‘Miss Brooks’s neighbour,’ Anna explained. ‘Do you still maintain that you do not know him?’
‘I didn’t, but I do now. I met him coming in one night recently and I was so upset. I wanted some change of clothes, remember I asked you for permission. He was going into his flat and I was trying to get my key out to go into my place. He asked if I was all right and I just broke down crying. He was ever so nice. He asked me in for a brandy and since then we’ve become friendlier. We exchanged numbers and he said if I needed anything, to call him.’
‘When did you last call him?’
‘From the pub before you arrested me.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘All the stress this is causing me. He was like I just said, very kind, and if you want the honest truth, I fancied him. I need someone, for God’s sake!’
It was a depressed Anna who released Tina and then returned to the incident room to give the team the update. Thanks to Langton’s belief that the evidence from the flat strongly implicated Tina, she had gone along with his request to put pressure on the woman, but all along she had known they were skating on thin ice.
Brian Stanley still had no confirmation that Tina and Michael Phillips had been in close contact for longer than she or he had admitted. At the briefing, Anna stressed the importance of identifying the victim and the semen from the bedlinen. She only now gave them the information that the hair was not going to be significant. Liz Hawley had informed them that Sammy Marsh’s DNA had been taken on a mouth swab when he was arrested for drugs offences a number of years ago but, for reasons she was still trying to discover, it did not appear to have been uploaded onto the national database. Sammy was still only a tentative link to Alan Rawlins, and without any evidence it was also possible it was nothing more than a coincidence.
‘So a trip to Cornwall is still on the cards is it?’ Brian asked.
Anna nodded, although she would first have to get it passed by Langton, and she was not looking forward to giving him the details of her interview with Tina Brooks.
As the team broke up for the night, Anna sat in her office mulling over the uneventful day’s work. She jotted down notes to look into the following morning, loath to pick up the phone to Langton. Just as she was about to call him, Paul rang through to say that Joe Smedley, the head mechanic at Metcalf Auto, was on line two.
‘What does he want?’
‘He’s had a breakin, happened last night. He reported it to the local cop shop, but then reckoned we might be interested.’
‘Put him through.’
‘Detective Travis?’
‘Speaking.’
‘I had a breakin last night. It must have happened very late as we was working here up until after nine. It wasn’t in the main part of the garage, but in the workshops attached, and they’re not alarmed, just got a padlock on the roll-up.’
‘Was anything stolen?’
‘That’s what is odd. Nothin’s gone that I could tell you ’cos it was where Alan kept the Merc he was doin’ up, so there weren’t much room for anythin’ else. Some bastard has ripped the Merc’s seats – good quality leather, they were – and the door panels have been torn out. The boot was open and scratched to hell and it had just been resprayed. So it’s a lot of damage. I mean, it don’t hurt me because it wasn’t my vehicle, and to be honest I was gonna call his girlfriend as I dunno what anyone wants to do with the car and I will need the space.’
‘Thank you for calling, Mr Smedley. If you are there now, could you wait as I’d like to have a look at what was done.’
‘Okay. I’ll be here until eight tonight.’
Anna replaced the receiver. She could legitimately put off calling Langton. With Brian in tow, rather disgruntled as he was ready to leave for the evening, she drove to Metcalf Auto repair garage.
The padlock had been broken. As Smedley had said, the workshop was not alarmed, but both padlock and chain were heavy-duty.
‘Hadda come with bolt-cutters, and like I told you, nothing else was broken into – just this lock-up.’
Smedley was still wearing greasy oil-streaked overalls and his hands were black with engine oil. He eased up the gate, which swung out and then slid up under the roof of the workshop.
‘I never charged Al for storing his vehicles in here, only for whatever equipment he needed. The paint-spraying was done round the back and he’d use the hydraulic lift to check the under-carriages, but always when it was convenient. We’ve also had delivery of a new soft top, which is over in the main garage.’
