Above Suspicion (Anna Travis Mysteries Book 1)

by Lynda La Plante

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Nonsense, have another. It’s free.”

  She took it, smiling her thanks.

  “I did ballet as a child.” She offered up this tidbit of information for want of anything more stimulating to say.

  “Really? I can’t quite see you as a dancer.”

  “I switched to ponies. I could never keep time to the music, let alone remember the steps.”

  Although Daniels gave a polite smile, he seemed more interested in surveying the guests.

  Over the loudspeaker came the sound of a bell. With a flourish, Alan signed a final autograph for the waiter as Anna put her second empty glass on the tray. They strolled toward the Royal Circle. As they approached, an usherette removed a single glossy program from the stack under her arm and held it aloft in a neatly gloved hand.

  “Good evening, Mr. Daniels. Welcome to the Royal Opera House. Would you care for a souvenir program?”

  Anna, surprised, watched Alan peel off a fifty-pound note and tell the usher to keep the change.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Daniels,” she said.

  “My pleasure; it’s all for a good cause.”

  He guided Anna down the aisle, whispering conspiratorially, “Whatever it is.”

  As soon as their backs were turned, the usherette placed the fifty-pound note in a plastic bag, sealed it and handed the programs to the head usher, before she quickly left the building. She had done her job for the evening.

  Langton received the call to say they had removed a glass with Daniels’s prints from the bar at the Opera House, plus a fifty-pound note.

  “It’s doubtful the note will be any good to us for prints. Christ knows how many people would have handled it before Daniels. How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Fine. Apparently the curtain’s just about to go up.”

  As they waited for the curtain to rise, Anna looked around the sumptuous theater in total awe. Beside her, Daniels was turning the glossy pages of the program, occasionally leaning close to show photographs of particular dancers to her, but he did not attempt to touch her. As the first act of Swan Lake began, he sat forward in his seat, concentrating on the stage.

  Langton was asleep on the sofa when the next call came in.

  “Started the last act. So management says that means they should be leaving the theater in about half an hour.”

  “Good. Bloody long show. It’s already after ten,” he muttered.

  Inside the Opera House Anna was on her feet beside Daniels, applauding with enthusiasm. As the dancers took their bows, there were cheers and bouquets of flowers were presented to the principals before they left the stage followed by the rest of the company.

  “Right.” Alan yawned. He checked his watch. “It’s completely up to you. We can push our way backstage and try to say hello to Darcey, or we can go straight to supper. What would you prefer?”

  “Mmm, that’s an impossible choice,” she said.

  “Shall we just go and eat?”

  “Yes, please. I’m starving.”

  “The Ivy it is, then.” As they left their row of seats and walked up the aisle, he was instructing their driver on his mobile phone to meet them out front.

  Their chauffeur was waiting at the wheel. Daniels made sure Anna was seated comfortably in the car before he got in. He leaned back against the headrest, observing her. “Did you enjoy it as much as you’d expected?”

  “Oh yes. The dancing was extraordinary, didn’t you think?”

  He closed his eyes, which she took as a cue not to speak. The drive to the restaurant took no more than ten minutes. When they got out of the car, a knot of photographers started calling out his name, but this time he ignored the cameras completely, hurrying Anna past the autograph seekers and through the front door.

  From their banquette at one of the best tables he pointed out the location of the ladies. He then suggested they order the salmon fishcakes.

  “I, er…do need to go,” Anna murmured. Daniels rose to his feet and drew the table out for her. “Would you order for me?” She purposefully left her purse on the table, giving him every opportunity to check the contents.

  By the time she returned, a bottle of champagne had been placed on ice and her evening bag seemed to be in the exact same place. Daniels helped her back into the banquette. After the waiter had poured the champagne, he lifted his glass to hers.

  “To you.” Their glasses touched and their eyes met. “After a perfect performance.”

  “Do you come here a lot?” she asked.

  “I suppose I do, Anna. Well, it’s one of the few restaurants that stay open after the theaters close.”

  “Have you ever acted in the theater?”

  “I would like to, but they pay so badly. I remain a TV and film actor.”

  “Even in the West End?” she asked, but at that moment, he excused himself to visit another table. Anna watched him animatedly talking with a couple. The suspect looked very glamorous in his evening suit, she noted. Of course, he was posing slightly. The three of them were obviously discussing the ballet and Daniels made a number of ballet gestures with his arm, apparently unself-consciously, though in the crowded restaurant many eyes were on him. He kissed the woman’s cheek, then returned just as the first course was being served.

  “That was an actor I worked with in Ireland. Madman! I don’t know how he got up at the crack of dawn every morning, because he never seemed to go to bed. He’s just signed to do a big movie in LA and the woman with him is his ex-wife! Bon appetit!” he said, lifting his fork and jabbing a piece of lettuce.

  Anna ate her salad in silence, trying to think of something to say that might hold his attention.

  He picked up her evening bag. “This is very pretty.”

  “It was my mother’s.”

  “Really. May I see inside?”

  “Yes.”

