Above Suspicion (49 page)

‘Oh, right, I see. In my bathroom there’s a big cupboard: fitted, glass panels, made especially to my specifications. Take everything out. There’s a panel at the back which comes off. That’s where the rest of them are. You lot would never have found them without me. You already searched my place, didn’t you, and came up empty-handed? Oh, and write this down, Anna. I took out three of them and hid them at McDowell’s place.’

Langton got up and left the room. Anna mentioned for the benefit of the tape that Detective Chief Inspector Langton had left the interview room. Daniels watched the door close.

Anna had selected the Kathleen Keegan file and took out her photograph. ‘Could you please identify this woman, Mr Daniels?’

He gave it a cursory glance. ‘Kathleen Keegan. A disgusting old bitch and that is a flattering photograph. She weighed eighteen stone, the bloated old cow. An even worse piece of shit than my mother.’

‘Did you murder Kathleen Keegan?’

He grinned back, placing arms outstretched on the table. ‘You bet your sweet pussy I did, Anna.’

Outside, Langton was having a quiet confab with Lewis. He instructed Lewis to arrange for a car to stand by. He checked his watch and said they would take a break at four o’clock. Then they would take Daniels to his flat and search it with his solicitor present.

‘How is she doing?’ Lewis asked.

‘She’s doing OK,’ Langton said quietly. ‘But she’ll need a break soon.’

When Langton returned to his seat in the interview room, Daniels winked at him and then he nodded at Anna.

‘She’s been asking how I got Kathleen to come with me. You’ve not missed much. I told Kathleen there was this rich bloke I knew, an Arab, and he wanted a woman with a belly. The bitch really believed me. And she got herself all done up. This time I had borrowed a mate’s van. He was a painter and decorator. So I took out his ladders and stuff and put a blanket in the back. She kept on patting my leg with her fat hands, saying she’d give me a good cut of what she made. Her fingers were like bananas, gripping on to me.’ He gave a hard, low laugh.

Daniels went on to describe the disgusting murder of Kathleen Keegan; he had told her to get into the rear of the van and wait for the Arab. He said she had virtually stripped off in readiness by the time he got into the back and told her to lie face down; the Arab was on his way. ‘She was so strong, even with her hands tied behind her back.’ Laughingly, he painted a picture of himself hauling ‘this beached whale’ from the back of the van and how she’d bounced over the rough grass. ‘It was no easy trip, let me tell you; she was like a fucking lead balloon. By then, I was exhausted and I didn’t want to do me back in, like, so I just left her there.’

‘Did you have sexual intercourse with Kathleen Keegan?’

‘Once, for old times’ sake. I wanted her to watch me as I wound her tights round her fat neck. She took a long time to die, so I was knackered by the time I brought the van back to my mate’s. I gave him a tenner out of her handbag. He said to me, “What you been doing? You’re sweating like a pig.” And I said to him, “That’s just what I’ve been doing, mate: a pig.’”

Radcliff’s face had gone grey. He was unable to deal with his client’s monologues and the obvious relish with which he told them; the images they evoked would haunt him for ever. Daniels was seldom interrupted by Anna but when it happened, he angrily warned her he would not continue his confession if she didn’t shut up and listen.

Staying attentive without showing any sign of emotion was beginning to take its toll. Anna was finding Daniels’s need for her undivided attention stressful. Sometimes when he leaned towards her he came so close she could feel his breath on her face.

Yet again, when shown the map of the area where Kathleen Keegan was found, he was able to pinpoint the exact location he had dumped her body. When Anna asked for details of where he was residing at the time of the murder, he was less co-operative, simply saying he had moved around and taken various jobs, but did not come to London permanently for another four years. He then told how he had started going to the theatre as a teenager.

‘Do you know the Manchester Library Theatre?’

‘No, I don’t,’ she said.

‘I got a job there as a cleaner. I could watch rehearsals and see the show for free every night if I wanted. That’s when I knew I’d found what I wanted to do with my life.’ Daniels described taking drama lessons and landing bit parts.

