Wrongful Death (6 page)

However, she seemed to relax as the journey continued and Anna gradually felt more at ease with her driving.

‘Have you known DCS Langton long?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, a while, he was over in Los Angeles on a case about an actor, be a few years back now, and we met up again recently at a homicide conference in Paris.’

‘LA, yes, I remember he went there once.’

Anna had accompanied Langton to Los Angeles on that inquiry but she was certain that she had not met Dewar before, and that he had never mentioned her name until two days ago when he referred to them meeting at the homicide conference.

‘In case you are fishin’ for information, my relationship with him is purely business. I know he has quite a reputation. Is he married?’

‘Yes, to Laura. His first wife died of a brain tumour, so it’s his second marriage. He adopted Laura’s daughter Kitty from a previous relationship, and they have a young son Tommy. He likes to keep his private life close to his chest.’

‘Well that was very concise. What about you, married or single?’

Anna hesitated. She didn’t want to talk with someone she didn’t really know about the tragic death of her fiancé Ken or her past relationship with Langton.

‘Me? Footloose and fancy-free, apart from work, that is.’

Dewar nodded and laughed. ‘Same with me. It’s hard in this job being surrounded by men, but I’ve never mixed work with sex. There are so many divorces and separations due to the pressures, not to mention the shagging around, but I live in hope.’

‘I’m really looking forward to the FBI course,’ Anna said, deliberately changing the subject.

‘Good. You’ll really enjoy it. No walk in the park though. It’s rare but some people do fail it and there’s no going back for a second chance.’ Dewar’s tone made Anna feel she was implying that was what she expected to happen to her.

‘I was on the Met’s accelerated promotion course so I know what hard graft is,’ Anna countered.

‘Jimmy said you were a degree entrant like me. I joined the FBI at twenty-three after completing my master’s degree in Forensic Psychology. After three years’ fieldwork I became the youngest agent ever to be asked to join the Behavioural Science Unit.’

‘You have done well.’

‘Within seven years I was promoted to supervising level. As well as profiling on live cases I now head up the behavioural profiling input on all the courses at Quantico. So you will be studying some of my cases,’ Dewar said in a rather pompous manner.

‘What else is on the course syllabus?’ Anna asked, tired of hearing about Dewar’s achievements. She thought that three years in the field was not a lot of ground experience and wondered if, as a profiler, Dewar actually visited crime scenes or based her opinions on photographs and statements like the UK profilers did.

‘I’ll give you some advice: keep your mouth shut unless you have something of value to add. They jump on anyone who likes to think they know it all.’

Anna thought this was rich coming from her.

‘There’s a wealth of knowledge and experience at Quantico. Especially on the behavioural module I designed. Don Blane is standing in for me while I’m away so I’ll give him a ring and tell him you’re on the course. See if you can accompany him on a live case over a free weekend. Watching Don working is a masterclass in itself. His interview technique is so good he can make a virgin open up.’

‘Thank you,’ Anna said, not appreciating the analogy and hoping that Dewar would forget her offer to ring Don. If he was anything like Dewar, she didn’t fancy getting stuck with him, especially not over a free weekend.

‘Jesus, these frickin’ traffic circles, you got cars comin’ at you from all directions.’

They drove on in silence before arriving at the vast modern-looking prison, which held some of the UK’s most dangerous and violent criminals. As they walked over to the visitors’ centre, Dewar said she would like to conduct the interview with Taylor, but Anna tactfully suggested that as he was expecting someone from the Met, it would be best for her to handle it and she would introduce Dewar as a US detective over on work experience.

Once inside, Anna produced her warrant card while Dewar showed her FBI badge, after which they had their fingerprints scanned and a photograph taken before being issued prison passes. The receptionist pointed to the lockers behind them as he explained that mobile phones, handbags and other personal belongings had to be locked away during the visit. They were allowed to take in writing paper, pens and a Dictaphone if they had one, which Anna did and showed it to the guard, who checked it over. They were asked to sign a form agreeing to abide by the rules and then told to wait for a prison officer to escort them to the main building.

‘I thought it was bad in the States trying to visit a prisoner but this is ridiculous,’ Dewar moaned.

