Clean Cut

Chapter Twelve

Anna left a message with Grace to say that overnight she had come down with some kind of flu. If she didn’t feel any better later in the morning, she would go to her doctor.

That done, she called the incident room who were investigating the discovery of the limb found in the skip, in her capacity as one of the DIs on the enquiry into the murders of Gail Sickert and her small daughter. She then spoke to the administration department at Wakefield prison to arrange an interview with Idris Krasiniqe, the man convicted of the murder of Carly Ann North. With the two appointments organized for the morning and the afternoon respectively, Anna sat down and, as Langton had done in the incident room, listed cases one, two, three and four.

Gail Sickert’s murder was number one. Gail Sickert was, at first, known to them by her maiden name, Gail Dunn, but when she took over the lease of the bungalow, she had actually been married to someone called Donald Summers. They appeared to have no record of who he was, where he was, or if he even existed. All they did know was that, when they first interviewed Gail, she referred to Joseph Sickert as her partner and, by that time, she was using his surname. According to the dates that Vernon Kramer had given for Sickert’s arrival at the bungalow, it seemed that there was only a matter of weeks before Gail and Joseph Sickert became involved with each other.

Anna checked her notebook for the date she had gone back there to confront Gail over the photograph. This was the time she had been confronted by an irate Joseph Sickert, who had threatened that she would get the same treatment ‘as her bloke’.

Anna worked on through her copious notes. Just before Arthur Murphy’s trial, she had been contacted by Beryl Dunn, worrying about her daughter. Nothing more was heard of Gail until her mutilated body was discovered at the bungalow (or, as Langton described it, the piggery). The murder team had also unearthed the body of Gail’s little girl; or her skull, at least. They were now searching for Sickert and Gail’s two other children.

Case two: the murder of Carly Ann North. Idris Krasiniqe had tried to bargain by giving the names of his two accomplices. Langton was then attacked in a halfway house. After that attack, Idris had withdrawn the names, denying he had ever given them to the police. Langton was hospitalized and almost died, and as yet no one had been charged with the attack. Idris was sent to trial and attempted to plead diminished responsibility, but the judge gave him fifteen years. He subsequently refused to discuss either the attack or his two accomplices, saying he had made their names up; he also maintained that he was scared of voodoo being used on him if it was discovered that he had given up information. Anna underlined this section, as Langton had not brought it up as a major factor in his enquiry.

Whilst Anna was working on the murder of Irene Phelps, using Gail Sickert’s photograph of Arthur Murphy and Vernon Kramer, she had come face to face with the man later identified as Rashid Burry. This same Rashid Burry was connected to Sickert because he had helped him out with medical treatment for his sickle cell anaemia. Burry was also connected to Camorra, a known people transporter, who had at one time also lived at the same hostel. Camorra was also linked to Sickert, as it was likely that he had arranged his illegal entry into the UK.

Case three: the murder of Arthur Murphy. Killed in prison, his assailant was Eamon Krasiniqe, apparently no relation to Idris, though Eamon was also an illegal immigrant. Eamon was now in prison, in a zombie-like stupor caused by a so-called voodoo hex.

Anna underlined the two voodoo links. It was only ten-fifteen, yet she already felt tired out by trying to fathom how the cases all linked together. The unpalatable but obvious explanation that kept presenting itself was that Langton wanted them to be linked: this way he could, whilst ostensibly working on the Gail Sickert murder, make enquiries into his own attack.

At half past ten, she had to stop working and drive to Hounslow police station, where she would meet the DCI running the enquiry into the dismembered limb found in the skip. When she went into the reception, she was disappointed to be told he was not available; however, she knew it wasn’t a wasted journey when Barolli walked in.

‘Eh, I heard you were coming in,’ he greeted her.

‘I don’t believe it, are you on this one?’

‘For my sins.’

‘I’d like you to tell me as much as you can,’ she said affably, quite pleased to see him.

Barolli took her into an empty interview room and placed down a beaker of coffee. ‘Listen, I don’t mind who knows it, but when I was brought in on this — it’s a step down, ha ha. Actually, we’re all sick of footloose jokes — but I was surprised that Jimmy never asked for me to join his team.’

‘I heard it was because you were on a case.’

‘I was, but winding down — I could have moved over. Mind you, schlepping out to the New Forest every day must be a pain.’

‘It is.’

Barolli munched on a sausage roll. She saw that he had indeed put on a considerable amount of weight, as Langton had jotted down in his notebook.

