Above Suspicion (24 page)

‘Don’t be so uptight. Listen, if Daniels asks you out again, I want you to accept. We’ll monitor your calls. And if you go out with him, we’ll keep tabs on you.’

He was looking so elated by her information that Anna felt a little resentful.

‘Oh, thank you very much. Don’t ask how I feel about it!’

‘It’s the classic syndrome, don’t you see? He wants information.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s an option then, is there?’

‘He will be getting a kick out of being close to the investigation, close to someone involved in trying to capture him. It couldn’t be better, Travis.’

‘So, you still think it’s him?’

He ignored the question and delved into the arm of his seat, bringing up the video screen,

‘But if you’re wrong?’ she persisted. ‘What if he’s innocent?’

‘You mean what if he just fancies you?’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘Really? This movie star who could have any woman he wants falls for DS Anna Travis. Somehow he gets hold of her number and calls, hoping for a date? That sounds plausible? Come on, grow up!’

‘All I said was: what if you’re wrong?’

He stubbornly fixed his earphones on to his head.

‘Conversation over!’

‘I have had men ask me out in the past,’ she said with pursed lips.

He half lifted his earphones. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I believe you. But how many of them were under suspicion for murder? Date any serial killers lately? Get real, Anna. The guy is dangerous. He’s coming on to you because it’s a game he gets a kick out of playing.’

‘What about the fact his dental X-rays don’t match the bite mark from Melissa’s tongue?’

In response, he sat back and closed his eyes to listen to the in-flight music programme.

She stared out of the window. What if he was right? At the same time, what if he was wrong? Why couldn’t the truth simply be that Daniels liked her? After a while, she too eased her seat back and tried to sleep, but she kept thinking about Daniels: remembering the picture he had shown her of himself as a child. Was it true that he had never shown it to anyone before?

She needed to use the toilet. Unfastening her seat belt, Anna climbed over the reclining Langton. He did not sit up when she left, nor as she clambered back to her seat, though he did turn over in his sleep. She watched, alarmed, as his head lolled closer to hers, then came to rest on her shoulder. It was a strange feeling: to have him so close. What a pity she didn’t like him any more. And it was quite obvious he didn’t think very much of her.

Somewhere on the flight, she too closed her eyes. Their positions changed. Anna woke up to find her head was now on his shoulder and he was gently stroking her cheek. She sat bolt upright.

‘Sorry,’ she said, embarrassed.

‘That’s OK. I was trying to wake you. We’re landing in fifteen minutes.’

‘Right.’ She felt disorientated, even more so when he leaned closer.

‘You were catching flies and snoring,’ he said, amused.

She looked at him, perplexed. ‘So were you! But I was too polite to tell you.’

He laughed. ‘Well, fingers crossed we get a result today.’ He eased his seat forwards into the upright position. Then he smiled at her. ‘You sleep like a little girl. I was just teasing.’

She said nothing, but she decided she liked him again.

It was much warmer in San Francisco than either had anticipated. The temperature had reached the mid-seventies by two o’clock. Langton ordered the taxi driver to take them to the Super 8 Motel on O’Farrell Street, which was a forty-minute drive from the airport. The motel was situated in the Tenderloin district close to the police station. This area was the red-light district, probably the worst neighbourhood, with a flood of drug dealers and drug addicts and prostitutes patrolling the streets. The driver explained: ‘It’s a great place, but you gotta be careful: the streets ain’t the cleanest and you gotta watch out for oddballs coming up to you. So stay alert and don’t let ‘em get to you, but the ‘Loin is a great place, an’ you got the greatest diners and restaurants.’

When they arrived at the motel, Langton said he would meet Anna in the lobby in twenty minutes. There was hardly time to unpack, so she had a shower and quickly changed her shirt. In the lobby, she found him talking to the concierge. He had maps and was already on first-name terms with the man, who handed him the car-hire documents and keys.

They went into the car park. When Langton located their rental car, he was taken aback by the size of it. It was a bright blue Chevrolet Metro; inside, it smelt like a rose garden.

