Wrongful Death Read online

  For Anna, Fitzpatrick’s escape had been an unforgettable moment. She had witnessed at first hand Langton’s fury, which escalated further when she admitted that she had actually seen a photograph of the plane at a country cottage owned by the dealer’s brother and had failed to connect it to their suspect.

  Although Anna had inadvertently let it slip to Walters that mistakes were made during the Fitzpatrick investigation, she never confessed her own concerning the plane, or revealed that Langton was present in the murder squad office when Fitzpatrick had posed as an FBI agent. She had always felt somewhat relieved that the Deputy Commissioner never reopened the case against Langton. She could only surmise that Walters still felt there was not enough evidence for disciplinary action.

  Similarly in the Oates case, Langton had ensured that everyone on the team was ‘singing off the same hymn sheet’. When interviewed by Walters, they all stuck to the story that the sudden atrocious turn in the weather could not have been foreseen and had led directly to Oates’s opportunity to escape. Langton actually told Walters he saw it as ‘an indiscriminate act of God’ and played on the fact that the suspect was quickly rearrested and had confessed to a number of murders. Anna knew deep down that Walters was Langton’s nemesis and the real reason behind his failure to make Commander. However, Langton’s promotion was a subject she had decided to never again raise in his presence for fear he would discover she’d unwittingly betrayed him to the Deputy Commissioner. That would be something he could never forgive.

  Many cherished moments had passed between Anna and Langton and they had both known their own tragedies; Langton with the sudden death of his first wife, and Anna herself when a prison inmate murdered her beloved fiancé, Ken. She had fought to salvage her career, and had even worked alongside Langton since the Fitzpatrick case, but he had never been as friendly or as close to her – in fact the reverse. He appeared to be watching her progress as she rose quickly through the ranks, as if loath to ever again become emotionally involved.

  Anna had not worked with Langton since the Oates inquiry. She had no current personal relationship or could even contemplate one. Work had become her priority and her whole life, and she had managed to earn the respect of all her colleagues. However, this new case Langton had given them just didn’t sit right with her. To reopen a suicide as a cold case, because of a spurious allegation from an untrustworthy source like Delon Taylor, was highly irregular. Anna knew Langton better than anyone and was suspicious that there was a hidden agenda to his allocating an apparently simple case of suicide to a highly experienced murder team. She wondered if Langton had some personal connection. If that was the case, as the DCI she needed to know before he left the office.

  ‘Could have a quick word with you?’ she asked him.

  ‘As it happens there a couple of matters that I need to speak to you about,’ Langton said as he removed his jacket from the chair.

  ‘We can use my office then,’ Anna said, starting to head that way.

  ‘I’ve got to go to the US Embassy in Grosvenor Square for a meeting at their FBI office. I will be back about four p.m. and we can talk then. In the meantime, you can get cracking uploading the Reynolds case onto the computers, he threw at her as he turned away.

  ‘Well that should take up about ten minutes of our time,’ Anna retorted, irritated.

  ‘That’s a nice glowing tan you’ve got, hides the red face when you’re annoyed with me.’

  Langton was quickly out the door, leaving Anna even more convinced he was hiding something from her.

  Chapter Two

  Deciding that she might as well make good use of her time until Langton returned, Anna picked up the file Paul Simms had prepared on Joshua Reynolds’ death. Although the contents were sparse, it seemed to her the verdict of suicide was correct. She knew that if the Coroner had any doubts he would have given an open verdict or requested a more in-depth police inquiry.