‘You got any further in ID-ing the owner of the leg?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. We also know he was heavily into drugs — crack cocaine. We reckon he may have been a dealer, but why he was bumped off, we’re no closer to finding out. DNA gave us nothing from records. Young kid was tipping in bottles when he saw it; that was at eight-thirty. The skip gets emptied at eight forty-five, so it was a stroke of luck we found it. We’ve found no other body parts, so we were making enquiries with known drug dealers, then we got a call in from a woman reporting her bloke missing. Poor cow had to come into the morgue to see if she recognized his sock!’ he chortled. ‘What she did okay was a scar on his knee, as her boyfriend had recently had keyhole surgery.’

‘So do you have a name?’

‘Yeah, Murray White. We’re still checking, but nobody has seen him for a couple of days; I reckon they’d spot him if they saw him, hopping along minus his right leg.’

‘What about his drug contacts?’

‘What about them? We’re not going to get much out of any of them. As for the rest of him, he could have been sliced up and chucked in God knows how many skips around the area, been crushed and on the tips by now.’ Barolli suddenly went quiet. ‘How’s Langton doing?’

Anna hesitated. ‘Well, he’s still in a lot of pain.’

Barolli shook his head. ‘I honestly thought he’d never pull through. I had a couple of weeks’ leave afterwards, you know. I just sort of folded. It all happened so fast, and seeing him covered in blood…’ He sniffed. ‘Keep on thinking, could I have done more? But I was behind him; when he got cut he fell against me, almost knocking me down the stairs.’

‘I know Mike Lewis feels the same way,’ she said.

‘Yeah, but I sort of felt that maybe he reckoned I should have done more, you know? Reason why he didn’t want me working alongside him again.’

‘I doubt that.’

‘When I talked to him, he sounded… Well, not like himself.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last night. I gave him all the details we’d got to date.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘That why you’re here?’

‘Yes, just checking it all out.’

‘Well, I don’t see how it’s connected to your case.’

‘Did Langton think it was?’

‘I guess so — reason he called.’

‘But you don’t think it has any connection to the attack on him?’

Barolli shook his head. ‘Nah — well, apart from the guy being black — but he’s not, as far as we know, connected to the murder of Carly Ann North.’

Anna sipped her coffee, aware she had to play the interview carefully. The last thing she wanted was for Barolli to be suspicious and contact Langton.

‘This guy you sent down for Carly Ann’s murder?’ she began.

‘Idris Krasiniqe? Is he connected to our dismembered limb? I can’t see it; we’ve not come up with any links to illegal immigrants. Our bloke — if it is him, and we think it’s pretty positive — was born in Bradford.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Who?’

‘Krasiniqe.’

Barolli took a deep breath. ‘Crazy son of a bitch. We don’t know if that’s his real name, since all his documents were fake — but he admitted the murder; couldn’t not, as he was found with the fucking meat cleaver in his hand trying to hack off her head. I tell you, this world is getting sickening.’

‘He’s in Wakefield, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, down for fifteen, then they’ll probably want him deported, but if you read the papers, that’s a joke. All we really knew about him was that he was probably Somali — but even that could be a lie. He took all the blame, but there were two other blokes with him; after he gave us their names, he withdrew the statement and said it was a lie, but we acted on his information, and you obviously know the fucking result. We reckoned that even though the names were fake, the address wasn’t, because of what happened to Jimmy, so someone had to have got to Krasiniqe whilst he was held at the nick. Suddenly he knew nothing? Bastard.’

‘You know there was a murder of a prisoner?’

‘Yeah, I know, and by another Krasiniqe; maybe they just take someone’s legitimate name and keep on using it.’

‘What about Camorra — you know anything about him?’

Barolli shook his head. ‘No. Jimmy asked me, but I’ve never come across him.’ He sighed. ‘I know it must really tear him up. He almost dies, and it’s like these bastards just run into the sewers like rats and disappear. I tried to track them down, but just hit a dead end.’

Anna looked at his fat round face, sweat already standing out on his forehead. ‘You feel bad about it, don’t you?’

‘Not as much as he must do, but like I said, I had to take two weeks off, it affected me so badly. He’s a great guy, a one-off. I really did feel bad about him not using me.’ He took another deep breath then changed the subject. ‘Those two kids — you found the missing boyfriend yet?’

‘No.’

‘Been enough press, but like I said, there must be some kind of network that lets them scurry into the sewers.’

‘Hard with two kids though.’

