Anna went into her office and collected her briefcase. She could still see the strange jabbing pencil dents in her desk made by Langton. She ran her finger over them, and realized the indentations were her own initials, A. T
CHAPTER 23
Pete was appalled that, since he had last been at Anna s, the flat was still in the same state, as if she had only just moved in. Anna opened a bottle of wine and they ate fish and chips, sitting on kitchen stools. When Pete asked how the case was going, Anna went into an edited version of what Langton thought went down.
Wafting his fork around, Pete mimicked Langton, launching into the various coincidences, especially the Most Wanted man in the UK and the USA leaving his drugs to be stolen from the jeep, not once but twice! "You know what I think?" he ended up.
Anna scooped up some chips in her fingers, dipping them in ketchup. "Surprise me."
"I think you've lost him. All this surmising about who did what and where, is crap: the reality is that Alexander Fitzpatrick is way out of your reach."
"I don't agree."
"Agree or not, you are still facing the fact that he walked into the station, hoodwinked the lot of you, walked out armed with the address of whatsit, D'Anton, picked up his wife, collected what you presume to be his missing drugs, and oh, I almost forgot, strangled her to death!"
Anna pushed her half-eaten meal away. He was starting to annoy her.
"Why this delay in bringing in the only suspects other than Fitzpatrick: Julia Brandon's sister, and her husband?" Pete demanded.
"The surveillance reports are giving us a day-to-day rundown; the couple can't make a move without us knowing."
'If the surveillance guys are as obvious as they usually are ..."
She snapped at him. "They are not! We've got a crew digging up Part of a field for, supposedly, BT, and another crew laying down cables ..." "Very inventive!" he said sarcastically."Yes—and costly. I shouldn't even be telling you all this.""Why not? Who the hell do you think I am going to repeat it to?"Anna sighed and sipped her wine; she was tired and getting a headache, so she fetched a bottle of aspirin. Pete watched her, then picked up the dirty dishes and crossed to the sink."I'm going to take a shower," Anna said wearily.
"Terrific. Is that an invitation for me to join you, or should I go home? Sometimes you get me feeling like I should have a bike with Takeaway, Deliveries printed on it!" "I'm sorry." "You've got a headache?" "One coming; I can feel it tight round the back of my head.""Ah, so that's the excuse tonight, is it? You've got a headache! Well, fine. You go and shower; I'll clean up and get my coat." Anna didn't answer; she walked out, leaving him stacking the dishwasher. As she was about to step into the shower, she heard the front door slam shut. She had no sooner showered, and got into her pajamas, than the doorbell rang.He stood on the doorstep, glowering. "I can't get my car out. The gates won't open without the remote and I don't know the code."Anna wrapped her arms around him and said she was sorry. She was about to pass him the code, when he kicked the door shut behind him. "Let's go to bed."She didn't feel she could reject him. By the time he had showered and joined her in bed, she could hardly keep her eyes open. He kissed her lovingly and she knew they would have sex. She didn't want that, but went through the motions, hoping it would be over as quickly as possible. It was a strange feeling; her mind was so distant from her actions. It was Pete who fell asleep first, lying next to her, one arm resting across her chest protectively. She gently stroked his hair, almost as if he was a child, feeling his warm breath against her neck, and a little guilty that she had not wanted him to make love to her. That was what really played on her mind: not the case, thankfully, but the fact that her relationship with Pete was for her just as friends. She didn't even think ofLangton; instead, as she closed her eyes, it felt like she was floating above herself, detached from Pete, looking down at her nakedness entwined with his and feeling nothing.She woke with a jolt when his wristwatch started buzzing. It was after eight and she went into panic mode. The team were to organize the big press gathering and she wanted to be present. By the time she had dressed and gulped down a cup of black coffee, they were both ready to leave. As they entered the car park, he kissed her and said he would call her later; maybe if she had time, they could take in a movie.Anna wasn't really listening as she threw her briefcase into the Mini and switched on the engine. She reckoned if she put her foot down, she'd just make it for nine. Wrong.The garage doors refused to budge. Other tenants eager to leave for work were in the same predicament, and there were heated rows with Mr. Burk, the security manager, who was attempting to open the gates manually; he could only manage to get them open a few inches before they clanged shut again.James Fullford kicked at the closed gates. "I should get a fucking boat! This is the third time in less than a month this has happened!" He turned to Anna and Pete. "I could fucking anchor it on