Anna reached for her phone and dialed Pete’s number. She would pick up some takeaway and meet him in half an hour. He was as affable and as easygoing as ever, agreeing to see her outside her fiat and bring some wine.
“You sound a bit uptight,” he remarked. “Everything all right?”
“Yep, fine. I’ll see you later.”
It wasn’t fine at all, but she needed to be with someone who took her mind off Langton. From the way he had behaved with her, she doubted that he even gave her a few moments’ thought, but all she could think of was him. Langton was out of her reach and he had to stay there; she could not ever allow him to come close again.
Anna forced herself to make a quick exit; Pete would be waiting.
CHAPTER 15
The second glass of wine had eased a lot of Anna’s tension, but she was still wound up. Pete had asked if she was all right a couple more times. In the end, she snapped that she was fine, then she apologized and explained.
“I just had a long tedious session explaining away all my suppositions.”
After the third glass, she finally started to really chill out. Pete was as relaxed as ever and she was glad she had suggested he come over.
While she cleared away, he put up some shelves. He was good at carpentry, but not very careful about the mess he made while working, so she got out the Hoover and cleaned up as he took a shower. She laughed when he appeared in her toweling dressing gown, which was very short, the sleeves reaching just below his elbows. He hurled himself onto her bed with the remote and switched on the TV, relaxing back on her pillows.
After her shower, Anna joined him on the bed, wrapped in a big white towel. He lifted his arm for her to snuggle beside him. “You want to talk about your ‘suppositions’?” he asked.
“Not really. My boss has personal problems and had the day off— until the briefing, when she came back .. .“Anna hesitated.
Cro on.
“Well, we had the Chief Superintendent come in and, instead of my suppositions being swept aside, he sort of.. .“Again, she paused.
Pete looked at her. “Sort of what?”
“Well, agreed that I might be on the right track.”
“You mean with this Fitzpatrick guy?”
“Yeah. Until we have it confirmed, it’s still up in the air; main thing
is trying to understand why he would take such risks, coming back into the UK.”
“He’s got to have a reason.”
“I know, but it’s still sounding far-fetched. Whether or not it is connected to the Fentanyl, we don’t know, but two of the victims were killed by an overdose of it…”
Pete tilted her chin up and kissed her. Then he leaned up on his elbow to look into her eyes. “That’s enough.”
“What?”
He kissed her again. At first she didn’t respond, but then he slowly began to remove her towel and kiss her breasts. She closed her eyes and murmured as he kissed her belly and then slowly moved her legs apart. She hated herself, because it was Langton’s face she held in her mind, Langton caressing her, and she was ashamed. They climaxed together and he lay beside her, panting, then reached out to draw her to him.
He sat up. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She turned off the bedside light.
He reached across her and turned it back on. “Tell me.”
“Pete, there is nothing to tell. I’m just really tired and I need to get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
Anna turned the light off. Pete lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, as she curled up with her back to him. Eventually she heard his breathing deepen and knew he was asleep. She was glad he wouldn’t hear that she was crying. Pete was frying eggs and bacon by the time she joined him in the kitchen. “Good morning, light of my life,” he said, grinning. “Morning. I didn’t hear you get up.” “You were out for the count. If you want to put some toast on, we can eat—everything is ready.” She kissed his cheek and then went over to the toaster. By the time she had fetched the butter and marmalade, he had wolfed down his eggs and bacon. She didn’t really feel that hungry, but nevertheless managed to clear her plate. Pete poured coffee and fetched the toast as he eulogized about breakfast being the best meal of the day. He explained how to cook French toast, beating up the eggs and making a frothy batter, then dipping in the slices of bread before frying them in butter. “It’s called ready steady heartburn,” she said, smiling.
“Ah, but not if you also eat mounds of fruit. I chop up loads and stick them in a plastic bag so you don’t have to bother with all the peeling and chopping. That’s what you need, by the way—a chopping board.”
Anna gestured to one of the drawers. “There’s one in there, I think.”
“Ah, I’ll know for next time.” He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to get off. I want to go back home and get a change of clothes. Maybe see you after work tonight?”
She smiled and nodded. “Let’s see how it goes.”
“I’ll call you later.” He kissed her again and was about to leave when he paused in the doorway. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Me? No. Why do you ask?”
“Just a feeling I get. Do you not want me to call you?”
“Yes, of course I do.” She turned away, not wanting to discuss arrangements for the evening.
“Okay, I’m off.”
She heard him whistling as he let himself out and felt guilty, so much so that she was almost about to hurry after him, but then she saw the greasy frying pan and grill, and the dirty dishes stacked in the sink. He was even more untidy in the kitchen than Langton had been.
