Clean Cut (3 page)

Anna spent the next two hours hoovering, washing and making shopping lists. It was after eleven when she showered and finally got into bed with clean fresh sheets. She was asleep within minutes. It was the first night she had slept soundly for weeks. The fact that Jimmy was being cared for at Glebe House made her less stressed. She knew by the following week she would be back at work; on which murder enquiry, she didn’t yet know, but it was strange to think she had not even thought about work during the entire time Langton had been hospitalized.

SIX WEEKS AND FIVE DAYS

Anna woke refreshed and was out very early doing a marathon grocery shop. She bought mounds of fruit to take to him, as well as stocking up her freezer and fridge. By ten, she had unpacked everything, eaten a good breakfast and arranged to have her hair cut and blow-dried. Having spent no time on herself over the past few weeks, she now enjoyed the luxury of having a pedicure and a manicure. She returned home at two, feeling so much better.

She tried on a couple of different outfits before she was satisfied; the weight loss was the only good thing
about all this. She was only five feet four and was always intending to try to lose some weight; with the trauma of Langton’s attack and the fear for his recovery, she had shed pounds. She decided she would start going to the gym for a workout a few mornings a week, or maybe visit the local swimming baths. She had always loved swimming, and remembered the day when her mother had suggested she cut off her long plaits so her hair didn’t take up so much time to wash and dry. Anna had cried; she hadn’t wanted to have her hair cut. Eleven years old, sitting in the salon, she had been heartbroken when her thick, wavy red hair was chopped and shaped into a bob. However, she had not been unhappy with the result–quite the reverse. The short hair had framed her heart-shaped face and the fringe accentuated her wide blue eyes. The smattering of freckles that, even now, were visible across her snub nose no haircut could hide, but she had hardly changed the style. She never wore much make-up, but she now made herself up with care, putting on a light-brown eye shadow and mascara, with a pale coral lipstick. Giving herself a good once-over in the bathroom mirror, she couldn’t help but smile. She had lovely white even teeth; all the months she had worn braces as a child had paid off. Anna had come a long way from being the rather dumpy, red-haired, freckle-faced kid with glinting braces. She was very much a woman.

By two o’clock, she was driving back to Glebe House to see Langton, refreshed and feeling a whole lot more in control.

If he was pleased to see her, he didn’t show it. He looked more morose than ever and said he’d had a terrible night: he’d hardly slept a wink. Instead of
complimenting her on how she looked, he seemed almost petulant. ‘You’ve had your hair cut.’

‘Thank you–surprised you even noticed,’ she said, making light of it, as she produced grapes, vine tomatoes and some smoked salmon.

‘They do feed me here. I thought you were coming for lunch.’

‘I know, but I had things to do and I just thought if you needed a snack…’

He plucked at one of the grapes; she saw that his hand was shaking.

‘So, when do you go back to work?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. Probably next Monday.’

‘Mmm, suppose you can’t wait; give you an excuse not to have to drive out to this godforsaken place.’

‘It isn’t godforsaken. You know I only come because I want to see you, so it would be nice if you showed that you wanted to see me.’

He shrugged. ‘Just seems a long schlep out here and I’ve nothing really to say–well, not as yet. I’ve not met any of the inmates, though I’ve heard them; you wouldn’t believe how many of them are bawling their eyes out. Night nurse said they get a lot of it–call it post-traumatic stress syndrome now. Well, I’ve got a better word for it: nutters! It’s not as if they’ve been out in Iraq, for Chrissakes.’

Anna listened as he ranted on; then there was a pause. He seemed to have exhausted himself.

‘You know,’ she said carefully, ‘after a tragic event or, say, a particularly gruelling enquiry, some of our guys really suffer. It’s actually called hyper-arousal or hypervigilance.’

‘Oh, really! You been reading up on it, have you?’

