Clean Cut

Chapter Twenty-Three

With the trial now over and the incident room packed up, Anna had some time off before she would be assigned a new case. She organized her flat, cleaning and washing everything from the curtains to the bedcovers. She always did a marathon clean after a case was over: it was therapeutic. She did the washing and ironing, sorted out her wardrobe, treated herself to a haircut and a manicure, and worked out at the local gym. As she pedalled on the exercise bike, she thought constantly about her own jigsaw.

Langton was never far from her mind. He had not called. It was as if she was on automatic pilot. She had not wanted to let her suspicion ferment, but it had. She took out one of her notebooks from the case — it had gone on for so long, she had filled three books — and went right back to the start of the enquiry, to the murder of Irene Phelps. This had come after Langton’s investigation into the murder of Carly Ann North.

His attack had occurred after Idris Krasiniqe had been arrested; he was then hospitalized and, due to his injuries, had been unable to be at the trial. She had made notes about the number of newspaper cuttings she had discovered at Langton’s flat whilst she was caring for him. She also went over her notes on the private talks she had had with Mike Lewis: he had feared that Langton would, if he ever did recover, rope him and Barolli into acting like some vigilantes. Anna sighed; she could not blame Langton for wanting to track down the man who had caused his horrific injuries.

When Langton had described the attack, she tried to recall exactly what he had said. Langton had been tipped off by Idris Krasiniqe, who gave the names of two men he said were with him on the night of Carly Ann’s murder and who escaped in a white Range Rover. Both the names were subsequently found to be false, but the address he had given was the one Langton checked out. Accompanied by both Lewis and Barolli, Langton had been walking up the stairs of the hostel, when two men came out onto the landing. Both men had escaped; one man, she knew, had been identified as Rashid Burry, but the man who had wielded the machete had never been identified. Langton had been taken to the Intensive Care unit at St Stephen’s Hospital. She knew that he suspected that it had been Eugene Camorra.

Anna had then gone to Vernon Kramer’s safe house to pick up Arthur Murphy; there she had, unwittingly, been confronted by Rashid Burry. Rashid presumed that the police were about to arrest him. Burry later found out that the officer who had been attacked was still alive, because Vernon Kramer had read about it in the newspaper in the patrol car. Kramer must have told either Camorra or Rashid that they were both being hunted down. This had to coincide with Joseph Sickert being sent to stay with Gail.

Trying to match the timeframe was making her head ache, but she kept coming back to Camorra. Camorra had forced Idris Krasiniqe to rape Carly Ann. Eamon Krasiniqe was held down and injected with poison. Both Idris and Eamon were then forced to watch Camorra rape and then strangle the girl. Idris pleaded guilty, but retracted the statement in which he said that the two other men had been party to her murder.

They now knew that Camorra and Rashid Burry had been in the Range Rover, from fingerprints. Semen samples taken from Carly Ann’s body matched both Idris and Camorra’s DNA. Rashid Burry’s body was then later found wrapped in black plastic bin-liners inside the vehicle; they traced mud on its tyres to Gail’s bungalow.

Anna closed one book and opened another. By mistake, she had jumped to her third book, which detailed the huge operation bringing the Krasiniqe brothers to the hospital for contagious diseases.

Reading her notes again, she was more certain than ever that Camorra had been fed poison: his symptoms were identical to those of Eamon Krasiniqe. Anna tried hard to think how someone could have got to him. If Camorra had been injected, then the autopsy would have noted the needle pinpricks; they had initially not noticed any on Eamon, but he had also ingested the poison via the rock cakes.

Anna lay on the sofa, eyes closed. She remembered the amount of water Camorra had drunk when they first interviewed him. Between them, they had consumed the entire contents of a large bottle.

Then she remembered that Langton had poured, from his own small bottle, a cup full for Camorra and a half-cup for himself. Camorra had gulped it down, and then shortly after, asked for a bathroom break. Anna now remembered standing in the corridor: Langton had put out his cigarette in his water cup and then he had tossed it into the waste bin! Langton, she was certain, had not drunk from the small bottle.

She was pacing the room: there was something else. At the time, she had thought nothing of it. Langton had mentioned that Camorra had ordered in steak tartare, when the officer asked if it was still permissible for him to order in food to eat in his cell. How did Langton know what he had ordered?

Anna called Esme Salaam to ask if she could talk to her, then hurried out to her car. The Salaams were back at their small practice in the East End and were just about to close by the time she arrived.

‘I need to know how easy it is to detect Jimson weed in a dead person,’ Anna said immediately.

Esme looked at her husband, who was taking off his white coat. ‘To my knowledge, it isn’t. It would require someone who was aware of the drug or who was privy to the symptoms. The drug would not be easily detected — though, of course, this would depend on the dosage.’

‘Enough to bring on a cardiac arrest,’ Anna said calmly.

Dr Salaam looked at his wife and shrugged. ‘Well, if it was a cardiac arrest in suspicious circumstances, if the patient had severe auditory hallucinations or intense visual anxiety…’

‘You mean like seeing things, or feeling as if something was crawling over them?’