She banged the frying pan down and swore—she was thinking about Langton again. She washed up with a fury until the kitchen was spick-and-span, then returned to the bedroom. Yet again Langton crossed her mind: the bed was unmade and wet towels from Pete’s shower were left strewn over the floor. By the time she had tidied up, she was going to have to get her skates on so as not to be late for work. Langton had put the pressure on. Warrants were to be issued for a search of Julia Brandon’s house and her sister Honour’s farm. In the meantime, surveillance teams had been organized for both properties and were already in position—hopefully, this time, far more covert in Julia’s case; they really didn’t want another terse visit from her lawyer, Simon Fagan. Anna had no sooner sat at her desk than Cunningham called to say she would like a few words. Anna could feel the tension as soon as she entered Cunningham’s office. “Langton’s breathing down my neck,” the DCI said.
“We really need to cover some of his suggestions. First up is the need to get more details on the drug squat. As you know, we’re still unable to find out who was running the place; all we have succeeded in doing to date is tracking down people trying to score. I want you to see what you can dig up, even if it means going back to all the people you interviewed. One of them has to know.” Anna shrugged. “I doubt if anyone I questioned will be of much use. They weren’t regulars and usually scored through Donny Petrozzo—”
Cunningham interrupted her. “That’s Paul Wrexler and Mark Taylor, correct?”
“Yes; there was also Eddie Court.”
“Right, go back and see if they withheld anything.”
“Do you also want me to go back and talk to Jeremy Webster, the boy who gave us all the details on the vehicles we’ve been tracing?”
“If you think it will be productive, yes.”
Anna waited a moment and then stood up. She had the distinct feeling that she was being sidelined; she would have preferred to have been privy to the surveillance and house searches, but when she asked about them, Cunningham was tetchy.
“Langton doesn’t want us to go in yet, just monitor what they’re up to as we try and firm up the loose ends. Phil is coordinating that side, and the rest of us are trying to get confirmation from passport and immigration of all the false passports and aliases we know were used by Alexander Fitzpatrick. If
we can get verification that he has been in the UK, then we act on that, but it is still only supposition.”
“You don’t think the longer we leave putting pressure on Julia and her sister means the more time they have to get him out of the country? Because I am sure that he is behind all this.”
“I know you are, Travis, I heard you last night, but we have to have proof, otherwise we are running around like headless chickens.
Our priority is to find out who killed Frank Brandon, then I think it could all fall into place.”
“Like a pack of cards,” Anna said, unable to hide her sarcasm. She returned to her office, where Gordon was waiting.
“The team are picking up where I left off, trying to track down the last guy that rented the boat Dare Devil,” he told her. “They are also checking into the possibility that it might have been sold a few years ago. I got ear damage from the hours I was on the phone.”
“So, you’re with me today, are you?”
“Yes—back to the Chalk Farm estate, right?”
Anna sighed and picked up her briefcase. “Can you get me the lists of vehicles that Jeremy Webster recounted, as we’ll also need to talk to him again.”
Gordon rolled his eyes. “Okay, but we’ve pretty well covered every listed vehicle, and traced the owner/drivers.”
“I am aware of that, Gordon, but maybe, just maybe there’s more to get out of him!”
Anna had just left the station when Phil got a call from Langton. Digging back into Fitzpatrick’s past, he had discovered a previous arrest— for drunk driving—while he was at university. He had been charged, fined, and given a suspended sentence. Langton wanted them to see whether the Oxfordshire police might have retained on file Fitzpatrick’s fingerprints. If that was unsuccessful, they were to contact the U.S. and see if the police there had anything that might assist in identifying their man.They still had unidentified fingerprints taken from the Mitsubishi: a part bloody thumbprint, and a smear of blood with a part palmprint.
The team were taken aback at how fast Langton was moving, firing off instructions and demanding results fast. Because of the pressure, they had already arranged the surveillances and warrants; he had also requested they talk to Julia’s lawyer regarding the two men seen in Wimbledon, and yet again question her financial adviser. Cunningham was handling the pressure, but appeared edgy. Phil was aware that she
seemed to be sidelining Anna on yet another wild-goose chase over at the Warren Estate. He had even hinted that, with so much going on, they needed her, but got the sharp response that Travis was going to have to buckle down and work with the team. She was too close to Langton and she didn’t need any one of them telling tales! The fact that Anna Travis, whether working solo or not, had brought in major results, Phil declined to mention. If the two women were in competition, then he would let them get on with it.
The estate was looking even more wretched. The rain was lashing down and, as Anna parked, she could see that even more flats had been boarded up. Whether or not the flapping police cordons had put off any fresh drug dealers, the place still had a desolate feel. Deep puddles formed across the parking area, rubbish had been left out in black bin liners, and dogs or cats, or maybe vermin, had been ripping them up, so garbage was strewn everywhere.
Anna hopped over the puddles with her umbrella toward Mrs. Webster’s flat. Gordon followed, holding his raincoat over his head. Mrs. Webster’s immaculate stone step and front door stood out among the other flats. She was very hesitant about letting them come inside, as they were both dripping from the rain. Jeremy was at work. Anna spent a few moments talking on the doorstep with Mrs. Webster before she and Gordon returned to her car and drove to Waitrose.
They took a parking ticket for the Waitrose car park and drove over to the allocated parking bays. The rain was still pouring as they looked for Jeremy. There was a long line of gathered trolleys left by a wall, but no sign of him. No wonder, Anna said. He was probably taking shelter inside. Then, just as she was about to get out of the car, she saw him.
