Clean Cut

Chapter Four

Langton was not exactly back to his old self, but the advancements he had made physically had given him a new energy and confidence. Anna suspected he was probably fuelled with painkillers, but it didn’t matter. He had been in such good spirits, she decided not to make him think about his case or go over the discussion she’d had with Lewis.

Sunday found him in an even better state, both physically and mentally, but Anna did not bring up his case, as Barolli and his wife turned up and, no sooner had they left, his ex-wife and stepdaughter arrived. Kitty was such a sweet child and his interaction with her was very moving for Anna to watch. Lorna, his ex-wife, was very much the focus of attention: another reason for Anna to remain quiet. Lorna was cordial to Anna, but she still felt slightly out of the loop, as they discussed Lorna’s baby son and she showed Langton photographs. Anna was totally unaware that Lorna even had another child; there was no mention of who her new partner was, or even if she had one. Anna felt so excluded that she decided that it would be best if she left, to allow Kitty and Lorna to spend more time alone with Jimmy. She was disappointed that he wasn’t more eager for her to stay, but he did kiss her and say to Lorna how much she had done for him.

‘I might not be able to see you tomorrow,’ she told him, ‘as we will be going to trial soon and—’

He wafted his hand. ‘Yeah yeah, you do what you have to do. Call me, okay?’

‘Yes, I’ll call you.’

She kissed him goodbye. It was sweet, the way Kitty insisted she walk with her to her car. The little girl was really adorable and so full of energy; she chit-chattered nineteen to the dozen about riding her pony and taking piano lessons. Sometimes, she referred to Langton as Papa but would also call him by his Christian name.

‘You love him lots, don’t you?’ Anna said, as she bleeped open her Mini.

‘Yes, ’cos he’s so much fun. Now with Tommy, I don’t get to see him as much as I used to.’ She was hopping from one foot to the other.

‘How old is Tommy?’

‘He’s eighteen months and can’t talk yet. He’s always crying, ’cos some more of his teeth are coming.’

‘Who’s Mummy’s friend?’ Anna asked, rather coyly.

‘What friend?’

‘Well, who do you live with now, apart from Mummy?’

‘Oh, no one, we just live together.’

‘I see, so who looks after Tommy?’

‘Nana — we have a Nana. She lives with us most days, but goes home at weekends.’

At that moment, Lorna came out and called to Kitty, worried about her. Kitty gave a wave to Anna as she returned to her mother. Lorna also waved to Anna as she drove out of the car park.

When she let herself into her flat, Anna was feeling at odds. Sometimes, it felt as if she never really knew Langton at all. Not that he was secretive — just that he didn’t ever really discuss his past life.

As she was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. It was Langton. He sounded quite drunk.

‘Eh, how you doing?’

‘I’m doing fine. Good thing is, so are you.’

‘Yep, I’m doing great. It got a bit tiring with so many visitors. I’m going to crash out soon for an early night.’

‘Me too.’

‘Thanks for the goodies you brought. Kitty ate most of the grapes.’

‘She’s lovely.’

‘Yeah, she’s growing up fine.’

‘Very pretty.’

‘Yep, takes after her mother.’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, just called to see if you were home safe and sound.’

‘I am.’

‘Good. So I won’t see you tomorrow?’

‘No, I’m in court.’

‘Okay, well, whenever. Sleep tight. Love you.’

‘I love you too.’

There was a pause. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said softly.

‘Goodnight then.’

‘Goodnight.’

He ended the call. She held the receiver in her hand a moment before she replaced it.

Anna did not actually have much to do at all. A trial date had now been set, so the incident room was being cleared and all papers and documents pertaining to the case were being selected. The defence and prosecution would contact them for further details but, apart from that, the team would be disbanded. Anna could either be assigned to another case or remain working with Sheldon, depending on what he was involved in. She had grown to quite like Harry Blunt; he really did suit his name. He was standing by a filing cabinet, when Brandon sailed in with a waft of his cologne.

Harry turned to him. ‘Do you mind me saying something personal?’

‘Depends on what it is.’

‘It’s that bloody cologne you splash over yourself. It really makes me feel nauseous, especially at this time in the morning.’

‘It’s expensive,’ Brandon said defensively.

‘Well, I’m sorry, but maybe you should not use so much.’