  Anna spread out the scene photographs across her desk. Reynolds was lying beside the sofa on his right side with his right arm outstretched in front of him, the revolver still in his hand. His knees were in an almost foetal position and on the left temple there was a bullet exit wound. There was a very large pool of blood around Reynolds’ head and upper torso, which his white shirt had soaked up like blotting paper. Blood spatter, along with brain and skull tissue, was distributed on the seat and upright cushions of the sofa. Amongst the postmortem photographs, one showed a bullet entry wound to the right temple. The wound had many pinprick-sized black burns around it, indicating a close-range shot. The exit wound, the pathologist’s report remarked, indicated the gun being held by the victim at a slight upward angle. The forensic swabs taken from Reynolds’ right hand revealed heavy traces of firearms residue and were consistent with him pulling the trigger. The wall safe in the bedroom fitted wardrobe was open and contained four loose bullets, which were the same kind as the single empty cartridge case in the gun. Firearms residue matching that on the gun and Reynolds’ body was found in the safe, indicating it had been kept there. His blood alcohol level was high, indicating he was drunk at the time he shot himself. The pathologist’s report concluded death by injuries to the head from a gunshot wound. From the state of rigor mortis the pathologist estimated the body had been dead between eight to twenty hours prior to its discovery at midday on the sixth of November.

  Anna didn’t have the enthusiasm to read through what little else there was in the case file, as the pathology and forensic reports spoke for themselves. Like the rest of the team she was finding it hard to work up any interest and she was deeply annoyed that Langton, for reasons she was unable to fathom, had lumbered her with such an open-and-shut case of suicide. There was a knock at her door and Paul Barolli entered.

  ‘We’ve finally got all the computers set up and linked, so if I can take a copy of the file we can get the contents uploaded.’

  ‘By all means take a copy for yourself and a couple for the office but hold off on the upload for now,’ Anna told him.

  ‘I thought DCS Langton wanted it treated as a cold case investigation and put on the computer system.’

  ‘I know what he said, Paul, but honestly, read the file and tell me if there’s something I’m missing. Reynolds even left a suicide note on his laptop.’

  ‘Why has Langton given us this case then?’

  ‘I haven’t a bloody clue. The sooner we interview Delon Taylor the quicker we can be freed up for a proper murder investigation. You and I will pay him a visit in Belmarsh.’

  ‘You want me to go with you?’

  ‘Well you are my number two now.’

  ‘You think Taylor is lying?’

  ‘We won’t know until we speak to him.’

  Anna handed Paul the file and followed him back into the main office.

  ‘Right, listen up,’ she said, attempting to hide her own frustration. ‘I know you are all feeling a bit down-hearted, what with all this wonderful new technical equipment and no case to play with. DI Barolli and I will see Delon Taylor tomorrow and hopefully by the next day we will be free to take a live case. I know you all kindly came in at seven a.m. this morning to set up the office, and it’s nearly three p.m. and—’

  ‘Don’t tell us there’s no overtime, ma’am!’ the voice of Detective Dan Ross shouted jovially from the back of the room, resulting in a chorus of laughter from the team.

  ‘Ten out of ten,’ Anna said with a wry smile to the detective, a dapper dresser in his early thirties who was renowned as the office joker.

  ‘For you, ma’am, we’d work for nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Go on, bugger off, the lot of you,’ Anna said, knowing that whatever the outcome of the interview with Taylor, this team had already gelled and, she felt, accepted her as their leader.

  It was just before four p.m. when Langton finally walked into Anna’s office with a cup of coffee in each hand, sitting himself down in one of the comfortable armchairs and putting the cups on the small coffee table
.

  ‘White no sugar for you, as I recall.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Anna went over to join him, sitting opposite on the sofa.

  ‘Any Scotch?’

  ‘No. But I’ll put it on the shopping list.’

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘They’d all done their eight hours so I told them to call it a day.’

  ‘Good. They’ll have to get used to it as there’s no overtime allocated to this case.’

  ‘So this new state-of-the-art office is budget money well spent, is it?’ Anna enquired.

  ‘I knew this was going to be the first of the new high-tech murder investigation offices and I pulled a few strings to make sure your team was permanently based here.’

  ‘Is it a fixed post for a DCI as well?’

  ‘Yes, and before you get on your high horse, you’ve worked with nearly everyone out there. They respect you and above all you know how to motivate them. The best team for the best SIO.’

  Anna leaned forward with a sharp grin and looked Langton directly in the eye.

