any hanky-panky going on in the back room of the petrol station?’ Park nodded. ‘You told me no. Do you remember that?’ More nodding. ‘Do you know what happens at a crime scene when a serious crime has been committed, Carl? A team of specially trained people go in there and they scour it for evidence that could help bring someone to account for that crime. That’s what happened after Claire Stamp was raped. The team that went in there, Carl. They found something we believed could help us find whoever did it: a clue, evidence. They found the top off a condom packet.’
Park’s face altered colour to be more suggestive of a fluorescent light bulb than a human being.
Romney said, ‘It appears that whoever opened that packet did it with their teeth. We know this because they left traces of their saliva on it. Guess whose saliva matches that trace exactly, Carl?’
‘I want a lawyer,’ said Park. ‘I’m not saying a word without legal representation.’
Romney looked seriously at the lad. ‘Are you sure you want to do it the hard way, Carl?’ Park nodded and Romney realised he shouldn’t press him further. Romney said, ‘In that case, Carl, you leave me little option but to arrest you for wasting police time. Take him downstairs, Sergeant. Book him in and get him the duty solicitor. Let me know when all’s ready.’
Romney didn’t take his eyes off Park as Marsh led him away.
*
Marsh was back in thirty minutes. ‘They’ll ring us when someone arrives.’
‘What do you make of that?’ said Romney.
‘I don’t know what to make of it, sir. He’s not the rapist. His sample doesn’t match the sample taken f
rom Jane Goddard’s body. He’s scared though.’
‘He’s been watching too much bloody TV. All that I want a lawyer crap. That boy is trying my patience. And I’m not in the mood for it.’
*
The duty solicitor arrived. Carl Park, Romney, Marsh and the solicitor arranged themselves around the table in the interview room. The recording equipment was set running and the standard phrasing was spoken into it.
Romney took up where he’d left off in his office. ‘So, Carl, I’ll ask you again about the top of the condom packet found at the petrol station rape scene – the evidence that has your saliva sample all over it.’
‘What do you want to know?’ said Park.
Both officers would later remark that he had shrugged off something of the pathetic demeanour that had typified his character in previous meetings. Something had also changed in his eyes.
‘I want to know if you can give me an explanation for how it came to be there. I’ll remind you that you told me during the early days of our enquiry that you had no knowledge of any goings-on of a sexual nature in the petrol station.’
‘I lied.’
Romney leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘Go on.’
‘Claire Stamp and I were having an affair. I lied to you before to protect her honour. It was nothing to do with the rape.’
Romney stared at him for so long that the youth began to fidget. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that that good looking young woman, whose boyfriend is a particularly unpleasant character, was having sex with you in the back room of the petrol station?’
‘It’s true.’
‘Impossible,’ said Romney. ‘Why would she?’
‘She was lonely. We got on well. She disliked Avery. It got boring at nights and one thing led to another. It happens.’
Romney laughed out loud, but his eyes showed no trace of humour.
‘If she were alive you could ask her,’ said Park, whose confidence seemed to be growing by the minute.
‘But she’s not alive is she, Carl? She’s dead. And you know that with her dead there is no way we can disprove your fantasies.’
‘You don’t need to answer that,’ said the duty solicitor.
Park remained silent.
Romney regained some of his composure. ‘So, Carl, how long had this ‘affair’ been going on?’
‘A couple of weeks.’
‘And when was the last time you imagine you and Claire Stamp had sexual intercourse?’
‘The night of the attack.’
‘About what time?’
‘Nineish.’
‘Until what, nine-o-oneish?’
The smile that Park turned on Romney revealed a very different young man to the one that Romney and Marsh thought they had been dealing with. It was a combination of malevolent sneer, supreme confidence in his position and contempt for his interrogators. It made Romney want to go for him across the table that separated them, to wipe the smarmy look off his face. As Romney’s judgement was clouding with aggression, Marsh’s thinking remained logical enough to make some fantastic leaps.
‘Do you know a Peter Roper?’ she said.
Park turned his now intense gaze on Marsh. ‘Yeah, I know Peter. We use the same employment agency. Why?’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Couple of months ago. I don’t use the agency since I found a full-time job.’
‘So you weren’t friends outside the agency?’
‘Not really.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I saw him around now and again. I’d always stop and say hello. He’s a bit of a loser.’
Marsh said, ‘Mr Patel told us you don’t work at the petrol station any longer.’
‘No. I found it all too upsetting after what happened to Claire. I really liked her.’
‘Is that why you were at her funeral?’ said Romney. ‘Because you really liked her?’
‘That’s right. No law against that, is there?’
There was a long pause during which Romney and Park held each other’s stare. Romney said, ‘Any further questions, DS Marsh?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I’m sure that we will want to speak to you again, Mr Park,’ said Romney. ‘Don’t go leaving Dover without telling us, is that clear?’
Park smiled at his interrogator. ‘Why would I want to leave Dover? It’s my home.’