‘You ever tried using something on yourself? Your own personal hygiene has a lot to answer for. BO preferable to you, is it?’

The two men glared at each other, then Brandon turned to Anna. ‘What do you think?’

She shrugged.

‘Go on, you can tell me — what do you think? Most women like it; in fact, it was my girlfriend who gave it to me.’

‘Maybe you are used to it. As it’s obviously a very expensive cologne, perhaps you need only a little dab or so.’

‘You see?’ Brandon turned to Harry. ‘She likes it.’

Harry gave a grunt and walked off, as Brandon went over to the other women in the incident room. Anna gave a covert look: one after the other was asked to smell his cheeks. It was really quite funny; Brandon was obviously upset.

Sheldon emerged from his office. ‘Anna?’ He gestured to her. ‘We’ve got Murphy’s solicitor coming in. He wants to discuss some of the defence queries — the photograph, et cetera. So when he gets here, take him into interview room one.’

‘Money for old rope,’ Blunt said, sitting at his desk.

Anna looked over to him.

‘Makes me sick! His barrister will earn more from this trial on fucking Legal Aid than I’ll probably earn in a year. We shouldn’t have to go to the expense of a trial: we know he did it — he’s admitted he did it! Just get him before a judge and bang him up. Better still, give the swine a lethal injection. That’s what I’d vote for, but none of these bloody politicians we’ve got will even contemplate capital punishment, because they’re scared of losing their jobs! Do you know, we’ve got just one probation officer for every thirty-seven convicts — that’s on record — and I’m not talkin’ about petty criminals. Thirty-seven criminals, right? That’s rapists and murderers they are supposed to stop re-offending. It’s a farce! They can only spend about three-quarters of an hour with each bastard in an average working week!’

Harry would have continued if the by now very irritated Brandon hadn’t interrupted to say that Murphy’s solicitor had arrived and was waiting in reception.

Anna asked for him to be taken into interview room one, as Sheldon had suggested.

Brandon turned on her. ‘Go get him yourself, Travis.’

‘Yeah,’ Blunt put in. ‘Better take him or Brandon’s cologne might gas him before he makes it down the corridor.’

The other man hurled a book at Blunt, who laughed.

Anna crossed to the door, and then turned to ask Brandon what the solicitor’s name was. Brandon, ducking a flying missile from Harry Blunt, said for Anna to watch out: Luke Griffith was a real operator.

Anna left the two men behaving like children, chucking rolled-up papers at each other.

Luke Griffith greeted Anna with a warm handshake. They went from the station reception into a rather small and airless interview room. Griffith drew out a chair for Anna and then sat opposite her. He was wearing an immaculate pin-striped suit and a blue shirt with a white collar and a dark tie. The cuffs of the shirt were also white, and he had tapering, well-manicured hands. He was very clean cut, with a chiselled face and dark eyes; even his hair seemed to be coiffured to perfection.

‘This shouldn’t take long.’ His voice was soft and upper class.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘No, thank you. I had this station’s brew when I was last here.’ Griffith opened his briefcase and took out a notebook; then, from his pocket, a slim gold pen. ‘Right, now you are Detective Inspector Anna Travis.’

‘Yes.’

‘As you know, Arthur George Murphy is my client. All I’m here for is to get a few things cleared up, for me to pass on to his barrister.’

Anna said nothing. Griffith stared at his empty page then wrote the date, checked his wristwatch and noted down the time.

‘You visited Mr Murphy’s sister, a Gail Dunn, now calling herself Gail Sickert?’

‘Yes.’

‘And she gave you a photograph?’

‘Yes.’

‘This photograph was subsequently used to identify Mr Murphy’s associate, Vernon Kramer.’

‘Yes.’

‘Which then led you to his residence, where my client was staying.’

‘Yes.’

‘He was subsequently arrested, and charged with the murder of Irene Phelps.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you at any time talk to Mr Kramer?’

‘No.’

‘Were you present at Mr Murphy’s interrogation?’

‘No.’

Griffith made notes and then tapped the page. ‘Very fortunate discovery, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Without this photograph, you might not have been able to trace my client.’

‘Possibly.’

‘And, as you must be aware, my client admitted to the murder and rape of Mrs Phelps.’

‘Yes.’

Griffith now tapped his teeth with the pen. ‘And you are aware that Vernon Kramer is being charged with harbouring a known criminal and perverting the course of justice?’