Barolli nodded. ‘They still looking for other body parts at the piggery?’

‘I believe so; the pens have all been torn apart, but there were a lot of outhouses, so I don’t know if they have given it the all-clear yet.’

‘Pigs eat anything.’

She picked up her briefcase; things were depressing enough, without Barolli adding to it. ‘Thanks for your time.’

‘My pleasure, and do me a favour? Put in a good word for me, would you? ’Cos this’ll be wound up soon, and if… Well, I leave it to you.’

She patted his arm. ‘I’ll do that, and don’t say anything about my being here — you know the way he is. I’d hate him to think I was double-checking.’

He cocked his head to one side. ‘Are you?’

‘Just keeping the records straight.’

His dark eyes bore into her. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Yes. Like I said, he’s doing really well — just has some pain.’

‘Don’t we all,’ he said softly.

Anna’s next port of call was Wakefield prison, to visit Idris Krasiniqe. Instead of driving, to save time, she took the train. Sitting at an empty table, she made a call to the incident room to say she had taken herself off to a doctor for some antibiotics. Harry Blunt took the message. She asked if there had been any developments and he said that there had been no result on the search for Sickert and the children. They had also as yet not discovered the whereabouts of Camorra, but were working on it. He suddenly paused. ‘Hang on.’

Anna waited for some time before he came back to her.

‘Jesus Christ, you won’t believe it; just as the forensic team were packing up, they’ve found more remains.’

‘The children?’ Anna asked immediately.

Harry was having a muffled conversation with someone and had obviously covered the phone with his hand.

‘Hello?’ Anna waited.

‘Anna?’ It was Langton.

‘Yes, I was just calling in.’

‘You sick?’

‘It’s just a sore throat. I should be back tomorrow.’

‘Well, take as much time as you need,’ he said.

‘What’s happened?’

Langton said they had unearthed part of a skeleton buried beneath the henhouse. ‘The area had already been searched, but it was in a pretty shambolic state. That pest of a landlord was hovering around, making sure everything was back to better than it was before — he was virtually asking the blokes to rebuild the bloody thing! Anyway, they removed some planks from the floor and there it was, under a thick layer of manure. It looks as if it’s a grown man, not a child, thank Christ.’

‘Sickert?’ she asked.

‘I dunno. We’ll know more when they’ve taken it to the lab, but it’s a bloody nightmare.’

‘I’ll get back as soon as I can.’

‘Good.’ He put the phone down.

Anna sat back and stared out of the window as a waiter appeared.

‘Are you having lunch?’ he asked, removing the stained paper mat left on the table.

‘No, but I’d like a coffee.’

‘This is the first-class dining section. There’s a buffet bar further up the train,’ he said, whipping another mat off the table opposite.

Anna went to the buffet car and stood in line for a beaker of terrible coffee and a sandwich. She then made her way to a second-class compartment and had to sit opposite two women who were, thankfully, asleep. She put her briefcase on the table between them and began to search through her old notes; then after a while, she too sank back into her seat, closing her eyes.

Langton stood by the trestle table as the skeleton was pieced together. The body was totally decomposed, and had been buried naked. The skull still had some blond frizzy hair attached, so it was obviously not Sickert.

Langton sighed. ‘This is bloody unbelievable. Who the fuck is this? I mean, how many do you think have been buried in the outer fields, never mind the piggery?’

It would take a considerable amount of time before they would get any kind of a result from the skeleton: DNA would be extracted from the bones and hair, and dental records checked. Judging by the look of the teeth, the skeleton was not that of a young man but someone in his mid-thirties or forties, as there were some missing, and numerous fillings.

Langton returned with Harry Blunt to the patrol car. He was in a foul mood as they drove back to the incident room. ‘This was all we bloody needed.’

Harry’s phone went.

‘It’s me again,’ Anna said.

‘How you feeling?’

‘Lot better. I had a look over my old notes on the investigation into Arthur Murphy, when we were searching for him.’

‘Yeah — and?’

‘We know Gail used the name Sickert, but before he came onto the scene, she was actually married to a man called Summers. They took out the lease on the bungalow together — the piggery as you now call it. We never even questioned him, because by the time we went to interview Gail, Sickert was living with her. I think you should get on to her mother, Beryl Dunn, and find out about the husband and his whereabouts. How old would you say the skeleton was?’

‘We can’t be sure; around thirty or forty, judging by his teeth. He had sort of sandy hair.’

