‘Okay, good morning everyone,’ said Erika, moving to the front of the room. She pulled out a series of crime scene photos and began to stick them to the whiteboard.
‘Victim is forty-six-year-old Gregory Munro. Local GP.’ The incident room fell silent as they absorbed the photos. ‘I know some of you were at the scene last night, but, for the benefit of those who weren’t, I’ll take you through what happened.’
The officers remained silent as Erika recapped the previous evening’s events. ‘Forensics have just got back with the toxicology and preliminary findings from the post-mortem. There was a small amount of alcohol in the victim’s blood, but a very high level of Flunitrazepam: 98 micrograms per litre. Flunitrazepam being the generic name for Rohypnol, or Roofies.’
‘Everyone’s favourite date rape drug,’ said Peterson, dryly.
‘Yes. Residue of the drug was found in a wine glass at the scene, in the kitchen,’ replied Erika.
‘His drink must have been spiked. Unless he wanted to kill himself? As a doctor, he’d have known such a high dosage could kill him,’ said Moss.
‘Yes, but it didn’t kill him. He died from asphyxiation. You can see the clear plastic bag tied tight over his head with a length of thin white cord.’ Erika pointed to a photo of Gregory Munro staring blankly through the plastic. ‘His hands had been tied post-mortem. Gay porn magazines were also found in his bedside drawer. So, the magazines, the asphyxiation with a bag, coupled with the date rape drug means we’ll need to rule out any sexual element. There were no signs that he had been raped, no swabs of hair or bodily fluids found other than his own…’ Erika paused and regarded the officers staring back at her. ‘So, I want us to work on the assumption that someone broke into the house, and Gregory Munro was drugged, then asphyxiated. I also believe that this wasn’t random. Nothing was taken, no money or valuables. The phone lines and power were cut, which indicates a level of planning involved, and whoever did this needed to have disabled the security system before they cut the power.
‘Now, I want the usual drill: a door-to-door on Laurel Road and the surrounding streets. Uniform has already made progress with this, but I want everyone who lives on that street, or who was in the area, interviewed. Pull all records on Gregory Munro: bank, phone, emails, social media, friends and family. He was separated from his wife so I presume he’d contacted a solicitor: find out. Find out if he was on any gay dating sites. Also, get the hard drive of his phone, check for any gay dating apps. He might have hired a rent boy. He’s also the local GP; find out everything you can about his work – did he have problems with colleagues or patients?’
Erika went to the whiteboard and indicated photos taken of the garden.
‘The killer accessed the house through the fence, which backs onto the train tracks and a small nature reserve. Pull any CCTV that you can find on and around the train tracks, plus stuff from the nearest train stations and surrounding streets. Crane, you’ll co-ordinate things here in the incident room.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Crane.
‘I think Gregory Munro knew the person who did this, and unlocking his personal life will help us unlock the whereabouts of the killer. Okay, let’s get to work. We’ll reconvene here at six to share our findings.’
The officers in the incident room sprang into life.
‘Is there any news on Gregory Munro’s mother?’ asked Erika, moving over to where Moss and Peterson were sitting.
‘She’s still in hospital in Lewisham. She’s made a good recovery, but they’re waiting for a doctor to discharge her,’ said Moss.
‘Okay. Let’s pay her a visit – you too, Peterson.’
‘You don’t think she’s a suspect?’ asked Moss.
‘No, but mothers are often a hive of information,’ said Erika.
‘I know what you mean. Mine has her nose in everybody’s business,’ said Peterson, getting up and grabbing his jacket.
‘Then let’s hope Estelle Munro is the same,’ said Erika.
8
University Hospital Lewisham was a sprawling mix of buildings in old brick and futuristic glass, with a new wing of blue and yellow plastic. The car park was busy, and a steady stream of ambulances was pulling up at the Accident and Emergency department. Erika, Moss and Peterson parked the car and made their way on foot to the main entrance, a large glass and steel box opposite A&E. As they approached, they saw an elderly lady parked outside in a wheelchair, shouting at a nurse crouching down beside her.