‘No. I was waiting for one of the nurses, to ask how you were getting on; she kept me waiting and when she did see me, she was a bit tensed up, so I asked her what was wrong. She said one of the patients had been very worrying; he would only sit with his back to the wall. All night, this was; he was in constant fear that something beyond his control was happening.’

‘Seeing aliens next,’ Langton said, like a grumpy old man.

Anna was able to change the subject by asking if she should go round to his place and see if there was any mail for him, or if there was anything he needed from there; she could then bring it in the next time she came to see him.

‘Oh, ready to leave already, are you?’

She wanted to snap back at him; he was like a naughty child, trying anything he could to get her temper up. ‘No, but I don’t have a key, and if there is anything that might be important…’

‘There won’t be. I’ve nothing of any importance anyway.’

‘Is there anyone you would like me to contact, to come and see you?’

‘No.’

‘How about Kitty?’

His face went red with anger. ‘I don’t want her anywhere near this place.’

‘She might be worried about you; you’ve not seen her for so long.’

‘I know exactly how long it’s been, and no, I do
not
want to see her–nor anybody else for that matter.’

‘Oh, I see. Does that include me?’

‘Yes. You’ve no need to come out here; it’s a long drive.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Yes, I do.’

There was an uneasy pause; he appeared more like a petulant child than ever. ‘Well, you can come when you’ve nothing better to do,’ he added eventually.

‘Oh, thank you.’

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, not looking at her.

‘I’ve made out a list of things you might need me to bring in.’ She opened her bag and took out her notebook.

‘God, you and your lists,’ he said, but he sounded more like himself. Anna passed over her notes: books, pyjamas, shaving items.

‘Yeah, I need all these.’

‘Anything else?’

He closed his eyes. ‘Yes, a miracle would be nice–one that will get me out of here fast, so I can track that bastard down who did this to me.’

‘You might have used your quota up,’ she said, smiling, and he gave a soft laugh. He knew just how close to death he had been; thankfully, he was at least able to see the funny side of his request.

Anna stayed for the rest of the afternoon. He talked about the amount of physio he was down to have for his knee, which pained him greatly. He was still unable to walk. The only good thing that had come out of the attack was that he could not smoke; he had been warned that, if he started again, it would create breathing problems, as his chest was still very weak.

By the time she left, he had added numerous items to her list, mostly books, and he had also given her his
house keys. This was quite a big step as, although he had keys cut for her flat, he had never at any time suggested she have access to his. He had such a private and controlling nature, Anna had never even suggested it. To her astonishment, he even said that, given a week or so, maybe Kitty could be brought to see him by his ex-wife, but only when he was able to stand up straight and walk; he didn’t want her to see him wheelchair bound. He wrote down their contact numbers. Again, this was a first; Anna had never even known where Kitty or his ex-wife lived. He sat scribbling in her notebook, before snapping it closed and handing it back to her.

It was not until she had driven home that she read what he had written. It was at the end of his list, and underlined. She burst into tears.

I’m a moody bastard, but I’ll get better. Don’t move anyone else into that box flat of yours. I will be coming home soon.

Beneath it, he had drawn a small heart with an arrow, and a small round smiley face. She had wanted to hear him say it to her so many times, but now he had written it:
I love you
. For all his bad temper and anger, those three words made up for it.

Anna had not applied for her special leave to continue, as she felt that she really needed her own space to be able to cope with him. She didn’t know how she would deal with him coming home, especially if she was back at work, as she would be any day soon. She just hoped to God he would recover, because if he were a bad patient now, God knows how he would react if he had to quit the force.

A
nna was contacted early Monday morning: she was to join a new murder team in Brixton. The Senior Crime Officer was DCI John Sheldon, whom she knew nothing about and had never met. The murder team had taken over the second floor at the station and already shipped in were the obligatory computers and clerical staff. Sheldon had two officers who had worked with him many times, DI Frank Brandon and DS Harry Blunt; added to these were two more DIs, four more DSs, and fifteen Detective Constables. Anna was instructed to join Sheldon at the victim’s flat.

