blankets and a pillow with no pillowcase; it was striped and stained and smelt of cats.’
He went over to look out of the window. ‘I bought the flat because of the fantastic stained-glass windows. They’re original William Morris. They hide the fact I have no views in a very elegant, wondrous way. In the mornings when the light shines through them, it’s like a magic lantern.’ He turned to her. ‘I’ve been thinking about some of the things we discussed. In fact, I hardly slept last night.’
She perched on the arm of a chair to listen. He sat back on the sofa and frowned, looking down at his hands. ‘There are things I remember, things I have tried hard not to think about. Anyway …’ He leaned back and licked his lips.
He went on to explain that, as a child, it was always difficult to stay asleep, because of the constant noise of partying in the early hours of the morning. The police were often called to the house to break up drunken brawls. Then one day, Social Services took him away and put him in a foster home. His life changed dramatically: there were three meals a day, clean clothes. But he was always sent home. ‘She would demand me back. I never knew why; she didn’t appear to want me. I’d be dragged back screaming and crying.’
Anna noticed that his voice was unemotional. He never discussed his feelings, just the facts of what happened: how he had been moved backwards and forwards until one day he ran away. Then Social Services took him to a care home and from there he was relocated to his second set of foster parents.
‘Away from that hell hole, I started to do well in school. I even won a scholarship to a good public school. And in all this time I didn’t hear a word from her, not a letter, or a phone call. When I was about fifteen, I looked out of a bus window and saw her. She looked hideous. Her face was bloated from booze, her tits were sagging and she was wearing a mini skirt, staggering about in high-heeled shoes with her veined legs bare. She disgusted me.’
For the first time he appeared unsettled; he took a deep breath before continuing. The boys he was with caught sight of her and not knowing she was his mother, they started laughing. Soon they were yelling abuse out of the bus window, calling out ‘slag’ and ‘whore’. He shook his head. ‘And I joined in.’
Langton was in a blazing fury. He had just been told that Daniels had ‘disappeared’. The surveillance officers surmised that the suspect had used AI Management’s side entrance to cross Wardour Street and had gone into the garage that way. His car was still parked. Langton swore and cursed their incompetence. The exit from the underground garage stairs would have brought him back on to the street and from there, it was just a short distance to Oxford Street where there was no shortage of buses and taxis. He could even have caught the tube at Tottenham Court Road.
Langton immediately ordered a car to take him to Anna’s flat.
Anna was wondering about the reason for the visit. But she knew she had to be patient.
Daniels said he had taken the bus, alone this time and got off at the place he had last seen his mother. He found her in an alleyway, leaning against a wall, her skirt up round her waist, being slapped around by a man in a pale blue suit. She was shouting drunkenly, but he only slapped her harder until finally she started to slide down the wall. ‘I charged, started to punch him, but he took out a knife. She got in between us and started to scream at me, telling me to go away and mind my own business! He warned me that if I didn’t, he’d kill her. So I ran away. Later, she was picked up by the cops. She said she had been raped, as well as beaten up and she wanted to press charges.’
He explained how he had gone to the old house in the morning, to see if she was all right and the man in the pale blue suit opened the door. Running away down the street, he was arrested and thrown in a patrol car.
‘She charged that I had beaten her up. I was questioned by this revolting pig of a man. He was abusive to me. The really sick thing was, I had seen this man at the house. He was a Vice Squad officer and he used to be around there all the time.’
Anna guessed he was referring to Barry Southwood. Now, Daniels spoke so quietly that his voice was hardly audible.
‘They found her body about eighteen months after and arrested me on suspicion of murder. It was all unreal, terrifying. I had no money for a lawyer, nothing. I was certain it was him. I went back to that disgusting house to confront him. One of the women told me he’d done a runner, taken their money. She said he had threatened them that if they ever said anything to the cops about him, he would kill every one of them.’
Daniels was standing now, staring ahead, almost mesmerized, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.
‘Did you ever find out where he went? The man in the blue suit?’
‘Their pimp?’ He nodded. ‘I saw him on the front page of the Manchester Daily News. He was opening up a new nightclub. He had these TV stars around him. He looked for all the world like a successful businessman.’
‘What was his name?’
‘John George McDowell.’
He watched her get up and fetch her notebook. She wrote down the name.
‘I’ll pass it to the team first thing in the morning.’
He stood. ‘I have to go now. I hope that I have helped you. It’s been painful, telling you all this. I hope you will protect me, Anna.’
‘I’ll do everything I can.’
‘Promise me?’ He moved closer.
‘I promise, Alan.’
He cupped her face in his hands. When the doorbell rang, they jumped apart.
At the front door, Anna moved the spy hole aside: Langton was outside. ‘It’s my gov,’ she said, hopelessly.
Daniels shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’re not doing anything wrong, Anna.’
She opened the door.
‘Hi, I need to talk to you,’ Langton said. Before she could stop him, he brushed past her into the living room and froze. She followed helplessly.
‘Nice to see you again. I was just leaving.’ Daniels extended his hand. ‘Anna, see you soon.’
Langton stood in mute fury as he sauntered out. Anna closed the door behind her visitor.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Langton hissed.
‘He came to see me.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ He flopped down on the sofa. ‘You continue to amaze me, Travis. What the hell did you let him in for?’
She chewed her lip. ‘Urn ? I am still here.’
‘Don’t you be bloody sarcastic with me. Why didn’t you call in? He could have killed you.’
‘Why don’t you let me tell you what he came to see me about?’
‘I can’t wait,’ he snapped.
She summarized Daniels’s conversation, finally producing her notebook with the name: John George McDowell.
‘It’s bullshit.’
‘But we should check it out.’
‘Travis, don’t you want to know why I’m here?’ he demanded.
She blinked nervously.
‘Surveillance lost him in Wardour Street.’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yes, sir. That’s why you’re here.’
‘Partly. Your boyfriend has been in your flat. Travis, we have a match. Sweetheart, it’s Alan Daniels’s fingerprints on your daddy’s photo frame.’
Her body started to shake. She had been alone with Alan Daniels for over three quarters of an hour.
Langton picked up her notebook. ‘We will check out this “John George McDowell”. From now on, Travis, you don’t make a move without me and the team knowing it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We will get someone to look after you, as you don’t seem capable of acting like a professional officer.’
‘Will you be staying here?’
He glowered. ‘What the fuck do you think I am, Travis, your bloody babysitter? There is an officer parked outside your flat. Tomorrow, I want from you a full report of exactly what Daniels said.’
‘Yes, sir.’