‘That could be a side-effect; as I said, it would depend on the dosage.’

‘Say it was given to someone over a period of thirty-six hours?’

‘Well, it would have to be a considerable amount. To my knowledge, it is usually used in very small dosages to control and frighten the recipient, by making them believe that they are being taken over by another power.’

‘How easy is it to come by?’

‘It isn’t; far from it — it is exceedingly difficult. I suppose someone, with the intention of acquiring it, could grow it, but there is no antidote. It would be very unwise for anyone to fool around with it.’

Anna accepted a cup of tea from Esme and sat down as Dr Salaam excused himself, saying he had to make some calls. As he went into his surgery, Anna tried to think of the best way to explain why she was asking the questions.

Esme made it easy for her. ‘Is it connected to Camorra?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Did he, to your knowledge, ever use it?’

‘If he did, he would not have got it from here. We only have a very small sample of it, and that is always kept locked away. It is very rare for me ever to take it out.’

‘When did you last do this?’

‘When we were at the hospital. My husband felt it might be required, but as it turned out, I don’t think he ever showed it to anyone.’

‘Is it in a bottle?’

‘Yes: you can have it in liquid form or made into small white tablets.’

‘Do they have a taste?’

‘No, they don’t.’

‘So they could be slipped into someone’s food?’

‘Yes, of course. Wasn’t that the method they used to feed that poor boy in the prison, the coconut rock cakes?’

Anna took a deep breath. ‘Yes, of course — I had forgotten. So Camorra would have had access to this poison?’

‘Obviously, but he was instigating the importation of illegal immigrants; one of those poor souls might have been a carrier of it. They were also bringing in heroin and cocaine and marijuana, weren’t they?’

Anna nodded.

Esme sipped her tea and placed her cup down carefully in the bone china saucer. ‘Why are you asking me all this now?’

‘Just tying up some loose ends,’ she said quietly.

Esme nodded and proffered more tea, but Anna declined.

‘Could I see the container that you brought the poison in?’

Esme hesitated. ‘This won’t have any repercussions for us, will it?’

‘No, of course not,’ Anna said firmly.

Esme unlocked a cabinet and took down a bottle with a red cross marked on the label.

‘Did anyone at the hospital have access to this?’

Esme shook her head. ‘No, it was in my medical case all the time. I only took it out to show DCI Langton.’

‘Did you lock the bag?’

‘Yes, most certainly. I always take every precaution and the bag was never out of my sight.’

Anna nodded; she then asked if Esme could check the contents for her, just to make sure that nothing was missing.

Esme hesitated, then pressed the cap down and unscrewed it. ‘These are in tablet form: the seeds are crushed and then pressed into pills.’ She carefully tapped the bottle to hold in the palm of her hand one small white pill. She held it out to Anna. ‘So small and so deadly.’

Then Esme returned the pill to the container and screwed the cap back on. She asked very gravely, ‘What loose ends are you so interested in?’

Anna shrugged. ‘Oh, we were concerned that Camorra did show symptoms; we will need to verify that his death was by natural causes.’

‘I see. Well, to be frank with you, the relief both my husband and I felt when we knew he was dead was considerable. He was a very evil, twisted man; who knows how many lives he had destroyed for his own sexual gratifications, including poor young children? I hope he died in great pain. He deserves no sympathy; sadly, there will be little retribution on behalf of those he damaged.’

At that moment, Dr Salaam came back in and apologized for not being available. He said he had two patients suffering from insomnia; he laughed and said that he himself very rarely ever had that problem as, by the time he was able to get to his bed, he was exhausted.

Anna thanked them both for giving up their time. The doctor shook her hand and walked with her to the door to show her out.

When she had gone, he closed the door behind her and bolted it both at top and bottom. ‘What did she really want, do you think?’ he asked his wife.

‘Eugene Camorra might have been given some Jimson weed. I didn’t press on it too much, but she said he had shown symptoms,’ Esme replied.

‘Well, I congratulate someone. If he died in agony and feeling the terror, then so be it.’

‘Whoever it was did not take them from us; I was so careful.’

‘Of course you were, my dear. Besides, the only people there were police officers, so I am sure she is not trying to implicate one of them.’

Esme kissed him and went upstairs to their flat to start dinner. Dr Salaam said he would be only a few moments.

After drawing the shutters, he turned to the cabinet. He stared at the bottle with the red cross over the label, then took it down. He shook it, then went over to the small reception desk and took out a miniature silver shovel. He emptied the contents and counted, sliding each pill across the silver shovel and back into the bottle. He then screwed the cap back on and replaced the bottle, locking the cabinet. Fifteen small white tablets were missing.

Anna returned home, dissatisfied; she had somehow thought that she would gain some answers. Her suspicions still lingered. Did Langton know that it was Camorra who had attacked him? She tried to recall his reaction at Orso’s house when they had arrested Camorra; neither man had shown any sign that they remembered the other. Langton had never mentioned it during their questioning of Camorra.