the river by the time this idiot gets these working; even if he does open them, there is no way I can make my meeting in time. I'm going to lose a fortune." He stomped around as more tenants appeared and stood helplessly, watching Burk as he tried to operate the doors, but they held firm.By the time Anna was able to get a taxi to the press conference, it had already disbanded, so she caught a tube up to Chalk Farm. She knew she would be in the firing line; making an excuse about the garage doors would not be acceptable. Thankfully, Langton was not at the station—but Cunningham was, and she was furious. Anna was about to apologize when the photograph of the missing Adrian Summers caught her eye. Anna's mind started ticking. She could feel it down to the balls °f her feet, jigsaw pieces tumbling, and she had to catch her breath to steady herself. She snatched down the photograph and almost ran to her office. "Gordon, get in here, now!" She didn't even realize she had done a familiar gesture: the Langton hand waft, which had always irritated her. "You recognize him?" She held upthe photograph. Gordon hurried in after her. "No.""Nor did I, until I looked at it from a distance. Take a good look, Gordon."He stared at the photograph as she moved around her desk, holding it at chest height. "Go back to when we went to the farmhouse, Gordon."He still looked nonplussed. She was exasperated, wanting him to get the same recognition. "The boy we saw when we were there, remember? The one who walked into the yard. Is it him?""Christ, yes. Yes, I think it is!" Gordon picked up the photograph as she tossed it onto the desk."I'm bloody sure it is," she said as she heaved fdes onto her desk from where they were stacked on the floor. "Okay, now we go back to the painting in the farmhouse: the boat.""Yes, it was there and then not—I remember!" Gordon could feel her energy; it made him nervous."Okay, you tell me why would anyone remove it? It was of an old boat belonging to Alexander Fitzpatrick, right?""Yes, Dare Devil, but we had confirmation that it had been sold," Gordon said."That's not my point." She began to give out orders. She wanted the marina in Brighton checked out; she wanted to know of every boat anchored there for the past six months and any boat coming and going; she wanted owners' names—and fast. "Come on, Gordon, get thinking. Alexander Fitzpatrick's rented house was in Brighton. What if he had a boat anchored there at the marina as well? We've not been able to trace him staying at any hotels, but we know he's been in London—so get onto it."Anna didn't even put forward their findings to Cunningham, but instead left the station a little later and, in a patrol car, went over to Scotland Yard. After checking in at the reception, she took the lift up to Langton's office.She could hardly contain herself as she approached him. "I think we' ve got him cornered," she said.She had never been to his office before and was surprised at the size f it; his desk and comfortable sitting area were impressive. There were numerous family photographs of his ex-wife and the two children, Kitty and Tommy. That took her aback, as it was so unexpected: the domesticity of his life of which she now knew so little."Come on, let's hear it." Langton sat in a large leather swivel chair behind his desk, but Anna couldn't sit, she was so eager to give him the update.Langton listened as she described the sighting at the farmhouse of Adrian Summers, certain she was correct. She gave details of how, aft
er two hours, Gordon had traced a large boat called Maiden to Brighton Marina. The boat had to give the harbormaster details of ownership: the name was one of Alexander Fitzpatrick's aliases. The same boat was now anchored in Chelsea harbor. According to the harbormaster, it had been registered there for only one month."I went along with your theory, but now I've come up with a slightly different one." Anna's chest heaved because she was talking so fast; Langton had to gesture for her to slow down. Anna dragged out papers from her briefcase. One of the things that had bothered her was the scrap of paper with directions to the farm—written, they believed, by Damien Nolan. How had that paper got into the Mitsubishi's glove compartment? If, as they believed, Fitzpatrick knew the location, why would there be directions? Unless ...
"The white van hired to collect the drugs: what if that van was driven by Adrian Summers to Honey Farm? We've so far not found any trace of the drugs: what if they were taken there, straight from Gatwick, and the directions were for him to find it? The van is then emptied and driven back to London by Summers. By this time, the stuff from that glove compartment has been put into the Mitsubishi: this includes the directions, money, and maybe one box of drugs—for sales purposes, you know? Fentanyl is not a common street trader's drug, right?" Anna fumbled with her array of papers. "This would place Fitzpatrick at the farmhouse when Julius D'Anton is sniffing around the cottage, trying
to find some antiques. He takes advantage of the jeep sitting there and nicks it. On board he has, as you suggested, the box of drugs."
