Clean Cut

Chapter Eighteen

Idris Krasiniqe was zipping up his prison jeans. He had lowered them to his knees so that Dr Salaam could check his for possible puncture-marks. There were none. He asked Idris whether he often felt that his mouth was dry; he replied always — the officers in the prison got pissed off with him forever asking for water.

When asked if he also felt that his face was red, Idris had managed to smile, shaking his head. ‘I’m partly black — so I dunno if my face goes red or not! It feels hot sometimes, but I dunno about it being red.’

Dr Salaam bent down. There was a small tattoo on Idris’s right wrist.

‘Wait one moment; how long have you had this, Idris?’

The young man looked down and shrugged. ‘When I first got to Wakefield, months ago. Bloke in the cell I shared, he used to tat all the prisoners. Since Eamon got sick I been in solitary, I don’t mix with nobody.’

Dr Salaam peered closely at the tattoo. ‘When did your dry mouth start?’

Idris hesitated, trying to recall the exact date. ‘Maybe a few months back?’

Dr Salaam used his small pen torch to examine the rather crude small star: it was not even filled in but was just a dotted outline.

‘I was gonna have a bigger one done, but this hurt like hell. It’s like Eamon’s, but he got a moon — well, that’s what he told me.’

‘Your brother does not have a tattoo, Idris. I would know, as I have examined him — but this is how you might have been injected.’

Idris gaped. ‘Shit, man! Oh, man — you gotta help me! Can you help me?’

Langton clapped his hands. ‘Brilliant! The more he’s shitting himself, the better.’

‘I think it would now be beneficial for him to know the condition his brother is in before I give him something that will help,’ said Salaam.

‘You going to give the electric shock treatment?’ Lewis asked.

They all waited. Esme took her husband aside and whispered to him.

He nodded his head. ‘My wife is doubtful it will have any effect at this late stage.’

‘Fuck that. Let his brother watch: now he’s given us permission, we can get Eamon on a heart monitor, put him under an oxygen tent — anything to show us in a good light. If he dies, he dies; it’ll be even more of an incentive for Idris to talk. If he won’t talk, we withhold his own medication.’

Langton was so aggressive that no one argued. His energy levels back to normal, he then set the wheels in motion for Idris to be brought to see Eamon. Anna suggested they allow Esme to be with him, saying that she had a very calming influence; she knew that if Langton took Idris anywhere, he would scare the living daylights out of him.

The monitor was bleeping, indicating Eamon’s erratic and slow heartbeat. He also had an oxygen mask on; the respirator pumped on behalf of his weakened lungs. A doctor from the hospital had been brought in and was quietly sitting to one side, talking in hushed tones with Dr Salaam.

Anna, Langton and Lewis watched from behind the one-way glass.

‘How did you swing this?’ Anna asked Langton.

‘He’s in private practice — just does the odd visit here, so we got lucky. About time, but he’ll cost. And he’s African, so that also helped.’

They fell silent as the door was opened and Idris, accompanied by Esme, walked in. The uniformed officers who had led them down there locked the door behind them.

Idris was obviously shaken; seeing his brother in such a state, and after so long, made him weep. Esme did her gentle whispering to him, taking his hand and drawing him closer to the bedside. He moved to stand beside his brother and then, like Esme, he began to stroke Eamon’s head, as he wept.

‘Eh, bro, it’s me, just come to see you. Can you hear me?’

There was no reaction. Idris leaned closer and repeated that he was there, then he kissed his brother’s forehead. The heart monitor bleeped and Idris turned to look at it, then back at his brother, who remained motionless.

‘I love you, bro — I love you.’

The monitor then bleeped louder and the red zigzag flatlined.

‘Fuck, he’s gone,’ Langton said.

‘Do something, man! Do something to help him!’ Idris shouted.

Electrodes were connected and a tube placed into the dead boy’s mouth, as rubber pads were put on his chest.