‘Yes.’

‘Unpleasant duo.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I said, unpleasant duo — but then, we do what we have to do.’

Anna remained silent.

‘Mr Murphy is now claiming that Vernon Kramer was a party to the murder of Irene Phelps.’

Anna sat back. No one had been told this.

‘I doubt if I believe him,’ Griffith added, ‘but I nevertheless have to make enquiries, as the defence will automatically want to either use this or dismiss it as fabrication.’

‘As far as I am aware, Mr Murphy admitted to the murder and at no time made any mention that he had an accomplice,’ Anna told him. ‘Again, to my knowledge, there was no DNA or forensic evidence to prove that Mr Kramer was also in Mrs Phelps’s flat.’

‘So you would say he is lying?’

‘I would say that, yes.’

‘Can I ask how you obtained the photograph of Mr Kramer and Mr Murphy?’

‘Murphy’s sister, Gail Sickert, gave it to me.’

‘Did Mrs Sickert also give you Vernon Kramer’s name?’

‘No, she did not. She said that she couldn’t recall his name, just that he spoke with a Newcastle accent and had visited her on one occasion some months past.’

‘So you were not aware that Mrs Sickert had, at one time, had a relationship with Mr Kramer?’

Anna shook her head, stunned. ‘No! In fact, she appeared to resent the fact that her brother, Mr Murphy, had brought him to her home. She didn’t like her brother, nor, for that matter, did she want any kind of contact with him. She implied that he had molested her when she was a teenager.’

Griffith spent a few moments writing and then turned the page. ‘So you didn’t think it strange that she would keep this photograph of her brother, who you say she implied molested her? Why keep a photograph of him and his friend?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You see, Detective Inspector Travis, I have been told a slightly different version of events: that, whilst Mrs Sickert was out of the room, you took this photograph without permission.’

Anna slapped the table with her hand ‘That is a total lie. I was given the photograph.’

‘Do you have a witness?’

‘No, I don’t. Mrs Sickert gave me that photograph; I never even asked her if she had one. She volunteered it and searched through a drawer, then she handed it to me. Your client, Mr Murphy, must have got to her or something. Whatever you are trying to do regarding the photograph is really beyond belief. Have you seen the photographs of how Irene Phelps’s body was found? And discovered by her twelve-year-old daughter?’

‘I am aware of the fact that her daughter—’

‘Who will have to live for the rest of her life with the memory of her mother’s raped and brutalized body! Live with the sight of her mother covered in blood, knowing that, as she lay dying, her killer — your client — was cutting up a sandwich with the knife that had cut her throat.’ Anna pushed back her chair. ‘I really have no more time to waste discussing this with you, Mr Griffith. As you said, you don’t pick your clients; well, you have a disgusting animal as one. I hope you can sleep at night, trying in any way possible to get him a lesser sentence. He should never be released.’

‘Detective Sergeant Travis!’ Griffith snapped.

‘Detective Inspector, actually — and if you want to question me further, do it in court.’ And Anna walked out, slamming the door behind her.

She banged through the double doors of the incident room; they swung back and hit the wall.

‘That bastard Murphy!’ she burst out. ‘He’s now trying to say that Kramer was also part of the murder, and as for that prick I’ve just had to be questioned by…’

Blunt came over to her. ‘Shush, it’s all bullshit, they’re just trying it on. You know those arseholes like to make a name for themselves; they know this is a cut and dried case — in and out Guilty verdict. They just want to draw it out.’

Anna had her hands on her hips. ‘Christ, he made me so angry.’

Brandon pointed over to her. ‘I warned you — I said he was a smooth bastard. What did he try on?’

Blunt gave her one of their disgusting coffees and she sat at her desk and repeated the interview.

Brandon snorted. ‘So what if you nicked the photograph?’

‘I didn’t — she gave it to me!’

‘So that cow is lying and Murphy’s lying; we just have to ignore it. We have firmed-up forensic evidence, and we have the ugly piece of shit admitting to the murder. If he’s trying to tread water now, that’s part of their game to delay the trial and spend a fortune fucking us around, all on Legal Aid.’

Anna was so angry she gulped the coffee down. ‘Well, I’m going to see her, and find out why she’s suddenly lying through her rotten teeth.’

