'Yes, we are, are you?'
'Yes, I've got a lecture and talks with a publisher there to bring out my latest book in Italian.' She gave a cool nod to Anna.
'Well, what a coincidence,' Langton said.
Anna clenched her hands. He was a dreadful actor. She felt like the proverbial spare part as he made conversation about her book. Professor Marshe asked what seat numbers they were in; he looked at Anna to check their tickets.
'Maybe we can switch so I can sit next to you?'
'Fine, yes; we're going to meet up with Wickenham's ex-wife.'
'Where are you staying?'
'The Hyatt Hilton.'
She laughed, showing her even white teeth.
'As if she didn't know,' Anna thought. No wonder Langton hadn't wanted Lewis or Barolli with him; she felt like the perfect stooge.
They boarded the plane. Langton was all over Professor Marshe, lifting her bag into the locker, checking her safety belt, even folding her spiffy little jacket so as not to crease it. Anna sat almost at the very back of the plane, next to a very large, sweating man whose many magazines and newspapers spilled out onto the floor. Langton and Professor Marshe were in the second row, just behind the curtain separating the economy and business class seats.
Arriving at Milan airport, Anna passed through customs way behind Langton and Professor Marshe. They seemed to be in deep conversation; he was constantly bending down to listen to her, guiding her with one hand at the small of her back. There was a familiarity about them that Anna found upsetting, though she had no right to feel that way. It seemed that the Professor was a regular visitor to Milan, and in the taxi they discussed which restaurant they should dine at that evening. She was staying at the Four Seasons hotel, so they dropped her off before they went on to the Hyatt. Langton waved goodbye as the valet took her bag and waited for her to go into the hotel.
As they drove away, Langton gave a sidelong glance to Anna. 'I don't want this spread around the Incident Room, Travis.'
'What exactly?'
'That she's here; they won't believe it's coincidental and they'll put two and two together and come up with Christ knows what, so let's just keep this between ourselves, okay?'
'Whatever,' she said, petulantly.
'I wouldn't be surprised if the Commander tipped her off, you know, that we were coming here. She even wants to talk to the ex-wife.'
'Will you allow her to do that?'
'I dunno, maybe. I was quite impressed with her yesterday.'
Before they could continue, Langton's mobile rang and he spent the rest of the journey to the hotel listening as Lewis reported the phone tap results. He hardly said a word until he cut off the call.
'Well, our suspect isn't making any calls, but his daughters have phoned each other and talked about their interviews. It seems the skinny one…'
'Emily,' Anna interjected.
'Yeah, she's in therapy.'
'I'm not surprised, she was very nervous, but she's also very bright.'
'She kept on asking Justine if she knew what we knew, and if so, who had told us; what do you make of that?'
'I don't know. Maybe their mother will enlighten us; didn't you say Justine was staying with her when we found Louise Pennel's body?'
'Yeah.' Langton looked out of the car as they arrived at the hotel. 'Do you want to have dinner this evening?' he asked, as the porter opened their car door.
'No thanks; best get an early night.'
Anna waited for her case to be removed from the boot before she followed Langton inside. He was standing at the reception desk, checking them both in; it gave Anna a moment to take in the vast foyer of the luxurious hotel. She had never stayed in one as elegant or as costly, and she was impressed at the way Langton appeared to be very much at ease. He dangled her key and told her that she was on the seventh floor. There was a sauna, health spa and swimming pool, if she felt like some exercise.
'I didn't bring my costume.'
'There's a boutique in that corner: you can buy yourself one.'
'I am not really in the swimming mood.'
'So you don't want to eat?'
'No, I'll get some room service sent up.'
'Fine, well, I'm in room 307; if you need me, just call down. Let's have breakfast in the morning.'
They stood side by side as the elevator glided up to the third floor. As the doors opened, Langton was checking his text messages.
'Goodnight, Travis.'
'Goodnight.' The doors closed and she continued up to the seventh floor. The porter was waiting at the door of her room, and gestured for her to go in ahead of him. It was large and very spacious with a double bed and a small balcony. She gave him a tip; as soon as the door closed behind him, she flopped onto the bed. Somewhere in her mind she had been scripting a scenario of her and Langton together, trying to work out how she would react to him making a pass at her. Now she realised he had not the slightest intention of doing so; she felt foolish and angry with herself that she could have so misjudged him.
Langton left the hotel and walked to the Four Seasons where Professor Marshe waited in a pale blue chiffon cocktail dress, carrying a small silver handbag that matched her sandals, looking cool and sophisticated. 'Not brought little Travis with you?'
'No, she's getting an early night.'
'Do we eat here or would you like to go somewhere else?'
They took a taxi to Bebel's on the Via San Marco.
Remote in hand, Anna switched the TV from channel to channel. She decided she'd watch Titanic as she hadn't seen it the first time round. She had eaten her dinner and drunk half a bottle of wine from the mini bar; wrapped in her towelling robe, she propped up the pillows and settled back on her bed. After only fifteen minutes, she fell asleep. She woke with a start, just as the Titanic was sinking; the room phone was ringing and so was her mobile.
