rails.’
She had to cough to clear her throat. It felt terribly constricted.
‘How long have I got?’
He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.
‘Listen, I am not about to pull the enquiry. All I’m asking you to do is to focus on the basic facts. Remember, I am telling you this because I did the exact same thing and it was Jack, your father, who pointed me in the right direction.’
Anna sipped her wine. He went to top up her glass again, but she shook her head.
‘No, thank you.’ She chose her next words very carefully. ‘I would like to discuss this with you tomorrow.’
‘Why not now?’
‘Because I need to digest everything you’ve said to me, then I’d like to talk it over with you.’
She got up and he gestured to the ladies cloakroom, thinking she wished to use it, but she picked up her bag.
‘I’m leaving now. If it’s preferable I will come to your office, or shall we say nine o’clock here at the station?’
‘I’ll come to you.’
‘Thank you, and thank you for dinner.’
Langton watched her walking out, unsure if he should go after her or not. Her expression had been unreadable even for him. He didn’t think he had been too hard on her, on the contrary. He would, if it had been anyone else, have expressed his concerns over the way the case was being handled in front of the entire team. He would also have replaced her with another DCI. Maybe she should learn the hard way. Instead he had taken her out for dinner and tried to be as diplomatic as possible. He truthfully felt her murder enquiry was a mess of over- investigation, wasting valuable time.
He signalled for the waiter to remove their plates and then ordered a double brandy, deciding that in the morning he would call a briefing. Anna must by now be aware of his misgivings and realise that it could not continue.
‘Was there something wrong with the sea-food pasta, sir?’ the waiter asked.
Langton shook his head as his brandy was placed in front of him.
‘No. She just wasn’t hungry.’
Anna went straight back to her office and spent a long time on her computer looking over the file of the old case that Langton had referred to. Eventually she’d had enough and left for home. She had fought to keep control of her emotions, refusing to allow Langton to see how deeply his criticism had affected her. But by the time she’d returned to her flat and was getting into bed, the flood-gates opened; she couldn’t stop crying. She felt that by using her father as part of his review of her work, Langton had betrayed her.
Sleep didn’t come easily as she finally calmed down enough to digest everything Langton had spoken about. Intuitively she knew that the meeting with him in the morning would be make or break time, but somehow the old fighting instincts she used to have lay dormant. She had never felt so alone and so lacking in self-confidence.
Chapter Eleven
Anna was up and blowdrying her hair at six. She chose her wardrobe carefully, not that she ever had much choice as the row of similar black suits and white shirts were like her own uniform. But this morning she dressed in her most expensive ones and wore high heels. She even put more make-up on than usual, and whether or not it was for Langton’s appraisal, it made her feel better.
She left early for the station, wanting to have an overall grasp of the case, and once there, took all the files into her office and sat behind her desk, checking and cross-referencing all the data. Instead of her confidence being severely damaged, she now felt the reverse. She rang through to the incident room to say that she wanted to be informed as soon as Detective Chief Superintendent Langton made an appearance, and for coffee to be brought into her office.
Paul tapped on her door and she waited a moment before telling him he could come in.
‘Yes?’ she said briskly.
‘The report from the Tech Support team has arrived.’
‘Good or bad news?’ she asked.
‘I’ve not had time to read it. It’s quite dense and I’ve a copy here for you.’
She put out her hand. ‘Thank you.’
He hovered and then asked if everything was all right. She glanced up as she began to read the report.
‘Everything is fine, Paul. Why do you ask?’
‘Well, I’ve heard that Langton’s coming in. Brian Stanley seems to think something is up.’
‘It is. We are going over budget. Have we had any feedback from checking out the hotels and estate agents in Cornwall?’
‘Not as yet. We’re onto that this morning.’
‘Good. That’s it – you can go.’
Paul closed the door and returned to the incident room. Something was up and the entire team could feel it. Anna’s manner that morning had been brittle and they had all noticed how much of an effort she had made with her appearance. Not that she ever looked scruffy or even untidy, but of late she had worn her hair snatched back in a band and no make-up. Now she looked ‘glossy’ as Helen had described her – as if she was getting ready to do battle.
Brian did his irritating hand up in the air gesture, with his index finger pointing to the ceiling.
‘We got a hit. There’s a property owned by a Daniel Matthews in Newquay. He’s the woofter friend of Alan Rawlins – right?’
Paul and Helen went to his desk.
‘I was onto the estate agents. This property was on the books of Kimberley’s, May Whetter and Grose, and also with a company called Lillicrap Chilcott. They’re independent estate agents and they specialise in the sale of houses with a sea view. They’ve got agents in St Austell and Fowey, and it was a subsidiary agent who arranged the sale eight months ago – cash deal. It sold for four hundred and fifty grand. Place was unbelievably cheap for the location as it was a bit run down and needed a lot of work done on it. The buyer forked out an extra fifty-thousand cash for the agent to get the work done ASAP. With the renovation now complete it’s worth nearly seven hundred thousand.
Paul looked at Anna’s closed office blinds as he returned to his desk to place a call to Daniel Matthews, the graphic artist they had interviewed very early in the enquiry.
‘He must have bloody known about the place and been lying through his teeth,’ Paul muttered.
But Daniel Matthews denied any knowledge of a property in Cornwall and said that there had to be some mistake. He also denied ever being there or ever having any discussion with Alan Rawlins regarding ownership. Paul looked over to Brian.
‘You got a phone number for this place?’
‘Yep. You want me to ring? The agents said someone was living there.’
‘Maybe talk it over with the Gov – see what she thinks. Don’t want to tip him off.’
Anna was concentrating on the Tech Support report on the hard drive from Alan Rawlins’s computer. Paul tapped, but didn’t wait for her to answer. He barged in, saying, ‘We’ve traced a property sold for cash to someone calling himself Daniel Matthews – the friend of Alan Rawlins whom we interviewed.’
‘“Calling himself” – what do you mean?’
‘I’ve just talked to him and he denies any knowledge of owning it or ever even going to Cornwall. Brian’s checked and there is someone living there. Do we contact them or not?’
‘No. Make no contact. Not until I give the word. And Paul, could you not just barge into my office.’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just good news and I wanted to tell you.’