They stood in a row looking into the garage. The 280SL’s seats had, as Smedley described, been hacked, slashed and the stuffing dragged out. Both doors had the panels hammered out, and even the dashboard looked as if someone had attacked it with an axe. The glove compartment door was broken and hanging on its hinges. The boot had deep indentations as it had been locked when it was prised open.
‘It’s a crying shame,’ Joe mourned. ‘Al loves this car and it was just about ready to sell.’
Anna and Brian walked around the damaged vehicle. At the rear of the garage was a tools locker that had been forced open and the contents were strewn around the floor.
‘What do you think they were looking for?’ Anna said quietly to Brian.
‘Christ only knows. Only time I’ve seen a car broken up like this was when I was with the Drug Squad. It had cocaine stacked between the panels in the door. Mind you, that wasn’t a vintage car like this one. This is a real damage job and it must have created a lot of noise.’
‘Did anyone complain about hearing a noise or see anything?’ Anna asked.
Smedley shook his head. ‘There’s no housing close to the yard, and besides, there’s often a lot of noise from us. I dunno even if it’s insured.’
‘Did the locals dust for prints?’ asked Brian, still inspecting the damaged vehicle.
‘I don’t think so. A couple of uniforms came and looked over it, and they thought it might be drunk kids, vandals or whatever.’
Anna suggested to Brian they get SOCO to dust and see if they came up with any prints, although she doubted it. Probably whoever did the damage wore gloves.
‘How many cars did you see Alan Rawlins work on in here?’
‘Quite a few. He’s worked here for years and always had one or another on the go. They made a nice little earner for him and they were always top-of-the-range vintage. He was also obsessive, you know? Hadda be perfect. I’ve seen him do a complete respray, and to me it was perfect, but not to him. He’s also had a couple of motor bikes he customised with a little thin guy, pal of his – a graphic designer – and they did a lovely job between them.’
Anna suggested they close up the garage and asked for Smedley to allow their SOCO officers to dust for prints.
‘How long do I have to keep it here?’ he asked.
‘We’ll be as fast as possible and then I’m not sure what will be done or who now owns it.’
‘So you still got no trace of him then?’
‘No.’
‘Bloody weird – doesn’t make sense.’
As Smedley locked up with a new padlock, Anna asked if she could have a quick chat to him, but Brian was eager to take off home. ‘It’s all right, Brian,’ she told him. ‘This won’t need the two of us. You go.’
Smedley took Anna into his small office and offered to make her a cup of tea, but judging from his filthy hands she didn’t think she’d care for one.
‘Can I just ask you again, Joe – the morning Alan Rawlins left, the last time you saw him . . . just take me through it.’
‘Well, I’ve not got anythin’ more to add. He come in early as always – he was always the first here, last to go. He’d often work on his own vehicles before we got here and before he started on scheduled work. He was a bloody good mechanic, very thorough . . .’ He scratched at his beard and then his chest, trying to come up with something else.
‘He said he was unwell, had a migraine?’ Anna pr
ompted.
‘Yeah, that’s right. He was wearing his overalls, we had a car up on the ramps and he was scheduled to look at it. I was in here sorting through some bills and receipts. I saw him when I drove up as his Merc was out on the forecourt. I said to him it was looking in great shape and he said something about he was just waiting for the soft top to be delivered. That must have cost a lot, ’cos the one the Merc came with was worn and torn. There’s a company that supply them that he’s used before.’
‘How did he seem when you saw him?’
‘The usual. He was quite a shy bloke, didn’t talk much, but he was smiling and then I saw him drive the Merc into the lock-up.’
‘So when did he come in to say he was feeling unwell?’
‘Not long after. It was about ten-fifteen. He was very pale and his hands were clenched. He said he needed to call Tina because he was feeling sick and said he had a headache.’
‘Had he ever taken time off for headaches?’