‘Right. You drive, I’ll direct,’ he said, getting into the passenger seat and opening the map. Anna took a deep breath. ‘You take a right out of the gates and remember, you are on the other side of the road. Keep driving and then it’s left, right, right and another left and we should be there.’

He told Anna they would be meeting the deputy chief first, at the Bureau of Investigations; then on to Captain Tom Delaware, who headed up the CAP division, attached to the Vice Squad.

Anna managed to get them to the Police Department without a major accident. Whenever Langton rapped out his instructions en route, she just gritted her teeth. Finally, as they were driving round the large car park in front of the San Francisco Police Department, Langton snapped at her to ‘just park the car’. She pulled on the brake and fumed at him.

‘Do you want to drive? Or will you let me do it?’

She finally parked the car in a space marked ‘visitors’. She and Langton walked in silence towards the main entrance of the San Francisco PD.

It was freezing inside the air-conditioned building. Their meeting with the deputy chief, thankfully, was short and to the point. When he checked their credentials and passports he seemed almost apologetic, reassuring them it was just a necessary procedure, since they were being given access to files and case reports.

A young female officer led them to Captain Delaware’s office. She tapped and ushered them inside.

Tom Delaware was a rotund, beefy man, with a gut hanging over his pants and a big personality to go with it. He greeted them warmly and offered coffee. They refused. Langton passed over the duty-free malt whisky. Delaware grinned. ‘You touch my heart.’ He examined the bottle then put it into his desk drawer.

‘I know you’re on a tight schedule, so let’s get started.’

From a thick file on his desk he withdrew a photograph of the victim: Thelma Delray, aged twenty-four. Langton thought she looked older, but he said nothing. Her sad story mirrored the British victims’ pasts. ‘Trixie’, as Delaware referred to her, was a well-known hooker, having worked the red-light district since she was a teenager. Every time they placed her into a foster home, she ran back to her pimp and was subsequently out on the streets. She was a drug addict and Anna also thought she looked older than her age.

The mortuary shots were very reminiscent of their own victims. The close-up photos showed her murder had the same MO. The way her bra was tied looked the same. The tights were wrapped around her neck, three times.

‘What about suspects?’ Langton asked.

Tom said her pimp had no apparent motive: Trixie was earning good money for him. Why kill his golden goose? He also had a strong alibi. He was in their apartment in Bay View, with two witnesses, on the night she was last seen alive. Three weeks later she had been found face down in John Macaulay Park, very decomposed. It had been a hot summer.

‘One of the park keepers discovered the body here. Son of a bitch dumped her that close. Any one of the little kids could have found her.’

On the last night Trixie was seen alive, a number of girls recalled her talking to someone in a car. It was midnight; she never came back to her patch.

‘Who identified her body?’ Langton asked.

‘Her mother.’

Langton put Alan Daniels’s photo on the desk.

‘You ever seen this guy?’

Delaware frowned. ‘Nope. No, can’t say I have.’

The captain drove them to the park, to show where Trixie’s body was discovered.

‘We believe the killer brought her here, took her out of the car and into the bushes over there. Killed her on site. A witness saw a car parked there, but he couldn’t recall what make it was. No registration and he said the lights were out.’

It was half past six and in the red-light district the girls were on the streets. Anna, back behind the wheel, was so tired she could feel her eyelids drooping. Of course, it would be way after midnight, London time. Langton seemed not to flag at all. He suggested dropping Anna back at the motel, while he took Tom to a few bars for an evening out.

Anna felt irritated, because she knew she was being dismissed. But back at the motel, she felt relieved. She went to the hotel restaurant for a hamburger and then straight to her room. She checked the route on the LA freeway map before bed. The following day was going to include a long drive.

Langton, meanwhile, was bar hopping with Tom Delaware. Or, as Tom described it, ‘girl shopping’. At first he wondered if Langton was looking for himself, but he soon realized he wasn’t. By the time they reached Joe’s Restaurant in a really rough area, Taylor Street at Turk Street, Tom’s feet ached and he was hungry. As they leaned back in their comfortable black-burgundy leatherette booths, Langton asked Tom if he recalled there being a film unit in the area at the time Trixie was murdered.

