‘He’ll join us there.’ Daniels replaced the phone. ‘So, I’ll just put on some socks and shoes, then we can go.’
Anna sat next to Daniels in the patrol car. He made numerous calls on his mobile phone, one to someone he was meeting at the opera later. He was generally so casual, so relaxed, it was unnerving. Something had come up, he said chattily and he might be late but they weren’t to worry. Next, he called his cleaner about groceries he required and informed her that he needed some dry cleaning collected. All the time, he leaned into his phone and as far away from Anna as possible, only speaking to apologize to her when his foot accidentally touched hers.
On their arrival at the station, they went in through the back way, avoiding the day’s action. Langton left Anna in charge in the interview room while he went outside to await the arrival of Daniels’s solicitor.
Since making his phone calls, Daniels had hardly spoken. Now, inside the room, he looked bemused. There was a table with four chairs, two on either side. Stacked on the table were numerous files, some containing photographs.
Anna directed him to sit with his back to the door and took up her seat opposite him. She opened her notebook. Langton was not yet with them and it seemed an interminable time to be alone with Daniels.
Edward turned out to be Edward Radcliff, one of the most notorious heavy hitters in the legal system. His chambers were almost as famous as his reputation.
Langton asked if he could speak with him alone, before they saw his client.
‘By all means. I’d like to know what this is all about. Sounds very unethical to me.’
‘I am simply protecting your client. Alan Daniels is a known name. Rather than make a spectacle of bringing him in for questioning?’
‘Questioning about what?’
‘I am leading the enquiry in a series of murders. The last known victim was Melissa Stephens?’
‘Jesus Christ.’ He stopped walking.
Langton continued, ‘But we have six other victims we believe were killed by the same perpetrator.’
‘This is unbelievable. I mean, it is inconceivable Alan could have any connection to these tragic women.’
‘I need to ask him some questions; if he is able to give me the answers, then he will be free to leave. I will be taping and filming the interview.’
‘You haven’t charged him, I take it? You’ve not arrested him?’
‘That is correct, but I will still need to follow procedure.’
Radcliff took a deep breath; then, after a moment, suggested they get on with it.
There had been no words spoken between Daniels and Anna as they waited, apart from his polite refusal of her offer of tea or coffee and his request for water instead. A tape recorder and a video camera had been brought in and set up. When Langton ushered Edward Radcliff in the room, Daniels stood to shake hands with his solicitor, who then sat beside him. Langton took his seat beside Anna and rested his hands on the table. The tape and video camera were turned on.
Langton stated the date and time and that those present in the interview room attached to Queen’s Park Metropolitan Police station were himself, Detective Sergeant Travis, Alan Daniels and his solicitor, Edward Radcliff.
Daniels glanced at Radcliff, seeming slightly perplexed at the formality. The lawyer reassured his client that it was all just procedural and that he had to be given his rights for his own protection.
Langton continued, ‘Mr Alan Daniels has agreed to help our enquiries. He is not under arrest, but has come to the station of his own volition. Mr Daniels, you do not have to say anything?’
‘Now wait a minute?’ Radcliff began to protest.
‘Sorry,’ said Langton. ‘I mean, were you under arrest, you would not have to say anything but it would harm your defence if you did not mention here something you were later to rely on in court. Anything you do say could be used in evidence against you.’ He looked at Radcliff. ‘If it were to come to that, of course.’
Daniels shook his head, nonplussed. The tape in the machine was turning and he stared at it, frowning.
Langton waited a few moments before asking the first question.
‘Mr Daniels, is your real name Anthony Duffy?’
Daniels blinked. He waited a moment before he answered.
‘Yes; yes, it was.’
Radcliff glanced at him, then made a note.
‘Did you change your name by deed poll? Or by some other method?’
Daniels leaned back in his chair, looking uncertain.
‘We were unable to trace you for some considerable time. Did you apply to Births, Deaths and Marriages for the name change to be legally registered?’
There was another lengthy pause; Daniels stared at his hands, then he looked up and answered quietly.
‘It was more than fifteen years ago. There was another actor by that name, so I changed it. I was in Ireland. They would have a record of it, but yes, I was originally Anthony Duffy. It was all legal.’
‘Was your mother Lilian Duffy?’
His face fell. He became stressed, starting to twist his hands.
‘Yes, yes, she was. Whether or not I’d describe her as a mother is another matter. I was brought up in foster care.’
‘And is it true that your mother was murdered?’
Daniels leaned forward. ‘What on earth has this got to do with anything?’
‘Could you please just answer the question, Mr Daniels.’
‘Yes, I was informed that she had been.’
‘And were you questioned by the Greater Manchester Police at the time of her murder?’
‘Christ! I was seventeen years old. I was brought in. They brought me in to tell me she was dead. For God’s sake!’
Radcliff was making notes. If he was surprised by what he was hearing, he didn’t show it.
‘We both know it was a bit more than that,’ said Langton. ‘You were arrested and questioned.’
‘I was released. Why on earth are you bringing this up, twenty years later?’
‘Were you also questioned about a previous assault on your mother?’
‘What?’
‘Your mother alleged you had attacked her.’
‘No. No, that is not correct.’ His eyes flashed with anger, then he turned to Radcliff. ‘There were never any charges. What the hell is this about, Edward? I have come here in good faith.’
Radcliff stared coldly at Langton. ‘Do these questions have some bearing on the reason Mr Daniels is here?’
‘I believe so.’ Langton opened the file in front of him.
‘Could you please look at these photographs, Mr Daniels and tell me if you knew any of these women?’
He withdrew the first photograph and glanced at the video camera.
‘For the benefit of the video and the tape, I am showing Mr Daniels a photograph of Teresa Booth.’
Daniels glanced at the black and white mortuary picture, then shook his head.
‘No, I don’t know her,’ he said firmly.
Out they came, one by one: Sandra Donaldson, Kathleen Keegan, Barbara Whittle, Beryl Villiers, Mary Murphy. To each ‘Did you know this woman?’ Daniels shook his head and said that he did not. He was sitting very upright, gripping the edge of his chair.
‘Did you reside at number twelve Shallcotte Street, Swinton?’
Daniels gave his solicitor a helpless look.
‘Just say yes or no, Alan,’ he said.
‘I believe I did. Until I was four or five years of age, and again after a period of foster care.’
‘Do you recall Kathleen Keegan as also living at that address?’
‘I was just a child. Of course I don’t,’ he snapped angrily.
‘Do you recall Teresa Booth living at that address?’
‘No, I don’t.’