The desk phone rang. Langton picked it up, then switched it to speakerphone. Phil, who had been sent to Chelsea harbor with two other officers from the team, was now able to verify that the boat was occupied by a young blond guy, identified as Adrian Summers. There was no sign of Fitzpatrick, or the children, but the harbormaster said he had seen two small boys on deck two days ago. As the call continued, with Phil obviously somewhere he could monitor the boat, he swore. Walking along the harbor was the au pair, carrying two bags of groceries.
Langton gave out the order to maintain surveillance, and not to approach the boat. He was silent for a few moments before asking Anna to take him through exactly what had happened on her first visit to the farm. She described how they had been lost, so had stopped at the small cottage and spoken to the elderly woman who had directed them to the farm. They had found Honour around the back of the house, tending to the henhouse. Anna went on to explain about the painting of the boat that was subsequently removed.
She took out a map and indicated the route Julia Brandon had taken on her last journey, from Wimbledon out to the A3 and then a loop, as if going back to the M40. "What if she knew she was being followed and tried to throw off the surveillance vehicle? They kept on saying she was driving at a reckless speed; what if she was trying to head toward Brighton, and the boat?"
Langton stood up. They had enough supposition, he said; now they had to act on the possibility that they had their man cornered. If he attempted to withdraw any of the money that he had forced Rushton to transfer for him, they could track him. So far there had been no withdrawals, and still no sighting of him, so where was he?
As they went down in the lift together, he smiled at her, and touched the nape of her neck. "Good work, little one. You are working on the adrenaline rush. I know just what it feels like."The touch of his fingers to her neck sent shock waves through her, but she said nothing. He was right, she was buzzing.
She turned to him. "They searched the farm, right? Found nothing. If Honour was tipped off by my visit, enough to remove the painting, then she would also know enough to be wary about the drugs. I think they were stashed in the henhouse."
They were heading toward the patrol car, when Anna stopped in her tracks. "She was very relaxed when the search went down—because she knew we'd find nothing." She looked up at him. "We never searched the cottage, did we! The old lady said it had been refurbished, with all mod cons. She could be connected—I mean, she could have tipped Honour off about me making inquiries, which was why she was locking up the henhouse."
Anna was rubbing her head so that her hair stood up on end, as the sirens screamed and they sped across London. Langton turned around in the front seat and touched her knee. "Just relax. I agree with you. I think we've got Fitzpatrick cornered. Now we bring in Honour and Damien Nolan."
The station was on full alert as Langton arranged for a helicopter to get to Oxfordshire fast. The local constabulary were on standby to assist in the arrests, and to instigate the search of the cottage. Via their surveillance officers, they were told that both Damien and Honour were still at home. Langton had said he wanted to go in very softly, no sirens blazing. He spent considerable time orchestrating the hit. In the meantime, the surveillance on the Maiden in Chelsea harbor was stepped up and they ran a check on the cottage, specifically the old lady.