‘Maybe once before, don’t really remember. I joked with him that he should watch himself, it might be swine flu. Then he used my phone in here.’
‘Did you hear the conversation?’
‘Nope. I was called out – don’t remember what for, but when I came back he said that Tina would be collecting him and taking him home.’
‘How long after that did Tina drive up?’
‘Not long. He was on the forecourt pacing up and down waiting. He got in and they drove off.’
‘And it was Tina?’
‘Yeah. She waved over as they drove out.’
‘Thank you.’ Anna stood up as Smedley opened a drawer.
‘I was asked about when Al took holidays,’ he said. ‘Did you get the details?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘He’d come back all tanned and his hair lightened by the sun – good-lookin’ fella.’
‘He was bisexual.’
Smedley did a classic jaw-drop and then chuckled. ‘You pullin’ me leg? Living with a hot tottie like Tina Brooks? No way.’
‘So you never had any indication that he was gay or rather, bisexual?’
‘Al?’
‘Yes.’
‘You serious?’
‘Yes.’
Smedley seemed to take it personally, shaking his head and scratching at his beard.
‘If he was, he kept that under his bonnet, not that I have anythin’ against them, but you surprise me. My wife’ll not believe it, as he was a good-lookin’ guy and strong as an ox.’
They walked out onto the forecourt and headed towards Anna’s Mini.
‘You got me flummoxed,’ Joe went on in disbelief. ‘We did used to joke about him always scrubbing at his hands – liked to be clean before he went home. And a lot of the blokes here wouldn’t mind having Tina as their girlfriend; she’s a lovely-lookin’ woman.’
‘Yes, she is,’ Anna agreed as she unlocked her door.
Smedley stood watching her driving out, still scratching at his beard and his hairy chest.
Anna didn’t go home, but returned to the station. It was eerie, walking through the semi-darkened incident room, as only the night-duty officers were there. She stood for a long time looking over the incident board and then at the lists of estate agents contacted in Cornwall. They had now acquired a photograph of the property Alan had bought. It was a medium-sized detached house with views over the beach, and a wide paved patio with umbrellas and outdoor furniture. There was a barbecue and glass sliding doors opening into a sunken lounge. It had three bedrooms, an en-suite bathroom and a high-tech kitchen with a breakfast bar. It also had a double garage and a gated entrance with a tiered rock garden.
Anna headed into her office, switching on only her desk lamp as she sat down in her chair. She dreaded making the call, but she knew she had put it off long enough. Her hand was reaching for the phone when her door opened and Langton walked in.
‘I was just about to call you,’ she said.
‘Don’t you have a home to go to, Travis?’ He drew out a chair, put his coat over the back of it and sat in front of her.
‘The same could be said of you.’
‘I know. Been up to my eyeballs. I’m tired out and my knee’s killing me. What happened today?’
‘Sadly, not a lot.’
Langton stood up and rubbed his knee, then leaned forward, placing both hands on Anna’s desk.
‘You’ve yet to prove me wrong because without a body you are still running on empty. Even more so as you still have not identified your victim.’
‘It’s not for want of trying.’ She had stood up to face him across her desk.
‘You try harder, sweetheart, otherwise I am going to have to say time is up, and I still maintain that someone close to home, by home I mean the flat where the murder happened – someone knows something.’
‘Give me a clue then, because I have interviewed every tenant, the neighbours across the street and to the side of the block of flats. I’ve interviewed the caretaker, and nobody saw anything. I have no witness.’
‘There is always a witness, remember that. How did the body get moved?’
‘I don’t know.’ She felt like shouting it at him.
‘If it was carved up, it still took time – it’d be heavy, and if you no longer have Tina as a suspect . . .’
‘I never said that.’
‘Right. If you are still suspicious of her, could she have moved it out single-handed?’
‘I am still not losing Michael Phillips as a suspect or a possible accomplice.’
Langton picked up his coat from the back of the chair.
