Clean Cut (12 page)

‘Where on earth are you going to put it?’

‘In the hall–the only place with enough space. The rowing action will build up my shoulders and the knee action will strengthen the ligaments. Sorry about this stuff; it stinks.’

She wrinkled up her nose. ‘My dad used something like it on an injured shoulder.’

‘Yeah, it’s good old-fashioned grease with a heat mix. The scars have healed well, but the skin is so taut around them and the muscles ache like hell on my knee.’

‘Do you want me to do that for you?’ she asked.

‘Nope, better I do it–I’ve got a very low pain threshold,’ he joked.

Anna kissed his cheek; he hadn’t shaved and it was like a bristle brush. ‘Would you like me to shave you?’

‘No, I’m growing a beard. Day I shave it off is the day you know I’m back in shape.’

‘Oh.’

‘Does it bother you?’

‘No. You’ll look a bit like Rasputin.’

He grinned. ‘Yeah, look how many shots the assassins fired into him before they could kill him, mean bastard. They even tried to drown him, then poison him as well.’

‘I’m going to take a shower.’

‘Fine, go ahead.’ He was wrapping an elastic bandage around his knee.

She couldn’t help feeling as if he had taken over her entire flat, as well as her life. She opened the bathroom door and was taken aback to see a walking frame. She went back in and asked him what it was in there for.

‘Ah, it’s just so you don’t have to help me piss, or watch me crap. Makes me more independent–but it stays in there. I’m not using it anywhere else.’

Anna shut the door, easing herself around the bloody walking frame. Lined up in the bathroom were rows of vitamins, gels and tablets, crowding her make-up shelves. She couldn’t find her toothbrush, and had to move his pills around to find it.

‘This won’t last for long. It’s just temporary, so stay calm,’ she muttered to herself, but she felt as if the walls of the bathroom were closing in on her.

Anna had yet to bring up the situation with Sickert, though it still concerned her. It never seemed to be the right time, as they were settling down to quite an amicable partnership. The fact that she ran her life around him, cooked and laundered, and was a constant support as he grew stronger, made him less demanding. Langton
constantly impressed her with his total dedication to regaining his strength. They also started making love again; he was, as he had been before, a generous and exciting lover. They didn’t exactly swing from the rafters, but if he was in any discomfort, he never showed it. His knee injury was still very obvious and she knew he depended on his painkillers to continue the rigorous training programme he had set for himself. He also had moments of deep depression and anxiety. These times she knew to leave him alone; that was not easy if she was at home, as the flat was so small.

As far as she knew, Langton made no contact with anyone apart from his trainer. He now had quite long hair and a beard; not exactly Rasputin, but it altered his appearance totally. He mostly wore tracksuits and trainers, so that if he did venture out, she doubted anyone would have recognized him. He seemed to have no desire to either take in a movie or dinner at a restaurant, but he did make one trip: she returned home from work one day to find his bicycle propped up in the hall. She knew he had always used one to work out at the track in Maida Vale, but she had no idea how the hell he had got it into the flat. With the rowing machine, and now the bicycle, circumnavigating the hall was hazardous. The bike pedals always caught her ankle and she had tripped over the rowing machine so many times that she had a permanent bruise on her leg.

A stack of mail he must have collected from his flat, all unopened, took up almost the entire space on the coffee-table. This was another irritation to her: everywhere he went, he left a trail of trainers and tracksuit tops. Newspapers he would buy every morning, so she had a stack of them in the kitchen. She tried to throw
them out, but he insisted she keep them, as there were some articles he was interested in. It would have been an ideal opportunity for her to discuss the cuttings she had discovered at his flat all those weeks ago, but they were interrupted when the doorbell rang. It was his physio, come for a morning session.

Sometimes, just when she felt it was all too much for her, he would do something that made her melt. He would often return from his workouts with a bunch of flowers. A few times, he cooked dinner and made such an effort it touched her heart, as he was so boyish and eager for her to compliment his culinary efforts. He rarely asked about her work and never spoke of Lewis or Barolli–if Anna did refer to them, he would waft his hand as if to say ‘don’t go there’–but he was eager to talk about vitamins and minerals and physical therapy. He was now having extra massages and treatment from an acupuncturist.

