Clean Cut (9 page)

‘Oh, I see. That’s all Langton is–bad press? I don’t believe what I am hearing, Mike. He almost died!’

Lewis turned angrily towards her. ‘I know that, for Chrissakes–I was there, all right? But at the same time, I have my career to think about. I’ve got a toddler and a baby on the way and I can’t afford to lose out by switching divisions. I’ve worked hard enough to get to where I am now.’

‘You got there because of Langton and you know it.’

Lewis had to clench his fists, she was making him so angry; beneath it was his guilt, because he knew she was right.

‘Listen, Anna, back off me. I’m keeping up to date with any new developments, but I am not going to become a vigilante trying to track down this bastard. We’ve already been told he is more than likely back in Somalia. They use fake passports; he could have switched his name a dozen times by now!’

‘What about the others? There were other suspects, weren’t there?’

‘Yes,’ he sighed again, looking unutterably weary.

‘What about them?’

‘We’re trying to find them, but Krasiniqe, the guy we arrested for Carly Ann’s murder, is in prison, terrified because he named them in the first place. He keeps on about voodoo and they had to place him in a segregation wing because he’s so scared he’s going to be killed. Don’t think I just walked away from this, because I didn’t. I tried; Barolli tried. Now we just have to get on with our lives.’

Anna closed the door behind him. She could hardly bring herself to be pleasant, or thank him for coming to see her. She found it so hard to believe that after what had happened to Langton, no one seemed to be mounting a full-scale operation to nail down his attacker.

She looked at all the cuttings Lewis had spread out over the coffee-table. No wonder Langton was depressed. Having almost died from his injuries, he was now trapped in a wheelchair with little hope of ever returning to work. He also must know that there appeared to be
equally little hope of ever bringing to justice the man who had put him there.

Anna checked the time: it was now nearly four, so she decided she would buy some grapes and smoked salmon and bagels to take to Glebe House. She placed all the cuttings back into the folder and then picked up the case file Lewis had left on his previous visit.

The mortuary shots of Carly Ann North were horrific; she had suffered appalling injuries at the hands of her killer. Anna read and reread the way he had been arrested. A police officer on patrol had radioed in for assistance, after seeing the men with the body. He had arrested Idris Krasiniqe, who had really put up a fight, but the other two men had run for it as soon as the patrol car was visible. During Langton’s interrogation, Idris admitted that he had killed Carly Ann but insisted that the other two men were also there when she was killed, holding her down. He also admitted that they had gang-raped her. They had DNA evidence to verify this. Idris’s lawyers hoped to get a more lenient sentence for him, for helping the police by naming his friends. He had to give an address. Accompanied by Lewis and Barolli, Langton went to question them. The attack on Langton had taken place in the hallway of the residence. Both men escaped.

Anna suddenly realized the time. Abandoning her reading, she changed and hurried out, heading for the M4 via a deli. All the way there, her mind churned over and over her conversation with Lewis and her take on the case file. She had changed her mind about what to do with the newspaper cuttings: they were now in her briefcase.

Anna parked her Mini and bent into the back seat to
collect the groceries and the files; when she turned round, she nearly dropped them all.

Langton was standing on the steps of the Glebe House. Standing–and with a grin stretched from ear to ear. He waved.

Anna ran to him, overcome with emotion.

‘Now don’t you grab me, or I could fall over,’ he said.

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘You’d better. I’ve walked from the lounge to here unaided and now I am going to walk back in there.’

Anna watched as he turned slowly and walked, step-by-step, opening the door for her; then, a little unsteady, he kept on walking towards the lounge. She saw him wince in pain, but he was so determined to keep on his feet that he refused to even place a hand against the wall to steady himself.

He eventually got to a big comfortable wingback chair and eased his body down. Then he looked up at her. His face was glistening with sweat.

‘I’m coming back, Anna! Gimme a few more days, I’ll run out there to meet you.’

Anna put down her briefcase and groceries on a table as he raised his hand to her.

‘Come here, you.’ He drew her close and she bent down to kiss him, trying hard not to cry. He kissed her right back and then gave a long sigh. ‘If I keep going at this rate, I’ll be home by the end of next week.’

She drew up a chair to sit close to him.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘I think that would be wonderful,’ she said, taking out the grapes and smoked salmon and bagels.

