Silent Scream (56 page)

Since her one-night stand with Gordon Berry, Langton had been distant; Anna could sense his animosity towards her. The more the hot-water jets from the shower calmed and relaxed her, the more she felt it was a case of personal jealousy. Even though their affair was over and done with, Langton didn’t like her forming any new relationship, especially not with someone he knew. There was, she suspected, even a tad of professional envy, and she was not going to let him put her down.

Wrapped in a clean white towelling robe, and with a chilled glass of wine, Anna watched the late-night news. The first item was the revelation that Lester James, one of Amanda Delany’s unit drivers, had been arrested and charged with her murder. The long enquiry was finally over.

A
nna’s first call the following morning was from Gordon to congratulate her. She was pleased to hear from him. Although her intentions had been to stop seeing him, she readily agreed to meet him for dinner that evening. After being under such time pressure for so many weeks, she relished the prospect of being able to chill out. In the post that same morning came confirmation of her promotion interview. While it meant that she had considerable preparation to do, the letter had come at a perfect time. The run-up to Lester James’s trial would afford her the break she needed before getting involved in another case. It felt good –
she
felt good. She booked a hair appointment, a pedicure and a manicure, in readiness for her dinner with Gordon.

The press were out in force to watch the prisoners being taken from the station to court. Lester James had a blanket over his head and shoulders, while Jeannie Bale, on the other hand, gave a creditable performance of a woman wrongfully arrested. Anna watched their departure from the station’s rear exit before she left. Whether or not they would re-open the case of Felicity Turner’s drowning would no doubt be a bone of contention and one without sufficient evidence to really press charges.

Gordon was prompt. At exactly seven-thirty, he rang Anna’s doorbell. There was a slight moment of embarrassment when they approached each other, but he soon made light of it, opening the door of his car for her to get inside. He had chosen a small Italian restaurant across the river and by the time they were sitting opposite each other, they were more at ease.

‘You look lovely,’ he said.

‘Thank you. I had an afternoon off and took advantage of it – hair, massage . . .’

‘Oh, not needing me then?’

She smiled and shook her head. ‘I don’t think it is a good idea, do you? But if I get whiplash again, I’ll be on your couch right away. It’s amazing that I only needed one session.’

It felt like a perfect dinner. Yet again Anna found Gordon easy to talk to, and his interest in her work and the arrest of Lester James was genuine. She talked about the two brothers, Tony and Harry, what they must be feeling after the arrest of their brother Lester.

‘Do you think they had any idea he was guilty?’

Anna wasn’t 100 per cent sure. She believed they had covered for him, maybe even lied for him, but she doubted they knew the extent of his infatuation with Amanda Delany.

When she described the tattoo on Lester’s back, Gordon looked puzzled.

‘Why did he have it done on his back?’

‘He knew it was there, and he would be able to see it in a mirror, I suppose.’

‘But if he went swimming, everyone would see it.’

‘Mmm, never thought of that. Unless he can’t swim?’

‘How big was it?’

Anna made a gesture with her hands to show that it was almost lifesize, just her head and neck with a fraction of one shoulder.

‘Do you feel sorry for him?’ Gordon asked.

Anna looked surprised by the question. ‘Sorry for him?’ she repeated.

‘Yeah. Poor guy is treated as a sex toy, used to run Amanda’s errands and then made a fool of in her diary. I feel sorry for him, what he must have been put through – you know, loving someone who’s always just out of reach and yet so close, plus having to listen to the two actors who had screwed her. He must have been in torment for years.’

He took a careful sip of wine. ‘Have you ever loved anyone like that?’ he asked her.

She didn’t answer, as at that moment their food arrived.

‘Buon appetito.’
Gordon tucked his napkin into his shirt, and joked about always spilling his food down his clothes. ‘My mother used to say I didn’t know what side of my face my mouth was!’

‘Are your parents still alive?’

‘My mother is, yes, but my father died a long time ago, of lung cancer. I honestly thought she’d go soon after, since they were a doting couple. But she’s very feisty and lives in Dorset, seventy-eight and has a live-in companion.’

‘Do you see her often?’

‘Yeah, once a month. What about yours?’

Anna explained that both her parents were dead, that her father had been a police officer and her mother an artist. She described how proud her father had been when she had chosen to join the Metropolitan Police. She told Gordon about her prospects of promotion, and how it saddened her that her father wouldn’t be there to see her moving ahead in her career.

‘I think my mother would have preferred another choice of career, but I was determined. It also meant that with my education – I was at Oxford – I went straight into the Graduate Accelerated Promotion Scheme.’

‘Unlike old Jimmy Langton.’

‘Pardon?’

‘He worked his way up, didn’t he? From uniform into plainclothes.’

Anna felt a twinge of irritation that Langton’s name had somehow intruded on their easy conversation.

‘I believe he did,’ she said, ‘and rumour has it he’s still climbing – probably aiming for Commissioner.’

‘You reckon he’ll get that high up?’ Gordon asked.

‘Possibly. He certainly has the right track record.’ Anna didn’t want to continue discussing Langton, and suddenly she didn’t feel like finishing her meal.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Gordon said, pouring more wine.

‘You mean, did I feel sorry for Lester James? No. I maybe could understand his fury, but you don’t see a victim stabbed to death like that and then feel any real compassion for their killer. If every case involved you emotionally, you couldn’t really do your job. You have to learn to stand back.’

‘I wasn’t referring to a case, Anna.’

‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’

‘I asked if you had ever loved anyone with as much passion as your suspect did.’

‘Oh, sorry. What you call passion I would call obsession. Lester James was obsessed by Amanda Delany and, thankfully, to answer your question, have I ever felt that kind of obsession then the answer is no, I haven’t. Have you?’

She leaned back in her chair with her wine glass and drained it. And when he didn’t reply: ‘Now
you
aren’t answering
my
question.’

‘Hard to say. I’ve thought I’ve been in love many times, but then it didn’t work out. I just wonder what it would be like, to feel such a powerful passion.’

‘I think it would be destructive.’

‘Why?’

Anna sighed. ‘I just do. If this passion was so strong, it would interfere with your life, especially if you had a career and all you could think about was the person you couldn’t live without. And if they didn’t reciprocate, it would be demoralising as well dysfunctional.’

‘Did you love
him
?’

Anna was becoming tense, and her foot started tapping. ‘Love whom?’

‘James Langton.’

She carefully placed her glass down on the table.

‘Is this why you’ve asked me out – to pry into my private life? Well – is it? It’s none of your business how I felt about him, Gordon. He’s no longer a factor in my life. It is over and has been for months. In fact, it is so much over that he’s back with his ex-wife, and he has a child by her, his son Tommy. He’s also, I think, adopted his stepdaughter Kitty.’

‘Do you think it’s over for him?’

‘Christ, you’re starting to really get me annoyed. Why are you so interested in my previous relationship with James Langton? Like I said, it has nothing at all to do with you, and I don’t want to continue this conversation, so can we change the subject?’

‘Maybe I am trying to get round to saying something.’

‘About me and Langton?’

‘No, about me. I don’t know if I should or shouldn’t tell you the truth.’

‘Well, go on. What shouldn’t you tell me?’

‘I’m bisexual.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I think you heard.’

She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m very serious, although I sometimes wonder if there are any real bisexual tendencies, as I—’

‘You really are bisexual?’ Anna interrupted.

‘Yes, and I am sort of obsessed by James Langton and have been for almost six months, ever since he came to me for treatment.’

She sat with her mouth open, scarcely believing what she was hearing. She could feel herself wanting to laugh.

‘You’re obsessed by James Langton?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re kidding me. I don’t believe you.’

‘Well, I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t done anything about it, obviously, and to be honest I don’t think I would dare, but I find him the most attractive and sexual man, and I don’t seem to be able to just ignore it.’

Anna was stunned.

‘It isn’t funny,’ he said quietly.

‘I’m sure it isn’t, but forgive me for not being able to have a heart-to-heart conversation about it, because all I can think of is the pair of us in the sack. Now you’re telling me that not only are you gay, but the person you have feelings for is none other than my ex-lover, James Langton. Did you screw me because of this infatuation?’

‘Don’t start using words like “screw” and “sack”, it doesn’t suit you.’

‘It’s nevertheless the fucking truth. Is that why you screwed me? I’m so very sorry if it sounds uncouth, but from what you are saying, you have used me. For what? To get closer to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t believe this.’ Anna slapped her napkin down on the table. Gordon looked suitably sheepish. She picked up her bag.

‘I’m going. I suggest you order some strong black coffee as you are way over the drink-drive limit.’

‘I’ve just told you the truth. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t keep up the pretence, and—’

Anna stood up, and leaned across the table.

‘I suggest you keep it to yourself. If Langton were to know your true feelings for him, I think he’d punch the living daylights out of you. And, to be honest, I feel like giving you a hard smack across the face myself.’

Anna paid off the cab and went into her block of flats. Letting herself in through the front door, she tossed her handbag aside. So much for going to such lengths dressing for dinner. She stripped off her dress, throwing it onto the floor. How could she have been so inept at interpreting the real situation? She was certain that Langton had no idea and now looked forward to imparting the information and seeing his reaction.

As the team prepared for the forthcoming trials, Anna spent only mornings at the station. She then went home to swot for her promotion interviews. Langton had not shown up on any morning to oversee the presentation of their evidence for the prosecution, and she was not prepared to call him. She’d wait.

Anna had completed her application form for promotion and sent it to her former boss, DCI Vince Mathews, who had recommended her. It was then passed to the selection panel who would sift through all the applicants and select the nine who would go forward to the next stage, to appear before the Assessment Centre in Earl’s Court.

Anna was one of the nine. She would now have to prepare for a whole day when she would be put through her paces in front of a panel consisting of a uniformed Superintendent, a Higher Executive Officer and a Detective Chief Superintendent.

She was very nervous, and had read up on the numerous policy case files; she knew, too, that she might be asked to reflect on actual cases she had been involved with. Her brain churned over and she had hardly slept. The night before the interviews, she went over and over in her mind all the cases she had worked on, and all the case files she had researched. But, having had her application approved, she was confident that it would not be too daunting a prospect, and it was with confidence that she drove to the Assessment Centre. She was there fifteen minutes early.

In the waiting room, Anna helped herself to coffee, and checked her watch. It was 8.45 and she sat down at a large table, waiting to be called. It was another hour before anyone else arrived, and she turned expectantly to see a heavy-set, bull-necked man at least fifteen years older than herself. He carried a green folder and dumped it down onto the table.

‘Morning,’ she said brightly.

He gave a curt nod of his head and crossed to pour himself a coffee.

‘Have you been before the panel?’

‘Yes.’ He sat down and reached for a biscuit.