Chapter 4: Missing from home

1300 hrs Tuesday 2nd April 2019 Thurston Hall

DAY 2

Bill Clark stared at me with open mouth and eyes stalked. “Bloody hell! Are you saying Drab Rampley was murdered?”

“No, I’m pointing out that although he was left-handed the shot that killed him was fired from a pistol held in his right hand. He might have been ambidextrous and used his right hand just to be bloody-minded. Who is investigating his death?”

“No one. The inquest gave the reason for his death as suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed. We were not too was surprised that he committed suicide. Anyone caught shagging an underage girl can expect at least ten years in jail, and a copper banged up in prison will have a rough time of it. Drab must have reckoned suicide a better result than incarceration, and a beating every other day, for ten years. He was charged with unlawful carnal knowledge of Traci Smethwick and released on police bail pending further inquiries. IOPC was contacted, and Northumberland Police were given the job of investigating the circumstances leading to his arrest. They sent a DI and DS to collect evidence but they had only been in Ipswich a day when Drab committed suicide. The Top Brass should have realised he was a suicide risk and had him under a twenty four-hour watch.”

“Had the Northumberland Police interviewed Drab, or recovered the pistol, or any notebooks he might have had?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea what the Geordies did in Ipswich. We, that is Central Division CID, were excluded from any part of the investigation and given specific orders not to contact Sergeant Rampley or ask questions of the investigation team. As for notebooks; being CID Drab wouldn’t have had the official police notebook (PNB) although I know he made notes in a notepad of some sort.”

“Did Rampley contact you when he was at home on suspension?” I asked Bill.

“Yeah, he sent me a text asking me to call and arrange a meet with him, but I didn’t reply.”

“Did he contact Sammy?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know; he might...”

At that moment Sammy entered the room with two containers of coffee that she set down on the table.

“Sorry to be so long, but there was a --” She saw the looks on our faces. “What is the matter?”

“Did Sergeant Rampley contact you while he was on suspension?” I asked...

“Yes,” she answered in a quiet voice. “He sent me a text asking that I meet him. I replied I had been ordered not to have any contact with him. I’m sorry, but I thought he should know why none of us in CID had contacted him.” She raised her head and pushed out her jaw. “I know I was wrong to reply to his text but he was a colleague, and I thought I owed him an explanation for our silence. I am prepared for any disciplinary action that may be taken against me for disobeying orders.”

“No need for that, Sammy. Just make sure you delete his message and yours to him. That goes for you too, Bill.” I saw the expression of relief on both their faces and then brought Sammy up to speed. “There’s an anomaly in Sergeant Rampley’s death. He was left-handed but the pistol he used to shoot himself was held in his right hand. Forensics have made a cock-up by not reporting the pistol was held in his --.” I thought suddenly struck me. “Was it generally known that Sergeant Rampley was left- handed?”

“I’ve known Drab Rampley since being posted here when the East Anglian Constabulary was formed nine years ago and can honestly say I had no idea he was a keggy-handed,” Bill said.

“I knew he was left-handed,” Sammy said quietly. “I needed to cut some card and Sergeant Rampley lent me a pair of scissors. I had difficulty using them as he said they were designed for left-handed people.”

“Well that settles it,” I declared. “I will inform the DI that Rampley was left-handed and there is a suspicion he might not have committed suicide.” I looked over at Warren’s office but it was empty. “Was DI Warren in the canteen?” I asked Sammy.

“I didn’t see her. She might be out in the field with Sergeant Beddoes and his team. The Control Room will know where she is if she is not in the building.”

“I’ll wait until she shows up. Meantime let’s concentrate on the missing persons.” I showed Sammy the printout of the list with the marked names retrieved from Rampley’s computer. “Have you seen this list before?”

She looked at the list for several moments and then shook her head. “Not this particular list, but the names with hash marks are those girls who had gone missing from Care Homes. I have trawled through their social media contacts; Facebook, Twitter, etc, but have found nothing to indicate where they might be.”

“And the names with asterisks attached?”

“All I know is those names on the list, with and without asterisks or hash marks, have had no activity on their social media platforms since they were reported missing and there has been no usage of their credit or debit cards. I have no idea why Sergeant Rampley has marked five of the names with asterisks.”

“OK, we will recheck all the evidence, which means the CCTV footage and statements pertaining to those missing females marked with asterisks and hash marks.” I saw Bill and Sammy’s faces fall. “I know it’s a bugger, but Sergeant Rampley marked those names for a reason and unless we find something that explains why he did it we will have to work it out for ourselves. As for the pistol being in his right hand; I will inform the DI when she comes back from wherever she has gone and she can take it from there.” I took the top off the container of my coffee and took a slurp. “Thanks for the coffee, Sammy. Now, let’s get to it.”

I gave Bill and Sammy the list of hash marked names to reinvestigate while I took the list with the asterisked names and checked for similarities between the five females.