‘Well, maybe get a description from Mrs Dunn. It’s just a thought, but if we have Sickert as prime suspect for her murder, he might have also killed her husband. I’ve got his name down as Donald Summers.’

‘Okay, thanks — we’ll look into it.’

Anna went to the taxi rank and asked to be taken to Wakefield prison. The driver looked her up and down, and then nodded. ‘Visiting, are you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your old man, is it?’

‘No — I am a police officer,’ she snapped.

Langton listened as Harry repeated Anna’s telephone message. He didn’t want any further interaction with Beryl, as he had disliked her intensely when he had met her. If these were the remains of this man Summers, it was even more of a headache. With the body count mounting, the pressure was on; Langton was getting very urgent calls from Scotland Yard for an update on the case.

It took Harry Blunt over half an hour to call all the various phone numbers they had for Beryl Dunn. Her phone had been cut off and her mobile was dead. He had ended up phoning her local police station in Newcastle, and they agreed to call on her and get her to speak to him on the phone.

Anna waited in the Governor’s office to interview Idris Krasiniqe. She had said it was in connection with the death of a prisoner in Parkhurst: Idris had the same surname and they were attempting to discover if the two men were related. She was told that she would probably not get much out of him, as he remained sullen and uncooperative. When he had first arrived at the prison, they had put him on suicide watch, as he was very disorientated and kept banging his head on the wall. He had rarely spoken to anyone and had made no so-called friends inside. He refused to partake in any prison activities and had no visitors. He had subsequently been segregated from the main wing for throwing food at officers and wrecking his cell. As soon as it was lockdown for the afternoon, they would bring him out.

Beryl Dunn had refused to get into the patrol car, screaming that she had done nothing. It took some time before she understood that the police were not there for any of her criminal offences, but as part of the investigation into the murder of her daughter. Eventually, she quietened down and agreed to accompany them to the station, where they would call the New Forest incident room.

The moment Harry Blunt was called to the phone, Beryl started badmouthing their incompetence; it was a while before she answered coherently anything Harry asked her.

‘Mrs Dunn, could you give me any information about your daughter’s husband?’

‘Which one? She was always saying she was married to some down and out, but it was all in her head. She just hitched herself to one loser after another. I never met this black guy. I said all this before. I never met him and I wouldn’t know what the bugger looked like!’

‘We are asking about the man your daughter was involved with before Joseph Sickert.’

‘Christ, I dunno. As I told that WPC, my daughter had three kids by three different blokes.’ Beryl then burst out: ‘You know, I blame it all on my son! Arthur wouldn’t leave her alone when she was a kid, and he tormented her all her life. Now he’s dead, she’s dead — and my grandkids…’

Beryl started crying down the phone. Harry rolled his eyes while he waited. She made loud sniffing noises before she spoke again.

‘There was a bloke drove her up here once, to get her money.’

‘Could you describe him?’

‘He was a window cleaner, from two streets down; she took off with him, I think. Well, he’s not been cleaning windows round here for months.’

‘Do you know his name?’

‘Ken? I think it was Ken something or other.’

‘Could you describe him?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Was he tall? Short? Dark-haired? Red-haired?’

‘Oh, sandy-haired, yeah. Big bloke, about six feet — come to think of it, he had no front teeth, the two in the front were missing. He used to clean the windows in these baggy shorts and checked shirt; had a van with a ladder.’

Harry continued pressing Beryl for more and more details until at last she came up with his surname.

‘Summers — that’s it! I just remembered what his name was — Donald Summers!’

‘Not Ken?’ Harry interjected.

‘No, I was wrong about that. It was Donald Summers and I tell you why I remember, ’cos his mother plays bingo and she’s a right tart.’

Beryl continued to make derogatory remarks about Mrs Summers as Harry jotted down the details for the team to check out. As soon as he was able to get her off the phone, he asked the local police to help them out again and see if they could contact Donald Summers’s family and, if possible, obtain the name of his dentist.

Anna waited in the small interview room for over half an hour. She spent the time looking back over the reports of Idris Krasiniqe’s arrest and trial. Carly Ann North had been missing for four days before her body was discovered. She had a string of previous prostitution charges and arrests. No matter what a wretched life she had, to have been raped and butchered was sickening. Idris had admitted to the crimes, he also admitted to trying to dismember her. He pleaded guilty to all charges, but denied that he had ever given the names of the two other men at the scene; he swore that they were just passing and that he didn’t know them. However, the police had two samples of semen from the victim. One was matched to Idris; DNA from the other remained on file. When questioned about her rape, he said that Carly Ann was a tart and had probably been with a number of men before him. According to a friend of hers, however, she had been trying to clean up her act: she was off drugs and had started going to a rehab centre of her own free will. There had been a sighting of a white Range Rover close to where Idris was arrested, which had driven off when the uniformed officer approached. It had never been traced. Anna underlined this: she could not recall if this had ever been brought up.

