Above Suspicion (50 page)

‘Yet you found them sexually attractive?’

‘I found you attractive, Anna, but I didn’t fuck you.’ He yawned aggressively. ‘This is going nowhere. I am tired now, I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

‘Melissa Stephens was a seventeen-year-old virgin. How does her murder fit in with your rationale of cleaning up the streets?’

He looked daggers at her. ‘She was in Soho, walking the streets. She was a whore. She came on to me. That’s the reason I picked her up.’

‘No. She was not a whore.’

Daniels’s lip curled, angrily. ‘Yes, she was. She recognized me. She said, “I know who you are! You’re Alan Daniels.”‘

‘So you asked her to get into your car? The Mercedes?’

‘She ran round to the passenger seat. She couldn’t wait. I’m telling you, she was on the game.’

‘No. You took an innocent girl and you killed her for your own satisfaction.’

His face became tense with fury. He pushed his chair back forcefully as the words burst out of him: ‘OK. She started to scream. I said to her, “Stop screaming!” but she wouldn’t. She was trying to get out of the car. My God, anyone could have seen us. I take hold of her by the hair and drag her head down. Next minute, she flops back on to the seat moaning. Out cold. Well, I couldn’t chuck her out, could I? She’d recognized me. Don’t you understand? She knew who I was. I had to get rid of her. She gave me no choice.’ He was rubbing his head with frustration.

‘She wasn’t a whore. She was sweet and innocent, like the child in the photo you showed me.’

‘Christ, how many more times do you have to be told? She knew me. She fucking knew who I was. She was unconscious. I bloody drove around with her half the night. I had to do it. I had to kill her. She knew me and …’ He closed his eyes. ‘Her body was perfect, firm and soft. She was so beautiful. And I took off her white sports bra, turned her over and tied her clean, pretty hands together. Then I rolled her back. She was perfect; she was so clean and pretty

He stopped for a moment, his eyes squeezed tight and his hands clasped over his knees. He described slipping off her tights, then leaning down to wrap them around her neck. Melissa Stephens was the first young girl he had ever had sex with and when she woke up, he was still inside her. ‘She was moaning. I wanted to keep her quiet. But she wouldn’t stop. Then she started screaming, begging me not to hurt her and I - that’s when …’

He took a deep breath, then he described how he had kissed her and how he had never kissed any of the other women. Anna listened with disgust as he spun his fantasy where an act of murder became romance and his victim’s suffering only produced self-pity. She was not going to let him get away with it.

‘You didn’t just kiss her, though, did you? Did you?’ she said harshly.

When he opened his eyes, she saw the fear for the first time. It was because she knew him now. He was frightened of her because of it. She had seen into the dark recesses of his soul. ‘

Maintaining tight control of her emotions, she continued: ‘You bit her tongue off, then you ate it.’

‘I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want her crying out.’

‘She never had a chance. She trusted you; she admired you.’

Now the madness erupted. Daniels sprang to his feet, screaming: ‘Don’t give me a fucking lecture, bitch! You were next!’

Langton strong-armed him back into his seat, grunting and struggling. Anna now charged Alan Daniels with eleven counts of murder, including the victims from the United States; to each name Daniels mumbled, ‘Yes,’ to confirm that he was responsible for then-murder. By the eighth ‘yes’, with his bowed head and his half closed eyes, he resembled a sleeping reptile. When Anna reached the last count of murder, he looked up on hearing the name Melissa Stephens. The fear seemed to have gone. He leaned back in his chair. ‘You’ll see. I will never spend a day in prison.’

Anna raised an eyebrow then gathered up the files. Langton was holding the door open for her and she left the room without a backwards glance. It was over.

Later that afternoon, Daniels was taken to Wandsworth Prison to await trial. No hope of bail; his lawyer, Radcliff, never even applied.

McDowell was released from prison once the murder charges were dropped. He was given his train fare and expenses back to Manchester, where he would stand trial for drug-related offences. He would, at a later date, be called to act as a witness for the prosecution. His abstinence from alcohol had made him feel fit and confident, but even as he boarded the train at Euston station, he was making his way to the buffet car.