Unable to sleep, Anna could not stop her mind churning over. She smacked her pillow to try and get more comfortable. So what if Langton did have something to do with the death of Camorra? He was a despicable human being; no prison sentence could be harsh enough for the crimes he had committed. Still, she could not rest easy, because Langton was a police officer; if he had taken the law into his own hands then it contravened all that they aspired to as upholders of the law. Break the rules once, and the next time was easier. Langton was known to be a risk taker: had he taken the ultimate one?

After a restless night, Anna sat drinking a strong black coffee. She was determined to get some answers. She made a shortlist of people she wanted to talk to. If they did not confirm her suspicions, then she would make herself bury them.

Mike Lewis was getting his young son into a pushchair when she turned up at his house. Like Anna, he was having a break before his next case; unlike her, he was enjoying his time off. Anna said she just needed to ask him a couple of questions. He shrugged and said he was on his way to the playground.

‘Did you recognize Camorra as the man who had attacked Langton?’

He stopped pushing the pushchair. ‘What?’

‘Did you?’

Mike walked on. ‘Look, it was a long time ago. To be honest, it was such a nightmare that it’s kind of blank — but in answer to your question, no.’ He stopped again. ‘Maybe if Jimmy had said something I’d have thought about it, but if anyone was to recognize him, it would be him, right?’

‘You know Camorra got meals sent into the station.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, I think someone got to him.’

Mike pushed his son harder in the pushchair. ‘I dunno where this is going, Anna, but if someone did that, then it had to be Orso. What’s your problem?’

‘Nothing; just tying up loose ends.’

‘There always are some on any case. I just don’t quite understand where this is leading.’

‘Never mind. You enjoy your time off.’ She walked away.

Mike stood there, then turned and looked after her, before he continued on to the park to play with his son. Suddenly he felt uneasy, wondering what Anna was up to.

Barolli was also at home; although working on a case, it was his weekend off. Anna sat with him in a rather untidy lounge, as he chatted on about still being miffed he’d not been brought onto the investigation.

Anna took out the mug shots of Eugene Camorra. ‘Is this the man who attacked Langton?’

‘Could be,’ Barolli said.

‘But you were there — you saw him.’

‘Yeah, but you gotta remember there was this big bloke in front to start with, then the bastard came out of nowhere. I dunno…yeah, it looks like him, but I couldn’t be certain.’

Anna put the photograph away.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Barolli asked. ‘I know who that is, by the way — that’s Eugene Camorra, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what’s with you asking me about him?’

Anna said it was just tying up loose ends. She was surprised when Barolli tapped her knee and said, ‘Your loose ends — or Jimmy’s?’

‘Mine.’

Barolli leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘Drop it. Whatever you think you can gain by this, it is not gonna do any good, you hear me? Drop it.’

Anna felt the tears stinging her eyes. ‘I can’t.’

‘Then let me give you some advice: whatever you are trying to uncover will destroy you. If you keep going, it’ll be down to the woman spurned.’

‘That is not true,’ she said angrily.

‘Isn’t it? Just drop this crap, Anna.’

‘He’s a bloody police officer.’

‘So am I!’ snapped Barolli.

‘And so am I!’ she retorted.

‘Then drop whatever you are doing and get on with your life,’ he said more quietly.

‘So Mike Lewis called you, did he?’

‘Mind your own fucking business. I mean it, Anna; now go on home. This is my weekend off.’

Anna drove out to the police station in the New Forest. They were surprised to see her. She asked to speak to the officers who were working the cells when Camorra was held.

She waited in an interview room for ten minutes before Officer Harris joined her. Anna was very pleasant, putting him at his ease, as she asked seemingly innocuous questions regarding Camorra and his arrangement to get food sent in. He said that DCI Langton had been privy to Camorra’s requests, but was always warning them to check every meal tray.

‘What about the time he ordered steak tartare?’

Harris shrugged. He had given Camorra a menu from the local Italian restaurant. He would choose what he wanted to eat and they would call the restaurant; it was delivered, inspected and taken to his cell. Camorra said they should take the money out of the wallet that they held when he was taken into custody.

‘And DCI Langton approved this?’

‘Yes, he often checked the trays personally.’

‘Did Mr Orso ever have access to these trays?’

‘No, he was locked up.’

‘So only DCI Langton and yourself were overseeing these food trays?’

‘No: whoever was on duty, ma’am.’

‘Thank you.’ She got up and, almost as an afterthought, asked if he had been around when Camorra was taken ill. He said that he was: in fact, he had been the officer who called a doctor.

‘He’d gone apeshit, like he was seeing monsters or something coming through the walls. He was screaming and shouting that they’d come for him and he was trying to remove his clothes; said they were eating him. He was really crazed and his eyes were rolling back in his head, mouth frothing, really crazy.’

‘As if he was drugged?’

‘I dunno, ma’am; just he was crawling up the wall with terror.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘He went all quiet — stiff like — staring up at the wall. Oh yeah, when I looked in on him, you know, to check him out, he did this.’ Harris lifted his hand and pointed with his finger, then made a circular motion. ‘As if he was pointing at a clock.’