Anna looked up as she heard footsteps, then keys turning in the door. She shut her briefcase and put it down beside her chair.

The uniformed officer looked in and smiled. ‘We’ve got him for you, but we’ve had to cuff him. Shall we bring him in?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Do you want someone in here with you?’

‘Just outside the door, please.’

‘Have to keep his cuffs on then.’

‘Of course.’

He held the door open and a second officer gestured for Idris to be brought into the room.

Anna was taken aback at how young he was. He was astonishingly handsome. His skin was a golden olive shade and he had piercing blue eyes. He was about five feet ten and very slender. He was wearing a prison jumpsuit zipped up to his chest.

‘Sit down, Idris,’ she said politely.

He remained standing rigidly. The officer took him by his shoulders and rammed him into the seat. It took a few moments before he bent his knees and sat. He held his hands in the cuffs in front of him.

‘Can we have some coffee?’ she asked, and then looked at Idris. ‘Or do you want tea?’

He shook his head and looked at the floor.

Anna said in that case, she wouldn’t either; the officers hovered until she gave them the nod to leave. Idris swivelled round to look at the door closing behind them. He then turned back to stare at Anna.

‘My name is Anna Travis,’ she said.

He bowed his head.

‘I wanted to see you, as I am taking care of a prisoner held in Parkhurst prison. His name is Eamon Krasiniqe.’

No reaction.

‘We are very concerned about him.’

No reaction.

‘He is very sick.’

No reaction.

‘He also committed a crime inside the prison. Do you know, or have you ever met, an Arthur Murphy?’

No reaction.

Harry Blunt hung up and went over to Langton’s office. He knocked and entered.

Langton was sleeping at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms. He jerked awake when Harry tapped on the desk.

‘It’s looking like Travis could be right,’ Harry said. ‘We just had the dental records sent over to the lab. This Donald Summers had three teeth missing from his top layer. He left Newcastle, presumably with Gail Dunn and, according to his mother, moved into some place out in the New Forest. She hasn’t seen him for the last eight to ten months. She said she’d had one phone call to say that he was working on a farm. He’s got sandy hair and is six feet one, aged forty-two.’

Langton yawned. ‘The lab come back with anything on how he died?’

‘Well, there’s a crack in his skull the size of a meat cleaver, but nothing’s firmed up yet. The manure on top of him did a good job at fermenting his remains.’

‘Okay, start asking around all the locals again, and get that bloody landlord back in; see if he ever met him.’

‘Will do.’

Langton sat back in his chair. ‘Still nothing on Camorra?’

‘Nope. Could be he moved out of Peckham. He could be Christ knows where.’

‘The leg wasn’t his,’ Langton said.

‘Yeah, they got an ID on a drug dealer it belongs to. Bloody terrifying, isn’t it? I mean, that case you were on, Carly Ann North — the bastards were hacking her body up.’ Harry gave a gesture of despair. ‘Bloody animals out there on the loose. I got two kids and I keep on thinking about those two little souls. I mean, I don’t know what else we can do. They’ve had their pictures in every paper for weeks now, and not so much as a whisper. Gov?’

Langton’s head was back down on his folded arms. Harry hovered for a few moments and then walked out. He went into the incident room to find Mike Lewis.

‘Is he okay?’ Harry asked, jerking a thumb at Langton’s office.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Well, he was sleeping when I went in, and just sort of went back to sleep whilst I was talking to him.’

‘Maybe he’s tired of your voice.’

‘Very funny. It’s not as if we’re dormant in here, is it? Bloody body count’s mounting every five minutes.’

They were interrupted by Grace, who had just received confirmation that the skeleton was that of Donald Summers.

‘Oh, that’s terrific!’ Harry grunted and threw up his hands. ‘Just got to find the bastard that put the meat cleaver through his skull!’

Anna had kept talking. She explained how she had arrested Murphy, she discussed the death of Gail and she mentioned Sickert — and she had not had one single response from Idris. He either stared at the floor or directly at her with his ice-blue eyes. She was beginning to think she had had a wasted journey.

