enjoyed telling Pete about her old bicycle that she had ridden around the city until it had been stolen. From then 011 she had walked, even though she had been certain she'd seen another student whizzing past on it.
The case finally reared its head when, as they left the restaurant, Pete had asked for some tinfoil. From his glove compartment, he took out a plastic knife, then took copious scrapings of mud from around the hubcaps, wheels, and sides of the Morgan. 'I'm impressed,' Anna said, watching him.'Yeah, well, it looks like it may rain, so better to do it now.'The rain started coming down about half an hour later. Pete had put the roof up, and despite a few areas where tape covered some cracks, they could hear each other. They ran into heavy traffic on the motorway, as a truck had overturned, and spent over an hour inching along. They found themselves discussing the case, all Anna's theories and suppositions. Pete queried many of them, but became fascinated and also slightly in awe of her productive detective mind.'I take after my father,' she said. The conversation turned to her personal life, and she found herself telling him more than she could recall telling anyone else. How her father had been such a powerful force in her life, and her delicate mother such a loving support to them both.'You are lucky,' Pete said. He gave a few details about his own childhood. He had been brought up mainly by his grandmother, who had doted on him, until he was twelve years old. After she passed on, he went to live with his father in Devon. He was a builder and carpenter, who would spend whatever he made in the pub. His mother had been a nurse, who had left his father for a doctor, and emigrated to Australia. The broken promise of her sending for him had hurt him deeply, but thankfully his grandmother had always made him feel very loved. When he did eventually fly out to Australia to meet his mother and stepfather, she was a stranger.'It's odd. I went out there with every intention of forming a bond with her—you know, wanting her to be special—but she was a strange, cold woman. Maybe she regretted leaving me, but I don't ever recall her holding me in her arms.''That's awful,' Anna said, remembering how her mother would be at the gate waiting for her to come home from school: always there, always with her arms out for a hug.'The way I was brought up made me wary of relationships. Women Were either like my granny or the type my father used to bring homefrom the pub—and he had a real variety. He was never too particular: blond, brunette, fat or thin. I don't think he liked to sleep alone, or cook or do any household things like washing up, so whenever I got back from school, there was always a strange woman hoovering and dusting.''Is he still alive?''Nope. He committed suicide eighteen years ago. Went out to his hut, where he would supposedly do his carpentry, and threw a rope over a beam.''Did you ...''Yeah, I found him—not a pretty sight. But I called the police and they took care of everything. From then on, I was sort of on my own. I inherited what little he had—the cottage and a couple of outhouses and fields. I got about fifty grand. I went to university in Liverpool; no idea why I chose that one, because I could have had the pick of a number, but off I went, money in the bank, good digs, and a sort of freedom I had never really felt before. I had a terrific time—there's nothing like the Liverpool sense of humor—and I made great friends there; we still keep in touch.''Did you meet your wife there?''No, I was back in London when we met. In fact, we only really knew each other for a few months before we moved into the house in Hampstead, and then got married a year or so later.'Anna stared from the window as the rain lashed down.'Have you ever been married?' Pete asked her.'No. Not even close.''How come?''Well, I'm not that old for one thing—I'm only twenty- eight.' And yet it did sound old to her, and she was shocked.'You ever lived with anyone?'Anna suddenly didn't want to talk. 'Not really.''Oh, I see. You can pump me for my seedy background, but you don't seem to want to go into yours.' 'Your background didn't sound seedy to me. I told you, I had a great relationship with my parents.' 'But what? You gave everything to your career?' 'Yes.'He laughed and gave her a sidelong look. 'You must have got hurt hard.''No, I didn't.' She really didn't want to get into the Langton relationship, and was beginning to get irritated by his persistence. At last, the traffic thinned out and they could pick up some speed.He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. 'Sorry. I just want to get to know you—I suppose that's obvious.'She smiled and released her hand. 'Well, I've never been very good at expositions, so let's just say maybe I will give you the gritty details some other time.''Gritty?'She sighed and then shook her head. 