He had shaved and was wearing a shirt and trousers
rather than pyjamas, though he still had slippers on his feet.

‘So,’ he said, still with that smile on his face. ‘How’s your day been?’

L
angton was not exactly back to his old self, but the advancements he had made physically had given him a new energy and confidence. Anna suspected he was probably fuelled with painkillers, but it didn’t matter. He had been in such good spirits, she decided not to make him think about his case or go over the discussion she’d had with Lewis.

Sunday found him in an even better state, both physically and mentally, but Anna did not bring up his case, as Barolli and his wife turned up and, no sooner had they left, his ex-wife and stepdaughter arrived. Kitty was such a sweet child and his interaction with her was very moving for Anna to watch. Lorna, his ex-wife, was very much the focus of attention: another reason for Anna to remain quiet. Lorna was cordial to Anna, but she still felt slightly out of the loop, as they discussed Lorna’s baby son and she showed Langton photographs. Anna was totally unaware that Lorna even had another child; there was no mention of who her new partner was, or even if she had one. Anna felt so excluded that she decided that it would be best if she left, to allow Kitty and Lorna to spend more time alone with Jimmy. She was disappointed that he wasn’t more eager
for her to stay, but he did kiss her and say to Lorna how much she had done for him.

‘I might not be able to see you tomorrow,’ she told him, ‘as we will be going to trial soon and—’

He wafted his hand. ‘Yeah yeah, you do what you have to do. Call me, okay?’

‘Yes, I’ll call you.’

She kissed him goodbye. It was sweet, the way Kitty insisted she walk with her to her car. The little girl was really adorable and so full of energy; she chit-chattered nineteen to the dozen about riding her pony and taking piano lessons. Sometimes, she referred to Langton as Papa but would also call him by his Christian name.

‘You love him lots, don’t you?’ Anna said, as she bleeped open her Mini.

‘Yes, ’cos he’s so much fun. Now with Tommy, I don’t get to see him as much as I used to.’ She was hopping from one foot to the other.

‘How old is Tommy?’

‘He’s eighteen months and can’t talk yet. He’s always crying, ’cos some more of his teeth are coming.’

‘Who’s Mummy’s friend?’ Anna asked, rather coyly.

‘What friend?’

‘Well, who do you live with now, apart from Mummy?’

‘Oh, no one, we just live together.’

‘I see, so who looks after Tommy?’

‘Nana–we have a Nana. She lives with us most days, but goes home at weekends.’

At that moment, Lorna came out and called to Kitty, worried about her. Kitty gave a wave to Anna as she returned to her mother. Lorna also waved to Anna as she drove out of the car park.

When she let herself into her flat, Anna was feeling at odds. Sometimes, it felt as if she never really knew Langton at all. Not that he was secretive–just that he didn’t ever really discuss his past life.

As she was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. It was Langton. He sounded quite drunk.

‘Eh, how you doing?’

‘I’m doing fine. Good thing is, so are you.’

‘Yep, I’m doing great. It got a bit tiring with so many visitors. I’m going to crash out soon for an early night.’

‘Me too.’

‘Thanks for the goodies you brought. Kitty ate most of the grapes.’

‘She’s lovely.’

‘Yeah, she’s growing up fine.’

‘Very pretty.’

‘Yep, takes after her mother.’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, just called to see if you were home safe and sound.’

‘I am.’

‘Good. So I won’t see you tomorrow?’

‘No, I’m in court.’

‘Okay, well, whenever. Sleep tight. Love you.’

‘I love you too.’

There was a pause. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said softly.

‘Goodnight then.’

‘Goodnight.’

He ended the call. She held the receiver in her hand a moment before she replaced it.

Anna did not actually have much to do at all. A trial date had now been set, so the incident room was being
cleared and all papers and documents pertaining to the case were being selected. The defence and prosecution would contact them for further details but, apart from that, the team would be disbanded. Anna could either be assigned to another case or remain working with Sheldon, depending on what he was involved in. She had grown to quite like Harry Blunt; he really did suit his name. He was standing by a filing cabinet, when Brandon sailed in with a waft of his cologne.

Harry turned to him. ‘Do you mind me saying something personal?’

‘Depends on what it is.’

‘It’s that bloody cologne you splash over yourself. It really makes me feel nauseous, especially at this time in the morning.’

‘It’s expensive,’ Brandon said defensively.

