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takes 48 detectives. We had nothing like that, but initially what we were looking at was one body and a prisoner who admitted hitting the victim with an axe. Hindley wouldn’t speak to anyone. Smith was our witness. He kept telling us, “She came and got me, this murder happened, and I helped them tidy up because I was bloody frightened.”’ 20
    At lunchtime, Talbot and Benfield visited 16 Wardle Brook Avenue with Home Office pathologist Dr Charles St Hill. Detective Constable Leighton from Cheadle Hulme was there, photographing the process of unwrapping Edward’s body from its crude shroud. St Hill lifted the books that had been placed on the youth’s ruined skull and Leighton’s camera captured the titles: The Red Brain ( Tales of Horror) , Among Women Only (La Dolce Vita – Love and Sensation in Post-war Italy) and The Road Ahead , a volume of children’s poetry. St Hill removed the blood-drenched cushion cover from Edward’s head. His mild features had been distorted beyond all recognition. Wound tightly about his throat was the length of electrical flex. His knees had been pushed up under his chin and tied with the cord from the dog-stick. The pathologist made a note that Edward’s trousers were unfastened; at the trial, forensic evidence would show that at some point his lower clothing had probably been removed, leading to speculation about what occurred before the murder. St Hill removed a bloodstained letter from Edward’s pocket. It was from a girl called Wendy in north Wales and addressed to the dead youth: ‘. . . You know that girl from the farm shop, her name is Val, well, she wants to go out with Brian, will you ask him for her. When will you be coming down, I hope it will be soon, I miss you. The weather here is awful, it rains most of the time. I’m going to Liverpool on Sunday for the day to my aunty’s. Well I can’t think of much to say now. Love Wendy. PS. Write soon. Lots of kisses.’ 21
    Despite Ian’s and Myra’s efforts, there was plenty of ‘forensic’ for the police to find in the sitting room and Myra’s bedroom. Into a series of plastic bags went samples of hair, blood and clothing, two tape recorders and tapes, hundreds of photographs and negatives, a tartan-covered photo album, a photographic lightbulb, two revolvers and bullets from a cardboard box and the Adesga carrier bag containing the murder weapon. The letter Ian had been writing when Talbot knocked on his door was discovered under the sofa bed: ‘Dear Tom, sorry I could not phone yesterday. My family are at Glasgow this week. I was crossing the road in town last night when someone on a bike came round a corner and knocked me down. Except for a few bruises I was all right until I got up this morning. I could not put my weight on my ankle. I must have weak ankles or something. If it is no better tomorrow, I will see the doctor. Ian.’ 22
    By half past two, Benfield and Talbot were back at Hyde station, where Detective Policewoman Margaret Campion had been called in from another case to question Myra. Irish-born, one of only two detective policewomen in Cheshire, and with sixteen years of experience in the force, she was the ideal person to interview Myra, whom she suspected would be difficult. She began questioning her just after two o’clock: ‘This morning a man’s body was found in your house. Who is that person?’ 23
    Myra replied: ‘I don’t know and I’m not saying anything. Ask Ian. My story’s the same as Ian’s.’
    ‘Come on. What’s the story of last night?’
    Myra took Ian’s initial statement at the house that morning as her brief: ‘We came home from work about six o’clock, then went out about eight o’clock and then went to the outdoor [off-licence] in Stockport Road, Longsight, for some wine. We often go there. Then we went up to Glossop way near the moors and sat talking for ages. It was just a normal evening out before all this happened. It was the same as hundreds of other