‘Don’t bother,’ said Blunt.

‘Yeah, just ignore it,’ Brandon agreed.

‘I can’t — she is accusing me of lying!’

‘You’ll be accused of a lot more in this job if you stay in it long enough, believe you me,’ said Brandon cynically.

Blunt returned to his desk. ‘Hang the bastard,’ he said, to no one in particular.

Anna drove back up the dirt track to the Sickert house. It had been raining heavily. Her Mini was not the best car in which to drive over such muddy uneven ground. The same array of kids’ toys was out on the front lawn: a broken bicycle, a plastic slide and a plastic red pedal car. She stepped over the broken bricks laid out as a path to the front door, but before she got there, Gail Sickert opened it. A skinny little boy with a face covered in freckles was beside her; when he saw Anna, he ran off clutching his Action Man doll.

‘Gail, it’s Anna Travis.’ She showed her ID.

‘I’m not talking to you, and you’d best get out of here before my bloke comes home.’

‘Threatening to dump pig food over me?’ she smiled.

‘He’s gone out for some planks; the hens got out last night, and he’ll as good as smash your car up with them, so just go away! I mean it!’

There was a noisy argument from inside the house. Gail turned to yell at her two eldest children, then looked back to Anna. ‘I mean it — just go away. I’ve got enough on me plate, what with them two off school with colds and doing my head in!’

‘No, I won’t. I want to know why you’ve told lies about me.’

‘Piss off!’

‘You can yell and shout at me as much as you want, but I am not going anywhere until you tell me why you’ve lied. Don’t make me report the fact that your young daughter was found here alone. You think the social services won’t step in?’

‘What fucking lies?’

‘The photograph, Gail — the one you gave to me. Why have you lied about it being taken without your permission?’

‘I don’t know what you are talking about. My bloke is gonna be back here any minute.’

‘Yeah, with planks — you said. Now why don’t you let me come in and see why your kid is screaming its head off?’

Tina was in the same condition as when Anna was last there, naked apart from a soiled disposable nappy; this time, she also had an empty bottle clenched in her teeth. Gail went to the fridge, shook up some formula and poured it into the bottle she’d yanked out of the child’s mouth. It did the trick: the little soul plonked herself down on the stained dirty carpet and gulped as if she was starving.

‘Do you never change her?’ Anna said.

Gail gave her a filthy look and disappeared, returning with a new nappy. She changed the child without bothering to use wipes or cleanher up, then sat the little girl in a swing seat, the bottle still in her mouth; with her foot, she made the swing bob up and down.

‘Won’t that give her indigestion?’ Anna asked.

‘No, she likes it. What are you, some social services spy, coming round here snooping? Well, let me tell you, my kids are all fine. I take ’em to the clinic regular as clockwork.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So can you tell me why you have told your brother’s solicitor that the photograph, the one you gave to me, was taken without your permission?’

Gail shrugged her skinny shoulders. ‘It could get me into a lot of trouble.’

‘How come?’

The woman only sighed.

‘Please tell me if you have been threatened. If you need protection, I can arrange it.’

‘You don’t understand! He’s got friends; just ’cos he’s banged up, he can still get to me.’

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes! He’s been calling — said he’ll send some goon round. I just don’t want any trouble.’

‘But you lied.’

‘Yeah, so what? They won’t get me into any court, if that’s what you’re worried about. If they do, they’ll be sorry, ’cos I’ll tell them that he’s a bastard and always has been. He made my life a misery and he never paid for what he done. All I’ve tried to do is get away from him, and now this has brought him back.’

‘Gail, your brother murdered someone. He is not going to be free, not for a very long time. If he has made threats—’

Gail interrupted Anna angrily. ‘That’s what I just told you — he’s been calling me here, and that Vernon. They’re both saying stuff about me, and I just don’t want any more aggravation. He must have got my number from my mum, seen it written down some place. Probably my address too.’

Anna took a deep breath to remain calm. ‘If you are in any way being threatened, then you can call your local police.’

‘Oh yeah? You think they give a toss about me? Last time I saw that bastard, they come out ’cos he was so drunk and pissing in the road; he give me a black eye then, but they did fuck all about it.’

‘Did you file a complaint against your brother?’

‘No fucking way. If I done that, he’d have killed me.’