‘Well, I’m sorry, but maybe you should not use so much.’

‘You ever tried using something on yourself? Your own personal hygiene has a lot to answer for. BO preferable to you, is it?’

The two men glared at each other, then Brandon turned to Anna. ‘What do you think?’

She shrugged.

‘Go on, you can tell me–what do you think? Most women like it; in fact, it was my girlfriend who gave it to me.’

‘Maybe you are used to it. As it’s obviously a very expensive cologne, perhaps you need only a little dab or so.’

‘You see?’ Brandon turned to Harry. ‘She likes it.’

Harry gave a grunt and walked off, as Brandon went over to the other women in the incident room. Anna
gave a covert look: one after the other was asked to smell his cheeks. It was really quite funny; Brandon was obviously upset.

Sheldon emerged from his office. ‘Anna?’ He gestured to her. ‘We’ve got Murphy’s solicitor coming in. He wants to discuss some of the defence queries–the photograph, et cetera. So when he gets here, take him into interview room one.’

‘Money for old rope,’ Blunt said, sitting at his desk.

Anna looked over to him.

‘Makes me sick! His barrister will earn more from this trial on fucking Legal Aid than I’ll probably earn in a year. We shouldn’t have to go to the expense of a trial: we know he did it–he’s admitted he did it! Just get him before a judge and bang him up. Better still, give the swine a lethal injection. That’s what I’d vote for, but none of these bloody politicians we’ve got will even contemplate capital punishment, because they’re scared of losing their jobs! Do you know, we’ve got just one probation officer for every thirty-seven convicts–that’s on record–and I’m not talkin’ about petty criminals. Thirty-seven criminals, right? That’s rapists and murderers they are supposed to stop re-offending. It’s a farce! They can only spend about three-quarters of an hour with each bastard in an average working week!’

Harry would have continued if the by now very irritated Brandon hadn’t interrupted to say that Murphy’s solicitor had arrived and was waiting in reception.

Anna asked for him to be taken into interview room one, as Sheldon had suggested.

Brandon turned on her. ‘Go get him yourself, Travis.’

‘Yeah,’ Blunt put in. ‘Better take him or Brandon’s
cologne might gas him before he makes it down the corridor.’

The other man hurled a book at Blunt, who laughed.

Anna crossed to the door, and then turned to ask Brandon what the solicitor’s name was. Brandon, ducking a flying missile from Harry Blunt, said for Anna to watch out: Luke Griffith was a real operator.

Anna left the two men behaving like children, chucking rolled-up papers at each other.

Luke Griffith greeted Anna with a warm handshake. They went from the station reception into a rather small and airless interview room. Griffith drew out a chair for Anna and then sat opposite her. He was wearing an immaculate pin-striped suit and a blue shirt with a white collar and a dark tie. The cuffs of the shirt were also white, and he had tapering, well-manicured hands. He was very clean cut, with a chiselled face and dark eyes; even his hair seemed to be coiffured to perfection.

‘This shouldn’t take long.’ His voice was soft and upper class.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘No, thank you. I had this station’s brew when I was last here.’ Griffith opened his briefcase and took out a notebook; then, from his pocket, a slim gold pen. ‘Right, now you are Detective Inspector Anna Travis.’

‘Yes.’

‘As you know, Arthur George Murphy is my client. All I’m here for is to get a few things cleared up, for me to pass on to his barrister.’

Anna said nothing. Griffith stared at his empty page then wrote the date, checked his wristwatch and noted down the time.

‘You visited Mr Murphy’s sister, a Gail Dunn, now calling herself Gail Sickert?’

‘Yes.’

‘And she gave you a photograph?’

‘Yes.’

‘This photograph was subsequently used to identify Mr Murphy’s associate, Vernon Kramer.’

‘Yes.’

‘Which then led you to his residence, where my client was staying.’

‘Yes.’

‘He was subsequently arrested, and charged with the murder of Irene Phelps.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you at any time talk to Mr Kramer?’

‘No.’

‘Were you present at Mr Murphy’s interrogation?’

‘No.’

Griffith made notes and then tapped the page. ‘Very fortunate discovery, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Without this photograph, you might not have been able to trace my client.’

‘Possibly.’

‘And, as you must be aware, my client admitted to the murder and rape of Mrs Phelps.’

‘Yes.’