Langton was obsessed with his recovery: it was his sole occupation and he would allow nothing to disrupt his regime. Anna knew it must be costing a fortune, since his personal trainer alone was a hundred pounds an hour. But the results were really astonishing: already his frame had filled out and he was almost back to his original weight. He was very proud of his six-pack and often stood admiring himself in the wardrobe mirror. He would be up and out with his bicycle before she showered. He’d cycle to the Maida Vale bike track and do five miles, then cycle home for his porridge and mound of vitamins. He was still often in pain and had been warned by everyone on his training programme not to push it too much, but he refused to listen.

The trial of Murphy was a week away. Vernon
Kramer had already been sentenced and sent back to Wandsworth prison, as he had requested to serve out his time close to family and friends.

This had caused Harry Blunt to deliver yet another tirade about the prison services. ‘You know that bastard will be segregated on Rule 43 because he’s a child molester; now he’ll be back with his old cronies and probably swapping dirty pictures, the bastards! They don’t call it that any more–Rule 43: seems it offended some of the arseholes. Mind you, now they’ll have keys to their own fucking cells!’

Brandon looked at Anna and gave her a half-smile. She had grown to like him, especially now he had dispensed with his cologne. He came over to her desk and passed a note.

‘Came in late afternoon yesterday, but you’d already left,’ he said. ‘She insists she wants to talk to you, but wouldn’t say what it was about. That’s her mobile number.’

‘Thanks.’ Anna glanced at the Post-it note. ‘Beryl Dunn…?’ She looked at the name, tried to think if she had ever heard it before and then it clicked: Beryl Dunn was Arthur Murphy’s mother.

She dialled the number. ‘Is this Mrs Dunn?’ Anna asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I am Detective Inspector Anna Travis.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘You left a message for me to call you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you like to tell me what it is a—’

‘Not on the phone,’ the woman interrupted.

‘Well, that makes it rather difficult.’

‘It’s important I speak to you, but I’m not coming into no police station.’ She had a strong Newcastle accent.

‘If you could just tell me why you wished to see me, then I can arrange to meet you.’

There was a pause.

‘Hello, Beryl? Are you still there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why do you want to see me?’

‘I need to talk to someone about something. It’s important: you arrested my son.’

Anna waited; she could hear heavy breathing on the end of the line.

‘I’m talking about Arthur Murphy,’ said Beryl.

Anna hesitated, then agreed to meet her the following day in a café next to the old Peabody estate in Lilly Road. Then she went straight off to knock on Sheldon’s office door, to inform him of this latest development.

‘Whatever she has to say won’t help him–he’s going down for life. Take Brandon with you; give him something to do,’ barked Sheldon.

Anna hesitated. ‘I think he should just be in the background. She seemed very uneasy, and as she’s coming all the way down from Newcastle, I don’t want her to take fright and do a runner.’

‘That’s as may be, but take him with you anyway. It’s a café–let him go in and get a cup of tea. Better to be safe than sorry. If she’s as nuts as her son, you might need back-up.’

Brandon went into the seedy café fifteen minutes before Anna had agreed to meet Beryl Dunn. He was sitting in a corner with an order of eggs, bacon, sausage and chips
swimming in grease, with a milky cup of tea and white bread and butter. He glanced up as Anna walked in. She looked around; apart from Brandon, there were only two other customers, who both wore painters’ overalls and were tucking into plates of the same disgusting food.

Anna ordered a cup of coffee from the old man behind the glass counter. He dumped a thick-rimmed cup and saucer onto the flat counter. She handed over seventy pence, looked around and picked a table for two as far from the painting duo as possible, but reasonably close to Brandon.

Moments later, a woman walked in, waved over to the counter and asked for an espresso before looking round and making her way slowly to Anna’s table. She was about five feet two and very overweight, with heavy swollen ankles in strappy sandals. She had a bright red coat and a large plastic handbag. Her hair was bleached yellowish-blonde and hung down to her shoulders, the black and grey roots just showing. She wore heavy make-up: thick black eyeliner and spiky mascara, rouged cheeks and dark red lipstick that ran in small rivulets up the lines around her mouth.

‘You Detective Inspector Travis?’ she said quietly.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Beryl Dunn.’

