‘He wanted to leave to escape his debts. He might still try, but would he leave Tess?’
‘He’s hardly Mr Morals…’
‘I just don’t have reasonable grounds to seize his passport right now,’ said Erika.
‘What about surveillance?’
Erika looked at Peterson.
‘What’s his motive for killing Vicky? She was in rent arrears? We don’t have DNA evidence back yet for the scene of Sophia’s murder. I can’t yet prove he even knew Sophia… And we can’t yet prove if there is a link between the two murders.’ The Jaguar outside drove away, and Erika wondered again where Jasper was getting the money from for his fancy solicitor if he was broke. She made a decision. ‘Screw it. Let’s put a car on him, twenty-four-hour surveillance. I’ll deal with Melanie’s wrath.’
‘Good call,’ said Peterson. ‘What do you want to do next?’
Erika had to think for a moment.
‘I want to pay Goldsmith’s Drama Academy a visit, and see if we can track down someone who knows something about the reports of assault on those sound files. We now have the three names of those women Vicky interviewed, and we should also get a list of the student accommodations. We could try and find out if Vicky was talking to anyone else there when she did her research for the podcast.’
It was a fifteen-minute drive from Lewisham Row over to New Cross. They took Peterson’s car so Erika could use the phone. She called in to the incident room and asked Crane to see if there was any record of assaults and breakins reported by Kathleen Barber in January 2012, Becky Wayland in February 2014 at Jubilee Road, or Grace Leith at Hartwood Road in February 2012.
She waited and heard Crane typing in the background.
‘Jubilee Road is coming up,’ he said, finally. ‘Number eighty-four Jubilee Road… There’s a report dated 24th January 2012, about an intruder who tried to break in during the night. There’s very little information, it just says that the young woman, Kathleen Barber, was unable to identify the intruder and the person was scared off. The police visited the premises, dusted for prints… But there wasn’t anything to go on… Ah, yes, and there’s also a report for a Becky Wayland. She reported an intruder on the 18th February 2014, again eighty-four Jubilee Road. The police came and, again, dusted for prints but there was no sign of a breakin.’
‘No sign of a breakin? Do the reports mention anything about bars on the window of the room where Becky or Kathleen were staying being removed? Or missing light bulbs?’ asked Erika.
‘No,’ said Crane after a pause.
‘And there’s nothing in the system for a Grace Leith in February 2012? If the address doesn’t come up, the report could mention Goldsmith’s Drama Academy,’ said Erika. There was a pause as Crane typed.
‘Nope,’ said Crane. ‘Nothing.’
‘Okay, thank you,’ said Erika to Crane. ‘Can you send all that to my email?’ She then made a call to Melanie to request twenty-four-hour surveillance on Jasper Clark, which Melanie approved without much pushback.
‘I thought that was going to be tougher than it was,’ said Erika when she got off the phone.
‘She probably wouldn’t have been as keen to approve surveillance on Charles Wakefield,’ said Peterson. Erika gave a dry laugh. Melanie had sounded relieved, and she must have assumed their focus had shifted. ‘What I don’t understand is how Vicky tracked down that information about the breakins,’ continued Peterson. ‘How did she find Kathleen Barber, Becky Wayland and Grace Leith? Did she know a police officer, or did GDA have records she got hold of?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Erika. She flipped down the mirror in front of the passenger seat to check her reflection. She looked at her ragged tired face. ‘Bloody hell. I need some sleep.’
They pulled up at a set of traffic lights next to Forest Hill station, close to where Erika had her first flat when she moved down to London. That had been four years ago. She’d had an intruder break in when she was there, and it had been terrifying. She thought of the women, who had all been young teenagers when this person broke into the student halls. It had been their first time away from home. Alone in London for the first time. It must have been horrific.
‘Did you get a bed in the end?’ asked Peterson, breaking her out of her thoughts.
‘What? No. Not from Bed World, that’s when I got called away by Isaac to the morgue. Did you?’