Clean Cut (38 page)

‘He had food brought into the cells.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I wondered if it was possible that Emmerick Orso somehow got someone to doctor his food. If we did discover that he had, it would be yet another charge we can lay against him.’

Langton shook his head. ‘Leave it. The bastard is dead; it saves us a lot of work. Right now, we have enough against Emmerick Orso to put him away for twenty-five years.’

‘I know that, but don’t you think we should look into it?’

‘No, I don’t. Just leave it, Anna; we’ve enough on our plate. We have a trial date, as of this morning.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’

‘Will they do a post mortem?’

Langton nodded. ‘Already done. The IPCC have investigated the death and Camorra died of a heart attack, full stop.’ He put out his hand for the reports. ‘I’ll see to these.’

Anna did as she was instructed, but asked Harry Blunt if he had seen the post-mortem report on Camorra.

‘Well, there obviously was one. As far as I know, it was cut and dried. As nobody claimed his body, he’ll be charred meat by now.’

‘What?’

‘Well, they can’t keep him in the cooler for ever, can they? I think the Gov gave the go-ahead.’

‘For a cremation?’

‘Don’t ask me, I dunno. All I do know is the bastard should have been strung up. I’d have pulled the lever myself. The day they bring back capital punishment is the day I’ll celebrate. He’s gone and it’s over with. If he’d stood trial, he’d have been sent down for life: three meals a day…’ Harry went on with his usual tirade about how many men were held in prisons and how, if he had it his way, he would have cleared out half of them. ‘It was a good rock-cake job on Murphy; he was an animal. Eamon Krasiniqe deserved to be released just for getting rid of him.’

‘Eamon is dead,’ Anna said.

Harry shrugged. ‘Don’t mean anything to me. Idris raped Carly Ann, along with Camorra; whether or not he was forced into doing it is immaterial to me. He then tried to chop off her hands and decapitate her: whatever his new trial comes up with, in my mind, he’s still an animal. All of them are sick. None of them deserve to walk away a free man.’

‘But if he was terrified and forced to do it?’ Anna said.

Harry put up his hands. ‘Listen, if someone freaked me out, voodoo or not, it’s no excuse. I’d let him spend the rest of his life banged up. You know the Gov has the big brass squeezing his balls about how much this case has cost?’

‘We got the results in the end.’

‘Yeah, and now we’re all stuck here for how many weeks before the trial? It would do us all a favour if that prick Orso topped himself.’

Anna returned to her desk to plough on with all her work. It seemed that no one else was interested in the fact that Orso could have poisoned Camorra.

Orso’s trial made headlines for days. Orso never took the stand; his battery of high-powered lawyers tried to throw out charge after charge as hearsay, but he was eventually charged with bringing in a network of illegal immigrants and using them as drug couriers. The charges of running a brothel also held, as did his fraud and drug trafficking. He was sentenced not, as the team had hoped, to twenty-five years, but to fifteen. There was only circumstantial evidence and hearsay linking him to any of the murders; those charges were dismissed. The team surmised that, with good behaviour, he could be released in twelve.

Langton threw an open bar at the local pub at the end of the trial. He thanked them all for staying with it, even if the result was not what they had hoped for, and praised them for their diligence and hard work. Now it was on to the next case. Whether they would be reunited as a team was uncertain, but possible; all he could say for sure was that he would work with every single one of them again.

Anna left the bar early, as she was driving home. She went up to Langton to say goodbye; he was at his most charming, asking if perhaps he could take her out for dinner one night. She was equally pleasant and said she would look forward to it.

As she turned to walk away, he reached for her hand, and drew her close. ‘It’s over, Anna.’

She knew he was not referring to their relationship. His grip on her hand was tight, and she looked into his dark eyes. ‘Yes, and you seem to be really on the road to recovery.’

‘I am, now. As I just said, it’s over–do you understand?’

‘Yes, yes of course I do. Let’s have dinner one evening. I’ll wait for you to call.’

He kissed her cheek, then released her hand.

