Blood Line (9 page)

‘What about neighbours? You talk to any of them?’

‘No, but we talked to his place of work, his gym – it’s all in the report.’

Langton chewed hard on his nicotine gum, staring at her. ‘You want to start on another enquiry?’

‘Yes.’

He stood up and took the gum out of his mouth, tossing it into the rubbish bin.

‘Okay. Tell you what I want you to do. Tomorrow, go and visit the neighbours and see if they have anything to add to the mix. Something in me doesn’t quite accept your view that Alan Rawlins has just taken off.’

‘Like what?’

Langton opened another piece of gum, walking round the desk to sit on the edge close to her.

‘First his Merc. He spends months doing it up, ordering spare parts, bought it with his father to make money reselling it. Why not take the car if he was doing a runner. You now know his passport is missing; there’s no movement in any of his bank accounts or credit cards, and from your interviews he appears to be a nice upright guy, loving family, good mates, he’s not into drugs, he doesn’t drink bar the odd glass of wine and nobody has a hint of any extra lady friend on the side. Correct?’

Anna nodded. He never ceased to amaze her. Although he had appeared merely to skim her report, he had somehow acquired the gist of it, and this became even clearer when he picked up the file and passed it back to her.

‘The fiancée also asked how long you’d be digging around if there was no body – right?’

She nodded.

‘Does that sound like a distressed lady? Her fiancé disappears and all she seems interested in is how long it will be before she gets her hands on the savings.’

‘It’s a joint bank account and doesn’t need his signature.’

‘Oh.’

‘His life insurance is only fifty thousand so I don’t think that would be a motive.’

‘People have been killed for less.’

‘Listen, he was a nice man, one who hated any kind of confrontation. I think, judging from what everyone has said about him, he seems to fit the profile of someone who would just walk away rather than get into any kind of emotional row.’

‘Has he ever done anything like it before?’

‘Well, no, not that I’ve been told.’

Langton chewed hard on his gum. Then he got up from the desk and yawned.

‘Give it one more day then I’ll get onto allocating you the next murder enquiry.’

Anna stood up and stiffened as he reached for her hand and drew close.

‘You sleeping?’

‘Yes.’

‘I miss not having you around on a case.’

‘Well, you could have me if you wanted.’

He laughed. ‘In the literal term, I gather.’

She released her hand from his, saying, ‘I’ll be in touch. I’ll still use Paul.’

‘You make it very difficult, Anna.’

She looked up into his face.

‘I keep wanting to put my arms around you, comfort you; you think I can’t feel your troubled soul.’

‘It’s not troubled. I am just tired tonight. It’s been a long day.’

‘Have it your way, but like I keep on saying to you, if you need me I’m here for you.’

‘Thank you. Goodnight then.’

He gave her a smile, nodding his goodnight as she walked out. She held it together until she was sitting in her car and then she started to cry. It was like a fast release, and no sooner had she broken down than she was able to pull herself together and drive home.

A
nna took a double dose of her sleeping tablets and slept until early morning. The alarm woke her and she again had that feeling of lethargy, not wanting to get out of bed, get dressed or do anything. She felt that this time her mood swing was down to the dead-end case she had been told to investigate by Langton, and remembered her conversation with him the evening before and how he had said to give it one more day. As she turned to look at the time on the alarm clock she saw the picture of her father on the bedside cabinet and her mind rushed back to her childhood. She could see him standing at the foot of her bed and jokingly threatening that she was running late for school and had better be out of bed by the count of three or it was cold bath time. One, she threw the duvet back, two, she jumped out of bed, and by three, she was in the bathroom turning on the shower. As Anna looked at her glass-enclosed power-jet shower she recalled the dreadful avocado green fibreglass bath and matching tiles in the family bathroom. She jumped into the shower and straight back out again. She laughed out loud realising that in her rush she had turned it onto cold and could hear her father’s voice saying, ‘Got you this time, Anna.’

Refreshed she rang Paul to say she would pick him up at the station at eight. Paul was waiting outside the station and when he was in the car Anna told him what Langton had asked her to do.