  ‘Please don’t flatter me, James. I know you too well. The best team with the best office and SIO, I’ll give you, but why lumber us with a crap job?’

  ‘If I gave the team a case before this office opened I couldn’t guarantee to get you based here. The Reynolds thing is just something to tide you over and shouldn’t take long to put to bed. Anyway, there were no live murder cases to allocate you.’

  ‘I know you’re hiding something. Joshua Reynolds isn’t some long lost relation or friend of an auntie’s uncle twice removed, is he?’

  Langton now mimicked Anna, leaning forward with a grin and staring her in the eye.

  ‘How would you feel about joining me . . .?’

  ‘You can’t fob me off with dinner.’

  ‘I meant at Quantico.’

  Her jaw dropped in surprise. ‘Joining you! At the FBI Academy?’

  ‘There’s a place that’s just become available on their Senior Command course. But if you have too much on your plate at the moment then . . .’

  ‘Not at all, I’d love to do it!’ Anna exclaimed.

  Langton stared at her and nodded.

  ‘Good. Sorry it’s short notice but we leave in eleven days on the Thursday-morning flight from Heathrow. It’ll mean being away for nearly three months. Well, for you. As you know, I will be staying on longer.’

  ‘Thank you, but why me?’

  ‘Well, Mike Lewis was supposed to be going but he pulled out after his daughter was in a car accident last week . . .’

  ‘Elisa? She’s only twelve, please tell me it isn’t serious,’ Anna said, shocked at the news.

  ‘No. A drunken cyclist hit her on a zebra crossing. Broken leg, a few cuts and bruises, but she’ll be fine.’

  ‘That’s a relief. I hope Mike doesn’t mind me taking his place.’

  ‘Of course he won’t. Anyway, he’s pencilled in for the next course and I knew that you had no current commitments. I told Deputy Commissioner Walters you’d be the best replacement for Mike and he agreed.’

  ‘Thank you, it’ll be an amazing experience.’

  ‘For both of us, and good for your future promotion prospects.’

  ‘And yours, I hope.’

  ‘Maybe – it’s hard to say where Walters is concerned, but I live in hope,’ Langton said optimistically.

  ‘What about arranging my flight?’

  ‘It’s just a case of changing your name and details from Mike’s, so e-mail me your passport details.’

  ‘Great. I can’t wait – and again, thank you for putting my name forward.’

  She was suspicious about Walters’ involvement, especially knowing that he did not like Langton, and she wondered why he was allowing them both to go. Perhaps this might be Walters creating a façade, a way of ridding himself of Langton and in his absence ensuring that he would never make Commander.

  ‘About the Joshua Reynolds investigation . . . If it isn’t done with before we leave, who is going to take over from me?’ Anna enquired.

  ‘Paul Barolli’s perfectly capable of dealing with it. Also I’ve arranged for an FBI agent called Jessie Dewar to do some work experience with your team.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘All part of her research for a doctorate in Forensic Psychology. She’s in France at the moment.’

  ‘Have you met her?’

  ‘Yes, at a European homicide conference in Paris. She’s pleasant and seems very capable.’

  ‘Well, if you’re happy and you think she will fit in with the team . . .’

  ‘She starts tomorrow morning. Show her the ropes before we leave for the States. She’ll no doubt give you a heads-up about what to expect on the FBI course.’

  ‘Any more surprises for me?’

  ‘Yeah, I forgot that she lands at eight p.m. this evening, Terminal Five Heathrow. I’ve got a prior engagement and I wondered if you could . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t, but I can arrange for a local detective to meet her.’

  Langton never ceased to amaze her, even after all these years, still trying to offload what he saw as the mundane things in life. She was annoyed that he hadn’t given her more notice.

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door and Paul Barolli walked in, to tell them he had finished reading the Reynolds file and was now off home. Langton was quick to seize the moment and ask Paul if he was doing anything that evening.

  ‘No, sir. You fancy a pint then?’ Barolli asked, thinking his new rank had knocked him up the social pecking order.