Anna sat in the car park. She had such mixed emotions: she had no intention of starting any kind of relationship with him again and she could tell that he didn’t either. His kiss had somehow felt like a threat, or a warning. For the first time since she had met DCI Langton, she was frightened of him. The mounting suspicion that had begun weeks ago, persisted like a bad taste in her mouth. Anna was certain that Langton had murdered Eugene Camorra.

W
ith the trial now over and the incident room packed up, Anna had some time off before she would be assigned a new case. She organized her flat, cleaning and washing everything from the curtains to the bedcovers. She always did a marathon clean after a case was over: it was therapeutic. She did the washing and ironing, sorted out her wardrobe, treated herself to a haircut and a manicure, and worked out at the local gym. As she pedalled on the exercise bike, she thought constantly about her own jigsaw.

Langton was never far from her mind. He had not called. It was as if she was on automatic pilot. She had not wanted to let her suspicion ferment, but it had. She took out one of her notebooks from the case–it had gone on for so long, she had filled three books–and went right back to the start of the enquiry, to the murder of Irene Phelps. This had come after Langton’s investigation into the murder of Carly Ann North.

His attack had occurred after Idris Krasiniqe had been arrested; he was then hospitalized and, due to his injuries, had been unable to be at the trial. She had made notes about the number of newspaper cuttings she had discovered at Langton’s flat whilst she was caring for
him. She also went over her notes on the private talks she had had with Mike Lewis: he had feared that Langton would, if he ever did recover, rope him and Barolli into acting like some vigilantes. Anna sighed; she could not blame Langton for wanting to track down the man who had caused his horrific injuries.

When Langton had described the attack, she tried to recall exactly what he had said. Langton had been tipped off by Idris Krasiniqe, who gave the names of two men he said were with him on the night of Carly Ann’s murder and who escaped in a white Range Rover. Both the names were subsequently found to be false, but the address he had given was the one Langton checked out. Accompanied by both Lewis and Barolli, Langton had been walking up the stairs of the hostel, when two men came out onto the landing. Both men had escaped; one man, she knew, had been identified as Rashid Burry, but the man who had wielded the machete had never been identified. Langton had been taken to the Intensive Care unit at St Stephen’s Hospital. She knew that he suspected that it had been Eugene Camorra.

Anna had then gone to Vernon Kramer’s safe house to pick up Arthur Murphy; there she had, unwittingly, been confronted by Rashid Burry. Rashid presumed that the police were about to arrest him. Burry later found out that the officer who had been attacked was still alive, because Vernon Kramer had read about it in the newspaper in the patrol car. Kramer must have told either Camorra or Rashid that they were both being hunted down. This had to coincide with Joseph Sickert being sent to stay with Gail.

Trying to match the timeframe was making her head ache, but she kept coming back to Camorra. Camorra
had forced Idris Krasiniqe to rape Carly Ann. Eamon Krasiniqe was held down and injected with poison. Both Idris and Eamon were then forced to watch Camorra rape and then strangle the girl. Idris pleaded guilty, but retracted the statement in which he said that the two other men had been party to her murder.

They now knew that Camorra and Rashid Burry had been in the Range Rover, from fingerprints. Semen samples taken from Carly Ann’s body matched both Idris and Camorra’s DNA. Rashid Burry’s body was then later found wrapped in black plastic bin-liners inside the vehicle; they traced mud on its tyres to Gail’s bungalow.

Anna closed one book and opened another. By mistake, she had jumped to her third book, which detailed the huge operation bringing the Krasiniqe brothers to the hospital for contagious diseases.

Reading her notes again, she was more certain than ever that Camorra had been fed poison: his symptoms were identical to those of Eamon Krasiniqe. Anna tried hard to think how someone could have got to him. If Camorra had been injected, then the autopsy would have noted the needle pinpricks; they had initially not noticed any on Eamon, but he had also ingested the poison via the rock cakes.

Anna lay on the sofa, eyes closed. She remembered the amount of water Camorra had drunk when they first interviewed him. Between them, they had consumed the entire contents of a large bottle.

Then she remembered that Langton had poured, from his own small bottle, a cup full for Camorra and a half-cup for himself. Camorra had gulped it down, and then shortly after, asked for a bathroom break. Anna now remembered standing in the corridor: Langton had put
out his cigarette in his water cup and then he had tossed it into the waste bin! Langton, she was certain, had not drunk from the small bottle.

