A fence of iron railings sat atop a stone wall with a gate leading to a flagstone path. The path ran through a low-maintenance gravel garden to the front of the period property, which had bay windows and an imposing porch. Savage walked up the path to the front door, where a CSI stood trying a Yale key in the front lock.
‘Found this on her bedside table,’ the CSI said. ‘It doesn’t seem to fit this door though.’
‘It could be for her home in Hungary,’ Savage said.
‘Don’t think so, ma’am. Says Timpson on the key. Unless they’ve got branches in Europe, this is for a property in the UK.’
Savage nodded and went through the door. From behind her the CSI called out that Ana’s room was upstairs. Savage walked down the hallway and climbed the wide staircase, which had a decent carpet secured with polished brass stair rods. She once again wondered why the high-end property had been rented to Ana and her housemates. At the top of the stairs a door to the right stood open, a mess visible within. Layton stood next to the bed, arranging several evidence bags on the mattress.
‘Blitzed it, Charlotte,’ Layton said, indicating the upturned room where the doors to a wardrobe hung open, drawers had been removed from a chest, and the furniture moved away from the walls. ‘Take a look.’
On the bed several polythene packets held the girl’s clothing. A cardboard box contained some of her student work. Layton indicated the pillows at the head of the bed.
‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to get a match from the hair we found on the webbing at the reservoir. There are a number of blonde hairs on the pillow and a quick look with my big magnifier leads me to think they’re the same.’
‘Great,’ Savage said. She waved a hand around at the room and its furnishings. ‘This place is all a bit plush for a student.’
‘Prostitution, you mean?’ Layton smiled. ‘Well, since you’ve brought up the subject of sleaze, I’ve found something else of interest which might explain things.’
He moved across to the chest of drawers where a picture of Ana cuddling a small white dog sat to one side of an open jewellery box. The box contained trinkets, nothing of more than a few pounds value. Above the chest of drawers was a large mirror. Layton reached out and tapped the glass.
‘Sorry?’ Savage stared at the mirror and at her reflection. She needed a haircut.
‘Look.’ Layton moved alongside Savage and reached out. He lifted the mirror from the wall and put it to one side of the chest of drawers. ‘Smile, you’re on camera.’
On the wall, a little way below the hook the mirror had hung on was a hole the size of a penny. A flash of light came from a piece of glass set back in the hole.
‘The landlord?’
‘Got to be, hasn’t it?’ Layton smirked. ‘Dirty bastard’s been getting a peep show for free.’
‘How’s the camera connected up?’
‘Wireless I expect. He’ll have installed the camera when he redecorated the room. Hard-wired the power supply into the mains. Wouldn’t mind betting he’s got the other rooms covered too.’
‘That could explain a lot about the house. High-quality rooms, attracting high-quality girls. How many other tenants are there?’
‘Four. Girls only, and all of them are foreign.’
‘Do you think Ana knew?’
‘If she did then why hide the camera? I’ll need a warrant to search the other rooms properly, but I could take a quick peek now …’
‘How would you get in?’
‘These.’ Layton held up a bunch of keys and jangled them. ‘The landlord gave me his master set. What do you say?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Savage bit her lip, then nodded at the camera and winked at Layton. Then she went towards the door and stepped out onto the landing. Layton followed and Savage lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Thirty seconds in each room, wear gloves, and don’t touch any of the girls’ stuff. Oh, and it never happened, OK?’
‘Sure.’ Layton chuckled. ‘But the subterfuge isn’t necessary because I’ve unplugged the internet router and bagged it for evidence. The camera is dead.’
Layton was still laughing to himself five minutes later as he came down from the second floor.
‘Well?’ Savage said. ‘Any more?’
‘All four rooms. There’s a big full-length mirror in the shared bathroom too, but I can’t remove that without a major DIY job. We’ve got the router though, so we can call Hi-Tech Crimes out here. They can plug the router back in and see all the devices that are connected wirelessly. If we find more than Ana’s camera, which of course we will, then we can ask the other girls for permission to look inside their rooms and make the discovery official.’
‘How’s the landlord viewing the material?’
‘Remotely. He could log on from anywhere as long as he had a connection.’
‘Nice work if you can get it.’
‘I couldn’t possibly comment, Charlotte. Not without finding myself in front of the Professional Standards Department, keen to know about my attitude to women. But four nubile Eastern European girls? Well, that’s a lot of flesh to get excited about.’
‘And it went further than that, didn’t it? Voyeurism to violence. It’s not the first time and I doubt it will be the last.’
Savage thanked Layton and went downstairs and out onto the street, where she phoned through to the station to set up interviews with the other tenants and the landlord. There’d need to be considerable tact involved in speaking to Ana’s housemates, but from what she had seen inside tact was the last thing she’d be using when she interviewed the landlord.
Police. On the moor. In the wood. In the big dark wood.
Police, Chubber?
Yes, police. Poo lice. Chubber doesn’t much like poo, nor lice for that matter. He once had lice, down there. Caught them from some dirty whore. Itchy they were, the little buggers. He should’ve gone to the doctor, but the doctor would have asked too many questions. Difficult questions. So instead he squirted on neat bleach. The liquid burned and turned his pubic hair white. Killed the lice though.
Get to the point, Chubber.
The point is the police have found the missing girl. They’ve been down near the reservoir looking for secrets. Chubber’s got secrets, but luckily they’re not down near the reservoir. No, they’re in the wood, the big dark wood, and at home too.
Right now Chubber is sitting on his sofa in his living room watching TV. The police haven’t come visiting. Not yet. Chubber doesn’t think they know where he lives. They couldn’t. But he’s already decided he should be a bit more careful.
The blue of the lake flashes on the screen. A presenter explains about the girl. Asks how did she get there? Was this some crime of passion, something to do with the Eastern European mafia, or was she abducted, raped, killed and butchered by some mad chocolate-drinking psychopath?
Chubber! The presenter didn’t say that.
No.
Chubber shifts on the sofa and the springs protest beneath him. He can’t get comfortable because something isn’t right.
Not right, Chubber?
No.
The TV picture has moved on to another