Anna scrambled off the bed, delved in her bag for her mobile and at the same time tried to reach for the phone on the bedside table. She did a perfect pratfall as her mobile cut out and the room phone fell silent. She swore, picking herself up, and checked caller ID on her mobile. She tried to call back, but it would not connect. She was about to call down to the front desk when the phone rang again.
'Travis?'
'Yes.'
'It's Mike Lewis. I've been trying to contact the Gov, his mobile must be turned off and he's not in his room.'
'He may have gone out.'
'Well that's bloody obvious! Can you contact him?'
'I don't know where he's gone; is it important?'
'It might be. I know you are meeting up with Wickenham's ex-wife in the morning, so I wanted to run this by him.'
'You want to run whatever it is by me and I'll pass it on?'
'It was a call from Justine Wickenham to her sister.'
'Let me get my notebook.' She put the receiver on the bedside table and went to her briefcase.
'Ready when you are,' she said, pencil poised.
Lewis coughed and asked if he should play the call or just give her the nitty-gritty.
'Mike, just tell me what you've got.'
'Okay. They first talked about whether or not they had contacted their mother to tell her they had been interviewed; neither had. Justine kept on asking if Emily was okay, and then asked if she had told them anything; by them, I reckon she means us. Then Justine asked if they knew about what had happened. Emily said she didn't say anything and got quite upset and Justine tried to calm her down; she said, and I quote, no charges ever happened, so they wouldn't be likely to know, but if they were to ask her anything about it she should refuse to tell them because it would all blow up again!
Anna jotted down the conversation in shorthand in her notebook.
'You still listening?'
'Yes yes, go on.'
'So this is what made me want to tell the Gov: Emily became very distressed and Justine kept on trying to calm her down, but she got really uptight. She said that she wished she had gone
through with it and made him pay for what he had done to her, but it was family pressure that had persuaded her.'
'Just slow down a second. Okay, then what?'
'The next part was inaudible as she was crying: she said that it was all right for Justine, because it hadn't happened to her. Justine then said that she had tried to protect her because it had: he had constantly tried to do it to her.'
'Do it?' Anna asked.
'Yes, that's what she said. Emily, in a real state, then said that even if he had done it with you, it was her that had to have the abortion, not Justine; she then went on to say how much she hated him!
'Him meant who?' Anna injected.
'Well, we take it to be her father that molested her, or performed an abortion on his own daughter. It could have been her brother that had sex with her, but as the father is a surgeon, I'd say he would have done the abortion.'
Anna wrote it all down; Lewis said they had cut the call short as Justine said someone had arrived at her flat.
'Okay I'll relay this to the Gov; thanks for calling.'
Anna put the phone down and studied her notes, then put in a call to Langton's room but was rerouted to the hotel's answer service. She tried his mobile, but it was dead. She then called Professor Marshe at the Four Seasons and left a message for Langton to call her urgently. It was by now eleven-thirty; she presumed, correctly, that he was still at dinner.
Anna pottered around her suite for another three-quarters of an hour and then went to bed. She almost hurtled off the bed in shock when her door was rapped. She hurried to open it.
'What's so urgent?' he asked, leaning against the door frame. She could tell by looking at him he had had quite a bit to drink.
'Lewis was trying to contact you, but your mobile was turned off.'
Langton swore and fished in his pocket, muttering that he'd turned it off when he went to dinner. He sat on her bed as he checked his text messages, frowning.
'What did he want?'
'They recorded a phone call between Justine and Emily Wickenham that they thought you should know about before we interview his ex-wife.'
'What's so important?'
Langton flopped back on her bed as Anna repeated what Lewis had told her. 'The girls might have put two and two together and come up with a lot more. I mean, they did not at any time mention that it was her father or who had done the abortion.'
Langton yawned, staring at the ceiling, then leaned up on one elbow. 'Tomorrow, before we leave, get back to them; if charges were started, even if they were withdrawn, someone somewhere has to have a record of them.'
'My God.'
He looked at Anna. 'My God what?'
'In the Black Dahlia case, there was a court case involving their suspect: his own daughter accused him of molestation and attempted rape.'
Langton sat up. 'Yeah, if I remember rightly, when they questioned his wife, she stood by him. How old was the daughter?'
'Twelve when the accusations of rape and sexual harassment happened, but the trial didn't begin until she was fifteen.'
Langton rubbed his hair. 'What was the outcome? I've forgotten.'
'The allegations were proved unfounded; they claimed his daughter was suffering from delusions and the case was dropped.'
Langton gave her a sidelong glance and yawned again. 'What a mine of information you are, Travis.'
'Do you want a coffee or tea or something?'
'Nope. Get off to my bed. Did you eat?'
'Yes, thank you.'
'Did I wake you?'
'You did, actually.'
'Sorry.'
'I thought you might want to call the Incident Room; they were concerned that they couldn't contact you.'
'You tell them who I was with?'
'I just said you might have gone out for dinner.'
'Very thoughtful. Thank you, Travis.'
She hesitated. 'Do you mind if I say something?'
'I haven't before, what is it?'
'I think you are drinking too much.'
'What?'
'I said, I think you are drinking too much.'
'I've just been out for dinner, for God's sake!'