‘So what happened then?’

‘DCI Langton came down and said he wanted a doctor for him asap.’

‘So, during the wait before the doctor arrived, what did Camorra do?’

‘Nothing. He just lay there on his bunk staring up at the ceiling.’

‘Like a zombie?’ Anna asked innocently.

‘Yeah, that’s how I’d describe him.’

‘Thank you very much.’

Anna drove away from the station. At least she had one visit she was looking forward to.

She had asked, as it was a weekend, if she could see Gail’s children. Dora let her in, and said she was just about to make some tea. The children were in her jumbled lounge. Anna walked in to see the little girl in a rah-rah skirt, wearing Carly Ann’s gold chain round her neck and playing with a massive dolls’ house. Keith beamed at Anna; he was wearing a police helmet and uniform.

‘My, you look terrific,’ she said, as he pranced in front of her.

‘I got the bad man,’ he said.

‘Yes, you did,’ Anna said, sitting on a cushion. She turned as Dora brought in a tray of Coca-Cola and tea, with a plate of chocolate biscuits. ‘I was just congratulating Keith on how he helped capture the bad man.’

‘Yes. He’s been given that uniform and all sorts of things, from handcuffs to charge sheets; he’s a proper detective now. And he’s going to be nominated for a bravery award. We also got lots of Barbie dolls and a Barbie house.’

Anna knew, without being told, who had bought the children their new acquisitions.

‘James Langton — he’s a special guy, isn’t he?’ Dora said happily.

Anna nodded. Dora asked what should be done with the jewellery left by Carly Ann. Anna said that, to her knowledge, no one was claiming it; as the children would need so many things, perhaps it could be sold to help finances.

Driving away, Anna knew she’d just bent the rules but she felt that, in these circumstances, it was acceptable. Yet again, her mind returned to Langton; although she had just done something unethical, she could hardly put it in the same league. She sighed. Do it once and it would be easier the next time!

As she let herself into her flat the phone rang. She dumped her coat and picked it up.

‘Hi.’ It was Langton.

She had to sit down. ‘Hi, how’s things?’ she asked.

‘Good, how about you?’

‘Fine, just getting ready for the next case, whatever that may be.’

‘Yeah. I’m off to France for a couple of weeks with the kids. I need a breather — well, not that I’ll get that with Kitty and Tommy, but there’s a health spa, so I can get some feelgood time.’

‘That’s great.’

‘So, I was wondering if we could have that dinner? Maybe make a reservation now?’

‘Yes, why not.’

Langton arranged to see her the day after he returned. He would collect her at eight.

‘I won’t be late,’ he said, laughing.

Anna felt as if she could do with two weeks in a spa herself. Over the course of the fortnight, her suspicions became less of an immediate worry; in fact, she began to think that she should, as Barolli had suggested, put them to rest.

There was some good news: Ella Sickert’s other child had been traced to a couple living in Birmingham. They ran a sandwich bar; the child was working for them and having very little schooling. The couple insisted that they had taken him in as a favour to his aunt, who had been unable to control him. The so-called aunt was tracked down: she was a known prostitute, living with a smalltime drug dealer in a rundown high-rise block of flats. If the child had been used for sexual favours, he showed no signs of physical abuse; however, he was aggressive and abusive and, when the police arrived, he went into a frenzy. They finally discovered that, along with his brother, he had been taken to the house in Peckham. He stayed there only a matter of weeks before he was sent to his aunt in Birmingham. He had never seen his father as he was promised, and had not seen his brother after he left Peckham. It took a considerable amount of counselling and therapy before he admitted to being drugged and used by men who came to the brothel. There was a pile of fake immigration documents which, yet again, led back to Camorra and Orso. All others involved were arrested and charged.

After weeks of waiting, Ella was reunited with her son. It was never going to be easy. He rejected her totally and blamed her for all the abuse he had suffered. There would be a further lengthy period of legal paperwork before the deportation order came through for Ella and her son to return home.

The autumn weather was very warm, and Anna was still waiting to be assigned a new case. The two weeks flew past and she suddenly realized that she had agreed to have dinner with Langton. She was not looking forward to it.

Langton called to ask whether, as it was such a beautiful day, they could switch dinner to lunch. She agreed.

She dressed in a simple white suit and high heels; she’d had her hair cut very short and the sun had brought out her hated freckles over her nose. She put a bottle of Chablis in the fridge. At promptly one o’clock, the doorbell rang.

Anna was taken aback. Langton looked fantastic; he was deeply tanned and was wearing a pale blue suit with a white T-shirt beneath it. He also carried a bunch of white roses.

‘For you,’ he said, with a mock bow.

He followed her into the kitchen as she took a vase and filled it with water. She arranged the flowers and took them into the lounge.

‘I see you’ve caught the sun, or your nose has,’ he joked.

‘This is just from the sunroof in the car. I can’t really sunbathe, I just go bright red.’