'I was joking. There's really nothing else to know about me.''You going to stay with me tonight?''No, I'd like to get home—but how about I cook you breakfast tomorrow at my place?''Okay, it's your call.'Anna still didn't really understand why she was keeping Pete at a distance. She did find him attractive, and she was getting fond of him and enjoying his company.She was still pondering it when she drove herself home after collecting her Mini from Pete's garage. He had kissed her briefly—it had felt good, but not passionate—not like she had felt with Langton. The 'gritty' truth was that she was unable to let Langton go. She hadn't wanted to continue the relationship, and she was certain that he didn't either, but why was she so tentative about making more of her friendship with Pete?Undressing and getting ready for bed, she felt terribly sad. She curled up like a child in her big new bed. The few sexual relationships she had had in her past had meant nothing compared to her infatuation with Langton. In many ways, that was what it had been: never a steady or serious affair. He had never been a friend, but a demanding lover. She wondered if that was why she couldn't move forward with Pete. He was just too damned nice! He didn't excite her. Langton had certainly done that. In bed, at work, in every way, he had dominated her—at times, really frightened her—but she had thrived on his ability to make every nerve in her body tingle. She wondered if she would ever feel the same way about anyone else, even knowing what a dangerous creature Langton was. Instead of making her reject everything about him, it made her long for him to wrap her in his arms and make love to her. She didn't think about what had gone on that day with Pete, the discovery of D'Anton s van, the possibility he had met Alexander Fitzpatrick at Honour Nolan's farm. All she thought about, as she cried herself to sleep, was how much she missed James Langton.
CHAPTER 12
Pete arrived at nine o'clock with croissants and fresh fruit. Anna made them both omelets and brewed up some coffee. Once again, they were totally at ease with each other. Pete helped unpack her boxes and put up the plasma TV; he was helpful and considerate, and very adept at checking plugs and carrying all the cardboard boxes down to the bins in the basement.He worked alongside her, washing china and ripping off the bubble wrap from various pieces of furniture. He loved her new flat and, when they took a coffee break, they sat on the small balcony looking out onto the river. Anna was wearing old jeans and a stained T-shirt with sneakers. He was similarly dressed; they could have easily been mistaken for a loving couple. But he didn't make any moves on her; in fact, apart from a kiss on her cheek when he arrived, he had not touched her.She was surprised how disappointed she felt when he checked the time and said he should be making a move. 'Do you have to go? I owe you dinner.''I'll take a rain check. I'll probably be pretty tied up next week.'She smiled. 'Okay. Thanks for helping me out this morning.'She watched him leave, feeling at odds with herself. She was unwrapping the few items still left to put into the kitchen when she came across a painted mug. It was nothing special to look at, but what made Anna sit back, thinking, was its shape. She had seen one similar—far better painted, and with a more professional glaze—in Michael Sudmore s antiques shop.Honour Nolan had said she was a beginner at pottery, and twice had mentioned that she had a small kiln in one of the barns. What if that was a lie? What if there wasn't any kiln, but perhaps a stove: something to give heat to the barn, if someone was living in it? It would be a very good cover. After looking over the farmhouse, Anna was pretty certain there-was no one else living there—but what if one of their barns was being used? She again went over the possibility that Julius D'Anton might have had problems with his van and somehow inadvertently come across Alexander Fitzpatrick. He could have given D'Anton money and the Mitsubishi to drive, yet knew he would have to get rid of him, so dumped him in the Thames.Anna showered and changed, and drove to Chiswick to talk to Sandra D'Anton. She really needed to get her time frame in order. She knew the dates of the antiques fair and how many times D'Anton had visited the shop, but had no clear date for when he returned to London. His fingerprints were matched to ones found in the Chalk Farm squat, but were they there before the murder? Had she been wrong about the passenger in the Mitsubishi with Frank Brandon: could it have been Julius D'Anton? That didn't quite add up. D'Anton was tall, but not six feet four. However, she made a mental note to test his shoes against the prints in blood at the scene of crime.Sandra was surprised to see Anna, who was wearing casual trousers and a sweater, rather than her usual suit. She invited her into the kitchen, which was in even more disarray, with most of the windows removed. There was a burly guy working in there, and Sandra asked if he would take a break for fifteen minutes. He put down his tools and took himself over to the pub.In response to Anna's questions, Sandra found a rather moth-eaten- looking diary that was two years old. All she could recall clearly was that Julius had said he was going to the antiques fair. The next time she had spoken to him was when he had called