  ‘Maybe another time, but I need a favour.’

  ‘Then I’m just your man,’ Barolli smiled.

  ‘DCI Travis will be joining me at Quantico and FBI Agent Jessie Dewar will be working with the team in her absence.’

  ‘Right. I see,’ Barolli said with a forlorn look.

  ‘However, you will be running the show as SIO in DCI Travis’s absence.’

  Paul was chuffed with Langton’s faith in him and remarked that he wouldn’t let Langton or Anna down. He turned to leave the room but Langton continued.

  ‘Running the team’s not the favour. I was wondering if you could pick up Agent Dewar from the airport this evening.’

  ‘Sure, it’ll be a good opportunity to brief her on the Reynolds case.’

  ‘I’ve arranged the use of a Met-owned flat in Vauxhall for her,’ Langton said, handing Barolli a set of keys.

  ‘What does she look like?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Five seven, medium build, blonde hair.’

  Barolli felt none the wiser about Agent Dewar as he put the keys in his pocket and said good night.

  It was only after Langton had left the building that Anna had a chance to think about what it would mean for him to spend a whole year in the States working with the FBI. Like Mike Lewis, he too had a family. There was Laura his second wife and her daughter Kitty from a previous marriage, whom he had adopted. There was also their young son Tommy. She contemplated how Laura and the children would be feeling about his long-term absence. Although Anna did not know Laura, she could not believe that she would be happy about the situation. Anna’s past relationship with Langton had made her more than aware that he was never a man who put his family obligations above his career. Anna knew from experience that Langton could be difficult to live with and envisaged that he and Laura also had many ups and downs. It crossed her mind that maybe Laura didn’t care any more and was perfectly content to let him go to America. His family life was something he never discussed and a subject she knew was absolutely taboo.

  The automatic doors of the Terminal Five Arrivals area slid slowly open revealing a number of people pushing luggage trolleys, pulling suitcases, mothers with stroppy children. Barolli, holding a small sign with MS J DEWAR written on it in black marker, noticed a lone middle-aged, plain-looking blonde woman pushing a luggage-laden trolley. She matched the brief description Langton had given him of their new team member. Paul raised
his sign and waved it at her.

  ‘I believe it’s me you should be waving at,’ an American voice said.

  The Jessie Dewar standing beside him was not what he was expecting. Stunningly attractive, she had soft, shoulder-length shiny-blonde hair and wide hazel-grey eyes. She wore little makeup; she didn’t need to with her flawless, lightly tanned skin. She was wearing a pink Solaro blouse and smart grey tailored suit, while the cut of her clothing and her high heels accentuated her curvaceous figure. She gave off an air of knowing she was a sexually attractive woman but also one who would take no nonsense.

  ‘I was expecting Jimmy Langton,’ Dewar said, causing Paul to rouse from his transfixed stupor.

  ‘He’s blind . . . I mean he got stuck behind . . . at work with a meeting. I’m Paul Barolli, the Detective Inspector on the murder squad you’ll be working with. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Dewar.’

  She gave him a small cool nod and shook his hand firmly.

  ‘I’m a supervisory special agent, Detective Barolli,’ Dewar replied in a matter-of-fact tone as he took hold of her suitcase.

  ‘That’s a mouthful. We use rank initials as abbreviations. Like DI for my rank, DCI for Chief Inspector . . .’

  ‘I hardly think SS Dewar would be appropriate.’

  Although Paul Barolli felt that Agent Dewar was somewhat abrupt, he put it down to her having had a long tiring day. As he drove to Vauxhall he sensed that she was not in the mood for conversation so he pointed out various sights of interest and suggested that when she felt like it he would be only too pleased to give her a proper tour round London. Dewar thanked him for his offer but doubted that her work commitments would allow time for sightseeing. Paul told her that there was a copy of the Reynolds file for her on the back seat and started to give her a run-down on the case, to which Dewar said nothing but leaned over to retrieve the file and began reading. Paul knew she wasn’t listening to a word he said.