Anna had to look away. It was the panic in Idris she hated to see; he was flailing his hands and weeping. Esme tried her best to control him as the first jolt of electricity went through his brother.

The dead boy’s body jerked and then lay still; three more times, they watched his body being moved by the electricity. Then there was an almost unanimous sigh of disbelief: the heart monitor reconnected, like a miracle. The beat was strong, though erratic.

‘He’s alive, he’s alive!’ Idris shrieked, trying to get closer to his brother.

‘I want you to leave now,’ said Salaam. His voice was firm and loud.

Idris looked at him like a helpless child. ‘Is he gonna be okay now?’

‘Let’s pray, brother, let’s just pray.’

Esme almost had to drag Idris from the room, banging on the door for it to be unlocked.

Dr Salaam came to the window. He could not see them through the one-way mirror, so just stood there, not sure where to look. ‘The reaction you are seeing is a false hope. It is the electricity that has started the machine and maybe allowed his heart to beat for a fraction, but he’s gone. I thought it best that your prisoner had some hope, but there is none. He’s dead.’

Langton got up and closed the blind. Both Anna and Mike remained silent, not sure how to react.

‘Doctor Salaam is something else, isn’t he?’ Langton said.

He turned as Esme walked in. She seemed very tired. ‘Idris wants to see DI Travis, no one else. I think you should go to him as quickly as possible.’

Anna looked to Langton.

‘Go do it.’

If he had felt any degree of irritation that Anna was the one to talk to Idris, he didn’t show it; instead, he shook the coffee pot and handed it to Mike Lewis.

‘Get us a refill, will you?’

Lewis took the pot and walked out.

Langton waited until the door closed before he spoke. ‘Your husband… Whatever my own feelings are about his practice, about what the pair of you do, I think your husband is a very special man.’

‘He is,’ she said quietly. ‘He has very special powers and works only towards the good. If he wished, he could unleash a darkness, but he would never even contemplate doing so.’

‘Like I said, he has my admiration. He’s worked hand in glove with us and I am very grateful.’

‘Thank you. I hope you get a successful result.’ She hesitated. ‘May I talk to you on a personal level?’

Langton was slightly taken aback. ‘Sure. In fact, I was going to ask if you had any more of those herbal painkillers.’

‘You need so much more,’ she said softly. ‘You carry a big open wound.’

‘Yeah, I do. I got cut through the abdomen, chest and was almost sliced through my heart.’

Esme counted out four more painkillers. ‘Well, I didn’t know about that. My reference is more esoteric. We all carry scars.’

‘Really?’ He was not interested.

‘Yes. Mine is the child I lost.’

He nodded, not wanting to get into any of her so-called esoteric mumbo jumbo or, even worse, her private life.

‘Someone left you with such pain,’ she murmured now.

‘Ma’am, I was almost sliced in two. There’s nothing esoteric about it, just a brutal bastard who almost killed me.’

Esme placed her hand on his heart. ‘In here,’ she stated.

He could feel incredible heat from her hand. He gasped, not wanting her to take her hand away. He didn’t understand. Her hand remained on his chest and he felt an overwhelming need to weep, but he tensed up. ‘It’s my knee joint,’ he said lamely.

‘You never released the pain.’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m taking every pill I can lay my hands on to release the pain. I want you to stop this.’

When she withdrew her hand, he felt a terrible emptiness; it was indescribable.

‘My wife died.’ His voice sounded distant. ‘She was young, she was beautiful, she was clever, and I loved her. We wanted to have a family; our children would have been the light of our lives, because we wanted more of each other. She died of a brain tumour. One moment, she was laughing, so full of life and energy, then it had all gone; she had gone. I could never believe it could be over; that she wouldn’t walk back into my life.’

‘But you have buried it; you have never released her light.’

‘There was no light after she died.’

Esme touched his hand. ‘You have to let her go. You need the light now. You need it, because you are moving downwards.’