‘Kitty is brown as a berry, even little Tommy. We had glorious weather, swam every day — sauna, massage. Did the trick — I feel terrific.’

‘You look it,’ she said.

‘Right — you hungry?’

‘Yeah. Where are we going?’

‘As it’s such a nice day, I thought we’d drive to Sunbury — you know, just before Shepperton? There’s a lovely pub; they serve good food and we can sit outside and eat.’

‘Sounds good.’

It was quite a long drive. Anna took the Mini. Langton sat beside her, complaining about the legroom, as always. They drove through Richmond, over the bridge, and headed towards Sunbury. He kept up a light conversation about the holiday and the food, saying he’d put on weight with the breakfast croissants, three-course lunches and then late dinners — the best food he’d ever eaten.

They went down the winding lane to the large pub, which faced the water. He chose a table outside and then picked up the menu.

‘You want a salad? And they have good steak and chips.’

‘Yes, fine.’

He ordered at the bar inside and came out with two glasses of red wine and a large spoon with a number on it, which he stuck into the pot provided. ‘They’ll call our number when it’s ready.’

‘You obviously know this place well,’ she said, making conversation.

‘Yes, it used to be a regular haunt when I was married.’ He picked up his wine glass and tapped hers. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers,’ she said quietly.

‘So, Anna, what have you been up to?’

‘Waiting to hear what my next case is; cleaning up the flat. I like everything all—’

‘Shipshape,’ he said.

‘Yes, you could say that.’

He lit a cigarette, and gestured that it was okay as they were in the smoking zone. ‘I’ve cut back and I’m going to have some acupuncture to give up.’

‘Good.’

‘So, what else?’ His light tone had altered. He was very quiet, his eyes boring into hers.

‘I went to see Gail’s children, but you beat me to it.’

He nodded.

‘Ella Sickert and her son have been reunited.’

‘Immigration have such a backlog, they could be waiting for a year.’

‘I think she wants to go home.’

‘I don’t blame her. This country sucks.’

Anna nodded and sipped her wine.

‘So — what else?’ Again she felt the undercurrent, and found it hard to meet his eyes.

‘Spit it out, Anna. I know you paid a visit to Doctor Salaam.’

‘I just wanted to find out.’

‘I know what you wanted to find out; you also called on Mike Lewis and Barolli.’

‘Yes.’

‘Went back to the station.’

‘Yes.’

‘So, after this extensive runaround, what have you—’

They were interrupted as their number was called out; a waitress carrying their salads appeared. Langton held up the spoon.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled. He ordered two more glasses of wine to be brought with their main course, plus a bottle of still water. He picked up his knife and fork, and tucked into the salad.

Anna could hardly touch hers; her stomach was in knots.

‘So tell me — what have you been so busy beavering around after?’ He pushed his half finished salad aside and drank his wine.

Anna haltingly went over the facts she had unearthed for the defence team representing Idris Krasiniqe.

‘Lemme tell you something: Idris Krasiniqe took the guilty plea over Carly Ann—’

‘But he didn’t kill her.’

His hand shot across the table and gripped hers tightly. ‘Let me finish: we know he worked as Camorra’s henchman/drug dealer along with his brother; we know they were both illegal immigrants. Christ, we are not even sure if that’s their real name — right? Right?’

‘Yes, I know that.’

‘Idris was trying to decapitate her, trying to cut off her hands, so she wouldn’t be identified, correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now, even if he was high on drugs, terrified of Camorra, afraid for his brother — whatever reason you want to give — he was still fucking involved in her murder. He said he saw Camorra strangle her after he had raped her and after he himself had been forced to rape her — so she was what? Tied up on that fucking stone slab? His brother was forced to watch, injected with that shit Jimson weed so he wouldn’t know what time of day it was. You want me to go on?’

She nodded and picked at her salad.

‘Okay: watching the attempted decapitation were Rashid Burry and Camorra. Idris gets picked up, the two guys piss off and the Range Rover disappears. You still with me?’

‘Yes!’

Langton began to tick off on his fingers the next events: Idris Krasiniqe withdrew his statement; he said he did not know who the other two men were, and claimed that he, and he alone, killed Carly Ann. ‘Now, you tell me, Anna: why would he do that? Why would he go down for a murder you say he didn’t commit?’

‘Fear for his brother maybe?’

‘Eamon Krasiniqe was picked up for dealing drugs to kids outside a school. He resisted arrest and, at his trial, asked for eight offences of drug dealing to be taken into consideration, as well as one attempt to kidnap a fourteen-year-old girl.’

‘Did it ever occur to you that both of the brothers were terrified of what Camorra would do to them?’ Anna asked. ‘At least locked up, they were free of him. As it turned out, Eamon was got at, and we know how.’

Langton shook his head. ‘But Idris held back information; he held up our entire enquiry into Carly Ann’s murder. If he’d given us Rashid Burry and Camorra’s names at the start… He lied: he had information and yet kept his mouth shut. Not until he was trying to save his brother, did he give up what he knew. Now, if you want to play runaround with his defence to get a retrial, go ahead; to me, the scum can serve out his sentence.’