‘The director took me aside. “Anthony,” he said to me, “you’ve got real talent. You should take this up as a profession.”‘

He leaned back expansively. ‘I done better than most of the actors that were there. I changed my name for starters. There was another actor called Duffy and I hated the name anyway. So I became Alan Daniels and I went to London. Got an Equity card by then, from all the work I’d done at the theatre, so I started looking for an agent and stuff like that.’

Anna sneaked a glance at the clock, before taking out the picture of the next victim Teresa Booth. She laid the photo down. ‘Do you know this woman, Mr Daniels?’

‘Oh, am I boring you? Don’t you want to hear about my television roles? How I got to be famous?’

‘Could you please answer the question, Mr Daniels.’

He sighed with irritation. ‘That’s Teresa Booth and you’re all mixed up: I killed her before.’

He leaned over and jabbed a photograph. ‘After Teresa, I done Sandra Donaldson. And she had it coming to her!’

‘Did you murder Sandra Donaldson?’

‘Yes, I did. She was a pain in the arse, always drugged up. She had the nerve to come to the stage door one night and she says to me, “Tony, I need some dough. Can you help me out?”‘ Daniels yawned, rubbing his head, then rested his chin in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. ‘She had this PVC mac on, white high-heeled shoes and her face looked like a clown’s.’

‘This was in London?’

‘Yes. She was constantly being picked up in Manchester for prostitution so she’d started to travel to London at weekends. I was working at the Player’s Theatre, doing stagehand stuff to earn a living, some bits of TV, nothing very exciting yet. She must have seen me going into the theatre. I don’t know how else she’d have found me.’

Daniels described how he had cajoled Sandra to come with him, saying he knew a client who would pay her top money. He shook his head. ‘These tarts are so stupid. This one in particular didn’t have much between the ears.’

He marked a cross on the map to show the area of the park where he had met her and described in detail where he had taken her from there. ‘I done her with the tights and the bra, just like the others.’ He told them how he had dumped the body.

‘The silly bitch had almost thirty quid on her. So I had that and I got a taxi back to my digs. Next day, I got a call from my agent and he’s got this big audition, for a television series.’

Langton stood up. ‘I believe we should break now.’ ‘Oh, the man speaks,’ Daniels said sarcastically. ‘We can continue this interview in the morning.’

As Anna was washing her face, Moira came into the ladies and said that she was wanted in the incident room. Daniels had refused to return to the Queen’s Gate house unless accompanied by Anna.

‘Now?’ She felt totally drained.

‘They want to search his place before they reconvene.’

‘Oh, OK. Moira, can you tell them I’ll be right out. I just need a moment.’

Moira touched her shoulder. ‘This must be pretty awful. Anna, if you ever need to talk things through, I’m always available.’

‘Thank you,’ Anna said gratefully.

‘Keep going, darlin’.’ Moira gave her a quick hug. ‘We’re all behind you. One hundred per cent.’

Once Moira had left, Anna had an overwhelming feeling of wanting to scream.

Daniels, handcuffed, sat beside Anna in the back of the patrol car. There had been a gathering of press outside the police station when they left and Anna could see more of them waiting in the street outside his house.

‘Shit,’ Langton said. Daniels’s head was lolling forwards. ‘Do you want a blanket to cover your face, Mr Daniels?’

‘What?’ He woke up, abruptly.

‘The press are out in force. We can cover your head.’

Daniels followed Langton’s gaze through the window. ‘No thanks.’ He did an impression of Gloria Swanson, throwing his hair back. ‘I’m ready for my close-up, Mr de Mille.’

As Daniels was led up the front steps of his house, the uniformed officers kept the press back. Even with his hands cuffed in front of him, he was smiling and probably would have posed for photographs had Langton not ushered him inside. The flash of cameras was blinding and Anna was reminded by the yells and shouts of their night at the ballet.

Inside the house, they waited for the two forensic officers to join them, then headed directly to the bathroom. The linen closet was large, with mirrored sides. They took out a stack of soft towels and several neatly packed rows of sheets and linen. Daniels was standing next to Langton. He announced, to no one in particular: ‘All from Harrods.’

Radcliff had hardly said a word; he watched the search while making copious notes. Anna could tell he was finding the whole situation disgusting.

