‘Obviously the chap has never seen the victim of a rape other than in his own imagination, I agree, Bill. And there was something about the gesture . . . so unnecessary . . . that makes the skin crawl.’
‘It’s all linked up with the personal aspect, sir. Whoever killed her knew her, hated her, wanted her dead and wanted her corpse to lie exposed to view. There was an element of display there that you couldn’t miss. You and I, sir, we were being manipulated by this sadistic bastard, being involved by him, being invited to leer at her in her degradation.’
Joe looked curiously at the sergeant, intrigued by his vehemence.
‘You’ll think I’m getting carried away,’ said Armitage, reading his thoughts, ‘but I saw the lady, don’t forget – I know I never shall – only minutes before this happened. She was full of life, having a good time, flirty, sexy, irresistible. She was taking Monty Mathurin’s eye all right and, I have to say, he wasn’t the only man in the room calculating his chances. Myself included,’ he finished defiantly. ‘Zero,’ he added with an apologetic grin.
‘Mathurin was at the party?’
‘He was. And there’s another I wouldn’t mind pinning it on!’
‘Nasty bit of work, Mathurin, if all I hear is halfway correct,’ said Joe, ‘but I doubt he fits this frame. He’d have trouble catching a 42 bus – there’s no way he could have undertaken a climb of this nature.’ Joe sighed. ‘I think at this stage we’d better arrive at a portrait of the killer. Firstly, he would have to be young and extraordinarily agile – that’s not an easy climb on a dark, wet night. Probably wore gloves – Cottingham’s dusted the window area for prints and there’s no sign of anything we can use.’
‘Let’s say under forty, fit and probably known to the victim. That’s Mathurin out of it on two counts. I’d say our man knew her well – family, friend, work colleague, lover or ex-lover, sir? Don’t know anything about the lady’s private life, do we?’
‘Ah, well, thanks to Westhorpe’s drawer-searching expertise we have a clue there.’
Armitage listened with a gleeful expression as Joe told him about the device found in the underwear drawer. ‘And you’re saying the little minx appeared familiar with such a contraption?’ he wanted to know. ‘Well, bugger me!’
Joe registered that his sergeant’s thoughts were dwelling on Westhorpe and not the Dame. Again he seemed to have touched the animosity running between these two.
‘You don’t have a high opinion of the constable, I think, Bill?’
‘I’m not unusual in that, sir! Most of the men on the force resent the women. Jobs are hard enough to come by. There’s good men starving on the streets, unable to support their families. Hard to see why she’s not at home, married and producing little ’uns for the next lot, some would say.’
‘Are you among them, these critics?’
‘Not all the way. I’m one of those who can see they have their uses but this particular one – well, I’d like to know what she thinks she’s doing, with all her advantages; hobnobbing with riff-raff on the streets and taking orders from the likes of us.’
‘Mmm . . . not sure Westhorpe takes orders from anyone in spite of her lowly rank, even when she’s mouthing, “three bags full, sir”.’
‘Water off a duck’s back, sir. I’d noticed. It’s the class. It’s that look in the eye that says, “I’ll listen to what you have to say and if it makes sense, then I’ll probably agree to do what you suggest, but never make the mistake, my man, of assuming your stripes give you any influence over me!”’
To Joe’s surprise, Armitage’s supple voice had taken on the carefully enunciated archness of Mayfair and he remembered that Bill had shown considerable talent for picking up accents and languages.
‘You won’t be dismayed, then, if I tell you I’ve asked her to return to her regular duties?’
‘She’s off the case?’
Joe was puzzled by his sergeant’s reaction. He had expected relief, gratification, vindication – perhaps, even a flash of triumph. He hadn’t expected surprise and disappointment. Good Lord! Could it be that those blue eyes, icy though they were, had found a target?
‘Pity that! I was looking forward to teaching that little madam how the world works.’
Joe eyed him steadily. ‘You know, Armitage, I think Westhorpe could have taught us a few things.’
After an intensive ten minutes of checking and comparing notes, issuing orders and taking a last look at the scene, Joe finally called it a day. ‘Look, it’s late, Sarge.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘I’m going downstairs to the office to put through the dreaded call to the lady’s mother in Surrey. I’m driving there tomorrow afternoon and I’d like you to come along. It’ll be another long day, I’m afraid, Bill, and I’m not sure what your domestic arrangements are . . . a wife to placate, perhaps?’