***
29
Slumped in his office chair, Romney looked tired. Marsh sat across from him waiting.
‘I still can’t believe what just happened in there,’ he said. ‘I refuse to accept that he and Claire Stamp were shagging regularly in the back room.’
‘But he knows we can’t disprove his claims. What other explanation could there be for the condom packet top? I’m not disagreeing with you, sir,’ she said in answer to his look. ‘I’m just playing devil’s advocate.’
‘Maybe you’re not too wide of the mark there. Did you see the look he gave me? I think I’ve drastically underestimated Carl Park. In answer to your question there can be only one other answer: he was the rapist at the garage or at least involved in it.’
‘But Claire Stamp told us that there was someone else. That’s not just his testimony. And his sample does not match the second sample taken from Jane Goddard. She was definitely raped by someone else – someone whose appearance and MO were identical to those used at the garage.’
For a few long moments they listened to the noises outside the room and explored their thoughts.
Then Romney said, ‘So there’s more than one rapist.’
‘Peter Roper,’ said Marsh. ‘Park has admitted knowing him. They’re of a similar age and build.’
Romney considered it. ‘That’s incredible. It fits but it’s incredible.’
‘Not necessarily, sir. Statistical evidence shows that rape between work colleagues is not unusual. People who might otherwise never normally socially interact with each other get thrown together in a work environment. They observe the accepted ethics of that environment and get to know each other. Before long – usually for the male involved – sexual fantasies develop out of a misinterpretation of a woman’s simple work place friendliness. Mostly these can remain just that: fantasies. But sometimes a misreading of signs can make a man think that some sort of suggestion is being made, and one thing leads to another and there’s a rape.’
‘Even so, these two are little more than boys.’
‘Carl Park is twenty-one. Peter Roper is twenty. They’re adults. Both would know the layout of the locations and the timetables. They take it in turns. One walks in, speaks in some phoney eastern European accent, and the one we thought was a terrified and unwilling participant is really involved in the event. It would explain the hood being put over the victim’s head. Once the victim is restrained and to all intents and purposes blindfolded, the two of them could have just pretended that the one who worked in the place they were at was knocked unconscious. But they weren’t. It was their fantasy and their turn to rape their work colleague. Look at them. Could you imagine either woman voluntarily having sex with either of them? And think of the women’s descriptions of the acts. Claire Stamp said it was quick. The way Jane Goddard described it, she said it was as though her attacker wanted her to enjoy it – like he was making love to her rather than violating her.’
Romney put his face in his hands for a moment, rubbed hard and stood up. ‘It would also explain how both women’s phone numbers came to be known. Most people have their contact details freely available at work. If it’s true then Roper is going to be the key. He’s the one who was stupid enough to leave traces of himself. With Jane Goddard still alive, if a sample from him matches then he won’t have the same defence as Park to fall back on. You’ve got to hand it to them. It’s clever. It’s devious. Who are the last people we would suspect of committing the offences?’
‘The two poor youths unwittingly caught up in some sord
id attack. Park’s been lucky. If Claire Stamp were still alive we’d have him already.’
‘Get Peter Roper picked up and brought in. Second thoughts, organise uniform assistance: he might be in possession of a firearm. Have Carl Park picked up again. We need to have his home searched. He knows we’re on to him. I’m going to have to talk with the super.’ He picked up his phone to make an appointment that Marsh did not envy him.
*
Superintendent Falkner sat grim faced throughout Romney’s sharing of ideas and theories.
‘It’s fantastic,’ he said, when Romney had finished. ‘I can see how you’ve arrived at the point you’re at, Tom. It’s logical, but it’s just fantastical. This boy, Roper, where is he?’
‘We’re looking for him.’
Falkner checked his watch. ‘I won’t be here much longer, Tom, but the moment you have him in custody I want to know.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And then I want to be kept informed of any developments. I don’t care what time it is. I’m only at some dreary civic function in the Masonic hall.’
As Romney rose to leave, Falkner added, ‘Careful, Tom. If your beliefs turn out to be well-founded this is going to make national news. Let’s not spoil things with any procedural foul-ups.’
*
On returning to his office, Romney was disappointed to discover that despite a substantial police presence searching for both, neither Park nor Roper had been found.
He got himself a coffee and stood a moment at his window, which looked out over the rear of the street. In the radiance cast by the police car park floodlighting he could see that it was snowing. It wouldn’t lie, he thought. Not with all the rain they’d had lately.
Snow made Romney nostalgic. For a few moments he indulged himself in memories that would surface at the merest hint of the white stuff: memories of his only daughter in those early years when he and his first wife had been as happy as they ever would be. Thinking of domesticity led his train of thought to Julie Carpenter. Was he going to get another chance at all that? Did he want it? Really want it enough? He released a lungful of air that clouded the glass and turned back to his desk. He’d text Julie something appropriate and settle in for the wait. However long it was.