By the time the helicopter had landed in a field over a mile from the farmhouse, Anna's stomach was in a tight knot. At the Chelsea Marina, there was still no sighting of Fitzpatrick, so the surveillance officers were instructed to stay back and wait. Langton was using his mobile, listening to a call; when he shut it off, he gave one of his strange short laughs. "She's his fucking mother! Mrs. Doris Eatwell—previously married to Alistair Fitzpatrick—and she's owned that cottage for forty years. "The patrol cars were lined up at the end of the lane, leading into the dirt track to the farmhouse. It was a clear sunny day. As everyone waited for orders, it was the sound of birds twittering that Anna found extraordinary; on the surface, it was all so peaceful. Langton was concerned that somehow Adrian Summers might have been contacted, so decided that they should move in to the boat at the same time. The two sisters were dressed as boys, so he made certain that Phil had photographs to prove their identity, though he was sure that they were Julia Brandon's children.It was now 4:15 P.M. Langton and Anna, in the lead patrol car, drove past the cottage and stopped. Behind them came two more patrol cars and a van, with four locals to begin the search of the cottage and outhouses. Anna watched them heading up the flower-bordered pathway. Before they reached the front door, Mrs. Eatwell opened it. She appeared frightened as they showed their warrants; then they were inside. At the same time, two more uniformed officers with sniffer dogs approached the garage. Snapping off the padlock, they heaved open the old wooden door, which swung upward and back into the small garage. Two more uniformed officers went over to the tumbledown greenhouse and lean-to sheds.The search began.It didn't last long. The officer who had entered the garage walked out and signaled to Langton. They had found the "mother lode," protected by only a cheap padlock and covered by a tarpaulin. "Crates up to the ceiling, about thirty of them." Langton clapped his hands and gave the go-ahead to the driver to continue up the lane. Anna looked from the rear window to see Mrs. Eatwell being led to a patrol car and helped inside. She appeared to be crying.It took no more than five minutes to drive up the narrow lane and reach the open gate. The car behind Langton drove around to the rear of the farmhouse. Hemmed in, with more officers still in their surveillance positions, Langton and Anna walked around the side of the house. Honour was baking bread, her hands covered in flour. Damien was sitting at the kitchen table, marking up papers from his lectures. Langton leaned on the half-open stable door and showed his warrant card.Anna was fascinated by Honour's reaction. On hearing she was being arrested, she asked if she could wash her hands. Damien screwed back the top of the fountain pen he had been using and carefully placed itdown on top of the papers. They were separated and led to two different patrol cars, and driven past the cottage that now looked as if it was under siege, with so many uniformed officers around. Honour showed no reaction when she was told that Mrs. Eatwell had also been arrested. Damien sat with his head bowed, hands held loosely together; he glanced at the action around the cottage but then, like his wife, chose to say nothing.At the local station, they were read their rights and the charges against them, and told that they would be driven to London to answer questions. N
either said a word; they did not appear resigned or scared about their situation, but quietly confident. Damien had written down names of two solicitors he wished to represent him and his wife. Phil had gone on board the Maiden at exactly four-fifteen. The two children were watching a DVD on a small TV in the main cabin. Adrian Summers was lounging on a bunk bed, reading some maps. Mai Ling was cooking their tea; she started screaming hysterically when they showed their warrants. The little girls had short, boyish haircuts, but were well and, although initially frightened by the appearance of so many officers, were excited to be driven in a patrol car with the siren wailing, their au pair seated between them. Adrian Summers acted the innocent, but then grew quiet as he too was led out to a patrol car. By the time arrangements had been made for the children to be placed in care with a family liaison officer, Adrian Summers had been read his rights, and the charges of drug trafficking and perverting the course of justice. He had become very agitated, and was placed in a holding cell. When Langton and Anna questioned Mrs. Eatwell, she became very distressed and a doctor was called to examine her. She said she didn't know what was in the boxes and had agreed to allow them to stay there because her son had asked her to help him. She recalled that he had only seen him a few times in the past eight months and had had little or no contact with him for twenty years. She had only met her grandchildren once, when they had stayed with their mother at the cottage. She had no idea where her son was and insisted he was not a bad person. As Langton stood up to leave the room, he had leaned close to Mrs. Eatwell. "I don't think you ever knew your son because, believe me, he is a very bad man. And with or without your help, we will find him."At