  He unclasped the bag. “You can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her handbag.”

  Was he flirting with her? One by one, he took out the contents. Anna couldn’t help thinking it was like being slowly undressed. He unscrewed her lipstick and opened the powder compact. He held her keys in the palm of his hand, then dangled them on one finger. He took out her handkerchief and wafted it under his nose. “Old-fashioned, to have a real handkerchief,” he said, adding wistfully, “it should smell of perfume, but it doesn’t.”

  “I’ll remember to spray some on it next time,” she said.

  She noticed he had not touched his salad, apart from the initial bite of lettuce.

  He carefully replaced the items, one at a time. “So you think there will be a next time, Anna?”

  “I meant the next time I use it,” she said. She hadn’t intended to sound curt, but she hadn’t liked him handling her mother’s bag so intimately.

  “Would you like to spend another evening with me?” His blue wide-set eyes were fixed on hers.

  “This evening isn’t over yet.”

  “What do you mean? Are you teasing?”

  “Well, I may bore you rigid,” she said uncomfortably.

  He gestured to the waiter to pour more champagne. She tried to find her way back to the script as written by Michael Parks. “No really, I’m fine.” She placed her hand over her glass.

  Daniels dismissed the waiter. “Ah, the gov wouldn’t approve. And it might be rather difficult right now, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “What you’re saying is that Langton wouldn’t approve of you going out with me. Correct?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care.” Anna was starting to feel uncomfortable.

  “You can take it all away,” he said dismissively to a hovering waiter who was ready to clear their plates.

  Daniels rested his arm along the back of the booth. She half expected him to touch her neck, but he didn’t.

  “Is it uncomfortable for you to be seen with me?” he asked.

  “No! Though at first I wondered. You kno
w, someone as famous as you; whether you would really be interested in me, or if you had an ulterior motive.”

  “An ulterior motive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Such as?”

  “Perhaps you wanted to find out how the investigation was going.”

  Daniels sipped his water, then put his glass down carefully. “That simply isn’t true, Anna. Yes, you’re different from the people I meet, but that’s the attraction. There’s a lot of falsity in my world, pretentious people, people attracted to me for the wrong reasons: fame, money, power. I liked you a lot when I first met you. You seemed genuine and caring and up front. When I showed you the photograph of me as a child, I meant what I said to you. I haven’t shown that picture to anyone else. I couldn’t help it. I felt drawn to you somehow. I knew you would understand.”

  “I was very touched,” Anna said.

  “I didn’t want you to be ‘touched,’” he remarked sarcastically. Anna felt his withdrawal of interest like a bucket of cold water. “I don’t want your sympathy!”

  “Well, I couldn’t help it,” she said, striving to get onto Parks’s script. She went for flattery. “You were such a beautiful child. And I had such admiration for the adult in the photo, too. My God, you rose from incredibly difficult circumstances to make a great success of your life. You’re world-famous. I can see everybody looking at you here. Of course I was touched.”

  Privately Anna reflected that if this was a tap-dancing contest, she deserved first prize.

  Daniels’s face softened. “Thank you for understanding. Sometimes it’s hard for me to reconcile the two. That’s why I keep the child there; he’s a constant reminder of my good luck.”

  “It’s not luck, Alan. You’re very talented.”

  “Well, talent, yes. I suppose talent did have something to do with it.”

  As the waiter brought their main course, they fell silent. When he poured more champagne, Anna did not refuse. She wondered if she was stretching credulity too far; however, he seemed to be thriving on it.

  “Everything looks delicious,” she breathed.

  He gave a casual glance around the restaurant and waved at a group of people at the door. Anna had just started to eat when he asked politely: “So, how was America?”

  She swallowed and looked away from him. “Hard work; I spent most of my time driving.” This was more like it, she thought. Now he would pump her for information. It had certainly taken a long time to get round to it, considering he already knew she’d been to the States.

  “I’m very well connected. I know everything. I know you went to LA!”

  She acted dumbfounded. “How on earth—”

  “Actually, it’s simple. My agent uses the same dentist. So the dentist calls my agent and he tells him that this Langton chap is asking a lot of questions about my dental bill. And so he calls me. It’s a very small world.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So, are you going to tell me why you created such embarrassment for me? You know rumors do more than gather moss out there. My agent wanted to know why there was such interest in my dental appointments.”

  “You know why, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t. I let Langton take away my dental X-rays, but nobody has told me exactly why they are so important.”

  “I don’t know if I should be telling you.”

  “Why not? It’s not as if I am going to broadcast it to the restaurant.”

  “Well, the victim, Melissa Stephens…”

  He waited, fork raised. “Yes?”

  “It’s not very pleasant, especially while we are eating.”

  “Go on, don’t keep me in suspense! What about Melissa Stephens?”

  “Her tongue had been bitten.”

  “Good God, her tongue?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what on earth has this got to do with me?”

  “We have a set of teeth marks. It really isn’t anything to do directly with you. It is to do with us eliminating you from the inquiry.”

