The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney

probably never come to it,’ he lied, ‘but you do need to tell me what you saw.’ She appeared unconvinced. ‘I’m sorry,’ he eventually told her. ‘You really have no choice, but there’s nothing to worry about.’ Still she said nothing, as if she was still considering the options she didn’t have. ‘Why don’t you start by showing me where you were when you saw Mr Elkins being attacked?’

      ‘I was in my bedroom,’ she told him, but made no move towards it.

      Why were people always so much more bashful about showing their bedrooms than any other room? he wondered – as if it was the one room that betrayed our personal life more than any other.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he tried to joke. ‘If it’s in a mess I promise not to tell anyone.’

      ‘No it’s not that,’ she stumbled a little. ‘Please. Follow me. It’s on the second floor.’

      She led him to the stairs and up to the second-floor master bedroom that looked about the size of Sean’s entire ground floor. He followed her to the window that overlooked the street below and they both peered down on the quiet road.

      ‘It’s usually like this,’ she told him. ‘Quiet and private.’

      ‘So did you notice the white van parked up before the attack? It must have stood out a little.’

      ‘I did notice it,’ she admitted, ‘but it didn’t bother me. There’s always tradesmen of one type or another in the street.’

      ‘Did you notice how long it was there for?’

      ‘I … I really couldn’t say.’

      ‘When did you first notice it?’

      ‘Again, I’m … I’m not sure.’

      ‘Well, what were you doing?’

      ‘Goodness. So many questions.’

      He realized he was moving too quickly and tried to back off a little. ‘What I mean is … try and think back to what you were doing the first time you saw the van. What drew your attention to it?’

      ‘Nothing particularly … just, nothing.’

      ‘Were you here – by this window?’

      ‘No. No I don’t think I was, actually.’

      ‘Then where? Outside? Inside?’

      Her eyes began to flicker with recollection. ‘Neither. I was neither.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ he asked, his turn to be confused.

      ‘I was at the front door, which was open for some reason.’ He let her think for a few seconds. ‘I remember. I’d just taken delivery of a parcel, something I’d ordered online, some new sheets for the children’s beds, so that would have been almost exactly five. Yeah, definitely, because Marie, our nanny, had already picked the kids up from school and was giving them tea when the parcel arrived.’

      ‘Good,’ Sean told her. ‘Was there anybody by the van or in it?’

      ‘No,’ she told him flatly. ‘Definitely no one by it and if there was someone in it, which I’m sure there was now, I couldn’t see. It had those darkened, tinted windows.’

      ‘Was the window down maybe?’

      ‘No. I don’t think so.’

      ‘Perhaps it was down slightly,’ he suggested, ‘to let smoke from a cigarette out, or maybe you heard a radio playing inside.’

      ‘No. No. Nothing. It was lifeless.’

      ‘So when was the next time you saw it?’

      ‘When the poor man was being dragged into it.’

      ‘And when was that?’

      ‘Just before I called the police – seconds before.’

      Sean recalled the time the case file said the 999 call was made at – just after six pm. ‘What did you see? Tell me everything you saw.’

      ‘Well, I was here, close to the window, checking the housekeeper had cleaned properly, she doesn’t always, and some movement outside, on the other side of the street, caught my eye.’

      ‘That’s where the van was?’ Sean interrupted. ‘On the other side of the street?’

      ‘Yes,’ she told him, ‘otherwise I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything.’

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘So I looked out of the window and saw one man almost lying on the floor while this other man wearing a ski-mask was leaning over him, beating him about the head with this little black bat thing.’

      ‘How many times?’

      ‘I don’t know. Several.’ An amateur, Sean reminded himself. ‘Then he picked him off the ground and literally dragged him to the white van and bundled him in the back. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Anyway, I grabbed the phone,’ she pointed to the one next to her bed, ‘and phoned the police. By the time someone answered he, the man with the ski-mask over his face, was still at the back of his van. He was there for quite a while actually, and then while I was talking to the police on the phone he closed the doors, ran around to the driver’s side, got in, started the van and drove away as calm as you like.’

      ‘Could you see what he was doing at the back of the van?’

      ‘No. Sorry. I was at the wrong angle to see.’

      ‘But he was there for a while?’

      ‘Yes.’

       What the hell were you doing, my friend? You abduct a man from a London street in broad daylight. Then you mess around at the back of your van for several minutes. Why would you do that? Why take the risk?

      ‘Did he restrain him at all?’ Sean asked. ‘Tie him up or use handcuffs – anything like that?’

      ‘No. He just hit him over the head and dragged him to the van.’

      A fully grown man, unrestrained in the back of a van, could make a hell of a noise. Did you really risk driving across London with him thrashing around? I don’t think so. So is that what you were doing at the back of the van – restraining him, or drugging him? He had a flash back to the Thomas Keller case – a rapist and murder who used chloroform to overpower his victims. You must have been. You must have been. This was all so carefully planned – victim selection and research, the room you prepared for his murder – you would have planned how to restrain them too – you must have.

      ‘You all right, Inspector?’ Angela Haitink’s voice brought him back.

      ‘What?’ He remembered she was there. ‘Yeah. Fine. I was just thinking something through.’ He quickly re-gathered his thoughts. ‘And then he just calmly drove away?’

      ‘Well, yes.’

      ‘At speed, engine revving, tyres squealing?’

      ‘No. Nothing. Just pulled out and drove away. I gave the police the number plate. Can’t you find him from that?’

      ‘Maybe. If we get lucky. But he planned everything else, so my guess is it’s unlikely he used his own van. Probably used a stolen one or one with false plates. We’re looking into it. Thanks for your time, Mrs Haitink.’

      ‘Is that it?’ she asked.

      ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he told her and headed for the bedroom door. ‘We’ll need a full written statement in due course. I’ll send one of my team around at a time that suits you.’

      ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help.’

      ‘You’ve helped plenty,’ he reassured her. ‘In fact, more than you probably realize.’