He was entering from the exit gate, pushing five trolleys that had been left outside the car park. He was wearing a draped green plastic cape, the hood drawn up, almost hiding his face, and shiny black rubber overshoes, as he plodded through the puddles. Anna told Gordon to approach him and ask if they could talk to him for a few moments. She watched as
Gordon hurried over to Jeremy; he didn’t appear to even acknowledge him, but continued pushing his row of trolleys, collecting two more.
Gordon returned to the car and got in beside Anna. “Well, he’s a hard one to have a conversation with. He said he was working and couldn’t talk to me, or anyone else.”
“Go and speak to the manager; see if they have a staff room we can
»
use.
Gordon sighed. “Okay.”
She watched him trudge back across the car park and go into the store itself. He was gone for over ten minutes but then reappeared with a large blond woman, who went to talk to Jeremy while Gordon came back to Anna. “They’ve got a staff room at the rear of the store; we can use that. She’ll give him an early tea break—she said he won’t go in there unless it’s for his tea break.”
The manageress led them through the aisles toward the staff quarters. Two assistants were having coffee when they entered; the manageress said they could finish their break in her office.
Jeremy walked in and gave the two assistants a beaming smile. “Hello, Pauline.”
“Hello,Jay.”
“Hello, Carol.”
“Hi, Jay. Bit wet out there for you today.”
He looked genuinely pleased to see the two women; then his face became stern as he carefully removed his wet cloak. He took it to a peg, hung it up, and then removed his rubber overshoes. Anna was sitting at one of the tables, Gordon standing. Jeremy crossed to the small kitchen area and took a mug with his name on it. He checked it was clean, and then took an age to measure sugar, milk, and use the tea urn. He still had not even glanced at Anna; he passed Gordon to place his mug down on another table. He took out from his pocket a packet of disinfectant wipes to clean the table, but only the area he was going to use. He then placed down his mug, walked to a rubbish bin, and deposited his wipe.
“Mr. Webster,” Anna said quietly. He ignored her as he took out a small plastic container and placed it next to his mug. He sat down and
carefully opened it to remove two biscuits, which he set down side by side. “Mr. Webster, we met when I came to see you at your home.”
Jeremy nodded and bit into one of his biscuits. “I am on my tea break.”
“I really need to talk to you, and you were very helpful.”
He didn’t look at her, chewing with a studied look on his face.
“It’s about the lists of cars you provided for our investigation.”
He sipped his tea.
“We’ve been able to trace almost all of them.You really did a great job. If you don’t mind, I would just like to check over a couple of things.”
Gordon glanced at Anna; she could have been talking to the wall. Jeremy finished his second biscuit, carefully picking up the crumbs, then he sipped his tea. Anna had to sit patiently as he washed up his mug, placed it back on the hook, and washed his hands.
She tried again. “The manageress said that we could have a few moments to talk to you.”
He still did not make eye contact. Instead he took a deep breath, sighing and staring at the floor. “What do you want?”
Anna tried to explain as quickly as possible the reason she was there, and how much she appreciated him talking to her and helping their inquiry. She took out the list of car number plates he had passed on to her, and asked if there were any more, or anything he could tell her about the vehicles.
“They were illegally parked,” he said.
“Yes, I know.”
“They are not from the estate; they do not have parking permits.”
“Yes, we kno
w that.” Anna had highlighted the vehicles whose owners she had interviewed. “Is there anything else you could help me with?”
He didn’t want to handle the piece of paper, so she laid it flat on the table.
“I mean, maybe you saw the cars there more than one time?”
Jeremy glanced down and stared at the rows of numbers. He then lifted his left hand, pulled back the sleeve of his sweater to look at a large watch, then pulled his sleeve back and straightened it.
“You see, Mr. Webster, we have not as yet been able to identify the people using the flat to sell drugs.”
He walked back to his rain cape and shook it out. He stepped into his rubbers like a dancer. Anna glanced at Gordon and rolled her eyes.
“Can I help you with that?” Gordon said, with his hands out toward the cape.
Jeremy swished it aside like a bullfighter. “No.”
The sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. Jeremy stepped forward to pick it up. Anna thought he was going to put it into the bin, but he replaced it onto the table and returned to fastening his rain cape.
He didn’t actually point; it was more an odd jerk up and down of his right index finger. “Six-twenty-one APS,” he said as he pulled up his hood.
Anna looked to Gordon, trying to check which of the rows of numbers he was referring to. Then he repeated the date, time, and month in numbers only, and repeated the time—8:07—then he turned and swung open the door, walking out.
“Shit! Which car—did you get the number?” Gordon said.
Anna glanced down the paper. “Here you go—621 APS .. .Eddie Court, our witness for the tall man in the smart shoes in the Mitsubishi.”
“He also identified Frank Brandon,” Gordon said.
“Right; he admitted to being at the squat late that night, but Jeremy just stated that earlier time of seven minutes past eight.”
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