She was pacing the room: there was something else. At the time, she had thought nothing of it. Langton had mentioned that Camorra had ordered in steak tartare, when the officer asked if it was still permissible for him to order in food to eat in his cell. How did Langton know what he had ordered?

Anna called Esme Salaam to ask if she could talk to her, then hurried out to her car. The Salaams were back at their small practice in the East End and were just about to close by the time she arrived.

‘I need to know how easy it is to detect Jimson weed in a dead person,’ Anna said immediately.

Esme looked at her husband, who was taking off his white coat. ‘To my knowledge, it isn’t. It would require someone who was aware of the drug or who was privy to the symptoms. The drug would not be easily detected–though, of course, this would depend on the dosage.’

‘Enough to bring on a cardiac arrest,’ Anna said calmly.

Dr Salaam looked at his wife and shrugged. ‘Well, if it was a cardiac arrest in suspicious circumstances, if the patient had severe auditory hallucinations or intense visual anxiety…’

‘You mean like seeing things, or feeling as if something was crawling over them?’

‘That could be a side-effect; as I said, it would depend on the dosage.’

‘Say it was given to someone over a period of thirty-six hours?’

‘Well, it would have to be a considerable amount. To
my knowledge, it is usually used in very small dosages to control and frighten the recipient, by making them believe that they are being taken over by another power.’

‘How easy is it to come by?’

‘It isn’t; far from it–it is exceedingly difficult. I suppose someone, with the intention of acquiring it, could grow it, but there is no antidote. It would be very unwise for anyone to fool around with it.’

Anna accepted a cup of tea from Esme and sat down as Dr Salaam excused himself, saying he had to make some calls. As he went into his surgery, Anna tried to think of the best way to explain why she was asking the questions.

Esme made it easy for her. ‘Is it connected to Camorra?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Did he, to your knowledge, ever use it?’

‘If he did, he would not have got it from here. We only have a very small sample of it, and that is always kept locked away. It is very rare for me ever to take it out.’

‘When did you last do this?’

‘When we were at the hospital. My husband felt it might be required, but as it turned out, I don’t think he ever showed it to anyone.’

‘Is it in a bottle?’

‘Yes: you can have it in liquid form or made into small white tablets.’

‘Do they have a taste?’

‘No, they don’t.’

‘So they could be slipped into someone’s food?’

‘Yes, of course. Wasn’t that the method they used to feed that poor boy in the prison, the coconut rock cakes?’

Anna took a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course–I had forgotten. So Camorra would have had access to this poison?’

‘Obviously, but he was instigating the importation of illegal immigrants; one of those poor souls might have been a carrier of it. They were also bringing in heroin and cocaine and marijuana, weren’t they?’

Anna nodded.

Esme sipped her tea and placed her cup down carefully in the bone china saucer. ‘Why are you asking me all this now?’

‘Just tying up some loose ends,’ she said quietly.

Esme nodded and proffered more tea, but Anna declined.

‘Could I see the container that you brought the poison in?’

Esme hesitated. ‘This won’t have any repercussions for us, will it?’

‘No, of course not,’ Anna said firmly.

Esme unlocked a cabinet and took down a bottle with a red cross marked on the label.

‘Did anyone at the hospital have access to this?’

Esme shook her head. ‘No, it was in my medical case all the time. I only took it out to show DCI Langton.’

‘Did you lock the bag?’

‘Yes, most certainly. I always take every precaution and the bag was never out of my sight.’

Anna nodded; she then asked if Esme could check the contents for her, just to make sure that nothing was missing.

Esme hesitated, then pressed the cap down and unscrewed it. ‘These are in tablet form: the seeds are crushed and then pressed into pills.’ She carefully tapped the
bottle to hold in the palm of her hand one small white pill. She held it out to Anna. ‘So small and so deadly.’

Then Esme returned the pill to the container and screwed the cap back on. She asked very gravely, ‘What loose ends are you so interested in?’

Anna shrugged. ‘Oh, we were concerned that Camorra did show symptoms; we will need to verify that his death was by natural causes.’