Mel Reynold, Age 22. Blonde/blue eyes, slim, 5ft 4 in. Co-op checkout girl. Reported missing 21 Dec 2018. Lives in Bury St Edmunds

Linda Rogers. Age 20. Blonde/blue eyes, slim, 5ft 3in. Student & part-time bar worker. Reported missing 4 Jan 2019. Lodges in Bury St Edmunds

Kate Hodge. Age 35. Blonde/blue eyes slim 5ft 5ins Beautician working in Bury. Reported missing 18 Jan 2019. Lives in Ipswich.

Dawn Sturrock. Age 21. Blonde/blue eyes, slim, 5ft 4 ins Model. Reported missing 1 Feb 2019. Lives in Stowmarket.

Betty Smith. Age 22. Brown hair, blue eyes, slim, 5ft 10 ins.Solicitor’s clerk in Bury. Reported missing 15 Feb 2019. Lives in Ipswich.

The first thing that struck me was that the interval between each female being reported missing was two weeks, a fortnight. That could be merely a coincidence or it could be why Rampley had asterisked these five names, although the thought of a serial abductor with a calendar obsession was not something I wished to dwell on. I concentrated on each missing female in turn. Except for Kate Hodge, all were between 20-24 years of age. All had blue eyes. All but one were blondes, and all but one were between 5ft 3in and 5ft 5in tall. Betty Smith was an ‘outlier, being brown-haired and 5ft 10in. There were other blonde, blue- eyed females reported missing within the same time frame as the five females on the list marked with an asterisk but they had not been highlighted in any way by Rampley.

I checked the home addresses of the five; two lived in Bury St Edmunds, one in Stowmarket, and two in Ipswich. However, of the three who did not live in Bury two worked in the town and the other one was visiting the town when she was reported missing. That was when the penny dropped. The five girls with asterisks against their names had all gone missing at fortnightly intervals in Bury St Edmunds. A result!

“I believe I’ve found the reason for the asterisks,” I said. Bill and Sammy looked up from their desk at my news. “All five females disappeared when in Bury St Edmunds, and there is a two-week interval between each disappearance. We will need to review the CCTV footage and try and glean more information.”

Bill Clark frowned. “You know what that could mean?”

“Yes, we may have a serial abductor with a calendar obsession on our patch, although it is early doors yet. Anyway, how are you two doing with your list? Any common thread revealed?”

“Only that all the girls were in Social Services care and had absconded from their Care Homes,” Sammy said.

“That must be it then. I’ll get Control to locate the DI. She needs to be brought up to speed.” I looked at my watch – 4.30 pm. “I will give the control room a call and ask them to contact the DI but first I’m off to the canteen for a sandwich. I haven’t eaten anything since Menna’s Welsh cakes hours ago.”

As I made my way out of the room I met DI Warren coming in. “Can I have a word, Ma’am,” I said. She nodded, and I followed her to her cubicle-cum-office.

“Well, what is it, Sergeant. Are you having second thoughts about working in a rural setting and want a transfer back to London?” Her question was asked in a rather sarcastic way but I soon took the smirk off her face.

“There’s something not quite kosher concerning Sergeant Rampley’s death. DS Rampley was left-handed but was found with the pistol held in his right hand.”

She stared at me in surprise. “How do you know Rampley was left-handed?”

I explained about the position of the computer mouse on his desk and him owning scissors designed for left-handed users.

She bit her lip. “There may be a reasonable explanation other than what you are intimating, but I agree it is an anomaly that requires investigating. I will pass your information on to the DCI, who may or may not take it further. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

She gave me a smile, probably forced, but at least she was making the effort to be pleasant to me. I then handed her the list with the marked names.

“I found this on Sergeant Rampley’s computer. In fact, it is all I found on his computer. Do you know why he marked these names?”

She looked at the list. “I don’t know about the five names marked with asterisks but those with hash marks were girls who Sergeant Rampley suspected of being trafficked. Human Trafficking is dealt with by the National Crime Agency (NCA) via the relevant Regional Organised Crime Unit( ROCU) so, as per standing orders, I passed on the information to DCI Brownlow who then informed Detective Superintendent Fuller. Later I was told by him, berated by him to be more accurate, that ‘the NCA couldn’t proceed on a mere ‘hunch’ from a Detective Sergeant, and would require more substantial evidence from a senior officer’.” Her face twisted in anger at the memory. “Detective Superintendent Fuller questioned my competency in passing on information from such an unreliable source as Rampley, given his subsequent history. I am only part way through my probationary period since promotion to Inspector and have probably scuppered any future advancement with such a scathing assessment on my record.”

That would explain her worried and harassed expression, and I began to feel a bit sorry for the woman.

“Well, the evidence pointing to an anomaly in the death of Sergeant Rampley is substantial, Ma’am,” I paused. “No one told me Rampley had committed suicide. When you told me he was dead I presumed he had died of a heart attack.”

“I thought you were taking the piss when you asked if Rampley had retired; the Met are known for their weird sense of humour. When Detective Superintendent Fuller briefed you this morning didn’t he tell you anything about Sergeant Rampley?”

“I never got to meet the Superintendent. He was delayed due to a traffic jam on the A 14 and didn’t have time to see me. The first I heard of Rampley’s suicide, and the events leading up to it, was when talking to DC Clark. It came as something of a shock, I can tell you.”