‘But you know now he can’t hurt you, he’s arrested.’

‘He’s been bloody arrested before! He’s been in the nick before and he gets out!’

‘This time, he’s going down for life.’

‘He says different, his solicitor says different, and guess who I’m gonna trust — not the fucking cops, for starters.’

Anna was really trying hard to keep her voice steady. ‘Gail, I can get an order for him not to molest—’

‘Molest? He’s already done that! I got orders to keep him away from me, but a fat lot of good that done. I changed me phone number so many times I can’t even remember it.’

A truck was heard rumbling up the drive. Gail ran to the window. ‘You’d better clear off — he’s back.’

Anna felt very uneasy; the last thing she wanted was a confrontation with Gail’s partner — or worse, a plank through her windscreen. ‘All right, I’m going, but all I am asking from you is to tell the truth. You gave me that photograph willingly.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I did; now you’d better go.’

Anna picked up her briefcase and hurried to the front door.

The truck bounced over the potholes as it headed for the rear of the property, laden with planks of every shape and size. As Anna walked out, it stopped. She hurried to her Mini and opened the door.

‘Oi, you — what you doing here?’

Anna started the engine as Gail’s bloke jumped down from the truck.

‘You! I’m talking to you!’

The man Anna presumed was Mr Sickert was heading towards her. He was black and at least six feet two, with bulked-up muscles and long dreadlocks.

Anna reversed and drove past him fast; he had to step aside to avoid her running over him. By this time, Gail was at the front door, calling out to him not to make a scene. He kicked out at the Mini, but missed. Anna accelerated out of the driveway, heart pounding as he ranted and raved in her rearview mirror.

Gasping with nerves, she continued on down the lane before she stopped at a safe distance. Then she reached over for her briefcase and opened it, turning off the tape recorder. She had got what she came for: the admission from Gail that she had actually given her the photograph of her own accord. Anna knew her actions were illegal, especially as she had no authority from Sheldon to even have the meeting with Gail, but at least if it was brought up, she would have the transcript as evidence.

Still shaken by the interaction with Sickert, Anna let herself into her flat. She knew that the poor little soul Tina in the swing chair was not his child, as she was white. Perhaps it was Gail’s ex-husband’s child; she had used the name Summers when she had first taken over the lease of the bungalow.

Anna made herself a cup of strong coffee and then sat down to put together some notes. Taking out the tape recorder, she transcribed the entire conversation in shorthand, to make it easier for her to then write up her report. She could hear Langton’s voice warning her about taking risks, and knew she had, yet again, done something that was unethical.

It took quite a while replaying the tape back and forth to make sure she had everything required. At the point on the tape where you could hear the truck arriving, she got up to refill her cup and was almost out of the room when she paused to listen to Sickert’s voice.

‘Oi, you — what you doing here?’

She heard her own Mini starting up and the door of the truck slam as he got out.

‘You! I’m talking to you!’

The sound was quite distorted, as she was reversing, but she could hear Sickert continue to shout. Anna fiddled with the dials on the tape recorder and played it back one more time.

‘You want to get cut up like your bloke? You white bitch, you fucking come back and you’ll be sorry! Stay the fuck away from here or you’ll get the same — you hear me, whore?’

Anna went cold. She replayed it over and over to make sure she heard correctly.

‘You want to get cut up like your bloke?’

Anna licked her lips; surely he couldn’t know about Langton? If he did, how did he know? It was a mystery. No matter how many times she replayed the same section, it still made her frightened.

What was the connection? Could Sickert have been involved in the attack on Langton? And even if he was, how did he know about her relationship with Jimmy?

Anna took a shower to calm herself down, then went back and replayed the entire tape from beginning to end. She then put in a call to Lewis, but his cell phone clicked on to voicemail. She asked him to call her, as she needed to talk to him urgently. Next, she called Barolli; he also went onto answerphone. She left the same message.

It was almost twelve by the time Anna went to bed. She had not heard back from either Barolli or Lewis. After a very restless night, she left early to drive to the station, where she typed up her report on her computer and printed it out. She could not get rid of the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach: if there was no connection, it was one hell of a coincidence. Could Murphy have somehow overheard someone talking about her and Langton during his period in the station? It didn’t make sense. Anna knew that she would have to make sense of it — and the only way was to discuss Langton’s attack with him.