‘I see. Well, to be frank with you, the relief both my husband and I felt when we knew he was dead was considerable. He was a very evil, twisted man; who knows how many lives he had destroyed for his own sexual gratifications, including poor young children? I hope he died in great pain. He deserves no sympathy; sadly, there will be little retribution on behalf of those he damaged.’

At that moment, Dr Salaam came back in and apologized for not being available. He said he had two patients suffering from insomnia; he laughed and said that he himself very rarely ever had that problem as, by the time he was able to get to his bed, he was exhausted.

Anna thanked them both for giving up their time. The doctor shook her hand and walked with her to the door to show her out.

When she had gone, he closed the door behind her and bolted it both at top and bottom. ‘What did she really want, do you think?’ he asked his wife.

‘Eugene Camorra might have been given some Jimson weed. I didn’t press on it too much, but she said he had shown symptoms,’ Esme replied.

‘Well, I congratulate someone. If he died in agony and feeling the terror, then so be it.’

‘Whoever it was did not take them from us; I was so careful.’

‘Of course you were, my dear. Besides, the only people there were police officers, so I am sure she is not trying to implicate one of them.’

Esme kissed him and went upstairs to their flat to start dinner. Dr Salaam said he would be only a few moments.

After drawing the shutters, he turned to the cabinet. He stared at the bottle with the red cross over the label, then took it down. He shook it, then went over to the small reception desk and took out a miniature silver shovel. He emptied the contents and counted, sliding each pill across the silver shovel and back into the bottle. He then screwed the cap back on and replaced the bottle, locking the cabinet. Fifteen small white tablets were missing.

Anna returned home, dissatisfied; she had somehow thought that she would gain some answers. Her suspicions still lingered. Did Langton know that it was Camorra who had attacked him? She tried to recall his reaction at Orso’s house when they had arrested Camorra; neither man had shown any sign that they remembered the other. Langton had never mentioned it during their questioning of Camorra.

Unable to sleep, Anna could not stop her mind churning over. She smacked her pillow to try and get more comfortable. So what if Langton did have something to do with the death of Camorra? He was a despicable human being; no prison sentence could be harsh enough for the crimes he had committed. Still, she could not rest easy, because Langton was a police officer; if he had taken the law into his own hands then it contravened all that they aspired to as upholders of the law. Break
the rules once, and the next time was easier. Langton was known to be a risk taker: had he taken the ultimate one?

After a restless night, Anna sat drinking a strong black coffee. She was determined to get some answers. She made a shortlist of people she wanted to talk to. If they did not confirm her suspicions, then she would make herself bury them.

Mike Lewis was getting his young son into a pushchair when she turned up at his house. Like Anna, he was having a break before his next case; unlike her, he was enjoying his time off. Anna said she just needed to ask him a couple of questions. He shrugged and said he was on his way to the playground.

‘Did you recognize Camorra as the man who had attacked Langton?’

He stopped pushing the pushchair. ‘What?’

‘Did you?’

Mike walked on. ‘Look, it was a long time ago. To be honest, it was such a nightmare that it’s kind of blank–but in answer to your question, no.’ He stopped again. ‘Maybe if Jimmy had said something I’d have thought about it, but if anyone was to recognize him, it would be him, right?’

‘You know Camorra got meals sent into the station.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, I think someone got to him.’

Mike pushed his son harder in the pushchair. ‘I dunno where this is going, Anna, but if someone did that, then it had to be Orso. What’s your problem?’

‘Nothing; just tying up loose ends.’

‘There always are some on any case. I just don’t quite understand where this is leading.’

‘Never mind. You enjoy your time off.’ She walked away.

Mike stood there, then turned and looked after her, before he continued on to the park to play with his son. Suddenly he felt uneasy, wondering what Anna was up to.

Barolli was also at home; although working on a case, it was his weekend off. Anna sat with him in a rather untidy lounge, as he chatted on about still being miffed he’d not been brought onto the investigation.

Anna took out the mug shots of Eugene Camorra. ‘Is this the man who attacked Langton?’

‘Could be,’ Barolli said.

‘But you were there–you saw him.’