Deadly Intent

inks and highlighted with a marker pen.'What are these, Jay?''Visitors,' he said.'I don't understand. Visitors to you, or ...''They do not have residents' parking tickets. It is against the law to park in the forecourt without a residents' parking permit.'Anna glanced at Gordon and back to Jeremy, who had now turned to face them. His cheeks seemed even pinker, as if he was using rouge.'You have been monitoring illegal cars parked, is that correct?''Yes.''And how do you know about these cars?''Window, of course.''Your window?''Yes.''May I see out from your window, Jay?''Yes.'Anna passed him and went to the window. She lifted the slats of the pristine white blind. The window looked out onto the lockup garages at the rear of the estate. She let the slats slip back into place.'I also monitor the vehicles illegally parked at the front on the days I work at Waitrose. I collect the trolleys and stack them and replace them in a long line outside the main entrance. People leave their trolleys by the side of their cars when they unload groceries, and they are not supposed to do that. They are supposed to replace them outside the entrance, but they don't. I have to collect each one and I make a line of them to wheel them back. Sometimes, I have found our trolleys outside on the road; that's when people have not parked in the Waitrose car park but on the street. I collect them and take them back to the entrance.'He spoke in short, sharp sentences with a low, controlled anger.'Jay, just let me understand: are these dates of people parking illegally at Waitrose or here on your estate?''This is a residents' parking area. You have to have a permit.''Yes, I understand that, but these times and dates are from your estate and not Waitrose, is that correct?''Yes.'Anna could hardly believe it. 'l don't suppose you listed any license-plate numbers, did you, Jay?''I have them.''You have the license-plate numbers of these cars?''Yes. You don't listen to what I am saying. I am a resident and these people have no right to park illegally and so I am monitoring them.''For how long?''A long rime.'Anna took a deep breath and smiled. 'Do you think Jay, that you could pass these license-plate numbers to me? As a police officer, I can do something about them being illegally parked in the residents' bays.'He chewed his lip.'I could make sure they don't block any residents' bays for you.''That would be good, because sometimes when my care worker comes here to see me, she can't find a space; one rime she got a ticket because she had to park across the street on a yellow line.''Well, let's get this all written down then, shall we? Do you have the numbers?''Yes. Please do nor silt on my bed.'Anna straightened and waited as Jeremy replaced the two chairs.Again, she and Gordon sat side by side, but this time Jeremy drew out his desk chair and sat down too. He swiveled to face them. Anna took out her notebook again and gave an encouraging look, expecting him to open one of the drawers, but he remained facing them.'Are you ready?' he asked.'Yes, Jay, we are ready. Do you need your lists from there?''No, they are not the license plates; they are the dates and times they blocked the residents' parking area. I started doing this when they boarded up the flats along the corridor.''Right, could you pass me the relevant license plates and, if they match the dates ...''Are you ready?' he repeated.'Yes. Yes, Jay, we are very eager to—'It was as if a key had been turned at the side of his head. Without hesitation, he began to list the car-registration numbers from memory. Over and over again, Anna had to ask him to pause, as she couldn't keep up. He was able to describe the make and color of the cars as well. Gordon was writing in his notepad too, but Jeremy spoke so quickly, as if on automatic pilot; sometimes, when they asked him to pause, it took a while for him to pick up where he had left off', but he continued reeling out registration after registration.Anna said nothing to Gordon until they were on their way back to the station. Then: 'Do you believe that?'Gordon shrugged. 'Did you ever see the film Rain Man, with Dustin Hoffman?'Anna nodded.'What makes a mind able to recall all those numbers, and yet he can only work pushing grocery trolleys around?' Gordon shook his head. 'Look at the way he keeps his room.''Obsessive-compulsive syndrome. Heartbreaking really; he's such a handsome young man.''Yeah, his mother keeps him well turned out, doesn't she? I mean, he was immaculate: hair cut, trousers creased, even his shoes were polished. You don't think all those car numbers were just his nuttiness, do you?''1 hope not.' Anna sighed. 'We've got pages of figures and dates. Let's hope something comes of them.'Jeremy was still cleaning his room. He used Febreze on the canvas chairs, wiping the wooden arms down. He then wiped the window blind, especially where Anna had lifted it. He took out his own small Hoover to check over the carpet. Then he stripped naked and folded his clothes into his personal laundry basket. He showered and scrubbed his body, washed his hair, and made sure his nails were clean. He then carefully got dressed. No one but his care worker was ever allowed into his room; his mother only stepped inside to pass him his meals, and to clear away his tray.Mrs. Webster tapped on his door. 'You ready for lunch, Jeremy?''Yes.''Everything go all right? They were with you for a long rime.''Yes.''Were you able to help them at all?''I'm hungry.''Won't be two ricks.'He ate grilled chicken, broccoli, mashed potatoes and gravy every day followed by fresh fruit. By the time she brought his tray, he was waiting just inside the door. He took it without a word and ate at his desk, keeping all the food as separate as possible, chewing each mouthful carefully. When she came to collect the tray, he was still sitting there, his plate empty, his cutlery placed neatly together.'That was very nice,' he said.'Good.' As she bent forward for the tray, she could smell Pears soap, the only soap he would ever use. His shampoo was a brand for children, so it would not burn his eyes when he washed his hair. His freshness never ceased to move her. When she leaned forward to pick up his tray, she was close enough to touch the soft peach cheeks that she had longed for years to kiss, but was never allowed to.

