The Night Stalker
Page 21‘How far does the nature reserve go in the other direction?’ asked Erika.
‘A hundred yards past Gregory Munro’s house, and it’s a dead end. I’ve requested CCTV from the surrounding streets, although regular surveillance has been withdrawn from several of the cameras in the area.’
‘Let me guess, austerity cuts?’ asked Erika.
DC Warren again stuttered his response. ‘Umm, I’m not sure of the exact reason…’
‘I can’t comprehend how the idiots in government think that getting rid of CCTV cameras is somehow helping to save money…’ started Erika.
Marsh interrupted. ‘DCI Foster, this is something that’s happening all over London. There just aren’t the resources to man the thousands of CCTV cameras across the capital.’
‘Yes, and these same CCTV cameras were down eighteen months ago when we were trying to track down a killer. It would have saved thousands of hours of police time and resources if we’d had access to the images on just one camera…’
‘I hear you, but this isn’t the forum,’ said Marsh. ‘Now, I think you should continue.’
There was an awkward pause. Officers looked at the floor. Then Erika went on, ‘Okay. Pull all the CCTV you can. See if there were any suspicious-looking characters hanging around. Anything: height, weight… If he arrived by train, bike, bus, car…’
‘Yes, boss,’ said DC Warren.
DC Singh stood up. ‘Lots of people on Laurel Road are away on holiday, and plenty more were out on the night of the murder. With this weather, people have been going to parks and pubs after work, staying out late. Also, Gregory Munro’s neighbours on either side are on holiday until the weekend.’
‘So you’re saying no one saw anything?’ snapped Erika, impatiently.
‘Erm, no…’
‘Bloody hell. What else?’
‘Gregory Munro had an annual salary of £200,000. This is partly due to him running one of the largest and most profitable GP surgeries in the south of England. No debt, apart from an eighty grand mortgage on the main residence in Laurel Road. He also owns a house in New Cross Gate, which he rents out to students, and the house in Shirley, where Penny Munro now lives. Phone records are fairly straightforward, nothing unusual. He did phone his wife three days before he was due to go away, as she stated. And all his records check out. He was flying to Nice to attend a conference with the BMA.’
‘Was he a member of any gay sites or apps?’
‘He did download the Grindr app a month ago. It was found on his phone, but he didn’t complete the profile.’
‘What about a solicitor? Who’s dealing with the divorce?’
‘I’ve left him several messages today. But he hasn’t got back yet.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Singh, sitting back down, looking despondent.
The officers watched Erika as she paced up and down in front of the whiteboards.
‘It’s Gary Wilmslow, boss. I think we should bite the bullet. Bring the scumbag in,’ said Peterson.
‘No. It’s not enough right now that’s he’s a scumbag.’
‘Boss!’
‘No, Peterson. If and when we bring him in, I want to be sure and I want evidence to back it up, okay?’
Peterson sat back, shaking his head.
‘You can shake your head all you want. Don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgement. When the time is right, if it’s right, then we’ll get him. Okay?’
Peterson nodded.
There was silence. Erika checked her watch.
‘Okay… Let’s refocus this on Gary Wilmslow, with an open mind. Someone check out his employer, and do some digging. Work your contacts.’
The incident room burst into chatter and Marsh came over. ‘Erika, have you got time for a chat when you’re done?’
‘Yeah, I think we’ll be a few more hours, sir.’
‘No worries, give me a shout when you’re done and we can grab a coffee,’ said Marsh, moving off to the door.
‘You want to buy me two coffees in one day?’ muttered Erika suspiciously to herself. ‘What’s that all about?’.
13
To Erika’s surprise, Marsh took her to a frozen yoghurt bar down the road from Lewisham Row station. It had just opened a few days before and it was busy.