The linen closet was very much larger than it appeared. Once they had cleared it, Daniels drew their attention towards a fitted board on the right-hand side. ‘Press that. It should slide open.’ The white-suited forensic scientist pressed the board with a rubber-gloved finger. The entire rear wall of the cupboard slid back to reveal a cubby-hole with a mattress and a pillow.

‘Old habits die hard,’ Daniels whispered. He looked over at Anna, who was standing just outside the room. The forensic scientist took out a large cardboard box and put it on the bathroom floor to open it up. It was full of women’s handbags, each one wrapped in a plastic zip-up bag. He took out Daniels’s hidden treasures, revealing the sick trophies one by one.

Anna had a shower and made herself a hot chocolate. She was relieved to be back home. When Langton asked if she would be all right on her own, she had insisted that she would, preferring to spend the time preparing for the following morning’s interrogation. She felt sick. She curled up under her duvet, hot chocolate untouched and files stacked by her bed. She had a low, dull headache and the pain persisted even after she’d taken some aspirin. She fell asleep with the bedside light turned on.

Three hours later she woke up, terrified of monsters looming in the shadows and the dead women’s faces alternately leering and screaming out in agony. Though her head was throbbing hard, the images remained. She got up to fetch two aspirin and a glass of water. She checked all the locks. The broom cupboard where she kept her Hoover and household cleaning things was partly open. She clenched her fists, walked briskly towards the cupboard and yanked open the door. A broom and a mop fell out, hitting her in the face; she swore, pushing them back inside. As she shut the door, she had an image of a terrified little boy locked up and left for days and nights on end.

Returning to bed, Anna hugged the duvet tightly round herself. As an adult, Daniels was still trapped in the terror of the dark cupboard. She knew how fortunate she had been to have had such loving parents; to have never known rejection or been abused. Her father had never brought the darkness home. Just once, she could remember when she had sat on his knee and the pain still clung to him. She understood that pain now, because it was clinging to her: Daniels had invaded her life with his all-pervading sickness. The tears that had been close to the surface during the day were now released; she cried aloud, like a child.

Eventually, she fell into a deep sleep, which was broken by her alarm. She made herself a cooked breakfast and sat at the kitchen bar, studying the files. By eight o’clock she was dressed and ready to leave. The doubts of the previous night had been dispelled.

The night had altered Daniels’s demeanour, too. He was not as pompous or gloating when the day’s session began at half past nine. Anna started by questioning Daniels about the sixth victim: Mary Murphy. Then the fourth: Barbara Whittle.

By the time they were ready to break for lunch, they had reached Beryl Villiers. Daniels characterized Beryl as ‘different’ from the others. He blamed McDowell for Beryl’s decline from a beautiful, vibrant young girl into an addict. He said his mother would use Beryl when she was so drugged she didn’t know what day it was.

‘Beryl was going downhill. I felt sorry for her so I put her out of her misery. I couldn’t bear to watch her changing into an old dripper: cheap and nasty.’

Anna noted that three times he had said how much he liked Beryl. Finally she corrected him. ‘Beryl was not an addict when she was murdered.’

‘What?’

‘Beryl Villiers was not addicted to drugs when her body was found. In actual fact, she’d been clean of drugs for some considerable time. She was also a lot younger than your previous victims.’

‘What are you after, Anna?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Were you able to maintain relationships with other women?’

‘What?’

‘Did you have sexual relationships with other women?’

‘I have known a lot of very beautiful, sexy women.’

‘That is not what I asked. I asked if you had full sexual relationships.’

‘Well surely, Anna, you were in a position to hazard a guess.’ He cocked his head to one side, smiling provocatively at her. She looked down intently at her notes.

Having succeeded in embarrassing her, he shrugged his shoulders.

‘What the hell? The answer is pretty obvious if you have a modicum of intelligence. No.’

‘You did not have normal sexual relationships?’

‘No. I only have sex with prostitutes.’

‘In many cases, were they women who resembled your mother and her lifestyle?’

‘I never hurt any woman who wasn’t the dross of humanity. That’s why their cases remained unsolved for so long.’

He leaned sideways to look at Langton in his position behind Anna’s chair. ‘They were the dregs of society. Nobody missed them. Nobody even noticed they were missing. Nobody cared. I was helping society, in fact: clearing them off the streets with their drugs and their booze.’