Authors: Lynda La Plante
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery Fiction, #Murder, #Women detectives - England - London, #England, #Murder - Investigation, #Travis; Anna (Fictitious Character), #Women detectives, #london, #Investigation, #Police Procedural, #Women Sleuths
‘We should get the lab reports in tomorrow; forensic are still at the murder site. So, in the meantime, let’s hear how today progressed.’
There was a brief silence, then Harry Blunt stood up.
‘Didn’t get much for us from the grandparents–they’re very elderly and very obviously shook up. I talked with Natalie, the daughter; she has a counsellor with her, but the outcome is again not too helpful. On the day of the murder, she returned home, a bit later than usual; she’d been to see her grandmother, as she’s had a bout of flu. So it was nearer to five forty-five when she thinks she got home. Front door was ajar, so she called out—’
Sheldon wafted his hand. ‘We know this. What else have you got?’
‘Well, she saw her mother, then ran to a neighbour who called the police. They kept her with them until the locals arrived and then they took her to stay with her grandparents. As far as we can ascertain, she saw no one else inside the premises and no one outside; she also said she didn’t know anyone who would want to hurt her mother, or of any new friend Irene had who she
might have been seeing. I have suggested we maybe talk to her again in a proper audiovisual suite. From what I’ve gathered, the victim kept herself very much to herself and rarely, if ever, entertained, but was well-respected and liked by both sets of neighbours living in the same house. None, when questioned, had seen or heard anything and were all very shocked. There had been no workmen around lately, so no strangers in and out of the premises, which are quite secure; we’ve also got nothing from any CCTV cameras.’
Sheldon nodded and pulled at his tie again; he now looked to Frank Brandon.
‘Coming up with much the same thing, Gov: well-respected, hard worker, did the same journey to school and work every morning, and returned around about the same time every day. This makes the timeframe for the murder to be from around four to when the daughter returned home.’
‘Yes, yes, we know that,’ Sheldon snapped, and then indicated Anna.
Anna went through her report in a little more detail than the others. Sheldon sat down in the middle of it. He yawned, checked his watch and, when Anna had completed her report, he stood up and gestured to the board.
‘We got anything on the ex-husband?’
Frank remained seated as he flipped open his book. ‘He’s an estate agent, quite well off, remarried, has two young kids by his second wife. He was in Devon on the day that the victim was killed. He’s travelling up to see his daughter, so we can talk to him then.’
Sheldon dug his hands in his pockets. ‘Well, let’s hope we get something from the PM and forensic, because
we’ve got bugger all so far. I want the house-to-house to continue; see if anyone in the area saw or knows something.’
He turned to Anna, pointing. ‘Yes?’
‘Have they said the weapon used was from the victim’s flat?’
‘They have not verified it, but there is one carving knife missing from the block and one found in the kitchen sink; bastard probably used it to cut up his sandwich. We are hoping to get DNA and a match on fingerprints but, like I said, we wait to see what they come up with. In the meantime, I want a significant trawling of any possible CCTV footage in and around the murder site. That’s it–reconvene at nine in the morning.’
Anna was surprised; she had never been on an enquiry that felt like a nine to five. She’d also never seen an incident room clear out so fast, leaving just clerical and the small night staff to run the enquiry.
Anna had intended to call in at Langton’s apartment, to collect his mail, etc., but by the time she had returned home, showered and changed, it was already after six-thirty. She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid the rush-hour traffic on the M4 heading out of London and so accepted she wasn’t going to get to see him until way after eight. She spent the time in the slow-moving traffic going over the case. She found it all very depressing: so different from working alongside Langton, whose energy and tireless pressure on everyone around him always paid dividends. There had been numerous other cases she had been involved in, before and after Langton; none of the SIOs ever matched him, or even came close.
Langton was waiting for her, sitting in a wheelchair in
the empty recreational room. He gave her a glum smile. ‘I’d just about given up on you.’
‘Well, I started on a new investigation this morning–victim murdered in her own flat. Her kid found the body.’
‘Who’s heading it up?’ he asked moodily.
Anna listed Sheldon and co., and he snorted.
‘That stuffed shirt! Can’t stand him and that bodybuilder sidekick of his–thinks he’s Burt Reynolds. If he spent less time in the gym and more time policing…They’re all a bunch of wankers.’