‘Well this is a maximum-security prison housing terrorists and—’

‘It’s hardly Guantanamo Bay, is it!’

Anna was surprised by Dewar’s disparaging remark and now realized how impatient the woman could be.

She herself was feeling very uneasy and her stomach was churning. It wasn’t so much the interview with Taylor that worried her, more that she had not been inside a prison since the death of Ken. They had actually met when he was a senior officer on a segregated high-security wing at a different prison. She had been interviewing an inmate, the same one who later murdered Ken just after their engagement. Anna was dreading stepping inside the prison gates and the sad memories it would reignite, her greatest fear being how she would react when she saw prison officers all dressed in the standard-issue uniform that Ken had worn with pride. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the male prison officer approach.

‘Detective Travis, Agent Dewar, if you would like to follow me, please.’

On hearing his voice, Anna was afraid to look at him, fearing that she would see an image of Ken in front of her. She felt her heart pounding and her breathing increase as she stood up too quickly. Suddenly she felt faint and the room began to spin. ‘Pull yourself together,’ she thought and, in fear of falling over, sat back down.

‘You all right?’ Dewar asked.

‘Yeah, I just stood up too quickly. It made me feel dizzy.’

‘Would you like some water?’ the prison officer asked.

‘Yes, please,’ Anna said and looked up to see that the officer was not only Asian but much younger than Ken. She smiled, somehow feeling as if Ken was with her and telling her not to be stupid and get on with the interview.

After Anna drank her cold water they were escorted through the main entry gates and into a holding room with a set of airlock doors. Anna entered the first then proceeded into the second one before Dewar was allowed to follow. Once through the airlocks, they had to go through an X-ray machine and metal detector and were then patted down by a female officer with a sniffer dog. Anna wondered how on earth visitors still managed to smuggle anything in. For her the real irony was that prisoners were still able to make weapons from almost anything they could get their hands on. Ken, her fiancé, was stabbed in his neck artery with a homemade knife and had bled to death.

The interview room was small, with only a table and four chairs. To the left of the table there was a panic alarm that could be pressed if assistance was needed. The escorting officer told them that Delon Taylor would be brought from his cell shortly and Anna sat down and placed her Dictaphone, notebook and pen on the table. Dewar sat next to her.

‘I can’t believe all the rigmarole for a police officer and senior FBI agent to come and see some lowlife prisoner,’ Dewar complained.

‘The officers are just doing their job.’

‘I wonder if the pain-in-the-ass bureaucrats will put us through the same irritating process on the way out?’

‘Do me a favour and cut the cynical remarks about the prison officers, please!’ Anna said bluntly.

‘Well, excuse me if I offend you.’

‘You didn’t offend me. You offended someone I knew.’

Before Dewar could say anything else the interview-room door opened and Taylor was brought in and sat opposite them. Delon Taylor was black, in his mid-twenties, very muscular and six feet tall. Anna had looked at his criminal file and noted that he was a professional cage fighter, which accounted for his misshapen nose and numerous facial scars, but nevertheless he had a very handsome face.

Anna introduced herself as the DCI investigating Joshua Reynolds’ death, showing Taylor her warrant card, and told him that although he would be interviewed as a witness, not a suspect, she would like to record the interview. Taylor said nothing but nodded in agreement. Anna was about to introduce Dewar as a US detective on work experience with the Met when the agent produced her FBI badge and cut in.

‘I’m Jessie Dewar, a supervisory special agent with the FBI and—’

‘Fucking FBI! What they doing here?’ Taylor shouted at Anna in a broad London accent.

‘I’m working the case with Detective Travis,’ Dewar replied.

‘Well you can fuck off back to where you came from!’

Anna was livid. Dewar had managed to upset Taylor before she had asked a single question. She wanted to give Dewar a piece of her mind but knew it was totally against protocol to chastize a fellow officer in front of a prisoner. Instead, Anna gave Dewar a stare that made it quite clear how she felt and quickly calmed the situation by explaining to Taylor that the agent was merely an observer benefiting from work experience with the Met.