Warren looked puzzled. “I drove into work along the A 14 this morning. There were no holdups, and although the traffic was as heavy as usual I was here at eight.” She shrugged her shoulders; “Detective Superintendent Fuller lives in Cambridge, whereas I live in Newmarket, which is closer to Thurston Hall. I suppose he could have been delayed further back along the road. I can’t understand why he didn’t contact the Control Room and have DCI Brownlow or me give you the briefing when he knew he would be delayed. I can only apologise that I did not ensure you were up to speed with the Rampley Affair, as we call it.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Even in the most efficiently managed organisations communications sometimes go awry.” I would be lying if I believed the Central Division of the East Anglian Constabulary to be an efficiently managed organisation, but hoped things would improve.

“We may have got off on the wrong foot this morning due to a misunderstanding on my part. I hope we can put that behind us and work together, Sergeant?”

“I’m sure we can, Ma’am.” I decided not to tell her about my suspicions of a serial abductor in case she got another bollicking from Fuller if it turned out not to be true, but I needed to view what CCTV camera footage existed relevant to the five missing girls. Now would be a good time to test our new working partnership. “If you could arrange to have my team view the CCTV footage...”

Fliss Warren anticipated my request. “Give me the list of the CCTV files you need and I’ll get Micky Devereaux in Forensics to have them ready for you to view first thing tomorrow morning.”

“The list is on my desk,” I said and hurried over to my cubicle where I retrieved the list of the relevant files and then returned to her office. She was sitting at her console and I laid it on her desk.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said without looking up from her monitor screen.

I hesitated, concerned she would forget, or neglect, to get the files ready for viewing next morning. She must have sensed my concern because she spun around in her chair and faced me. “I will take the list to Forensics just as soon as I’ve finished typing up these notes.” She gave an elfin grin, quite out of what I had thought as her character. “Cross my heart and hope to die, AJ!”

I arrived home, or rather at 27 Castle Road, at 6 pm. Sammy had given me a lift to Thurston rail station, and on arrival at Bury St Edmunds I discovered to my delight that a bus left from the station and travelled along Parkway, stopping by the Waitrose complex directly across the road from the walkthrough to Castle Road.

The house was empty, and taped to the door of my room was a note from Molly.

Hi Joshua

I will be out until late at my local history club meeting this evening. Deborah rang to say she won’t be home until midday tomorrow. I had made her some dinner but as she will not be here to eat it you are welcome to have it. The meal is in the fridge and only needs heating for five minutes in the microwave. I will be working in the canteen tomorrow so can give you a lift to work in the morning.

Molly

PS. There’s a Waldorf salad in the fridge to have with your meal.

M

I didn’t know what a Waldorf salad was but looked it up on the internet before going down to the kitchen and sticking the meal, sole meunière, into the microwave. The dinner was delicious, and I decided sole meunière with Waldorf salad must be the food that the Gods on Mount Olympus noshed when not gorging themselves on ambrosia and nectar. I supposed Molly had got the meal readymade at Sainsbury’s or some other upmarket supermarket. I washed up the plates and put everything away tidy, and then watched some telly with a can of Murphy’s in hand. By 10 pm I was in bed and not long after I was fast asleep. The sound of car doors slamming woke me, 11.15pm by my mobile. I heard voices downstairs. One voice was definitely male. Had Molly brought a man home to her bed? I felt a stab of jealousy before sleep reclaimed me.

0600 hours Wednesday 3rd April 2019. 27 Castle Road

DAY 3

The alarm woke me and I rolled out of bed refreshed after a deep, dreamless, sleep. I carried out the three S’s routine and was downstairs by 6.30 am. Molly was in the kitchen at the cooker. She heard me enter the room and spoke over her shoulder. “I’m only making porridge and toast, Joshua. We can have a proper breakfast later in the morning. I take a break about nine-thirty after the main breakfast rush is over. You could join me and the canteen staff then.”

“I’m viewing CCTV footage first thing this morning, Molly. I might be several hours before...”

“I’ll have someone put you up a breakfast and you then can have it whenever you are able.”

“That’s good of you, thanks, and thank you for last night’s dinner, it was delicious.”

She beamed at me. “Glad you enjoyed it. Sole meunière is Deborah’s favourite meal. She will be mad she missed out but happy that you enjoyed it in her place. Oh, and I hope we didn’t wake you when I came in last night?”

“Err, no. I never heard a thing,” I lied.

“Frank and Jean Carstairs from next door came home with me. I’ll introduce you to them this evening after we get back from work.”

“I got volunteered for a pub quiz at the Goat and Compass this evening.”

“Never mind, there will be other opportunities for you to meet the neighbours.”

We left the house after a quick breakfast of porridge and a slice of toast each. I was surprised to see the Nissan Juke parked in the driveway of #27.

“Has Deborah left her car here?”

“This is my car, Joshua. Deborah drove it back after she had been to the gym and got a taxi to the railway station. She is visiting --” Molly paused for a second, “a friend in London, but she will be back this afternoon.”