the same time, Damien and Honour were being driven to London. It was almost 9 P.M. when they were placed in cells beside Adrian. Meanwhile, Langton and the team had a major briefing session. From his initial elation, Langton now seemed moody and tired. They had plenty of ammunition to fire, but no trace of Alexander Fitzpatrick himself. The boat was impounded and a search was in progress. They also had the mother lode of drugs, and their suspect's very own mother. Due to her age, she had been returned to stay at her cottage, along with a female officer.To give them time to orchestrate the interviews, and arrange for solicitors to be present, Langton decided that they would wait until first thing in the morning to interview Damien and Honour, but would see what they could get out of Adrian Summers that evening. In the meantime, he wanted the search for Fitzpatrick to continue; by now, the evening papers were plastering his photograph on every front page. The TV news and morning papers were told that arrests in connection with the inquiry had been made. Langton also asked that they give good coverage to the fact that they had discovered drugs to the value of ten to twelve million pounds.Adrian Summers was represented by a solicitor from the station's lists. She was young and a tad inexperienced but, at such short notice, was the only one available. Summers had no police record, and by the time he had spoken to his solicitor, he was very scared. Knowing what heavy charges were leveled at him, he gave them more than they could have expected.Via Adrian, the jigsaw puzzle with so many of its pieces still missing finally took shape. At long last, Langton got what he had wanted from day one: a time line.First, they got from Adrian that he did not know Alexander Fitzpatrick's real name. He knew him as Anthony Collingwood; however,Langton suggested they now use "Fitzpatrick" for clarity Adrian was asked about the theft of the Mitsubishi jeep. Although it had been bought in Adrian's name prior to the theft, it had been paid for by Fitzpatrick. Adrian said that, while Fitzpatrick maintained the rented house in Hove, he was aboard his boat in Spain, preparing to bring it to the Brighton Marina.Adrian was getting into debt repaying his student loan, when he met Julius D'Anton in Brighton. D'Anton was quite a familiar figure to the students, and had at one time run a shop in The Lanes. Though he went bankrupt and sold up, it was well known that he could always get a stash of dope to sell on to the students. He still kept up the odd visit to The Lanes, rummaging around for antiques, and it was there that he got into conversation with Adrian.Over coffee, Adrian told D'Anton how broke he was. D'Anton, seeing the jeep, suggested he should sell it. Adrian explained that he didn't own it, it belonged to the guy he worked for. However, it was registered and insured in his name. D'Anton said he could pull a bit of a scam. He knew someone—Stanley Leymore—who would take the jeep and give it new plates. Adrian could report it stolen, claim the insurance money, and get the same jeep back and split the insurance cash. Taken with the idea, Adrian let him drive off with the jeep.Langton asked if Fitzpatrick had been aware of the scam at any time. All he knew, Adrian said, was that the insurance had paid out. D'Anton took a few hundred from the insurance money, and Leymore even more. Leymore had fixed the engine numbers and new plates, but had no time to do anything else because Fitzpatrick had arrived back in Brighton sooner than expected.Adrian remembered that, around this time, Fitzpatrick had said he was having problems with his ex-partner—and he was very short of funds. "It was about the only time I ever saw him really angry. He told He that he had a major deal going down, so he had to raise money and fast." Adrian swore that he had no idea who Fitzpatrick was, nor that the "major deal" was drugs. He had been hired by him eighteen months prior, when he had knocked on the door at the rented house in Hove to ask if he needed any odd jobs done. He had done some sweeping up of leaves and window cleaning in the area. Fitzpatrick offered to buy and insure him a vehicle, the Mitsubishi, so he could act as his driver when he needed to make trips back and forth to London."So he came and went?""Yeah. I knew he was organizing the boat. Like I said, he left Brighton to go to Spain to bring it into the marina." Adrian became increasingly nervous when they moved on to the hire of the white van. He admitted that he had made up the plastic stick-on logo, and also that he had helped Fitzpatrick load up the crates. Adrian then clarified another detail: he had indeed driven the white van with the drugs to Oxfordshire, to leave at Honey Farm. Honour had helped to unload the crates, and they had stashed them in the henhouse."Where was Fitzpatrick at this point?"Adrian puffed out his cheeks, trying to remember the exact order of events. Eventually he said that, as far as he could recall, Fitzpatrick was on the Isle of Man—didn't know why. His job was to ship out the crates to the farm. He returned to London, deposited the keys of the van back at the rental, and burned the logos. Then he got a phone call from Fitzpatrick, worried about how safe the crates were, wanting them moved; he also wanted one box to be