‘Good, because I ain’t talking to no Yank,’ Taylor said. Anna was pleased that he had made his position on the matter quite clear and hoped that it would curtail any further disruption by Dewar. Anna informed Taylor that she had been told that he had information concerning Joshua Reynolds’ death and asked him to tell her what he knew and give some background detail of his association with the dead man. Taylor told them that everyone called Reynolds by his preferred name of Josh and that he had worked as a bouncer at his club.

‘Josh was a real nice geezer, everyone liked him. Not like his tosser of a partner Marcus Williams. He was ripping Josh off left, right and centre. I’m sitting in this shit-hole because of him.’

‘You’re awaiting trial for robbery and serious assault on a police officer. Are you saying Williams was involved in that?’ Anna asked.

‘No. Williams had me set up for thieving from the club tills so Josh would sack me. With no job I soon ran out of money and had no choice other than do a robbery.’

‘You were armed with a gun at the time.’

‘The gun was fake and the assault was a fucking accident. I ran out the building society straight into the copper and the money went flying everywhere. Knocked the poor bloke straight on his arse and he split his head open on the pavement. I legged it with what I could pick up, which was only a few hundred, yet I got charged with nicking over two grand.’

‘That was nearly six months ago. Why do you want to talk to us now?’

‘No, the robbery was, but I went on the run to Liverpool and only got nicked two weeks ago, me mum of all people turned me in. Anyways I only heard about Josh’s death in here when I saw an old workmate so that’s why I had to speak with you. Tell you what I knew.’

Anna chuckled inside. Although Taylor came across as a very fit and hard man he made a rather inept criminal. She asked him to get to the point regarding Josh’s death.

‘Williams had a prostitution set-up going on in the Trojan with high-rolling Arabs, foreign millionaires, film and TV celebs. They paid big money. Five hundred a wank, a grand a blowjob, two grand for sex and those who will do it three K for anal. Williams pocketed seventy per cent.’

‘Did Josh Reynolds know about this?’ Anna asked.

‘Not until I told him, which was a day or two before he died. He was shocked – he’d worked hard to turn the Trojan into a decent club.’

Anna leaned back in her chair to take in what Taylor had just said. She looked at Dewar, who smirked at her as if to say, ‘I told you it was a murder and the suicide note was fake.’

‘So how long had this been going on?’ Anna asked.

‘A couple of months or so.’

‘Tell me, what are you expecting for this information?’

‘My solicitor told me that helping the police about other crimes could be beneficial to my sentence.’

‘I think your solicitor was actually referring to other crimes you may have committed,’ Anna pointed out.

‘I haven’t done any, but you can tell the judge that I helped in a murder inquiry, can’t you?’

‘I’ll be investigating what you said and if it turns out you have deliberately wasted police time you could find that heaped onto the charges you already face.’

‘I swear on my mum’s life that I’m not lying.’

‘Not convincing, seeing she’s the one who shopped you to the police.’

Taylor sat back, unable to meet Anna’s eye after she had questioned him about the truth behind his information.

She looked at Dewar, who had been writing notes furiously throughout the interview.

‘I wonder if I could ask you a couple of questions as part of my work experience?’ Dewar asked, glancing pointedly at Anna.

‘May as well, ’cause she ain’t listening to me no more,’ Taylor said, clearly angry with Anna.

‘Donna Reynolds, Josh’s wife, did you know her?’

‘Yeah, nice girl.’

‘So why did she leave the club?’

‘I think she got tired of dirty old geezers squeezing her arse and tits. They treated her like she was still dancing.’

‘Dancing?’

‘Yeah, she was a lap dancer at the Trojan – that’s how her and Josh met. She wasn’t very good and Josh didn’t like her dancing so he made her the head hostess. Better with her lips than her hips,’ Taylor said with a loud guffaw.

‘Was she overfamiliar with the customers?’

‘If it meant a bit of flirting to get a punter’s money out of his pockets then yeah. She knew how to play the game.’

‘So their relationship was strained. They argued a lot?’

Anna knew exactly where Dewar was going with what was clearly a leading question.

‘I heard them argue sometimes but all couples—’