Griffith now tapped his teeth with the pen. ‘And you are aware that Vernon Kramer is being charged with harbouring a known criminal and perverting the course of justice?’

‘Yes.’

‘Unpleasant duo.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I said, unpleasant duo–but then, we do what we have to do.’

Anna remained silent.

‘Mr Murphy is now claiming that Vernon Kramer was a party to the murder of Irene Phelps.’

Anna sat back. No one had been told this.

‘I doubt if I believe him,’ Griffith added, ‘but I nevertheless have to make enquiries, as the defence will automatically want to either use this or dismiss it as fabrication.’

‘As far as I am aware, Mr Murphy admitted to the murder and at no time made any mention that he had an accomplice,’ Anna told him. ‘Again, to my knowledge, there was no DNA or forensic evidence to prove that Mr Kramer was also in Mrs Phelps’s flat.’

‘So you would say he is lying?’

‘I would say that, yes.’

‘Can I ask how you obtained the photograph of Mr Kramer and Mr Murphy?’

‘Murphy’s sister, Gail Sickert, gave it to me.’

‘Did Mrs Sickert also give you Vernon Kramer’s name?’

‘No, she did not. She said that she couldn’t recall his name, just that he spoke with a Newcastle accent and had visited her on one occasion some months past.’

‘So you were not aware that Mrs Sickert had, at one time, had a relationship with Mr Kramer?’

Anna shook her head, stunned. ‘No! In fact, she appeared to resent the fact that her brother, Mr Murphy, had brought him to her home. She didn’t like her brother, nor, for that matter, did she want any kind of contact with him. She implied that he had molested her when she was a teenager.’

Griffith spent a few moments writing and then turned the page. ‘So you didn’t think it strange that she would keep this photograph of her brother, who you say she implied molested her? Why keep a photograph of him and his friend?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You see, Detective Inspector Travis, I have been told a slightly different version of events: that, whilst Mrs Sickert was out of the room, you took this photograph without permission.’

Anna slapped the table with her hand ‘That is a total lie. I was given the photograph.’

‘Do you have a witness?’

‘No, I don’t. Mrs Sickert gave me that photograph; I never even asked her if she had one. She volunteered it and searched through a drawer, then she handed it to me. Your client, Mr Murphy, must have got to her or something. Whatever you are trying to do regarding the photograph is really beyond belief. Have you seen the photographs of how Irene Phelps’s body was found? And discovered by her twelve-year-old daughter?’

‘I am aware of the fact that her daughter—’

‘Who will have to live for the rest of her life with the memory of her mother’s raped and brutalized body! Live with the sight of her mother covered in blood, knowing that, as she lay dying, her killer–your client–was cutting up a sandwich with the knife that had cut her throat.’ Anna pushed back her chair. ‘I really have no more time to waste discussing this with you, Mr Griffith. As you said, you don’t pick your clients; well, you have a disgusting animal as one. I hope you can sleep at night, trying in any way possible to get him a lesser sentence. He should never be released.’

‘Detective Sergeant Travis!’ Griffith snapped.

‘Detective Inspector, actually–and if you want to question me further, do it in court.’ And Anna walked out, slamming the door behind her.

She banged through the double doors of the incident room; they swung back and hit the wall.

‘That bastard Murphy!’ she burst out. ‘He’s now trying to say that Kramer was also part of the murder, and as for that prick I’ve just had to be questioned by…’

Blunt came over to her. ‘Shush, it’s all bullshit, they’re just trying it on. You know those arseholes like to make a name for themselves; they know this is a cut and dried case–in and out Guilty verdict. They just want to draw it out.’

Anna had her hands on her hips. ‘Christ, he made me so angry.’

Brandon pointed over to her. ‘I warned you–I said he was a smooth bastard. What did he try on?’

Blunt gave her one of their disgusting coffees and she sat at her desk and repeated the interview.

Brandon snorted. ‘So what if you nicked the photograph?’

‘I didn’t–she gave it to me!’

‘So that cow is lying and Murphy’s lying; we just have to ignore it. We have firmed-up forensic evidence, and we have the ugly piece of shit admitting to the murder. If he’s trying to tread water now, that’s part of their game to delay the trial and spend a fortune fucking us around, all on Legal Aid.’

Anna was so angry she gulped the coffee down. ‘Well, I’m going to see her, and find out why she’s suddenly lying through her rotten teeth.’