'I don't mean tonight; sometimes I can smell it on your breath in the mornings. If you need help, you should get some.'
'Drinking too much,' he said thickly.
'Maybe it is not my place to say anything, but I am working with you and I can tell when you have been on the sauce and when you have not.'
'It's none of your business.'
'Listen, I know you must really be irritated by me even bringing this up but I'm only doing so because I really care about you and I am concerned.'
'I really appreciate your concern, Travis!' he snapped sarcastically as he walked towards the door.
'Do you want to talk about the taped call?'
'No, I'm tired. Goodnight.' He closed the door behind him, unusually for him, very quietly.
Anna sighed and went back to bed. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything to him, but they had been quite close; obviously not close enough.
DAY TWENTY-SIX
The following morning, Anna ordered room service again. She wondered if she should give Langton a wakeup call, but it turned out not to be necessary, as he called her himself to say he would be in the lobby at nine o'clock. Though he made no reference to what she had said the previous night, he sounded very cold and aloof. She dressed in one of her good suits and a cream silk shirt, and went downstairs to find he was already waiting for her.
'I've already called her and she is expecting us; said it would only take a ten-minute drive.'
He was wearing a linen suit and a white, open-collared shirt. He caught her glancing at him. 'What?'
'Nothing. You look as if you slept well.'
'I did, thank you. Did you?'
'Took me a while to get off. I was worried that what I had said to you might get me into trouble.'
'Travis, your concern was appreciated; maybe I have been imbibing a little too much lately. Let's just forget it, all right?'
She nodded. 'Have you had breakfast?' she asked.
'Nope. Let's get a coffee: the cappuccino here is good.'
They went to one of the cafes inside the hotel. He ate a croissant and drank his coffee, hardly speaking as he constantly checked his messages, making no mention of their contents. Then it was time to leave.
Dominique Wickenham's apartment block on the Via Spiga was very exclusive and modern. The reception area was like a greenhouse, all glass with an abundance of plants. The doorman led them over to the gleaming gilt elevators that would take them up to the penthouse apartment. At floor four, the doors glided open to reveal a thickly carpeted corridor with yet more plants. Apartment C4 appeared to be the only one on the floor, with a large white front door with brass studs but no number. They rang a discreet bell and waited. After a few moments, the door was opened by an elderly maid in a black dress and small white apron. Langton showed her his ID and she smiled and nodded, gesturing for them to enter the hallway behind her.
The hallway was empty apart from a massive display of orchids on a glass-topped table. They were led to a set of white double doors, which were opened by Dominique Wickenham. She was a well-preserved woman in her mid-forties, with an amazing figure, wearing grey slacks with a cashmere scarf knotted over her shoulders; her white silk blouse was set off by a luminous set of pearls. She was very tanned, her blonde hair was streaked and she wore large pearl and diamond earrings.
'Please come in; would you like a tea or coffee?'
'No thank you,' Langton said, then introduced Anna.
Dominique wore a large diamond ring on her wedding finger. She also had a gold charm bracelet that shimmered and twinkled with gold and diamond charms.
'Please sit down; there's iced water if you need it.'
'Thank you,' Langton said, as he glanced around the vast, sun-drenched room. The windows were floor to ceiling, affording them a clear view across the city.
The thick carpet was pale pink, the sofas and chairs a slightly darker shade with matching cushions. Anna sank into the sofa; it was so large that if she sat back, her feet would be off the ground. Langton rested back in one of the armchairs; being so tall, he didn't have the same problem.
'You have a very beautiful apartment.'
'Thank you.' Dominique Wickenham sat on the arm of one of the chairs opposite him. Her grey high heels matched her slacks and, though she smiled with glossy lips that Anna was certain had been enhanced by cosmetic surgery, she was tapping one foot.
'So, here we are,' she said. She had a deep throaty voice and a distinctly French accent.
Langton began quietly, asking her about her husband, and saying briefly that they were there as they were heading a murder enquiry. He took out the photographs of Louise Pennel and Sharon Bilkin. She did not recognise either.
'Perhaps you have had a wasted journey.' She gave an apologetic smile.
Langton smiled back and showed her the sketch. She laughed softly, and passed it back.
'It is a very good likeness.'
'This man is a suspect in the murder of these two girls.'
'Oh, I thought it was my husband.'
'He does resemble him very closely; it was compiled using statements from witnesses that saw this man with both the victims.'
'Good heavens; you suspect Charles is involved?'
Langton replaced the photographs and sketch without answering. 'Your husband is a surgeon.'
'Yes; well, he was, he has retired now — and I am his ex-wife: we divorced some time ago.'
'But you still retain your married name?'
'For convenience and for my daughters.'
'They would be Justine and Emily.'
'Yes, that is correct.'
'Can you tell me if on the ninth of January this year, your daughter Justine stayed here with you?'
She tried to wrinkle her lineless brow and crossed to an ornate desk. She flicked through a small white leather diary, then smiled.
'Yes, it was for a weekend; my girls come and stay as often as possible.'
'But they don't stay at the Hall very often.'
'No, they do not; they do not get along too well with their father. He can be very strict and you know, girls will be girls.'
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