Blood Line (33 page)

‘He said he was unwell, had a migraine?’ Anna prompted.

‘Yeah, that’s right. He was wearing his overalls, we had a car up on the ramps and he was scheduled to look at it. I was in here sorting through some bills and receipts. I saw him when I drove up as his Merc was out on the forecourt. I said to him it was looking in great shape and he said something about he was just waiting for the soft top to be delivered. That must have cost a lot, ’cos the one the Merc came with was worn and torn. There’s a company that supply them that he’s used before.’

‘How did he seem when you saw him?’

‘The usual. He was quite a shy bloke, didn’t talk much, but he was smiling and then I saw him drive the Merc into the lock-up.’

‘So when did he come in to say he was feeling unwell?’

‘Not long after. It was about ten-fifteen. He was very pale and his hands were clenched. He said he needed to call Tina because he was feeling sick and said he had a headache.’

‘Had he ever taken time off for headaches?’

‘Maybe once before, don’t really remember. I joked with him that he should watch himself, it might be swine flu. Then he used my phone in here.’

‘Did you hear the conversation?’

‘Nope. I was called out – don’t remember what for, but when I came back he said that Tina would be collecting him and taking him home.’

‘How long after that did Tina drive up?’

‘Not long. He was on the forecourt pacing up and down waiting. He got in and they drove off.’

‘And it was Tina?’

‘Yeah. She waved over as they drove out.’

‘Thank you.’ Anna stood up as Smedley opened a drawer.

‘I was asked about when Al took holidays,’ he said. ‘Did you get the details?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘He’d come back all tanned and his hair lightened by the sun – good-lookin’ fella.’

‘He was bisexual.’

Smedley did a classic jaw-drop and then chuckled. ‘You pullin’ me leg? Living with a hot tottie like Tina Brooks? No way.’

‘So you never had any indication that he was gay or rather, bisexual?’

‘Al?’

‘Yes.’

‘You serious?’

‘Yes.’

Smedley seemed to take it personally, shaking his head and scratching at his beard.

‘If he was, he kept that under his bonnet, not that I have anythin’ against them, but you surprise me. My wife’ll not believe it, as he was a good-lookin’ guy and strong as an ox.’

They walked out onto the forecourt and headed towards Anna’s Mini.

‘You got me flummoxed,’ Joe went on in disbelief. ‘We did used to joke about him always scrubbing at his hands – liked to be clean before he went home. And a lot of the blokes here wouldn’t mind having Tina as their girlfriend; she’s a lovely-lookin’ woman.’

‘Yes, she is,’ Anna agreed as she unlocked her door.

Smedley stood watching her driving out, still scratching at his beard and his hairy chest.

Anna didn’t go home, but returned to the station. It was eerie, walking through the semi-darkened incident room, as only the night-duty officers were there. She stood for a long time looking over the incident board and then at the lists of estate agents contacted in Cornwall. They had now acquired a photograph of the property Alan had bought. It was a medium-sized detached house with views over the beach, and a wide paved patio with umbrellas and outdoor furniture. There was a barbecue and glass sliding doors opening into a sunken lounge. It had three bedrooms, an en-suite bathroom and a high-tech kitchen with a breakfast bar. It also had a double garage and a gated entrance with a tiered rock garden.

Anna headed into her office, switching on only her desk lamp as she sat down in her chair. She dreaded making the call, but she knew she had put it off long enough. Her hand was reaching for the phone when her door opened and Langton walked in.

‘I was just about to call you,’ she said.

‘Don’t you have a home to go to, Travis?’ He drew out a chair, put his coat over the back of it and sat in front of her.

‘The same could be said of you.’

‘I know. Been up to my eyeballs. I’m tired out and my knee’s killing me. What happened today?’

‘Sadly, not a lot.’

Langton stood up and rubbed his knee, then leaned forward, placing both hands on Anna’s desk.

‘You’ve yet to prove me wrong because without a body you are still running on empty. Even more so as you still have not identified your victim.’

‘It’s not for want of trying.’ She had stood up to face him across her desk.

‘You try harder, sweetheart, otherwise I am going to have to say time is up, and I still maintain that someone close to home, by home I mean the flat where the murder happened – someone knows something.’