Tom didn’t, but he put in a call to an ex-cop pal who supplemented his pension by working as a location manager for film units. They talked more over supper as they waited for him. At midnight, he arrived and over coffees, the photograph of Alan Daniels was again produced.

Anna woke with a start. There had been a loud crash from the room next door. She looked at her watch: it was half past three. Another crash. She suspected this one was the fall of the ironing board. So he not only slammed his office door, he knocked over everything no matter where he was. Next, the toilet flushed. That was followed by more bangs and thuds. She heard Langton swear a few times, then there was the clicking of lights being switched off. Then on, then off; she couldn’t keep track.

Then, finally, silence. She found it difficult to go back to sleep. Perhaps because now, in London, it would be late morning.

She got up reluctantly and had another shower to wake up properly. At five o’clock, she lay down and closed her eyes, thinking what she would order for breakfast. She woke with a start. She thought she had heard a fire alarm. But the noise was coming from next door. Langton was obviously up and taking a shower. She decided she might as well dress and join him for breakfast.

She knocked on his door. He yanked it open.

‘I was wondering if you wanted breakfast,’ she said, avoiding looking at him. He was wearing just a towel slung round his hips and holding a muffin in his hand. She could see he was fit, his stomach was tight and he had a hairy chest; not too much, but it was as dark as his head hair, which was standing up on end. She remembered Pamela Anderson saying he used to be very athletic. Nevertheless, it surprised her that he was so lean and in such good shape.

‘What?’ he barked.

‘I’m going to breakfast,’ she said lamely.

He indicated his muffin. ‘See you at the desk at eight.’

‘I’ll see you down there,’ she said, turning back to her room.

He slammed the door shut. She didn’t see him wince; he had a hell of a hangover and felt terrible.

Anna was at the wheel of the car, studying a highway map, when he walked across the hotel car park. He opened the boot and put his suit bag in it. He then got into the passenger seat.

‘Do you know where we are going?’

‘Los Angeles,’ she said.

‘Correct. Do you need me to direct you?’

‘No, I’ve checked out the map. It’s mostly straight on the freeway, all the way there.’

‘Good.’

‘Well, all set then?’ she asked.

He nodded wearily.

‘Have a good time last night?’

He closed his eyes. ‘I was working, Travis. What did you think I was doing, partying with Delaware?’

‘Did you eat?’

He sighed. ‘Yes, Mother. Now, can we get started? I’m going to lie down for a bit.’

As she drove out of the car park, he pulled the seat lever so he could lie almost prone beside her. Anna took a while to find the right turn on to the freeway, but found she quite enjoyed driving up and down the hills. At least she was finally seeing some of the sights of San Francisco.

They stopped to fill up the car with petrol and then continued on the freeway. It was an experience she was enjoying, when he woke with a start.

‘We nearly there?’

‘Not yet,’ she said. He eased his seat into an upright position and was suddenly alert.

‘I talked to a lot of the street hookers last night, Travis, not to mention a few pimps. I showed them all his photo. Didn’t get any result.’

‘Should you do that? I mean, what if someone recognizes him?’

‘That was the point, Travis. Tom Delaware called in a friend who works for a company that finds locations for film units.’

He was staring ahead, in concentration: ‘The film Alan Daniels was on mostly used the marina. The cast lived in big trailers, didn’t use hotels. But he recognized the face.’

‘And?’

‘He was there around the time she was last seen alive. They had been shooting for four days, then stayed on another two. By the time her body was found they’d gone to another location.’

She was still listening intently as they drove on.

‘He said the crew were known to have been to the red-light district and a lot of the hookers went to where they were filming, touting for business. They had drivers and limos for the actors, but a number of hire cars to go sightseeing when they weren’t wanted on the set.’

Anna recalled that the only witness had seen a car but was unable to give any detail of the make or registration.

‘So all we know for sure is that Daniels was there and he would have had the opportunity,’ she said. ‘He may have even seen Trixie around the film set, then picked her up on the night she disappeared.’