‘But he didn’t kill Carly Ann.’

Langton snapped, ‘My point is, for Chrissakes, that he knew who did!’

‘So are you now saying that Rashid Burry and Camorra were at the hostel when you went there?’

‘Yeah. If Idris had given up their names, look at the trail of death we might have stopped. Gail’s kid was twenty-four months old, for God’s sake — fed to the pigs! Does that sit all right with you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Then let Idris Krasiniqe rot in hell.’

The waitress called their spoon number again and brought over the steak and chips. She removed the dirty cutlery and crockery, and laid out two sets of steak knives and clean forks.

‘Thank you, and the wine?’

She said it was just coming.

Langton picked up some ketchup and proffered it to Anna, who shook her head.

‘Rashid Burry was murdered,’ Anna said quietly.

‘Yes, neatly wrapped in the trunk of the Range Rover that Camorra, because he couldn’t drive an automatic — ha ha — never used.’ Langton cut into his steak, and ate a large mouthful.

‘So, Rashid — you recognized him, didn’t you? The gold teeth?’

Langton nodded. ‘That’s pretty obvious; yes, I did.’

‘Did you also recognize Eugene Camorra as being the man who attacked you on the stairs?’

He didn’t look at her, but sliced another piece of steak. ‘No.’

‘You didn’t recognize him at Emmerick Orso’s house in Redhill?’

‘No.’

‘At what point did you…’

‘Did I what?’

‘Recognize him?’

‘I didn’t.’

Anna picked up the salt and sprayed a little over her chips. ‘So Eugene Camorra was not the man who attacked you?’

Langton said steadily, ‘Let me tell you: if, after what I have been put through, I came face to face with the man who had done it, I’d react. You can bet your sweet arse I’d react; I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off him.’ He gestured with his knife. ‘Your steak okay?’

‘Yes, it’s fine, thanks.’

Langton smiled at the waitress as she brought two fresh glasses of red wine and took their two dirty glasses away. He watched Anna as she picked at the steak. ‘There’s a rumour I’m earmarked for the corporate ladder. I’ll have to do the friggin’ homework, but Chief Superintendent sounds like it’s about time. What do you think?’

Anna shrugged. ‘Sounds good.’

He mimicked her. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Well, it does. I hope you do get promotion.’

He lifted the bottle of water to ask if she wanted some, then he poured another glass for himself and slowly screwed the cap back on. All the while he looked at her; until eventually she was forced to turn away. He was still the rakish, handsome man she had loved; she still loved his lanky body, his hands, the way he laughed. Tanned and fit, he was even more attractive than ever, but he was now, as he had often been, someone she didn’t know. It was like dining with a stranger.

‘I’m sorry, but I have a headache,’ she said. ‘I’d like to go home.’

Whilst Langton paid the bill, she walked to the car and sat waiting. She watched him strolling towards her and leaned over to open the passenger door.

‘You go ahead; I think I’ll just walk for a while.’ He tapped the roof with the flat of his hand and walked past her, crossing in front of the car to head along the riverbank.

She saw him limp just a fraction. He seemed unconcerned, looking at the ducks, until she couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She got out of her car and slammed the door shut.

She hurried across to him. ‘I know how you did it!’

He turned to face her, frowning as if confused.

‘I know Camorra attacked you. I know it was him. I don’t know how you had the self-control not to want to get him by the throat and strangle him, but I do know, James. I know!’

Langton picked up a stick and hurled it into the water, then walked on a fraction to lean against a tree.

She followed. ‘It was in his dinner trays. It was in the water you passed to him in the incident room.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I am talking about, for Chrissakes: that poison, the Jimson weed. You used it on Camorra. He showed all the symptoms.’

Langton shook his head, smiling.

‘I know you did it; I just don’t know how you got hold of it.’

‘Didn’t you check already with Doctor Salaam and his wife?’

‘Yes!’

‘At first, I just thought it was your obsession and your inability to be, as I have warned you about, a team player. I presumed you were still trying to prove that Emmerick Orso was somehow involved.’

‘He couldn’t have been!’ she snapped.

‘Jesus Christ.’ He shook his head and then stared at her. ‘So now you want to implicate me, is that right? Is that what you’ve been running around raking up dirt on? Is it because I walked out on you, is that your problem?’

‘No, it is not!’

‘Then why? What in God’s name are you trying to do to me? That I, shock horror, recognized Eugene Camorra as the man who almost killed me, then arrested him for Christ knows how many murders — and all I was interested in was taking my own revenge? What the fuck do you think I am?’

‘You could have tampered with his meal trays.’

He suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrists. ‘Listen to me: this is a crazy insinuation. You have not one jot of proof. I have been very patient with you, Anna, over three high-profile cases. You have made crass mistakes before, and I have overlooked one after the other, but this accusation…’

‘It isn’t an accusation: it’s the truth!’