retained and brought back to the house in Brighton.Adrian then drove the jeep back to Honey Farm and moved the crates, having split open one and removed one box. He was driving back down the dirt track when he saw Julius D Anton, whose van had driven into a ditch. Adrian gave him a lift into the village, to arrange for the local garage to haul the van out and repair it. At this point, D'Anton asked if he could borrow some money, as he had a good deal on a table in the local antiques store. He would split the profits with Adrian. When the table wouldn't fit inside the Mitsubishi, the deal was off.Adrian, with D'Anton as passenger, drove them both back to London. During the journey, D'Anton said he needed to sleep—he was having the sweats—and he curled up on the back passenger seat. He then saw the box and wanted to know what it was, but Adrian was very cagey and refused to tell him. "I should have just said it was cleaning fluid, you know, anything; D'Anton was a real nosey sod. By menot coming clean, he sussed there was something inside the box and wouldn't stop going on and on about it."At this point, Adrian's solicitor leaned close and whispered to him; he bowed his head, listening. It was obvious that she was advising him to keep quiet. Langton swung back in his chair, and urged Adrian to tell the truth. If he assisted them and was totally honest, it would prove beneficial. He soft-soaped about how their main priority was the capture of Fitzpatrick. Adrian was nervous and sweating, but went on.D'Anton had opened the box and, never having seen the vials of Fentanyl before, asked Adrian what the stuff was. All Adrian knew about them was that Fitzpatrick had taken crates of the same stuff from Gatwick customs. Via his mobile phone, D'Ant
on had gone onto the Internet to find out exactly what it was. He told Adrian that it was worth a fortune and that he had a friend who could off-load the stuff. Adrian had become very anxious about the whole thing."Did he give you the name of this friend?" Langton asked.Adrian sipped at a beaker of water, unable to remember the name; just that he thought it was Italian."Donny something," he recalled after a moment. "That's all I can remember."Langton wrote down the name Donny Petrozzo, but did not repeat it to Adrian; he just began to tap the table with his pen. "Go on, Adrian. You're in the jeep with D'Anton; what happened next?"They waited as Adrian squeezed his hands together; sweat hung in small drops from his hair."Let me help you." Langton opened his folder and put down the photographs of the dead Julius D'Anton. "You have anything to do with this?""No, no, I swear before God."Langton pushed the photographs farther toward the now-shaking boy. "So, if you didn't have anything to do with this, keep talking. We are treating his death as murder, Adrian."Adrian spent a few moments whispering to his solicitor. She asked for a bathroom break to confer with her client. Langton agreed to ten nunutes. They left a uniformed officer in the room. When Langton and Anna returned to the interview room, Adrian seemed calmer. He spoke quietly, picking up from where he had left off.He said that D'Anton kept on and on at him, saying that he could help deal the drugs. He even wanted Adrian to contact Fitzpatrick, which he refused to do. By this time, Adrian had come off the motorway at a roundabout, as he wanted to head back to Brighton. At some point—he couldn't exactly remember where, but they were stuck at traffic lights—D'Anton snatched up the box and got out of the car; he spilled a whole load of the vials over the backseat. "I couldn't do anything; he was running and I was stuck in the traffic. I couldn't overtake. I saw him get into a taxi up ahead."Langton leaned forward. "Keep going.""I got back to Brighton, and I was in a real state because of what had happened. I called Fitzpatrick, told him everything. He said I had to sort it out, but I didn't know where D'Anton lived—all I had was his mobile number. I kept on calling him, but just got his answer phone. Then Fitzpatrick came back. I expected him to go ballistic, but he just made me repeat it all over again to him, and then I gave him the number."Langton looked to Anna, shaking his head. "Try that one more time, Adrian, because I don't believe you.""It's the truth!""You expect me to believe that Fitzpatrick loses drugs worth thousands and he just accepts it?""I told you, he was just really kind of calm. In a way, I'd have felt better if he'd punched me out, but he didn't.""So he made contact with D'Anton?""Yeah—well, I heard him talking to D'Anton; he said he'd like to meet this dealer. I heard him asking about customers. He repeated,'City types?' and he laughed. After he finished the call, he told me to give the house a thorough clean. He went out in the jeep about an hour later. He took the packages that had fallen out of the box and put them in a plastic carrier bag. I spent two days cleaning up, wiping all the surfaces as he had instructed me, then I went onto the boat. He didn't come back for about three days, and then he said he had to go back to the Isle of Man.""With you on board?""No. He gave me a few hundred quid, and said he would be in touch if and when he needed me. That time, he was more angry. He said that if I wanted to make a lot of money, and if I wanted to stay working