‘Well, maybe I’ll be with her. You think I’m going to die?’

‘No, no. She is the light — she is forever a light. I feel her and know she is a vibrant force that you must embrace. There is no guilt, there should be no remorse, and you could have done nothing to save her. Let her go, or you will never get well.’

‘I’m doing okay,’ he muttered, angry with himself. No one knew what anguish he had lived with when he lost his beloved, and he didn’t understand why this tragic part of his life was being opened up now.

‘I can’t deal with this now,’ he said quietly.

‘I understand, but you must one day. Don’t leave it too late.’

She gave him some water to take the painkillers. He joked again that she was feeding him Jimson weed. She gave a soft laugh, but neither was amused.

‘Come and see me when this case is over,’ she said, packing up her packets and bottles.

‘Right, will do.’ He had no intention of keeping in contact and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He stood beside her as she checked her medical case.

‘What does this Jimson weed look like?’ he asked curiously.

Esme touched a bottle with a red cross on the label. ‘This is the tincture, and these are the tablets; they can be crushed into a powder. My husband brought them to show you. Usually both are kept in a locked cabinet; it’s obvious why.’ She turned as Mike Lewis walked in with the fresh pot of coffee.

‘Just to let you know, the firearm section guys outside are getting impatient and want to know when we’ll be through.’

‘When I say so,’ Langton rapped out. He gestured to Mike that they should go and see how Anna was doing. He was keen now to get out and away from Esme.

Esme opened the viewing blind. Her husband had removed all the equipment from Eamon and packed it away. He was now washing the body down.

Esme closed her eyes in prayer. She then locked her medical case and placed it on the floor beside her chair. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching Elmore finish washing Eamon and then reverently place a sheet over the dead boy’s body.

Anna had taken it very slowly with Idris. He was in a state of shock and grief. While he believed that his brother was still alive and that there was some hope, he was also terrified that he, too, had been poisoned. He constantly drank water, his mouth dry, and repeatedly asked Anna if the doctor could help him and Eamon. Anna had repeated just as often that she was certain he could. Calming him had taken over ten minutes; now she knew she would have to put the pressure on.

‘I am going to tape our interview,’ she said.

‘Okay, okay, but what about me being returned to Wakefield? I mean, if this gets out that I’ve been talking — I mean, this bastard that did the tattoo, will he be taken care of?’

‘Yes, and we will arrange for you to serve out your sentence in another prison.’ She could not be sure they would get permission, but it was now imperative they get some answers.

She had only just switched on the tape when Idris blurted out, ‘He loved her.’

Anna looked up, unsure that she had heard correctly. ‘I’m sorry — what did you say?’

‘My brother — he loved her. He was crazy about her. I mean, he was supposed to just be sort of looking out for her — you know, like a bodyguard.’

‘Can you just explain to me who—’

He interrupted her. ‘Carly Ann — my brother and her. He loved her.’

Anna sat back. This didn’t make sense. ‘I don’t understand. If you knew that, then why were you found with her body?’

‘It was set up.’

‘What was set up?’

Idris sighed. He slumped, clenching his hands tightly. ‘He found out — found out they were going to run off together — so he punished Eamon. He said anyone who ever crossed him would live to regret it. He was acting crazy, all dressed up in this white robe with crosses and shit, and they held Eamon down while he ranted and raved at him. That’s when he must have injected him.’

‘Who was this?’

Idris looked at her as if she was stupid. ‘Camorra — who the fuck do you think I’m talking about?’

Anna swallowed. She then said that she did know but, for the benefit of the tape, she had to hear him say the name.

‘Carly Ann was Camorra’s meat. He’d seen her on the street, liked the look of her and got two of his guys to pick her up and bring her to him. He had her washed — and I’m not kiddin’—in milk. He then got all this gear for her, clothes and shit, and said she was his woman. She had these blue eyes, man, like clear sea; yet she was black. It was a sign to him that she was special. He then got my brother to be her sort of keeper, to make sure she didn’t get back on the junk. It was Eamon’s job to take her out, when she went shopping and stuff. She was buying gold bracelets and necklaces, ’cos Camorra gave her all this money. Eamon was with her round the clock. Camorra had to go do his business, so they was alone a lot together.’

