suffering.
Chapter Five
Crownhill Police Station, Plymouth. Monday 14th January. 2.10 p.m.
Early afternoon, and Savage headed back to Crownhill. Inside the Major Crimes suite Operation
Brougham
was in full swing, the information discovered earlier in the day entered into the system by the indexers, actions already mounting up as each incoming lead generated numerous tasks for the inquiry teams. Three pairs of DCs had begun working the area around Lester Close. So far they had nothing but gossip. The story coming out of the neighbourhood was that Franklin Owers was a loner, frequented local playgrounds and by common consent, deserved castration. People were glad heâd moved away. The tale was similar over Stonehouse way, in the maze of streets surrounding his flat. Owers had only moved in a couple of months back, but already someone had noticed him hanging around outside the local primary school. Nobody questioned in either area had any idea where he might be and his MAPPA team were equally clueless. So much for monitoring sex offenders, Savage thought.
âNaughty, Charlotte, naughty,â Garrett said, entering the Crime Suite a few minutes later. âI should slap your wrist. More, according to John Layton.â
âSorry?â
âOwersâ flat. Scene of crime. Layton has gone ballistic.â
âShit.â
âKept on talking about first dibs for him and his team. Muttered something about cross-contamination too. I told him to calm down but he stormed off.â
âSo Johnâs gone over there now?â
âGoing to ârip the fucker apartâ were his exact words. I hope Owers is our man or else we are going to face one hell of a repair bill.â
âAnd Lester Close?â
âClean. Nothing else there, he reckons. At least nothing we can find without bringing in the bulldozers, and Iâm not ready to do that. Not until weâve got something more on Mr Owers.â
âItâs beyond reasonable doubt though, sir. The fact heâs offended before, the stuff we found at the flat, local people saying he acted suspiciously.â
âDepends
whose
reasonable doubt weâre talking about.â Garrett raised a finger and tapped his nose. âEverything so far is circumstantial.â
Savage disagreed, thinking a body beneath a patio was way more than circumstantial. She said nothing, guessing the real reason for Laytonâs anger was the lack of anything incriminating from Lester Close. Now heâd be hoping to find something in Owersâ current residence, hoping Savage hadnât mucked things up. She was sorry she had pissed him off. They were on the same side, after all.
Garrett was still talking, moving around the room and raising his voice to include everyone in the conversation. There were three main questions, he said. Who was the little girl in the box, who was the man that Peter Serling, the builder, had met at Lester Close, and where was Mr Franklin Owers? Answer any one of those and theyâd be well on their way to cracking the case.
Early days, but so far the inquiry teams had nothing on Owers. Where he was remained a mystery.
Peter Serling would be coming in to give a more detailed statement and to work with the teamâs e-Fit specialist to compile a likeness of the man who had impersonated Mr Evershed. The mobile number the man had given him was being traced, but likely as not would turn out to be a pay as you go and worthless.
That left the girl.
Garrett was off to the post-mortem, saying he hoped to return with information which would aid the identification. They already knew she was aged around six, had brown curly hair and a gap in her front teeth where two milk teeth had fallen out. There were so few missing persons of that age that establishing the girlâs identity should have been easy. However, the missing personsâ list didnât contain any young children.
It wasnât until Garrett had been