‘If you have one shred of proof, then take it to the Commissioner. But if you do, then God help you, because I am going to have to do something that I have really, really tried not to do.’

‘What?’

‘I do not think you are a suitable officer to be attached to the Murder Squad. You have fouled up too many times. I will also have to bring into the equation the fact that I foolishly had a sexual relationship with you. It was a big mistake on my part, and one I really regret, because ending it has obviously turned you against me.’

‘You can’t get away with it like that!’ she said angrily.

He drew her close, still gripping her wrists tightly. ‘I got away with nothing. I have a crippled knee joint and constant problems with my lungs and my chest. I have got away with nothing but a life of excruciating pain and medication. If Eugene Camorra was the man who did this to me, I would have brought charges. Now, you had better make up your mind, Anna.’ He released his hold. ‘If you want to press these farcical charges against me, go ahead, but you will need proof — and you don’t have it. But don’t let that stop you. Go ahead, and take the repercussions.’

‘Which would be what?’

He gave a soft laugh and then made a move with his hand, as if directing traffic, a smile on his lips; his gesture infuriated her.

‘Do you think that this has been easy for me?’ she cried. ‘I’ve had sleepless nights! But you can’t take the law into your own hands!’

She stepped back, almost afraid he was going to slap her, as he glared at her. ‘I never have. Your furtive imagination has put two and two together and come up with a load of shite! Even hinting at your suspicions makes me unable to ever trust you again.’

Anna could feel the tears pricking at her eyes.

‘One day, in the mound of illegal immigrants we are still attempting to trace, we’ll find the man who almost killed me. When I do, and I intend to not let this rest, then you’ll know about it. I did not, as you believe, find from God knows where this stuff to poison Camorra; in fact, by his dying, we lost valuable evidence we could have charged Orso with. I didn’t want the bastard dead.’

Anna was shaking. She recoiled when he put his arm out and drew her back closer to him.

‘Anna, I cared about you, but don’t make me out to be the villain — you know we’d never have worked. I doubt if I’ll ever be able to maintain a stable relationship but, without your care, I don’t think I would have pulled through, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. Don’t play these accusations out: the only person that will be hurt will be you. Do you understand what I am saying?’ Langton gently brushed a curl from her forehead. ‘It’s over. Come on now, say it.’

She heard her voice whispering that it was over, like a chastised child. She looked up into his face. She had loved him so much; even now, she felt her heart beating faster, being so close to him.

‘Forget it; that’s what this is all about, sweetheart. Just forget it — I will. The case, thank Christ, is over. Anna?’

She broke away from him and forced herself to smile.

‘Goodbye, Anna. You take care of yourself now.’

She nodded and turned her back on him, grateful he wouldn’t see that she was crying.

Langton remained leaning against the tree. He watched her drive past but did not acknowledge her; instead, he turned back to the river, staring into the murky water.

He would begin working on tests for his promotion. He knew his physical problems would always be with him, and the rise in rank would mean a less hands-on role. He had also suggested that Mike Lewis be upped in rank; he deserved it but, like himself, Mike would have to sit the obligatory paperwork. He then turned from the riverbank and started to walk down the lane, calling for a taxi on his mobile phone. He could still not walk too far without the pain in his knee joint. The pain, he had told Anna, that would forever be a memory of the attack.

He smiled: revenge is always sweet, even when taken cold.

Anna received a call from Idris Krasiniqe’s solicitor. They were still preparing for the retrial. They asked if she would be willing to assist with some of the documents that she had worked on. Anna agreed to drive to Wakefield prison to meet Idris and his solicitor.

She was shown into the interview room. Idris was being brought up from the cells, so she had a few moments alone with his solicitor, a Toby Freeman: a very pleasant and eager young man.

‘It is not going to be easy,’ Toby told her. ‘We would have been looking at a reduced sentence, but now without his brother, without Rashid Burry and with no Eugene Camorra, I have to admit we are not in a very strong position. I try to keep his hopes up, but with two trials dismissed, the CPS require a lot more evidence.’

Idris looked fit; he’d put on weight and he seemed pleased to see Anna. He gripped her hand tightly, thanking her. It was a slow process; they went over all the statements Idris had made. When asked why he had not given details of the other two men involved in Carly Ann’s murder when he had the opportunity, he shook his head.

‘I was terrified of what Camorra could do to me. I knew he’d got to my brother. I was scared to ever come out onto the wing. They’d pumped him so full of crack and heroin and, Christ knows, that Jimson weed, he was out of his head.’

Idris bowed his head, crying, but they ploughed on. He repeated how Camorra had strapped Carly Ann down on the stone altar, stripped naked. He made everyone in the house watch: he wanted everyone to know what would happen to them if they betrayed him. Idris sobbed as he said he was forced to have sex with her whilst his brother — hardly able to focus, he was so drugged — looked on. He had watched Camorra strangle Carly Ann, but could do nothing to stop it: he was too scared.