‘Give me a clue then, because I have interviewed every tenant, the neighbours across the street and to the side of the block of flats. I’ve interviewed the caretaker, and nobody saw anything. I have no witness.’

‘There is always a witness, remember that. How did the body get moved?’

‘I don’t know.’ She felt like shouting it at him.

‘If it was carved up, it still took time – it’d be heavy, and if you no longer have Tina as a suspect . . .’

‘I never said that.’

‘Right. If you are still suspicious of her, could she have moved it out single-handed?’

‘I am still not losing Michael Phillips as a suspect or a possible accomplice.’

Langton picked up his coat from the back of the chair.

‘Body’s got to be somewhere. If she maintains she returned to the flat after work it means the body was cut up or had to have been moved in broad daylight.’

‘I know, I know . . .’

‘But do you know why I am consenting to your trip to Cornwall?’

‘Because you agree with me that Alan Rawlins could be alive.’

‘No, I don’t agree with you, Anna, but the drug link now has to be treated as a motive. The wrecking of his Mercedes, it’s not malicious, not a vengeful act, it was done by someone looking for something and that is either drugs or money.’

‘I had thought of that, but again there’s no witness – nobody saw or heard anything – and yet it looked as if whoever did it was using a sledgehammer.’

Langton paused, shrugging into his coat.

‘Don’t take any risks, Anna. You uncover something that could be a threat to you, make sure you have back-up and contact the Drug Squad down there. Understand?’

‘I will.’

She walked towards him to see him out and he took her totally off-guard, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Then he opened the door, and turning back he smiled.

‘I watched you through the blinds. The lamplight made a halo around that lovely head of yours. See what you can produce from Cornwall. Let’s hope it’s not a wild-goose chase.’

‘Yes, sir. If Alan Rawlins is alive, I’ll track him down.’

He was about to say something, but then changed his mind. He had not forgotten, and probably never would, the loss of his prime suspect in the drug-related murder enquiry they had both worked on. Anthony Fitzpatrick had outwitted him, escaped arrest and was still at large. Langton did not consider with the new evidence that Alan Rawlins was anywhere in the same league as Fitzpatrick, nevertheless if he was involved in a drug-dealing racket it meant he would have contacts. Rawlins also had financial resources. He could, as Anna had suspected, have flown the coop to Florida. Fitzpatrick had managed to escape arrest after a series of murders; he was only able to do so because of his wealth.

When Langton left Anna he had grave concerns, primarily for her safety. In the morning he would begin to make certain enquiries himself.

By the time Anna got home it was after ten. Apart from the half-finished sandwich at lunch, she hadn’t had anything else to eat, but she didn’t have the energy to cook anything bar a couple of slices of toast. She took a mug of tea and sat on her bed. As she dipped the toast into the tea she thought about what she would need to pack for the following day. Langton had given the go-ahead for herself and one other officer to travel to Cornwall, although he had said air flights were out of the question due to budget shortages. He suggested she get the train to Newquay and arrange for the local station to provide a squad car for them to use. If it was necessary, they could stay a couple of nights in a B&B that the locals knew or used.

Anna decided that a five-hour train journey with Brian Stanley would do too much head damage, so she would be accompanied by Paul. Langton had even suggested that Paul would be the best choice as he was homosexual. When she had given him an admonishing glare he had simply laughed.

Anna drew the duvet up to her chin, snuggling down in her bed, but wondering what she might uncover in Cornwall kept her wide awake. She closed her eyes, recalling Langton’s comments as he left. She realised that he had not admitted in as many words that her diligent enquiries had moved the case into a different league. It proved that she
had
been on the ball and not, as he had implied, over-investigating. Typically, Langton agreeing to the Cornwall visit was to her mind a step forward, and she was even more determined to prove herself right and Langton wrong about her digging up too many suspects.

She too remembered Anthony Fitzpatrick and what it had felt like to see the man they had hunted for so many months escape arrest. Forever lodged in her mind were the faces of the drug dealer’s two small children looking out from the windows of the plane. Wherever they were, wherever Fitzpatrick was hiding out, there had been no sighting of him. It was, she knew, a testament to failure on Langton’s part. She vowed to herself once again that if Alan Rawlins was alive, she would not let him escape arrest.

