information that the police have two witnesses, but it is interesting to note that he didn’t ask more detailed questions about them.
‘Finally, let’s focus on the journey home. Daniels suggests he should be dropped off first. Considering he had behaved like the most charming courteous escort all evening, this could seem out of character. He does it to make her feel sexually unpressured by him. Then he produces his biggest draw-card. He provides a small glimpse into a wretched past: the starving little boy in the brothel. He cries. He conjures up for Travis a tragic picture. And she, wisely, allows him to think she has been suckered in. She allows him to draw her in his arms, where he will ask for her protection, that she will help him. Then, he adds that he will try and help her, that he will think how he could possibly be a help to the enquiry. Consider the audacity he displays here!’
Parks leaned forward. ‘I can guarantee you that at some point, relatively soon, DS Travis will hear from him again and that this time he will suggest a suspect. I believe we have him worried. The danger is that he might take off, but I doubt he will now. By having what he believes to be contact with an insider, Daniels’s ego will cloud over his anxiety. Do you see now, how the entire evening was a ploy by Daniels to gain DS Travis’s trust?’
Parks extended his congratulations to Anna for consistently maintaining, throughout the evening, a facade of such endearing openness and innocence that Daniels at no time seemed to perceive her as a threat.
Anna flushed as they gave her a smattering of applause. She felt a bit better after Parks’s breakdown of the evening. The meeting broke up and Langton called Anna into his office.
‘I’m going to have a tap put on your phone. Is that OK with you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Last night, you said you didn’t believe Alan Daniels was the killer. Do you remember?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘He got to you, didn’t he, Travis?’
She didn’t reply.
‘You had a lot to drink.’
‘I know. He just kept on ordering more and?’
‘I suppose you noticed Parks didn’t bring that up, or the fact you kissed him! Jesus Christ, Travis, what the fuck did you think you were doing? It was bloody unprofessional. You want to read the driver’s report?’
‘It would have been helpful to me if I’d known about the driver.’
‘Bullshit! I said we would take care of you.’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘Look at me.’
She looked at him.
‘He’s going to contact you again. You know that, don’t you?’
Her jaw tightened. ‘I thought that was the point.’
‘Well, there’s not going to be a next time, Travis. I’m not putting you out there in the field. You’ll probably get in bed and screw him next.’
Her instinct was to punch Langton in the chest and scream abuse at him, but somehow she managed to control her anger. She did not respond, even as he continued: ‘You have got to straighten out and stop behaving like a ten year old.’
‘Sir, I will do my best,’ she said sarcastically.
‘So far your best has not been good enough. Now get out.’
She exited wordlessly, but she was swallowing hard and trying not to break down in tears. She made it to the ladies and once inside the cubicle, covered her mouth so that no one would overhear her sobs.
In case Daniels tried to get to either witness, Barolli was sent to check on the Cuban waiter, while Mike Lewis tried unsuccessfully to contact their ‘deep throat’. In the meantime, Daniels was put under round-the-clock surveillance.
Langton was called to Scotland Yard, where he detailed Parks’s report on the previous evening. The commander was not impressed; they had made no significant progress. While it might be interesting to hear a profiler confirm his suspicions, it moved them no closer to making an arrest. In fact, it was her opinion they had now given their suspect too much information. She was extremely dismissive about the part played by DS Travis and hauled Langton over the coals for depending on a young, inexperienced detective for the success of the operation.
With the carpet being tugged from under his feet, his budget now way out of control and still no result, Langton was dependent on matching fingerprints to haul Daniels into police custody. There again, he had only disappointing news for the commander. The prints had still hot been verified. Since the water glass had been chilled, the condensation had made the fingerprints too smudged to be any good. There were numerous prints on the fifty-pound note which had to be separated, though there was the possibility of digitally enhancing the ones on top of each other.
Even this was greeted with scepticism by the commander. She knew where Langton was going and said she did not want a feeding frenzy from the press. ‘Arresting your Alan Daniels for suspected burglary does not give you enough to keep him longer than a few hours.’
Daniels was under observation all day. It was reported that he had spent an hour with his agent at the Wardour Street office. Then he caught a taxi to Harrods, where he spent time browsing in the gents’ clothing department; from there he strolled along Beauchamp Place, window shopping. He disappeared into San Lorenzo’s restaurant at one o’clock and lunched with a woman in a silk turban, who appeared to be conducting some kind of interview.
Daniels walked back to Harrods and got in a taxi, returning to Wardour Street, where he went to his agent’s office. That’s where they lost him.
Anna let herself into her flat. By now, the phone tap was on, but she didn’t give it too much thought. She was depressed; after calling the Ivy, she had been told nothing had been handed in. She wondered about calling the hire-car company, but instead made herself a cup of coffee and sank into the sofa. She closed her eyes, trying to recall Daniels pulling items from her evening bag. She was certain she had seen him replace the cufflinks.
She didn’t hear it at first, it was such a light tap. Then she listened and heard it again.
At the front door, Anna moved the spy hole a fraction: it was Daniels. She had a moment of panic and returned quickly to the living room to pick up the phone. But the door was rapped harder. There was no time to make a call. Should she answer the door, or stay silent? She made her mind up and called out, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s only me, Anna. It’s Alan.’
When she opened the door, he was standing there smiling. With a mischievous look, he opened the palm of his hand.
‘These are yours, aren’t they?’
‘I thought I’d lost them. I was frantic; I even called the restaurant. Where did you find them?’
He grinned like a naughty schoolboy. ‘In my pocket.’
‘You took them?’
‘Yes. I needed an excuse to see you again.’
She forced herself to smile. ‘You could have just called me.’
‘But what if you hadn’t wanted to see me again? I was too embarrassed about breaking down in front of you last night to risk the rejection. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
She hesitated.
‘Anna, remember I said I was going to think back and see if I could come up with anything that might help you find the murderer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I might have something.’
She closed the door and gestured towards the lounge. ‘I’ve just made myself a coffee. Would you like one?’
‘No, I’ve only got a few minutes.’ He looked around the living room. ‘This is very nice.’
‘Not compared with your flat. Yours is much more sumptuous.’
He sat down on the sofa. ‘It was a wreck when I bought it. Some of the rooms hadn’t been used for twenty years. They stank of mildew and birds’ droppings. When I was a child, I used to sleep in a little back room. Actually, it was more like a closet; it didn’t have a window. There was a mattress on the floor: no sheets, but a couple of