Rashid had driven the Range Rover with Camorra beside him and Idris in the back seat; behind the dog rail lay the dead Carly Ann. When they stopped, Idris was instructed to cut off her hands and decapitate her. Camorra did not want her identified; as she had been arrested for prostitution, he knew her fingerprints would be on file. Idris was in such a state that he had only half-heartedly attempted to do what he had been told. Camorra, in a rage, had got out of the Range Rover with Rashid to do the job properly.

‘He had picked her up by her hair, holding her body up to slice at her neck, when this cop runs up. He dropped her and they both ran. I couldn’t get away: they picked me up, with blood all over me. I had the knife. I said I done it: I was too scared not to.’

Idris pleaded with Anna to help him; all she could say was that she would do her best. She told him that one of the charges for which Camorra was arrested was the murder of Carly Ann. Idris hit the table in anger: the man who could help him was dead. At this point, Anna turned to Toby Freeman and asked if she could have two minutes alone with Idris. He agreed; the guards opened the door and he walked out.

‘Two minutes, Idris, that is all I have. I need you to answer me truthfully.’

‘Yes, anything. You know me now, I’m telling you the truth.’

‘Whilst you were held in the police station, you claimed you had not been alone, but with two other men: you gave two names and an address where they could be found.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you call anyone from the station?’

‘Yes. I called Rashid Burry to get me a solicitor, and I told him.’

‘You then, after this phone call, changed your statement — is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘You claimed that you had been alone with Carly Ann, and that you had just invented the fact that two other men were with you — is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you lie?’

Idris bowed his head. ‘I was told that Eamon was gonna die if I didn’t. I gave the names of some blokes that had worked at the Peckham house; I just said the hostel, ’cos I knew it. They was really pushing me for answers; that guy Langton was hammering at me all night.’

‘So let’s just go back to the Range Rover: you said that you were driven there by Rashid Burry.’

‘Yes, I’ve said this.’

‘Who was the other man in the Range Rover?’

Idris shrugged. ‘I have told you: the other man was Eugene Camorra. I can say his name now he’s dead, ’cos he can’t do nothing to me any more. He held her by her hair, lifted her up so he could cut her throat…’

Anna nodded. ‘When you called Rashid Burry from the police station, did you tell him about your statement?’

‘Rashid said I was a fuckin’ idiot, ’cos they had guys there at the hostel and he didn’t want the connection. I mean, I just said the first place that came into my head, right?’

Anna paused. ‘What do you think happened after you had given the police this hostel address?’

Idris shrugged. ‘I think Rashid got over there fast to get the guys out.’

‘With Camorra?’

‘I dunno. I guess so, yes.’

‘But you can’t be certain?’

‘No. I did know that the cop who had been putting all the pressure on me was cut down.’

‘By Rashid?’

Idris shook his head. ‘He never showed up after that night. I was told he was dead.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘I don’t remember, but it scared the shit out of me that Camorra could hack a cop to pieces and get away with it. I mean, I wasn’t going to talk then, no way.’

‘So you are certain that Eugene Camorra attacked the detective who had questioned you: James Langton?’

‘Yeah. Camorra had a machete; he was always wielding it around, it was razor sharp. I’m telling you, Camorra was a madman; he boasted about it. It scared the shit out of everyone.’

Idris began to sob again. He blubbered about a little boy and what Camorra had done to him: he had kept his skull and hands until they were black and shrunken, and then wore them like a necklace.

The door was rapped on: their time was up. Anna collected her papers.

Idris tried to reach out for her hand. ‘Please get me a retrial, ma’am — please. I never killed that girl.’

Anna clicked her briefcase closed. ‘You watched Camorra kill that little boy?’

‘Yeah, yeah — we had to; if we didn’t obey him, he would turn on us — he…’

He never got to finish; the officers gestured that it was time for Anna to leave. She walked out, hearing Idris still calling her name, saying that he was innocent.

In the car park, Toby Freeman approached her. ‘Do you think we’ll get a fair crack at a retrial?’

Anna wound down her window. ‘I really couldn’t say.’

‘Well, look, thanks for your help — I really appreciate it. Way I see it, basically Idris is innocent and was too terrified to admit the truth.’

Anna merely smiled and drove away. She felt drained and couldn’t wait to get home and shower: get rid of the stench of the prison; get rid of the images Idris had conjured up; get rid of the animal Eugene Camorra, who had dominated her thoughts for the months they had been trying to trace him.

Anna sat in a bathrobe and began to rip at the pages and pages of her notes. She did not care if Idris Krasiniqe was awarded a new trial or not: she didn’t want any more of the sickness to invade her life. She knew, without a doubt, that DCI Langton must have recognized Eugene Camorra, just as she was certain he had fed him the horror poison.

Camorra had died in terror; she could only imagine the terror of the poor little boy whose decapitated body was found, like floating rubbish, in the canal. She could also imagine the terror of Carly Ann North, of Gail Sickert, her little girl and her two other children.

Langton’s physical and mental control both astonished and frightened her. He was a formidable man, and she had no desire to get on the wrong side of him. She now knew she held a secret — a very dangerous one.