Idris lowered his head. ‘He fucked her.’ Idris wiped his eyes. He said his kid brother was dumb; he didn’t know the place had hidden cameras. It was all on film, so it wasn’t difficult for Camorra to find out.

‘Where was this?’

‘He had a big house in Peckham, but he’s got places all over London. The guy has so much money, all cash.’

‘Did he own a white Range Rover?’

‘Yeah, he’s got a lot of cars. He’s got BMWs, Mercedes — you name it — even a Ferrari.’

‘Where does he keep these cars?’

‘I dunno, different places.’

‘Do you know any other addresses?’

Idris sighed impatiently. ‘No, but what happened with Carly Ann went down in the Peckham house.’

‘What did go down?’

‘She had run off with Eamon; Camorra had all his henchmen searching for them. She got to some woman in a care place, who was looking after her. I dunno if she really cared that much about my brother, but he was on the loose. I was scared to help him, you know, even though he was my brother, but I met up with him once and gave him some money. He said they were gonna go maybe to Manchester. He didn’t have no passport, so he couldn’t leave the country.’

Idris opened a bottle of water, gulping it down. He said that a couple of Camorra’s henchmen had found Carly Ann and taken her back to the house. She told Camorra where his brother was and they got him too.

‘He tied her up, like on this altar thing he had, and he brought in Eamon.’ He started to cry.

Anna waited. He drank more water and then managed to go on.

‘He raped her. Then he made me do the same. All the while, my brother was forced to watch. Camorra said no one ever crossed him and, as he’d got us both into the UK, he would have us arrested or deported, but I knew that was a lie. I knew he’d kill us if we didn’t do what he wanted.’

‘What did you do?’

Idris began to shake his head from side to side. ‘I didn’t kill her, he did. I didn’t kill her. I carried her body out into the car.’

‘The Range Rover?’

‘Yeah. Rashid Burry helped, and there was another guy. Camorra said he wanted us to bring back her head. We had to cut off her hands so no one would know who she was.’

Idris broke down, weeping uncontrollably, incapable of talking. He just sat, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bent forwards, sobbing.

Dr Salaam was sent for and gave Idris some calming tablets, nothing else, but Idris was convinced they would cure the poison that he believed he had been given via the tattoo. His mind was playing tricks on him: his dry mouth was due to nerves, not Jimson weed.

Having talked to Anna for over an hour and a half, he was exhausted, mentally and physically. He was returned to Wakefield prison, to be kept in solitary confinement until the authorities decided whether he could be transferred to another prison. He was told that Eamon was also being taken back to prison. He was not informed that his brother was dead.

It took a long time for all the papers to be signed so that Eamon Krasiniqe could be released to the mortuary. A post-mortem was required, to confirm the cause of death. Afterwards, he would remain there until it was determined what should be done with his remains.

It was after seven in the evening when a tired Dr Salaam and Esme were taken back to the safe house. With the new information the team had from Idris, it was agreed, without any question, that they should both be protected, just in case word got out that Idris had been talking.

Langton and Lewis were driven out of the hospital at eight; Anna followed in the second patrol car. She was glad to be able to rest back and close her eyes. The nightmarish jigsaw was coming together piece by piece, but the last and most important section was still missing: the whereabouts of Camorra. The manhunt to find him would now be stepped up. Armed with the new information, Langton would be able to bring in as many officers as he needed. Their main concern was that, if Camorra found out that Idris Krasiniqe had talked, he would skip the country.