Anna grinned; he was always abusive about anyone else working on the murder teams, but he had actually summed up her own thoughts.
Langton gestured around the empty room. ‘They’re all watching a movie, creaking and groaning around a plasma screen.’
‘What film?’
‘I don’t bloody know. I hate it; all they do is moan and groan or burst into tears all the time. It’s like a wailing wall around here.’
He sighed and then asked if she’d got any mail for him. She apologized and said she would collect it tomorrow.
‘Don’t put yourself out.’
‘Oh, just stop this. I didn’t have the time this evening.’
‘I bet Sheldon closed shop at five; he’s a real nine-to-five copper.’
She laughed and agreed; however, until they had some results from the lab and forensics, they couldn’t move in on anyone with a motive.
Langton ruffled his hair. ‘You know, before the days of DNA and the white suits at forensic, we had maybe
not as much to go on, but nobody ever clicked their heels; now, it’s all down to waiting for scientific evidence. Sometimes, they come up with bugger all as well.’
Anna didn’t really want to get into the details of the case, but he obviously did. After receiving a brief rundown, he remained silent, and then suggested that they check out all hostels and halfway houses in and around the area.
‘Sounds like some nutter, some bastard that might have been able to monitor your victim’s routine.’
‘Yes, I’ve thought about that too; it’s quite a tough area.’
He winced in pain and rubbed his knee.
‘You okay?’
‘No. This physio bloke massages my knee as if I was in a rugby scrum; it hurts like hell and yet I’m still not able to walk more than a couple of paces. They even brought me a fucking Zimmer frame. I said, the day you see me shuffling around on that, pal, is the day you can give me an OD of morphine.’
Anna remained with Langton for almost two hours; he then seemed to suddenly fade fast. He was hardly able to keep his eyes open, so she suggested she leave and see him the following evening. As she turned to go, he caught her hand.
‘Eh, you don’t have to make this schlep out here every day. If you’re up to your eyes in this case, leave it–just call me.’
She kissed him, and he held onto her hand tightly. ‘I’ll pull through this. It’s just going to take longer than I thought, but I’ll make a promise–next time you see me, I’ll be on my feet.’
She kissed him again and then left him, still sitting in his solitary position, surrounded by gym equipment he couldn’t use. She didn’t mention that she was going to talk to the head nurse for an update.
Anna was kept waiting for half an hour before she was able to discuss Langton’s progress. The nurse was a pleasant six-foot-five giant with a big wide smile.
‘Well, he’s not an easy patient, and he’s got one hell of a temper, but he is very determined. The reality is, this is going to take a lot longer than he thinks. The knee joint is very worrying and I know causes agony; sometimes it would be better for him to rest up, but he refuses and demands painkillers. He had a bad fall because he tried to stand and wanted to work out on weights, but after a chest injury as bad as the one he suffered, he has to be patient.’
‘How long will he be staying here?’
‘Well, we usually do a two-week stint, then patients can go home. If they need further treatment, they come back; we’ve got some that have been coming back and forth for months. I’d say James is going to be looking at the very least, six months.’
‘Six months?!’
‘Yes, and I can’t guarantee that he will be able to walk unaided–but that is not the only problem. He can’t unwind, or he won’t; his desperation to get into the gym and work out is very common. They think if they exercise to excess, it’ll block out their thoughts and then they won’t have to consider their own feelings. Sadly, the support system network that used to exist for officers like James has virtually eroded in the last year. There used to be a much stronger camaraderie and humour. What I am concerned about is his isolation; he refuses to
interact with any of the other patients and this will, I am sure, eventually lead to depression.’
Anna felt depressed herself, driving home. It was after one when she eventually got to bed and she was so tired, she crashed straight out. She also forgot to set her alarm, so was late getting up and got caught in the rush hour driving over to Brixton.
The briefing was already in progress when she quietly entered the incident room and sat at her desk. As she suspected, Sheldon had requested they check into all men on probation that were known in the area.
‘I think, due to the ferocity of the attack, we could be looking at someone with a previous record of violence and assault, so get cracking and let’s see if we can get a better result today.’