‘Idris, I have been trying to explain to you the reason I am here. If you are not related to Eamon Krasiniqe, then you can’t help me, but it’s so sad: he’s such a young man.’

She had saved this until the end.

‘I have been given a lot of help from Doctor Black; I don’t know if you are aware of who he is, but he has a clinic in the East End.’

Anna was really playing off the cuff: she had read about this Dr Black, but had never met him.

‘But he needs to have some background detail, or he can’t help Eamon. So I was just hoping you might have information, otherwise he will die from whatever voodoo hex was put on him.’

At last there was a reaction: the blue eyes widened and the perfect full lips were sucked in.

‘I am aware of how terrifying voodoo threats can be, how much they can harm an individual, but Doctor Black—’

‘Voodoo,’ Idris whispered.

Anna shrugged her shoulders but her heartbeat quickened; she’d got to him and she knew it. ‘Maybe you don’t believe in it, but Eamon does. Unless we can understand more about why he should be so affected… Poor boy is like a zombie, have you ever heard that expression? I think it’s called the walking dead.’

Idris was now attentive. He sat bolt upright, his cuffed hands clasped together. She waited a moment but he said nothing. She was trying to think what to do next; then she remembered.

Lifting her right hand, Anna pointed her index finger just above Idris’s head and made the slow circular movement, just as Eamon had done. His blue eyes flickered from side to side; he turned to stare at the wall, then looked back to her.

‘Time.’ He whispered so softly, she could only just catch it.

Anna leaned forwards and lowered her voice. ‘Idris, he doesn’t have it — he’s dying. Please tell me anything you can that might help him.’

Idris lowered his head to look over to the door. Anna followed his gaze. Through the glass window, they could both see the outline of the waiting officers and, in the pause, could even hear their whispered conversation. As if suddenly aware that they could not hear Anna’s voice from the room, one of the officers peered in through the glass, shading his eyes to see clearer.

Anna lifted her voice slightly. ‘Obviously anything you say will not go any further.’ She then leaned closer, whispering, ‘They can’t hear us, Idris.’

He slowly lifted his cuffed hands to point to her notepad.

She picked it up. ‘You want this?’

He nodded. She passed it over, together with her pencil. He spent a few moments staring at the empty page then, like a child, wrote very slowly; then sat back and turned the notebook towards her.

He had written in childish looped writing. ‘He is my brother.’

‘Then you have to talk to me,’ she said urgently. Again, he took the notepad; this time, he wrote faster, but with the same intense look on his face.

Again, he passed the notebook back. Save him, I talk, I tell you things.

‘But Idris, I need to know more. I can’t use this — it means nothing. If you are his brother, then for God’s sake, tell me what you know.’

He shook his head, a stubborn expression on his face.

‘All right, listen to me. I am going to repeat the names of people I need information about. If you know anything, then nod your head; you don’t even have to say a word.’

He chewed his lips.

‘You don’t even have to write it down.’

He gave a short nod of his head. Anna started to list all the names of suspects they wanted to question: she started again with Sickert and, this time, Idris nodded. She said a few more and got nothing; then, at the mention of Rashid Burry, again he nodded his head. He stared blankly when she asked about Gail and her children. He gave no reaction to DCI Langton’s name. The only major reaction was to Camorra: when she said his name, his face twisted and he licked his lips, his blue eyes darting back and forth. She then asked if he had lied about the men who were with him on the night he had killed Carly Ann North and he gave a small shake of his head.

Anna could feel him closing off. She reached over to take the pencil back, knowing never to leave a prisoner anything he could take back to his cell.

‘You have to help me a bit more,’ she said.

He shook his head and gestured again at the officers. He then bent forwards, his hands clasped together in his lap, and spoke softly. ‘Help my brother. I talk then.’

As soon as she got home, Anna sat down and wrote up all the new information she had acquired. It did not look much. The relationship between Idris and Eamon Krasiniqe might turn out to be important as a connection to Camorra; however, none of it looked like it was leading towards to the killer of Gail Sickert and her little daughter, nor did it connect to the death of Gail’s husband, Donald Summers — unless Camorra was the link between all the murders. If this was true, then Langton was not, as she had suspected, re-routing the murder enquiry for his own ends. Just as she accepted this, her doorbell rang.

Langton leaned against the doorframe.

‘I was going to bring you some chicken soup, but then I found out you were fucking lying. You’d better have a very good explanation.’