The tabloids ran headline stories and the newsreels showed old footage of Daniels at every opportunity. They interviewed actors and actresses who had worked alongside him. His celebrity status rose daily. He was a household name. The fame he had hungered for was his, but from his cell in solitary confinement, he was hardly aware of it. Many of the other inmates were eager to get their hands on him and the catcalls and screams of abuse went on day and night.

Langton and the team resigned themselves to remaining in the incident room for as long as it took to pack up their boxes of evidence. After days of preparation, a hundred and twenty boxes of files and statements would be made available to the defence team and the prosecution.

Melissa Stephens had been buried in a small private ceremony. Two weeks later, there was a memorial service and the entire team was present. Her family had arranged a beautiful service and thanked the officers from the pulpit for allowing their daughter to rest in peace at last. The team stood shoulder to shoulder as they sang Melissa’s favourite hymn: ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. The family did not allow the brutality of her death to intrude into her memorial service. She had been all those things in the words of the hymn: bright, and very beautiful, and she was remembered with great love and pride. The memorial would stay in everyone’s mind as a moving celebration of her short life.

Langton and Anna worked together all day packing up the boxes. When he asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner that evening, she agreed and they decided on Italian. She had arranged to collect him at eight o’clock. She took a long time deciding what to wear. As she searched through her wardrobe, Anna caught sight of the dress she had worn to the ballet with Daniels; she bundled it into a plastic bag and chucked it into the bin.

The Mini had been put into a garage to knock out the dents and receive a thorough valet service. When she learned that her car would not be ready for another couple of days, she booked a minicab to collect her and pick Langton up on the way.

Traffic was light and the cab arrived at Langton’s house a few minutes early: just in time for her to see Nina leaving and Langton kissing her goodbye. Anna instructed the cab to take her straight to the restaurant. On the way, she called Langton and said she would meet him there instead.

Langton was over half an hour late, but he had obviously taken considerable time with his appearance. They sat at a small candlelit table chatting like old friends, although they had not been alone since they had spent the night together. Langton was charming and Anna was not at all uncomfortable; unlike Langton, she knew what the outcome of the evening would be.

‘You seem different,’ he said, once the waiter had gone. They had been making small talk, avoiding the obvious.

‘Do I?’

‘Yes. More confident, perhaps? I don’t want to talk shop all night, but you were very impressive. Your old man would have been proud of you.’

‘Thank you. I had more than my share of self-doubt.’

‘About what?’

‘If I could do it. Or more importantly, ever do it all over again. You know: another case, another victim?’

‘And?’

‘Melissa Stephens turned me round. To see the satisfaction for her parents of him being brought to justice made it worthwhile. That’s how I knew I wanted to stay on the Murder Squad.’

‘I understand.’

‘I did go through one night of feeling sorry for myself, for the web of squalor and abuse and violence we were being drawn into. I even thought that I’d begun to understand how Daniels became what he is. But then I realized that he didn’t kill Melissa because of his wretched mother - that’s what he was killing in the others: her image, over and over - but not with Melissa. She was innocent and he knew it soon after he had picked her up by mistake. He killed her to protect himself. Protecting his image and denying his sickness was more important than sparing her life.’

Langton nodded. ‘In fact, if he hadn’t been stopped, she would have been the start of a whole new cycle where he killed for the sexual excitement. Finally with Melissa he could enjoy sex. It wasn’t just revenge any more.’

The topic they had been determined not to discuss engaged them passionately for the rest of their meal. Langton became quite tetchy when she suggested splitting the bill, but as they left the restaurant he put his arm round her shoulders and offered to take her home.

‘Erm, no thanks. I’ll get a taxi.’

‘What?’ Surprise and disappointment flitted across his face.

‘I meant to tell you in the restaurant. About what happened between us: I want to leave it at that. I’m sorry. It was just that we got to talking about the case—’

‘Why?’

‘Because maybe we’ll work together again and I think we should keep our relationship on a professional level.’

He couldn’t hide the fact that he was totally stunned. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, stepping away from her.

‘It is.’

‘At least let me take you home,’ he said, recovering fast. ‘I’ve got my car.’