Anna said nothing. She noticed Blunt and Brandon huddle with Sheldon for a while before they broke up. Sheldon then gestured for her to come into his office.
‘You were late,’ he said curtly.
‘Yes, I’m sorry–I got caught up in traffic.’
‘Not a good enough excuse. I run a very tight unit.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She changed the subject fast. ‘Have you heard anything from the PM report?’
‘Nope. In fact, I’m just on my way over there if you’d like to join me.’
‘Thank you.’
She sat in rather uneasy silence in the rear of the patrol car, while Sheldon had a lengthy call to someone she presumed was his dentist, as he was asking about root canals and the cost; then it went from root canals to implants. He again discussed the cost, and swore, before eventually agreeing to call back.
‘Do you have toothache?’ she asked.
‘No, my wife, but it’s private and costs a bloody fortune. She had four front teeth capped six months ago and it came to over three thousand quid.’
‘It is expensive,’ she murmured, not that interested.
‘How is he doing?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Langton. I heard he was in a bloody no hope situation.’
She felt her hand tense. ‘Well, he’s far from that and is expected out of Glebe House soon,’ she lied.
‘Well, he’s a fighter, I’ll give him that, but not someone I’ve ever got on with–probably why he’s never made Superintendent. Now, he might–if he’s going to be kept on in some kind of desk job capacity.’
She bit her lip. ‘I think he’s very keen to get back to the murder team.’
‘Yeah, they all say that, you know–but you don’t get shipped out there for nothing.’
She wanted to punch the back of his red neck. ‘He simply requires a lot of physio on his injured knee.’
Sheldon turned round, resting his arm along the back of the seat. ‘Well, I suppose you’ll be a regular visitor, so send him my regards when you next see him.’
‘I will.’ She was annoyed at the implication that she was on such close terms with Langton, as she had attempted to keep their private life just that–private.
‘I knew his first wife,’ the DCI went on. ‘Indian, I think she was, very beautiful–had a tumour and died very suddenly.’
‘Yes, I believe so.’
‘He had a tough time dealing with it–well, I suppose one would. I think he was shipped out to Glebe House that time too, though I may be wrong.’
‘Yes, you are. He has never been there before.’
‘Ah well, you know how rumours spread.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She leaned back and stared out of the window, hoping the conversation was over.
‘I worked with your father,’ Sheldon continued. It was bad enough him talking about Langton, but now her father! ‘Yeah, just in uniform. He was a character–scared the life out of everyone, had a right old temper on him, similar to Langton, in many ways. He never could tolerate all the paperwork. Well, he’d hate it even more now–fart and you’ve got to leave a bloody memo.’
She was saved from any further conversation as they drew up into the car park of the mortuary.
Unlike Langton, Sheldon was quite the gentleman, holding open the doors for her to walk in ahead of him; he also told her to gown up, as if she’d never been at a post mortem before.
Irene Phelps had really fought for her life. The defensive wounds to her hands and arms were like a patchwork quilt. The crisscross wounds also slashed her cheeks, neck and eyes, with one incision virtually slicing through her right eye. She had died from a single knife wound to her heart: the blade, a kitchen carving knife, had been thrust into her up to the hilt. She had been raped and sodomized after the attack. They had DNA from the assailant’s semen and blood.
Returning back to base with Sheldon, Anna remained as silent as they had been while at the mortuary.
They drove for at least five minutes before he spoke. ‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked, not turning to look at her in the passenger seat directly behind him.
‘Well, it was obviously a frenzied attack by a killer
who left his DNA and probably his fingerprints all over the weapon and the flat.’
‘Yes, and…?’
‘I don’t think burglary was his initial motive; he may have ransacked the premises after the kill, but I think he was there to kill. He—’
She was interrupted. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because of the severity of the wounds. I think he must have been waiting for the opportunity rather than planning it.’
‘Go on.’
‘There are no signs of a break-in, which means he was possibly already holding our victim when she let herself in. From what I saw at the flat, it did not look as if he was a professional burglar. It’s just as if he was in such a frenzy after the murder and the sexual gratification: he threw things around, searching for anything of immediate value. We know he must have bloodstained clothes; as we have not had anyone coming forwards, having seen the assailant either in or around the victim’s home, he must have somewhere close that he could walk out to.’