She led him into the lounge, her cheeks flushed. ‘Sit down,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’ He sat on the sofa and looked at the coffee-table loaded with her notes and files.

She sat opposite him. ‘How did you know?’

He looked up: he had planned to visit Krasiniqe himself, so had called the prison — only to be told that a DI Travis was already interviewing him. Langton stared at her.

‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’

Anna hesitated. ‘I just felt I wasn’t doing enough.’

He shook his head. ‘Really.’

‘Yes, and I’m sorry — it was unethical of me.’

‘You can say that again.’ Langton rubbed his knee, and then leaned back, closing his eyes. ‘I could throw the book at you, Anna.’

‘I know.’

‘Any reason why you think I shouldn’t?’

Anna paused. ‘I have been very concerned about you.’

He opened his eyes.

‘You are taking on too much. It was obvious the other day and so, I just thought if I could do some legwork—’

‘If I had wanted you to do that, I would have asked! This was a bloody stupid and, as you said, unethical way of you so-called helping me. You simply took off, making enquiries without supervision, without permission and whilst lying about being ill; constantly calling into the incident room to see if there were any developments, while you were busy working on your own. You want to take over the investigation, is that it? You think I’m incapable or something? What is it with you, Anna? This has happened before. You got off lightly then, but I don’t know if I am going to accept the excuse that you were acting because of—’

‘You are sick,’ she interrupted him.

‘Not sick enough to allow anyone to take over my case without permission!’

There was a pause. Anna sat, head bowed.

‘I will think about what I am going to do with you, but you could be taken off the case.’

‘I was hoping no one would find out.’

He sighed. ‘Sometimes, Anna, your crass naivety stuns me. You think that because of your connections with me, you can do what you bloody well feel like doing.’

‘That isn’t true.’

‘Then what is the truth?’

Anna stood up. ‘I was afraid you were allowing the case to run out of control because of personal reasons. I was concerned that you were widening the case to include your attack. Then, when you collapsed, I had serious concerns as to whether or not you should still be working.’

He shook his head, smiling, as if stunned by what she had said; then he wiped the smile off fast and gritted his teeth. ‘So, DI Travis, what were you going to do about it?’

She could hardly get her breath. She had to swallow over and over, then excused herself to go into the kitchen. She fetched a glass of water and returned to the lounge to find him sifting through her notes.

‘I said, what were you going to do about it?’

Anna sat down. ‘I would do anything for your well-being.’

He gave a short bark of a laugh.

‘It’s the truth.’

‘It’s bullshit; you were going to have to make a report, right? Get me removed from the case. Why can’t you tell the truth?’

‘Because I … that is not the truth.’

Langton sighed and rubbed his knee again. ‘Well, I don’t want to waste time bickering. Did you come up with anything worth breaking the rules for?’

She passed him her notebook. ‘They are brothers, Eamon and Idris; the only way I got Idris to open up and to write this was because I brought up the voodoo hex on Eamon. It was the only time he showed any sort of reaction. I gave him a story about visiting a voodoo doctor who thought he might be able to help Eamon. Idris bought it, and then wrote this.’

Langton read the scrawled writing and put the book down.

‘Idris is afraid of voodoo himself; he speaks to no one in prison and is terrified of anyone knowing he even talked to me. He’s had no visitors and remains in his cell during recreation. I asked him to give me a signal if any names I mentioned meant anything to him; the only ones were Sickert, Rashid and Camorra. I think if we can get some help for his brother, he will keep his bargain and he will talk.’

Langton nodded. ‘Just how do you think we can do that?’

‘There are numerous voodoo specialists; we contact them, see if they can get to Eamon. If he’s still alive, then we should try and do what we can — possibly even arrange some kind of meeting, so we get Idris out of the prison.’

Langton pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘If that would be possible,’ she added lamely.

‘He is still alive — just,’ Langton said. ‘They are trying to feed him intravenously, but he won’t let them. He even tried to bite off his own tongue.’

She looked at him. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘About you?’ he said softly, without moving.

‘No — Idris. I am certain he has information, and if this is a way to get it then we should move fast.’

Langton gripped the side of the sofa and rose, gritting his teeth; he was very obviously in pain. ‘I’ll organize something.’

‘Great! Do you want something to eat?’

‘No. I need sleep. I’m going back to my place.’

Anna walked with him to the front door. ‘What about me?’ she asked.