for him, it was vital I keep my mouth shut.""Did he threaten you?"Adrian nodded. "He said that he would always be able to find me, and if I fouled up again, he'd kill me. I went back to college and didn't hear from Fitzpatrick for a few months. Then his boat came back to the Brighton Marina.""So during the time you were cleaning up the rented house in Brighton, he was using the jeep?""Yes."Langton opened the file and placed Julia Brandon's photograph down in front of Adrian. "Do you know this woman?""No." Nor did he recognize the property in Wimbledon or the picture of Frank Brandon. Lastly, they showed him the photograph of Donny Petrozzo. Again, he had never seen him. Langton stacked the photographs and replaced them.Adrian explained that the next time he had been contacted by Fitzpatrick was to join him on the boat moored in Chelsea harbor. He was hired to clean and get groceries; during that period, he did not drive the Mitsubishi. When he learned that Fitzpatrick's two daughters were coming on board with their au pair, Adrian prepared bunks for them.The interview was concluded but, when told he would not be released, Adrian burst into tears. Langton ended their tape recording and walked to the door; there, he glanced back at the sniveling boy and said, "It's not over, Mr. Summers."Anna didn't feel like breaking for the night, even though it was after eleven. It was hard to come down from the excitement of the day. Pete was still at the lab, so she went over to see him.Like Langton, Pete was organizing his team, listing in order of priority the items he wanted checked out. He gave Anna a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, then led her to a table with some of the forensic evidence examined that morning. "Right, the lady found strangled in the storage warehouse: we've got some hairs and the root is attached, so we can get strong DNA."Anna leaned close to him as he placed a slide under the microscope."I think she snatched at her killer's hair, because we've quite a few samples. It's very, very dark—and some kind of hair oil had been used. Not African—maybe Portuguese or South American." He moved aside for Anna to look. "We've also got fibers—wool, a distinctive color and not from the victim's clothes."Anna noticed that the pockets of his white coat were covered in blue pen stains; he looked tired. "We maybe can get a clear print off her neck: right thumb. It was pressed so hard on her larynx it left a dark bruise. We'll be lifting off using the Super Glue technique.""Are you hungry—I can order a pizza?" she asked, and he shook his head."Nope. I am going to carry on here for about another half hour, then I will need to crash out."Anna looked at her watch and said that she should probably do the same. She was more miffed at his rejection of a late-night pizza than she realized; even more so when he smiled at her and said, "Shoe on the other foot for a change!"She laughed it off and said she would talk to him in the morning. He muttered a reply, but she didn't hear it. She turned to look back at him as she reached the door, and he was already peering at something else under the microscope, his body arched. She was impressed. He seemed totally consumed by his work. She hadn't really realized before how much his work meant to him.It was after one in the morning when she finally turned in. She didn't fix anything to eat, but had a large glass of wine from a bottle left open in the fridge. Sleep didn't come easily, and she lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling.Now certain that Fitzpatrick had met up with Donny Petrozzo, she wondered if he had also met up with D'Anton. What she did know from the time frame was that the deaths of both men came almost together. Turning on her bedside lamp, Anna got up and fetched her briefcase. She climbed back into bed and took another look at the copies of the postmortem report on Julius D'Anton. The quantity of Fentanyl in D'Anton's body was very high. He was a heroin user; she wondered if he had tried out the Fentanyl, unaware of its potency— eighty times stronger than morphine.Donny Petrozzo had died from an overdose but, from the way his body had been found wrapped up, it was obvious that he had been murdered. The Mitsubishi was parked, with his body inside it, at the garage used by Frank Brandon. Anna was certain that Petrozzo s death occurred after Frank had been shot. She was so restless, trying to figure out what might have occurred. She thumped at her pillow, trying to get more comfortable, but she still couldn't sleep—this time returning to the date she and Gordon had visited the farmhouse, and had seen Adrian Summers there by the gates.Adrian had to have lied about only going to the farmhouse to deposit and then move the crates of drugs, as the time frame didn't add up. Did he also drive the injured Fitzpatrick back to the cottage? The blood trace on the bullet she had found, they had always believed came from the man standing behind Frank Brandon—and it matched the swipe taken from the jeep.She was certain Adrian knew a lot more than he had admitted to, and she was glad that Langton had not released him. Tomorrow, they would have the interrogation of Damien and Honour, but first, she wanted to have another session with Adrian Summers.
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