  “My God, I am stunned.”

  “Which we now have done, as your teeth don’t match.”

  “Well, of course they don’t. It’s just mind-blowing to me that I was even under suspicion. I am surprised you agreed to come out with me.”

  “You are not under suspicion,” she said, sipping her champagne.

  “But that is why you went to LA?”

  “Yes, one of the reasons. And San Francisco and Chicago. Alan, I really shouldn’t be telling you this. You know it’s privileged information.”

  “Rubbish! You’ve just said I’ve been eliminated. Unless you’re lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  He ate for a few moments and then put his fork down. “So go on, what else did you do in LA?”

  “There was a murder victim called Marla Courtney; she had the same MO as our victim here in London.”

  “What does MO mean? I can’t remember.”

  “Modus operandi; means the same pattern.”

  “Good heavens! And you think whoever killed the girl here also murdered someone in the States?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna now began to move her script up another notch. Her instructions were to draw him out, this time flattering not his professional actor’s ego, but his other side: the sociopath. She began to describe how clever and cunning their killer was and how they were unable to find any clues anywhere. He listened attentively, sometimes shaking his head as if in awe.

  She giggled. “I must be getting tiddly—I really shouldn’t be telling you all this. I’d get in such trouble, you know. We are not supposed to ever discuss the cases we are working on with anyone outside the station.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he said softly, reaching over to take her hand. “You can trust me, Anna; I would never repeat what you have told me, not to a soul. But it is fascinating. I find it hard to believe that this man has got away with it and even harder to believe you don’t have any clues to his identity. That said, it is really terrifying to think you actually had me questioned and for a while even contemplated that I could be involved. This man must be a monster.”

  She nodded and leaned closer. “He is, but he’s also incredibly clever. He never leaves any DNA; no fingerprints, nothing. Not that I’m privy to all the details. My chief is a bit of a loner, you know he has a big ego trip going on.”

  “But he took you to America.”

  “Well, yes, but I was more or less just his driver.”

  “So did he get any result from there? You said you’d also been in San Francisco and Chicago.”

  She shook her head and then leaned close. “If we don’t get something soon they’ll disband the team.”

  “No? You’re kidding me?”

  “It’s true.”

  His beautiful eyes blinked in astonishment. “How many women has he killed?”

  Anna placed her knife and fork on her plate. “This is very confidential. We haven’t really allowed the press to know just how dangerous this man is.”

  Daniels had hardly touched his food. He neatly placed his knife and fork together on the plate and indicated the waiter should remove them. When the table was cleared, he leaned both elbows close to her.

  “How many?” he asked in a whisper.

  “We think it’s ten.”

  “Ten?”

  “Yes, which is another reason you were questioned.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, because you were in the States at the same time as the murders. The gov has been opening up what they call the dead files, here and in the U.S.”

  “Dead files?” He frowned, leaning even closer, but making no reference to the fact that he was actually in the three cities she mentioned.

  “Yes, some of the women murdered here knew your mother; they were all prostitutes and may have lived at the same house you were living in when you were a child.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God! Now I underst
and. It was all so confusing when I was questioned; half the time I couldn’t pick up on what they wanted from me.”

  Anna looked at him inquiringly. “What?”

  “I understand now why they questioned me about my childhood.”

  She leaned close. “Please, Alan, if they were to bring you in for questioning again, you won’t tell them we discussed any of this? Please. I could get in terrible trouble. They might even fire me.”

  He took hold of her hand. “Of course I wouldn’t repeat this, not to anyone, but why do you say they may want to question me again? What on earth can they want from me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you must know! I mean, if this was to get in the press it would ruin my life, my career.”

  Anna nodded. “That’s why the inquiry is being so diplomatic. As I said, if we don’t get a result, it could all be disbanded and put on open files. They may not even question you again.”

  Daniels signaled for the waiter. He ordered two coffees, then said quietly: “You are right, we shouldn’t discuss this. I don’t want to get you in any trouble, but you can understand why I am so interested; it’s pretty obvious and to be honest it really freaks me out.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “But you have. I am just amazed. How can they even suspect me? And I can’t think of anything I could do or say that would help you. I mean, I will really think about it.”

  He sat in silence. Anna looked around the restaurant crowd, which was starting to thin out. It was by this time after half past eleven.

  She drank her coffee; Daniels swirled the spoon round and round in his cup. He tapped the side. “You know, it’s made me really depressed. I hate to go back to that time in my life—it’s like a chasm opens up inside me and it’s dark, a terrible place to return to. But there must be some connection if, as you say, these women knew each other and they were all murdered.”

  “Yes.”

  “But are the women in the States all connected to them as well?”

  “No, not that we have discovered.” Anna sipped the dregs of her coffee. “But whatever made the killer begin his rampage—”

  “It’s not exactly a rampage,” he said curtly.

  “Well no, there are years in between the U.K. murders, but if you add the American victims, it is a pattern of killing that shows the killer to be moving from perhaps some kind of revenge to being unable to curb his hatred of a certain type of woman.”