‘Is that why the early-bird call?’ he yawned. ‘I was out until four a.m.’ Paul was unshaven with dark circles beneath his eyes.

‘Good date, was it?’

‘No, but I went to Fire and danced my socks off and had a few too many vodka shots and slingers – that’s when you knock it back neat.’

‘Hung over?’

‘Yeah, a bit. What was Langton’s reaction?’

Anna told him and he listened without his usual interruption. Anna didn’t add that she felt Langton was simply side-stepping the issue of her heading up a murder enquiry. It felt to her as if he was stringing her along, thinking he was giving her time to get over the death of her fiancé, Ken.

‘Langton’s up to his neck,’ Paul said. ‘You heard about the case he’s on – ex-detective finds his wife and son shredded.’

‘Yes, I know about it. I heard him giving a briefing.’

They arrived at Newton Court in Hounslow where Tina Brooks lived and parked up close to her garage so as not to create any problems for the other tenants. As before, the reception area was open and there was a caretaker polishing the floor. He continued working the machine as they headed for flat two.

‘Nobody at home,’ he said, looking towards them.

Anna showed him her ID and asked if he knew the couple living there.

‘By sight, yeah. I wouldn’t say I
know
them.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Jonas Jones, ma’am.’

‘You work here regularly, Jonas?’

‘Two days a week. I clean the reception, stairs, and if the tenant is away I collect their mail for them.’

‘How long have you been working here?’

‘Three years. I do all the owner’s places. He’s got three blocks of flats and I check them all out. The bins sometimes are overflowing and the council don’t collect as regular as they used to.’

‘Have you ever found anything suspicious?’

He wrinkled his nose and said he didn’t know what she meant.

‘Well, anything unusual?’

‘Oh no. Just some tenants tie up their rubbish in black bin liners and if they don’t put them in the bins, dogs or cats or whatever can scavenge and rip them open. You’d be surprised, we got foxes around here. Dunno where they come from, but I’ve seen big bushy-tailed ones.’

‘Are you aware that Mr Alan Rawlins has disappeared?’

‘Who?’

‘The tenant of flat two. He lives with his girlfriend, Tina Brooks.’

‘Oh yeah, I know who you mean. I didn’t know he was missing. Where’s he gone?’

Anna smiled and said they were trying to find out. She then asked for details of the other tenants. The caretaker walked over to a small desk and took out a list of names, saying that as he didn’t do cleaning in individual flats he only saw them on odd occasions. There was an elderly Jewish couple in flat three, flats four and five were Iranians and flat six was a single woman.

‘Could you tell me who owns the building?’

‘You mean the landlord?’

‘Yes, the person that owns this building.’

‘Doesn’t live here.’

‘His name and contact number will do.’

‘He’s Iranian. Owns two or three blocks like this one and only ever comes over a couple of times a year. Prefers to live in his beach-front condo in Morocco.’

‘And his name is . . .?’

‘Mr Desai.’

‘What about flat one?’

‘Mr Phillips, youngish bloke, drives a nice Lotus and works in the City.’

‘Is he at home?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve been polishing the floor. I’ll be here for a while as I’m waitin’ on a delivery for Miss Brooks.’

‘What is it?’

‘She ordered new carpet.’

‘But isn’t the flat rented?’

‘Yes, but they are semi-furnished flats, rented with just the necessary. Tenants can bring in whatever else they need.’

They thanked Jonas and went towards flat one as he turned on his polishing machine again.

‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’ Paul said as he rang the doorbell.

When there was no answer, Anna suggested that Phillips was probably at work, and said they should go from flat to flat to see if there was anyone at home. She too thought it was suspicious about the new carpet, but said nothing.

They got no answer from flats four and five either. When they rang the doorbell of flat six there was the sound of a dog yapping. It continued its noise as they pressed the doorbell twice more before it was inched open.

‘Yes?’ The woman’s face was partly hidden.

‘Miss Jewell?’

‘Yes? What do you want?’

Anna showed her ID and introduced herself and Paul. The door closed, the safety chain was unlinked and the door opened wider.

Miss Jewell was no more than forty, but she was frail and very thin. She held a small terrier under her arm with one hand over its mouth as it gave a throttled growl.