‘Body’s got to be somewhere. If she maintains she returned to the flat after work it means the body was cut up or had to have been moved in broad daylight.’
‘I know, I know . . .’
‘But do you know why I am consenting to your trip to Cornwall?’
‘Because you agree with me that Alan Rawlins could be alive.’
‘No, I don’t agree with you, Anna, but the drug link now has to be treated as a motive. The wrecking of his Mercedes, it’s not malicious, not a vengeful act, it was done by someone looking for something and that is either drugs or money.’
‘I had thought of that, but again there’s no witness – nobody saw or heard anything – and yet it looked as if whoever did it was using a sledgehammer.’
Langton paused, shrugging into his coat.
‘Don’t take any risks, Anna. You uncover something that could be a threat to you, make sure you have back-up and contact the Drug Squad down there. Understand?’
‘I will.’
She walked towards him to see him out and he took her totally off-guard, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Then he opened the door, and turning back he smiled.
‘I watched you through the blinds. The lamplight made a halo around that lovely head of yours. See what you can produce from Cornwall. Let’s hope it’s not a wild-goose chase.’
‘Yes, sir. If Alan Rawlins is alive, I’ll track him down.’
He was about to say something, but then changed his mind. He had not forgotten, and probably never would, the loss of his prime suspect in the drug-related murder enquiry they had both worked on. Anthony Fitzpatrick had outwitted him, escaped arrest and was still at large. Langton did not consider with the new evidence that Alan Rawlins was anywhere in the same league as Fitzpatrick, nevertheless if he was involved in a drug-dealing racket it meant he would have contacts. Rawlins also had financial resources. He could, as Anna had suspected, have flown the coop to Florida. Fitzpatrick had managed to escape arrest after a series of murders; he was only able to do so because of his wealth.
When Langton left Anna he had grave concerns, primarily for her safety. In the morning he would begin to make certain enquiries himself.
By the time Anna got home it was after ten. Apart from the half-finished sandwich at lunch, she hadn’t had anything else to eat, but she didn’t have the energy to cook anyt
hing bar a couple of slices of toast. She took a mug of tea and sat on her bed. As she dipped the toast into the tea she thought about what she would need to pack for the following day. Langton had given the go-ahead for herself and one other officer to travel to Cornwall, although he had said air flights were out of the question due to budget shortages. He suggested she get the train to Newquay and arrange for the local station to provide a squad car for them to use. If it was necessary, they could stay a couple of nights in a B&B that the locals knew or used.
Anna decided that a five-hour train journey with Brian Stanley would do too much head damage, so she would be accompanied by Paul. Langton had even suggested that Paul would be the best choice as he was homosexual. When she had given him an admonishing glare he had simply laughed.
Anna drew the duvet up to her chin, snuggling down in her bed, but wondering what she might uncover in Cornwall kept her wide awake. She closed her eyes, recalling Langton’s comments as he left. She realised that he had not admitted in as many words that her diligent enquiries had moved the case into a different league. It proved that she had been on the ball and not, as he had implied, over-investigating. Typically, Langton agreeing to the Cornwall visit was to her mind a step forward, and she was even more determined to prove herself right and Langton wrong about her digging up too many suspects.
She too remembered Anthony Fitzpatrick and what it had felt like to see the man they had hunted for so many months escape arrest. Forever lodged in her mind were the faces of the drug dealer’s two small children looking out from the windows of the plane. Wherever they were, wherever Fitzpatrick was hiding out, there had been no sighting of him. It was, she knew, a testament to failure on Langton’s part. She vowed to herself once again that if Alan Rawlins was alive, she would not let him escape arrest.
Chapter Fourteen
‘I thought they’d have a restaurant,’ paul complained, as he had not had time for lunch. He and Anna were on the two o’clock train at Paddington, bound for Cornwall.
‘I thought so too, but apparently they have a buffet cart they wheel through the compartments.’
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