Irene Phelps was thirty-nine years old and worked at the local public library. She was a quiet, studious woman with long blonde hair. She had been very pretty. The crime scene was still being worked over by the forensic teams; her body remained in the small study where she had been discovered. The room had been ransacked; there was overturned furniture, smashed ornaments and vases. She lay face down on the carpet. The wounds to her upper torso had left her blouse slashed and heavily bloodstained. Her skirt had been drawn up and her panties thrown to one side; she had terrible wounds to her throat and face. Irene had put up a fight for her life,
but it had obviously been a very brutal and frenzied attack. Her twelve-year-old daughter had found her body.

Anna hovered in the doorway, not even entering the room to keep contamination down to the minimum. She looked over to the white-suited forensic officers; then physically jumped as a hand was placed on her shoulder.

‘You must be DI Travis?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’m the SIO on this one: DCI Sheldon.’

Sheldon had a soft Northern accent, blond hair thinning and swept back from a pleasant, pinkish face. He was wearing a cheap suit, white shirt and neat, unobtrusive tie. Anna gave a small smile and went to shake his hand but he turned away, gesturing to a big, square-shouldered officer.

‘This is DI Frank Brandon. Frank!’

Brandon turned and walked over to be introduced. ‘Hi, how’s old Langton doing?’

Anna flushed. ‘He’s got a long way to go, but he’s doing well.’

‘That’s good. I’ve heard he’ll more than likely be invalided, out but knowing him–well, not personally, but he’s got a hell of a reputation–he won’t like it.’

Before Anna could reply, DS Harry Blunt called out from the kitchen; they all turned to look down the hallway.

Blunt was short and stocky, with a reddish crew cut and flushed cheeks.

‘Getting a lot of prints; looks like the bastard washed up in here and made himself a sandwich. The knife found by her body may come from a set on the kitchen counter.’

‘This is Anna Travis,’ Sheldon said, indicating Anna.

She got a cool nod from Blunt, as he turned his attention back towards the kitchen and the forensic team working dusting for prints.

Sheldon pursed his lips and then looked at his wristwatch. ‘Right, may as well get back to the station. Did you come in your own car?’ he asked Anna.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Okay, see you back there then.’ He walked down the hall to the open front door.

‘Would it be all right if I just stayed on for a while, to get the layout?’ Anna asked Blunt.

The DS shrugged his shoulders and edged past her. He obviously suited his name: she felt as if he had little or no time to waste on small talk.

‘You know where the station is?’ This was Brandon; Anna said that she had checked it out before she arrived.

‘Good–and mind if I give you a word of advice? The Gov is a stickler for time, so if he’s going to give a briefing, I wouldn’t be too long. We’ve all been here since early this morning.’

‘Who’s looking after her daughter?’ Anna asked.

Brandon said she was with grandparents; then, like Sheldon, he walked off, leaving her standing by the kitchen door.

The incident room was silent. Anna was directed over to the Detective Inspectors’ desks, which were in a small corner; due to the limited size of the station, they did not have their own offices. The incident board had already been set up; the victim’s name and address were printed up, with little else. Anna could see Sheldon talking to Brandon in his office through the open blinds. There
were three female and two male officers standing by a tea urn. None made any reaction to Anna or bothered to introduce themselves, but all parted as Sheldon came out of his office and crossed to the board. He didn’t even need to ask for attention; everyone immediately returned to their desks and sat waiting.

‘Okay, victim’s name is Irene Phelps, works at the public library. She got divorced five years ago; ex-husband lives in Devon and is an estate agent. He’s been contacted and will be travelling up to see his daughter. She’s only twelve; very traumatized and staying with her grandparents. They live three streets away from the victim’s flat. Okay, Frank, over to you.’