She sat down in a waft of heavy, sweet perfume. She inched the coat off to rest on the back of her chair, revealing a white frilly lace blouse with a low neckline, showing off her cleavage and large breasts. Her small plump hands with red nail varnish had numerous rings; she wore a man’s wristwatch. She said nothing else until her espresso was placed down in front of her, then
reached over for the box of paper napkins and removed one, slipping it into the neck of her blouse.

‘Don’t want to drop coffee down meself,’ she said, then lifted the thick cup to her lips and slurped. She placed it carefully down on the saucer. ‘I said he was my son, but I disowned him years ago. He was always a nasty little bastard. I even feel sick to admit I give him birth. His father was a nasty bastard too, glad to be rid of him; cancer got him, but I’d have liked to shoot the bugger. Whatever our Arthur gets, he’s got it coming to him. He’s a disgusting pervert.’

She sipped her coffee again. Her lipstick left marks on the rim of her cup. ‘I was in showbusiness.’

‘Really?’ Anna smiled, surprised.

‘Stand-up comic; did the rounds of all the Northern clubs. Now standing is hard enough, never mind making the buggers laugh.’ She gave a hoarse throaty laugh; her lipstick was smeared on her row of false teeth.

‘You wanted to see me,’ Anna prompted her.

‘Yes. It’s about our Gail.’

‘Gail is your daughter?’

‘Yes.’ Beryl Dunn leaned back. ‘She’s been trouble as well, but she’s a good girl, really–just stupid, know what I mean? She got involved with a man, who left her pregnant with her first kid, our Sharon, but she got a nice council flat out of it. Then she had another one, little Keith–he’s a right tearaway, he is–a year or so later, but she got involved with drugs and they kicked her out with two kids, so she came back to live with me.’

Again she paused as she sipped her coffee. ‘I couldn’t keep her there for long. I got my private life, know what I mean? Anyways, that was several years ago, all water under the bridge.’

She licked her lips and sighed. ‘I always forgave her, because of what Arthur done; she had to go to therapy for it. For a while she was safe from him down in London–Hackney, it was–’cos he was banged up in prison, but they no sooner put the bugger away than he’s out again and after her, so she went to the police–you know, to get protection, to keep him away from her.’

Anna nodded her head. She knew all this and was trying to fathom out why Beryl wanted to see her.

‘Next thing, he gets out with this no-good bloke called Vernon something or other, and he bloody gets her pregnant! I mean, you’d have thought she’d have learned, but no. Like I said, she’s a bit on the stupid side.’

‘I saw the little girl,’ Anna said. She wondered if this could possibly be Vernon Kramer’s child.

‘Yeah, Tina’s a cute little thing, but Gail would have nothing more to do with Vernon because he was after her other daughter, sick bastard. So she kicked him out and said if he ever came near her again, or near her kids, she’d get him arrested.’

‘Was his surname Kramer?’

Beryl tapped the teaspoon on the side of her cup. ‘I dunno his surname, but he was a friend of that bugger Arthur. Now look, Detective Inspector, my Gail may be stupid, but she’s always had a good heart and she’s been a good mother to those kids. She calls me and writes, sends me photographs, and we have always kept in touch. I give her money when I can and see her Christmas-times, if I’m able to.’

She took out a handkerchief and wiped her mouth. ‘Few months back, I got a postcard from her saying she was moving to the New Forest with her latest bloke: she was renting some place and said not to let Arthur
know where she was, as she’d got this restrainin’ order against him. I wouldn’t have given him the time of day, let alone told him where she was. I bought her a mobile for her birthday so we could keep in touch; she’d had problems with her phone and not paid the bills. Anyways, next thing I hear, this new bloke has run off and she’s living with someone else.’

Anna nodded.

‘When I went to see her, I got a shock,’ the woman continued. ‘I’m no racist, but me, I’ve never gone with a darkie. He was all right, I suppose. He was clearing up the yard and gonna decorate the bungalow, but Gail said the stench from the pigs made her feel sick.’

‘So you went to see her?’

‘Yes–that’s when I met
him
–called himself Joseph Sickert. Gail started using his surname. Stupid, but she wanted to do it, so…’ Beryl blinked, and dabbed the corner of her eyes. ‘I got a call from her and that’s when she told me about you being there, about puttin’ Vernon in it, and how they arrested Arthur. She says you was very nice.’