He turned, resting his hand on her shoulder. ‘Ah, Travis, you will have to wait and see. I’ve not decided, but it’s going to have to be put on report — you know that, don’t you?’

She stepped back. ‘Do I also put on a report that you are still suffering—’

He gripped her shoulder tightly. ‘Don’t try making a fucking deal with me. You are so out of line, and lucky I haven’t already kicked you off the case. I haven’t, let’s say because of past relationships, but from now on, you tread the line or I’ll bloody get you demoted — do you understand?’

She felt his fingers digging into her, and it hurt. ‘Yes, sir.’

He released his hold on her and she opened the front door. ‘First thing, I want you to go over to Clerkenwell station; a pal of yours is part of the enquiry into the body of the boy found in the canal — DI Frank Brandon. Have a talk to him and see what they have come up with. Then get back to the incident room for a briefing at two.’

He walked out, not looking back at her as he headed for the lift. He never used to take it, but she knew that he was unable to walk down the stairs without pain these days.

‘Goodnight,’ she said quietly.

He turned to look at her; he had such a strange look on his face. ‘You are a clever girl, Anna. I care about you. Don’t blow your career. You have just come very close to it.’

The lift opened and he stepped in before she could say anything. She shut her front door and went into the kitchen. From the window, she watched him limping across the road. There was an unmarked patrol car waiting; she hadn’t seen him drive since his attack. She saw how much difficulty he had getting into the front seat; eventually the driver came round to help him.

Anna returned to the lounge and stacked all her notes and reports into her briefcase ready for the morning. She felt as if she was on automatic pilot. Even getting ready for bed, cleaning her teeth, putting on her nightshirt, she couldn’t kick her brain into action. Unable to sleep, she got up and brought her briefcase to bed. She sat, propped up by pillows, and forced herself to read up on the case of the unidentified boy whose dismembered body had been found in the canal.

It was now many weeks after the wretched discovery. To date, they had no report of any missing child of his age and race. He was estimated to be six or seven years old; his head was missing, as were both hands. He had marks to his small torso that were possibly linked to some sadistic ritual. It had been estimated that hundreds of children had been brought into the UK illegally and then disappeared without trace. Gail Sickert’s children — about the same age — were still missing. She doubted that they could have been taken out of the country, but this was a possibility; another was that somewhere in the UK, they were being used for sexual perversions or sadistic rituals, possibly voodoo ceremonies.

She shut the file. If Camorra was involved in their case, either directly or indirectly, she was certain they would eventually trace him. However, if Camorra had instigated illegal entry for Sickert, Rashid Burry and God knows how many others, he could have a virtual army to make sure he was protected. He must also have a lot of money; these desperate people were paying thousands for fake documents to get into the UK. It would also mean Camorra had a hold over them for the rest of their lives.

Anna glanced at the clock: it was coming up to 2 a.m. She put all her files back into the briefcase and turned off her bedside light, then lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness. Langton was right — she was more and more sure of it. As he often said, there were never any coincidences, just facts.

Back in his own flat, Langton had taken a double dose of sleeping tablets to try and obliterate the pain in his leg. It had got no better; in fact, it seemed to feel worse. He topped the pills off with half a bottle of whisky before he crashed into a deep, troubled sleep. The mounting case file and lack of results tore at him. He knew he had to watch his back from now on: the one person he had cared for deeply was also the one ready to stab him in the back, and the revelation had shocked and pained him.

Old Jack Travis had spawned a detective as wayward and as obsessive as he had been. As a young, wet-behind-the-ears detective, Langton had wanted to prove himself better than anyone else on Jack’s team. The old man had taken him out to a pub and ordered a pint for each of them.

‘You are the best that’s come out of training school in a long while, Jimmy, and you’ve got a big future ahead of you. But unless you become a team player, and play on my team, I am kicking you off my investigation.’

Langton had almost swallowed his beer backwards; he had thought Jack was taking him out to congratulate him on his work.

‘Every man and woman working on this enquiry answers to me, and I protect them. You will need for the future to build friends, not make enemies inside your own camp.’ The big man had put his arm round the chastised young Langton’s shoulders. ‘You earn loyalty, Jimmy; you earn it.’

After the case had been filed, Langton was promoted as a result of a report made by Jack Travis. In part, that was the reason why Langton had brought Anna onto his team for her first murder case. It was also the reason he had saved her career in the Red Dahlia investigation: he was loyal to Jack Travis. He would now have to give Jack’s daughter the same lecture Jack had given to him. It was not going to be easy.