Sheldon nodded to Brandon, who flipped open his notebook. Brandon spoke rather loudly, unlike Sheldon. ‘Right, Gov. We’ve so far gathered that Irene always left work at three; this was to make sure she was home by the time her daughter returned from school. The route to her home was by tube from Brixton, one stop; from there, she could walk home. On this particular day, she left work as usual, but her daughter Natalie went to see her grandmother after school; she arrived at four-thirty, then left to walk home at about five forty-five. She would have reached home at just after six, found the front door open and discovered the body of her mother. We therefore only have a short timeframe. Irene Phelps could have met her killer on the tube and walked with him to her flat; he killed her between the hours of four to five-thirty. That’s it from me, Gov.’

Sheldon ran his fingers through his thinning hair, then continued in his soft Northern accent, hardly raising his voice, ‘We need to ascertain whether she knew her killer or disturbed him inside her flat. The place looks
ransacked, but she had little of value and very rarely kept any money there; the place had been turned over and the lady put up one hell of a fight. We found no visible signs of forced entry but we’ll know for sure when the forensic teams give us their report. If she did know her killer and let him in, then we need to spread the net to question anyone that knew her, any ongoing relationships; so far, we’ve not had time to gather much evidence of who she knew, so that will be our first priority.’

Sheldon then gave a list to the duty manager of what he wanted the team to work on. He checked his watch and gave a strange low whistle. No one spoke. He sucked in his breath, gesturing at the photographs up on the incident board.

‘She took a terrible beating. It was a vicious attack and we need to get this bastard fast, because there is carelessness about the murder scene. Eating a fucking sandwich, drinking a cup of tea–unless the victim made them for him, but I doubt it; there was too much blood in the kitchen. Whoever killed her would have heavily bloodstained clothes, so question neighbours, anyone around her flat: someone must have seen this son of a bitch, so let’s not waste time. Get out there! Meanwhile, we wait for the PM and the forensic reports. That’s it, everyone. Let’s get moving, unless anyone has got anything to say?’

No one did; the briefing broke up as everyone got their marching orders. Frank Brandon came to Anna’s desk.

‘You and me, we’ve got the neighbours and workplace. You want to split it or work together?’

‘Whatever suits,’ Anna said.

‘Okay, I’ll do the neighbours, you get over to the library. May I call you Anna?’

She smiled. ‘Yes, of course. I was just wondering, who is questioning her daughter?’

‘That’ll be Harry; he’s good with kids, got a brood himself. She was in a right state, so maybe they’ll delay talking to her until she’s had some counselling.’

‘Did she call the police?’

‘Yeah–well, she ran to a neighbour and they called us for her.’

‘And she’s twelve?’

‘Yeah, just a kid. Her dad’s coming to see her; she’ll be staying at the grandparents’. Why you interested in her?’

‘Well, she found the body, and with the short time period, she might have even seen the killer–maybe she even knew him.’

‘Yeah, well–leave that to Harry, okay?’

‘Fine. I’ll get over to the library.’

Brandon had a chiselled face, high cheekbones and, with his square shoulders, it was obvious he worked out. Although he had everything going for him in the looks department, there was something unattractive about him–at least, there was to Anna. He used a very heavy cologne, which she thought was Aramis; in any case, it was certainly very pungent, and he had this manner, as if he was an object of desire. Perhaps he was–in his own mirror.

The library had not been closed, but there were numerous bouquets of flowers left by the doors. They looked rather sad and bedraggled; a couple had cards written by children.

Anna was introduced to a pleasant-faced woman, who shook her hand firmly.

‘I’m Deidre Lane; poor Irene worked alongside me in the children’s department. I suppose you’ve seen a few of them have left flowers. I’ve more in my office and I’m not quite sure what to do with them. It’s just so dreadful, none of us can believe it.’

They walked towards a small office, where Anna accepted a cup of lukewarm tea. The office was filled with posters advertising forthcoming children’s activities and readings. Deidre’s desk was piled high with books and files; she cleared a space for Anna to put down her cup. She then drew up a chair to sit beside her, rather than behind the desk.

‘Was it a burglary or something like that?’ she asked.