‘I
thought they’d have a restaurant,’ paul complained, as he had not had time for lunch. He and Anna were on the two o’clock train at Paddington, bound for Cornwall.

‘I thought so too, but apparently they have a buffet cart they wheel through the compartments.’

The train had few passengers and they were virtually alone in their carriage.

‘You know this stops off at a shedload of stations?’ he whinged.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s going to take about five hours.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Didn’t the budget run to a plane – only that would have taken a fraction of the time?’

‘I know that, Paul, but by the time we got to Gatwick airport and allowed two hours before the flight took off it’d still be around the same time.’

He was about to argue but thought better of it, knowing it had to be down to the budget.

Anna opened
The Times
and suggested they not discuss the case until later.

‘Sure, why not. We’ve got five whole hours.’ He sat back in his very comfortable seat and closed his eyes. Anna read the paper, noticing as she turned a page that Paul was fast asleep. She put it aside and stared from the window. They had two days with a stopover in the B&B. She opened her briefcase and took out her notebook, intending to underline what she felt was a priority. But the rhythm of the train made her sleepy and she eventually dozed, resting her head on her arms on the table.

Back at the station, Langton was carefully going over everything on the incident board.

‘This caretaker stroke janitor at Tina Brooks’s block of flats – we have a contact number for him?’ he asked Brian.

Brian nodded.

‘I want to talk to him, today,’ Langton went on. ‘See if he’s available. I also want access to Miss Brooks’s flat, so arrange that at the same time. Unless, I suppose, he might have a master key. Check if he has.’

As Brian drove Langton to Newton Court, Langton grilled him about the break-in at Metcalf Auto garage.

‘The guy who runs it mentioned that he had taken delivery of a soft top for the Merc. Do you know if DCI Travis had it taken in or checked out?’

‘Not sure, Gov. I left her there so she might have looked at it.’

‘We go there next, and I want a visit to the salon.’

‘Right you are.’ Brian drove them into the horseshoe drive of Newton Court. Standing at the front doors was Jonas Jones. He watched them park up and then went inside.

‘Does he have a record?’ Langton asked as they headed towards the reception.

‘Petty theft, couple of prison terms, but nothing for ten years.’

Langton pushed open the doors and headed towards Jonas, who was using a duster-covered broom to sweep around the small entrance area.

‘Good morning, Jonas, I am Detective Chief Superintendent Langton. You got a place we can have a little chat?’

‘No. I only got a broom closet in the hall which is where I keep all the cleaning stuff. I just check the reception area and stairs.’

Langton nodded. ‘You keep it nice and clean.’

‘Thank you. That’s what I’m paid for. When I run out of stuff I phone the landlord and he replaces the Brasso and floor polish. I used to have an electric floor-polisher, but that broke recently and so I do it by hand now.’

‘You know Miss Tina Brooks?’

‘Yes, sir. Well, not
know
her – just to say good morning to.’

‘What about the other occupants?’

‘It’s about the same apart from Miss Jewell. She often makes me a cup of coffee so I’ve been inside her flat a few times.’

‘Must have had a good chat about the missing bloke, Alan Rawlins?’

‘Yeah, but like me she didn’t know him and she’s up on the top floor.’

Jonas sucked in his breath; he was minus a number of front teeth. He had iron-grey tight curls and his cheeks were sunken. His scrawny body looked as worn as his overalls.

‘What was the gossip?’ Langton asked, offering a cigarette.

‘What?’

‘What did you talk about?’ Langton lit the cigarette for Jonas and himself.

‘Oh, I see. Well, she was interviewed – like me, like all of us – and we talked about that and how we never knew the missing bloke. Just goes to show really, doesn’t it? Living on top of each other like that and never talking.’

‘Did you talk to him?’

‘Not much.’

‘What else do you do round here?’

‘I also sweep up around the garages. I keep all the grounds tidy, cut the bit of grass. We got an empty garage ’cos Miss Jewell doesn’t drive so that’s where I keep the lawnmower and hedge-cutters.’