brandy and since then we’ve become friendlier. We exchanged numbers and he said if I needed anything, to call him.’
‘When did you last call him?’
‘From the pub before you arrested me.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘All the stress this is causing me. He was like I just said, very kind, and if you want the honest truth, I fancied him. I need someone, for God’s sake!’
It was a depressed Anna who released Tina and then returned to the incident room to give the team the update. Thanks to Langton’s belief that the evidence from the flat strongly implicated Tina, she had gone along with his request to put pressure on the woman, but all along she had known they were skating on thin ice.
Brian Stanley still had no confirmation that Tina and Michael Phillips had been in close contact for longer than she or he had admitted. At the briefing, Anna stressed the importance of identifying the victim and the semen from the bedlinen. She only now gave them the information that the hair was not going to be significant. Liz Hawley had informed them that Sammy Marsh’s DNA had been taken on a mouth swab when he was arrested for drugs offences a number of years ago but, for reasons she was still trying to discover, it did not appear to have been uploaded onto the national database. Sammy was still only a tentative link to Alan Rawlins, and without any evidence it was also possible it was nothing more than a coincidence.
‘So a trip to Cornwall is still on the cards is it?’ Brian asked.
Anna nodded, although she would first have to get it passed by Langton, and she was not looking forward to giving him the details of her interview with Tina Brooks.
As the team broke up for the night, Anna sat in her office mulling over the uneventful day’s work. She jotted down notes to look into the following morning, loath to pick up the phone to Langton. Just as she was about to call him, Paul rang through to say that Joe Smedley, the head mechanic at Metcalf Auto, was on line two.
‘What does he want?’
‘He’s had a breakin, happened last night. He reported it to the local cop shop, but then reckoned we might be interested.’
‘Put him through.’
‘Detective Travis?’
‘Speaking.’
‘I had a breakin last night. It must have happened very late as we was working here up until after nine. It wasn’t in the main part of the garage, but in the workshops attached, and they’re not alarmed, just got a padlock on the roll-up.’
‘Was anything stolen?’
‘That’s what is odd. Nothin’s gone that I could tell you ’cos it was where Alan kept the Merc he was doin’ up, so there weren’t much room for anythin’ else. Some bastard has ripped the Merc’s seats – good quality leather, they were – and the door panels have been torn out. The boot was open and scratched to hell and it had just been resprayed. So it’s a lot of damage. I mean, it don’t hurt me because it wasn’t my vehicle, and to be honest I was gonna call his girlfriend as I dunno what anyone wants to do with the car and I will need the space.’
‘Thank you for calling, Mr Smedley. If you are there now, could you wait as I’d like to have a look at what was done.’
‘Okay. I’ll be here until eight tonight.’
Anna replaced the receiver. She could legitimately put off calling Langton. With Brian in tow, rather disgruntled as he was ready to leave for the evening, she drove to Metcalf Auto repair garage.
The padlock had been broken. As Smedley had said, the workshop was not alarmed, but both padlock and chain were heavy-duty.
‘Hadda come with bolt-cutters, and like I told you, nothing else was broken into – just this lock-up.’
Smedley was still wearing greasy oil-streaked overalls and his hands were black with engine oil. He eased up the gate, which swung out and then slid up under the roof of the workshop.
‘I never charged Al for storing his vehicles in here, only for whatever equipment he needed. The paint- spraying was done round the back and he’d use the hydraulic lift to check the under-carriages, but always when it was convenient. We’ve also had delivery of a new soft top, which is over in the main garage.’
They stood in a row looking into the garage. The 280SL’s seats had, as Smedley described, been hacked, slashed and the stuffing dragged out. Both doors had the panels hammered out, and even the dashboard looked as if someone had attacked it with an axe. The glove compartment door was broken and hanging on its hinges. The boot had deep indentations as it had been locked when it was prised open.
‘It’s a crying shame,’ Joe mourned. ‘Al loves this car and it was just about ready to sell.’
Anna and Brian walked around the damaged vehicle. At the rear of the garage was a tools locker that had been forced open and the contents were strewn around the floor.
‘What do you think they were looking for?’ Anna said quietly to Brian.
‘Christ only knows. Only time I’ve seen a car broken up like this was when I was with the Drug Squad. It had cocaine stacked between the panels in the door. Mind you, that wasn’t a vintage car like this one. This is a real damage job and it must have created a lot of noise.’
‘Did anyone complain about hearing a noise or see anything?’ Anna asked.
Smedley shook his head. ‘There’s no housing close to the yard, and besides, there’s often a lot of noise from us. I dunno even if it’s insured.’
‘Did the locals dust for prints?’ asked Brian, still inspecting the damaged vehicle.
‘I don’t think so. A couple of uniforms came and looked over it, and they thought it might be drunk kids, vandals or whatever.’
Anna suggested to Brian they get SOCO to dust and see if they came up with any prints, although she doubted it. Probably whoever did the damage wore gloves.
‘How many cars did you see Alan Rawlins work on in here?’
‘Quite a few. He’s worked here for years and always had one or another on the go. They made a nice little earner for him and they were always top-of-the-range vintage. He was also obsessive, you know? Hadda be perfect. I’ve seen him do a complete respray, and to me it was perfect, but not to him. He’s also had a couple of motor bikes he customised with a little thin guy, pal of his – a graphic designer – and they did a lovely job between them.’
Anna suggested they close up the garage and asked for Smedley to allow their SOCO officers to dust for prints.
‘How long do I have to keep it here?’ he asked.
‘We’ll be as fast as possible and then I’m not sure what will be done or who now owns it.’
‘So you still got no trace of him then?’
‘No.’
‘Bloody weird – doesn’t make sense.’
As Smedley locked up with a new padlock, Anna asked if she could have a quick chat to him, but Brian was eager to take off home. ‘It’s all right, Brian,’ she told him. ‘This won’t need the two of us. You go.’
Smedley took Anna into his small office and offered to make her a cup of tea, but judging from his filthy hands she didn’t think she’d care for one.
‘Can I just ask you again, Joe – the morning Alan Rawlins left, the last time you saw him . . . just take me through it.’
‘Well, I’ve not got anythin’ more to add. He come in early as always – he was always the first here, last to go. He’d often work on his own vehicles before we got here and before he started on scheduled work. He was a bloody good mechanic, very thorough . . .’ He scratched at his beard and then his chest, trying to come up with something else.
‘He said he was unwell, had a migraine?’ Anna prompted.
‘Yeah, that’s right. He was wearing his overalls, we had a car up on the ramps and he was scheduled to look at it. I was in here sorting through some bills and receipts. I saw him when I drove up as his Merc was out on the forecourt. I said to him it was looking in great shape and he said something about he was just waiting for the soft top to be delivered. That must have cost a lot, ’cos the one the Merc came with was worn and torn. There’s a company that supply them that he’s used before.’