Mrs. Webster returned to her kitchen and washed his dishes. It wasn't exactly a prison; he loved his room. In many ways, she was the prisoner, and had been from the time Jeremy had been diagnosed. She wondered what he had been talking about for so long with the policewoman, totally unaware that her son might have given the murder inquiry a mind-blowing breakthrough.

CHAPTER 4

Cunningham looked at the lists with an open mouth. 'You're not serious?''Yes, we are. These are all the pages of license-plate numbers we have to check out.''Work backward. Don't for Christ's sake go from the top of the list. Use whoever we need to get onto the D andV Licensing Agency. Give this over to Gordon; you can come with me to the path lab. Then we have to pay another visit to Frank Brandon's widow.'Anna was relieved not to spend any more time with the scrambled-egg-and-tomato gourmet Gordon, who had said not one single word during her entire interview with Jeremy. She was not sure, though, which was worse—having to partner up with him or travel with Cunningham, who unnerved her. Anna was constantly expecting her to ask about Langton.She didn't. 'This kid is what?''Autistic,' Anna replied.'Well, it could be a big break or we could be the butt of a lot of flak, taking this nutcase's word.''He is not a nutcase, ma'am.''He isn't? Holed up in his bedroom or pushing trolleys around doesn't bode well for a witness, Travis.''He might not be able to stand up in court, but I believe him. You have to meet him to understand the way his mind works.''Yeah, well, 1 beljeve you. Thousands wouldn't.'Dr. Ewan Fielding was a thin man with bony hands and a rather high-pitched voice. As he drew back the green sheet from Frank Brandon's body, Anna had to turn away. Brandon s face was hard to recognize.the bullets having torn most of the right side of his skull apart. His mouth gaped; part of his jaw was broken and the teeth splintered. Anna couldn't help but think of James Langton. The two of them were linked in her mind as they had all worked together on the same case. She even recalled Brandon asking her out. She'd refused. Now she wondered if Langton knew what had happened to Brandon. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.'Three gunshot wounds to the head and face,' said Fielding, 'and lower down, we have two more: one in his upper chest and, moving upward into his larynx, another just above his heart. He died instantly from the bullet that went into the right lobe of his brain. The bullets have been sent to ballistics. The deceased was healthy: very fit with strong organs and heart.' Fielding had found no trace of any drugs or track marks.Returning to the patrol car, Cunningham seemed irritated. 'That didn't give us much. At least we know he wasn't using, so what the hell was he doing in that shithole?''Maybe he was working on something that took him there.''Yeah, maybe, but we still don't know what he was actually doing. Let's see if we can get more from the widow.'As they headed out of London toward Wimbledon, Cunningham rested back in her seat and closed her eyes, her arms folded. Anna kept as far away from her as possible. Even sleeping, she looked tense and angry.Julia Brandon was wan and red-eyed. She was wearing a quilted robe and slippers, sitting on one of the plush sofas with a tissue in her hand.'The children don't know,' she said in a heavy voice.'They're not his, though, are they?' Cunningham asked. This was somewhat unnecessary, Anna thought; they already knew that.'No, but he was wonderful with them. It's strange, really. I was always a bit worried how he would cope. He even said at one time that he didn't want any, but then he just took to them, and they had started to call him Daddy.' Julia broke down in tears. She wiped her eyes, apologizing repeatedly.