‘Has there been a burglary?’

‘No. Could we just talk to you for a moment?’

Miss Jewell reluctantly led them into a beige-coloured sitting room, which had a lot of shabby furniture unlike Tina Brooks’s sparse flat. It was a smaller place in comparison, more like a studio, and, as it was at the top of the block, it had sloping ceilings.

Anna and Paul sat down as the small bedraggled dog was shut in the kitchen; it yapped for a while and then went quiet.

‘Don’t worry about Trigger, he doesn’t bite, but he’s a wonderful guard dog,’ Miss Jewell said as she perched on the edge of a bright green bucket chair. If she sat back any further her legs would have lifted off the ground. Anna and Paul were seated on a sofa covered with blankets and shawls. They explained briefly why they were there and asked if she knew Alan Rawlins.

‘No. I don’t know anyone living here apart from Mr and Mrs Maisell, they’re in flat three. There’s also two families of Iranians, but I don’t talk to them. They’ve only been here about six months.’

‘What about the tenant in flat one?’

‘I have never spoken to him, but he drives a big yellow car which makes a dreadful noise. I have also complained about the cooking smells from the Iranians. I don’t like to cause trouble, but my little flat stinks of their fried fish or whatever they cook down there.’

‘Do you know Tina Brooks who lives in flat two?’

‘Oh, her? Yes, I’ve met her. She pushed some leaflets through my door about special offers at her hairdressing salon. I never used them; put them straight in the bin.’

‘Tell me what you know about her.’

‘Nothing, really. She’s always quite friendly, but I wouldn’t say I’ve ever had a long conversation with her.’

‘And you never met Alan Rawlins?’

‘Not really. I know she had a chap living with her – I obviously have seen him come and go – but I keep myself to myself, apart from Mr and Mrs Maisell. In fact, I just talked to them earlier as they were going to go shopping and they often get my little things that I need. I am registered partially blind as I have tunnel vision. Basically, what that means is I have no peripheral vision and I can only see straight ahead.’

Anna had heard enough. She glanced at Paul and they both stood up.

‘Just one more thing, Miss Jewell: were the carpets provided when you rented?’

‘Yes, throughout, and all the same colour. I think the owner must have got a deal on them as they are apparently the same in all the flats.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Look, we’re not supposed to have pets, but he’s such a good companion and he never does a naughty inside. I take him out first thing to do his business and there have been no complaints about me having him.’

She gave an odd look and eased herself off the bucket seat. ‘It’s not about me having a pet, is it?’

‘No, not at all. We are looking into the fact that Alan Rawlins has disappeared.’

‘Oh really? I didn’t quite follow what you said earlier. Where’s he gone to?’

Anna smiled, repeating what she had told the caretaker – that they were concerned. Miss Jewell said that she wished she could help.

‘Do you think he’s had an accident, or something like that?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Have you tried the hospitals? He could have been knocked down and got concussion and not remembered anything.’

‘Thank you for your time,’ Anna said, heading out, and Paul followed. As they went into the hall the yapping started up again and Miss Jewell banged on the door and told the dog to shut up.

Anna looked at Paul and said that was a waste of time. He suggested they try Mr and Mrs Maisell as they might have returned from their food shop.

‘Why not,’ Anna agreed.

‘It’s odd, isn’t it, living cheek by jowl and nobody knows anybody else,’ Paul commented.

‘Yeah, but to be honest I don’t know any of my neighbours. Do you know yours?’

‘Not really. In fact, come to think of it, I wouldn’t know them if I fell over them.’

‘There you go.’

They rang Mr and Mrs Maisell’s bell and waited, and were about to turn away when the door was flung open. Mrs Maisell was about four foot five and as wide as she was tall.

‘I was just going to bring them up. Oh sorry, I thought you were Hester from upstairs.’

Anna did the introductions and Mrs Maisell ushered them inside. There were the same beige carpets, but theirs were covered by bright rugs of every shape and size, and the flat was crammed with furniture, paintings and bric-à-brac.

‘Morris? Morris! Can you come out, love?’

Mrs Maisell ushered them into the lounge and it was like an antique shop it was so crammed with furniture.