‘We won’t know that until we have had time to check, but I am here really to ask if you knew of anyone who had some kind of grudge against her.’

‘Against Irene? No, no, good heavens, no. There wasn’t a soul who had a bad word to say about her.’

‘Could you list all the people employed here?’

‘It wouldn’t–it couldn’t be connected to anyone from here.’

‘But I do need to know everyone’s name and address just for elimination purposes.’

‘I see. Well, yes, of course.’

‘That will include cleaners or janitors, anyone who has recently worked here, painting or redecorating, doing carpentry–any odd-job men who may have come into contact with Ms Phelps.’

Deidre went over to a filing cabinet and took out a large ledger. This time, she sat at her desk, and began to list for Anna everyone working at the library. She
included a plumber who had been working on the drains recently and two boys who had helped clear the pathways around the library.

It became clear to Anna that most of the employees had been at the library for many years, even the odd-job men. Armed with names and addresses, she then turned her attention to asking for more details about Irene. She learned that Irene was a very diligent and loved member of the team, always on time in the morning, and always leaving promptly at three so she could be at home when her daughter returned from school.

‘She worshipped her little girl; she is such a lovely pleasant child, always very well dressed. Her name is Natalie, but everyone calls her Natty; she often helps out with the Saturday-morning activities. Irene didn’t get any extra money for this; to be honest, she wasn’t paid that much, but I know she had a settlement after her divorce. I think her ex-husband paid the rent, so she was not kept short. Between you and me, I think it was a bitter divorce–he left her for someone else and went to live in Devon, I think, but I can’t be too sure. Irene didn’t like to talk about him and I never met him, or really knew her while they were together.’

Anna went through the usual queries, asking if anyone knew whether Irene had any boyfriends or was in any kind of relationship, but this also led nowhere.

‘I didn’t really socialize with her,’ Deidre explained. ‘I had never been to her flat, but working alongside her for so many years, we became quite good friends, and I never heard her mention that she was seeing anyone. I think she led a very quiet life, with just herself and Natty. On a few occasions, she mentioned that she had been to see a movie, usually with Natty at weekends; she
had her parents quite close so would spend Sundays with them. I think she did a bit of shopping and cleaning for them, as they are quite elderly. Christmas-time, when we had our office party, we would all bring our husbands and partners, but Irene was always alone; in fact, I never saw her with anyone but her daughter.’

Anna spent another hour talking to the other librarians. In each case, they were very shocked and distraught at the brutality of the murder. She then contacted the plumber and arranged to see him later that same morning, plus the two young kids who had swept the pathways. It was becoming obvious that no one really knew Irene out of work time; nor had they ever seen her with anyone apart from her daughter. It was really very sad; Irene Phelps appeared to be a hardworking and caring woman whose life focused on her job, her daughter and her elderly parents.

The plumber turned out to be a short, ruddy-faced man, who wasn’t too sure if he had even met Irene. He had worked for the library virtually on a charity basis, he told Anna, as they were always short of finances; he would come in on Sundays to see to any jobs that needed doing. For the entire day of the murder, he had been working in Clerkenwell on a new housing estate. The two young lads were also unable to give any details about Irene; they had been paid in cash to sweep the pathway of leaves, and then both had gone to a gym straight after. They had seen no one lurking around and nothing suspicious.

Anna returned to the incident room just after three. She typed up her report and went over to discuss her interviews with the duty manager; together, they brought the board up to date with the lists of colleagues,
part-time workers and alibis. She then returned to her desk and made herself look busy, as there was to be a briefing at five. She hoped it would not go on for too long, as she was planning to drive over to Glebe House.

At five o’clock sharp, Sheldon walked out of his office, just as Harry Blunt and Frank Brandon entered the incident room. None of them acknowledged Anna or, for that matter, anyone else; they sat at their desks checking over their notes. Sheldon stood for a moment, looking at the board and the results of the day’s enquiries. He slowly loosened his tie and then turned to the room.