‘No, really. I want to get a taxi. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

‘What was it? I mean, was it something I said tonight? Or did I do something? Come on, Anna, tell me what the matter is.’

Anna took a deep breath. ‘Well, I think you have some personal issues and—’

‘Personal issues like what?’

‘For one thing, your ex-wife still seems to be very much part of your life.’

‘Well, it’s complicated, I told you, because of Kitty and - sometimes, yes: she just shows up, stays at my place when she’s nothing better to do. I don’t see that this has anything to do with us.’

Suddenly Anna felt so much older than him. She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with me, but it has a lot to do with you. Your life is like a tangled ball of string.’

‘A what?’

Anna sighed. ‘A ball of string. Sometimes it’s worth untangling.’

‘What?’

‘You get a ball of string and if you want to use it again, you make the effort to untangle it—’

‘Fucking ball of string? What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about you. Your private life is all tangled up.’

‘And you’d know about my life, would you?’

‘Don’t get angry at me because I’m being honest. I’m just saying, I don’t think you’ve really come to terms with losing your first wife and on top of that you’ve got your daughter and Nina—’

‘She just comes by sometimes, when Kitty—’

‘I’m very serious about my career. I’d like to work with you again and I think any personal relationship we might have would get in the way. I just don’t want to become part of the tangle.’

She had to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She had forgotten how she loved the feel of his skin and his smell. She felt a sweep of emotion through her body, strong enough to test her resolve, but he broke away first, his face flushed. ‘Well, I’ll no doubt see you in the morning. At the station.’

‘Yes. Thank you for dinner.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said, walking away, throwing a ‘goodnight’ over his shoulder. She watched him for a moment. She could tell he was angry by the familiar way his hands clenched at his sides. Then she turned away. She decided not to hail a taxi immediately, but to walk for a while. She was deep in thought when his car caught her up, so she didn’t see the look on his face as he passed her striding down the street. He was driving the old brown Volvo that had been parked beside her Mini that first day in the station car park; the same car that, no doubt, had scrunched the side of her own.

Observing his ‘little carrot top’, arms swinging, striding along the street, Langton yearned to leap out of the car and take her in his arms. But he didn’t, knowing she was probably right that they might be working together again. It had never worked in the past when he’d had a fling with one of his team. But she was right at a deeper level, too. He had never got over the death of his first wife and Kitty kept him trapped in the relationship with Nina. He looked in the rear-view mirror. Anna was staring in a dress shop window at a smart Amanda Wakeley suit. Without so much as a sun shadow across the shoulder.

Alan Daniels had asked for writing paper and been given a lined prison-issue notepad. His note began, TO ANNA, in capital letters, and then beneath he wrote in his fancy scrawl: ‘People think that acting takes a giant ego, but it’s more about knowing where to put it, where to store it. You keep on shifting consciousness to different parts of you. Acting is really all about energy. Only when I was acting was I at peace, because I was no longer Anthony Duffy, the boy trapped in the cupboard. Goodbye, Anna.’

He had spent two days and two nights in a prison cell, longer than he had boasted he would. Always resourceful, he had hidden the plastic bag from the clean clothes he had been allowed to take to the police station. He tied it tightly round his neck, almost as tight as when he used to strangle his victims. The bag was pressed so close to his face that when the officers looked in on him every fifteen minutes, he seemed to be sleeping. It was on the two o’clock check when the spy-hole was moved aside that suspicion was aroused. His hands were clasped behind him; a final show of his determination to die.

Anna received the news the following morning. She refused to read or listen to the contents of the note he had addressed to her. She felt an enormous relief at the realization that she would not have to face him over and over again in a lengthy trial. This way was really the best outcome for her, though as usual, Alan Daniels had only been thinking of himself. To celebrate what she felt was her ‘release’, she splashed out on a new suit. As she watched it being folded up with sheets of tissue paper and put in the box, she realized she was ready for the next case. She had cut her teeth on a serial killer, first time out. Nothing could faze her now. As she handed over her credit card, she smiled into the intense blue eyes of the helpful young saleswoman and remembered the tip Barolli had given her for the future: ‘Watch the eyes. Wait for the fear.’