It was after nine when they reached the Hampshire station. Some of the team were still hard at it. Harry Blunt was trying to get any further information from the bus tickets used by Joseph Sickert, but to no avail. Frank Brandon had been tracing the visitors to Parkhurst prison to find anyone who could have passed the poison to Eamon Krasiniqe. The dead boy had had no visitors; but his cellmate Courtney Ransford had. The visitor had used fake ID and an assumed name. Frank was preparing to travel to Parkhurst the following day to interview Ransford.

Langton sent them home and, tired as he was, began to update the incident board ready for a team briefing first thing in the morning. Anna began to transcribe her tape-recorded interview with Idris, while Lewis plotted out the team’s work for tomorrow.

Langton stared at the incident board. Eamon Krasiniqe’s face now had a red cross over it, as did Rashid Burry, Gail Sickert, her toddler, Joseph Sickert and Arthur Murphy; however, it was as if parts of the edges of their massive jigsaw were still missing, as well as the central piece. Why had Eamon Krasiniqe murdered Arthur Murphy?

Langton tapped the photograph of Vernon Kramer. Could this no-good piece of shit, now serving his time at an open prison, hold any answers? Kramer was connected to them all. He sighed, too tired to think straight.

He looked at Mike Lewis — his tie undone, dark circles beneath his eyes — and said, ‘Call it quits for tonight, Mike. Go get some sleep.’

Mike was relieved; he didn’t argue. He’d only eaten two stale sandwiches since lunch and his head ached.

Langton looked over to Anna. Headphones on, she was still working on her report. She jumped when he put his hand on her shoulder.

‘That’s enough for tonight,’ he told her.

She eased off the headphones and leaned back in her chair.

‘Good day,’ he said softly.

‘Yeah, long one though.’

Langton stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘You did good work. A lot of this new development is down to you.’

‘Thank you.’

He hovered, hands still in his pockets. ‘You found it difficult working alongside me?’

‘Not really. I’m pretty used to you by now,’ she said, closing down her computer.

‘I have. Sometimes.’

‘You have?’

‘Yes. Mike was asking me earlier, you know, about you and me. You can never keep anything private in an incident room. He said how much you’d done for me when I was at the rehabilitation house. I mean, I know you did, of course I do, but I’ve never really thanked you enough. I don’t know how I would have coped without, you know, you being there for me.’

‘I wanted you to be well, and you have thanked me, so you really don’t owe me any more thank-yous,’ she smiled.

‘Well, if you say so…’

She looked at him, still hovering. His eyes were sunken with tiredness and the five o’clock shadow under his prominent cheekbones made him look haggard.

‘What?’ she asked gently.

‘I, er … I had a talk with Esme, the doctor’s wife.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes.’

She waited. He turned and walked into his office. She picked her jacket off the back of her chair and stood up, stretching; as she lowered her arms, he walked out again. He had his wallet in his hand. He opened it and held it out for her to see a photograph.

‘This was my wife.’

She looked at the photograph and then back to him, unsure why he was showing it to her. She was taken aback: his eyes were brimming with tears.

‘I loved her.’ He could hardly get the words out.

Anna didn’t know what to say.

He closed the wallet, he turned to the incident board and gestured with his hand. ‘Deal with death every day, every case; you learn early on not to get involved on a personal level — can’t do your job otherwise.’

‘Yes,’ she said, unable to look at him. She knew he was trying to explain something to her.

It proved too difficult. ‘Goodnight, Anna. See you in the morning.’

‘Yes, see you in the morning.’

He returned to his office. She picked up her briefcase and walked out of the incident room. From the car park, she could see his office light was still on, his shadow across the blinds, as if he was watching her.

Anna had successfully suppressed her feelings for him, but at times like this evening, they rose to the surface. She couldn’t help thinking that if he had put his arms around her, she would have had no idea how to deal with it. All she wanted to do was hold him close; she wished he could be the same man who used to draw her into the curve of his body as they lay in bed together. She felt the ache in the pit of her stomach; it was impossible to simply stop loving someone. She knew it would be a long time before she was truly able to say it was over.