Authors: Lynda La Plante
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery Fiction, #Murder, #Women detectives - England - London, #England, #Murder - Investigation, #Travis; Anna (Fictitious Character), #Women detectives, #london, #Investigation, #Police Procedural, #Women Sleuths
‘Call what quits?’
‘You and me, Anna–what do you think I’m talking about? I don’t want you coming to see me any more. I mean it; you didn’t bargain for this, nor did I. So, let’s just be adult about my situation.’
‘You think you are?’
‘What?’
‘Being adult about this!’
‘I reckon I am.’
‘Then why don’t you take into consideration my feelings?’
‘That’s just what I am bloody doing!’
‘No, you are not. You haven’t even given me a chance to say what I think, what I feel—’
‘I’m all ears.’
He was making her feel so frustrated, there was such anger in him.
‘Maybe the fact that I love you should be considered.’
‘Do you?’
‘You know I do.’
He turned away.
‘You don’t show me any kind of affection whatsoever; you’ve not even touched me, let alone kissed me,’ she said.
‘Hard from this chair.’
‘Oh stop it, please.’
He bowed his head and the tears streamed down his face. She was not expecting that. She got up and went to him, wanting to put her arms around him.
‘For Chrissakes, leave me alone.’
She gripped the arms of his chair. ‘Look at me.
Look at me!
’
He wouldn’t and she felt such anguish; she was close enough to touch him and yet he was refusing to allow her near.
‘Right, fuck you then.’ She straightened, returned to her bag and started packing up her things. ‘If this is the way you want it.’
‘It is. Just go away, Anna. Leave me–I mean it.’
She made quite a show of putting aside the things she had brought for him and getting her car keys. He remained silent.
She really didn’t have anything else she could say, apart from, ‘Goodbye. Please don’t bother to show me out.’
She had never heard his voice so soft and painful. ‘I’m sorry.’
She chucked her keys onto the table and went to him, wrapping him in her arms. ‘Please don’t send me away.’
‘I’m sorry; you are the only thing I have.’
‘Then for God’s sake, stop this nonsense and never, never do it again to me. You hurt me and I get all confused, because I love you so much.’
He said it–hardly audible, but he said it. ‘I love you, Anna.’
They kissed. It wasn’t a passionate embrace, but the kiss was sweet and gentle. He touched her face. ‘I wait all day to see you, then I behave like a bastard.’
‘I wait all day to be with you.’ She drew up a chair to be able to sit close to him and hold his hand. He gripped it so tightly it hurt, but she didn’t mind.
Anna eventually had to leave, but there was a quiet understanding between them that had never been there before. When he kissed her goodbye, he whispered that he would count the hours until he saw her again. He was tearful again; it was so poignant and heartbreaking.
Langton waved to her as she crossed the car park. He had gone by the time she was sitting inside her car. She waited for a few moments before she was able to cry. He had never been so vulnerable, so dependent and so scared of the future. She drove home with such mixed feelings churning up inside her. The reality was, she didn’t honestly know how she would be able to cope with him coming home. If he remained as incapacitated as he was now, there was no way he could return to work. She knew her love would have to be very strong to deal with him and the probability that he would be an invalid for the rest of his life.
Anna was still deeply unsettled when she got home. She made some hot chocolate and sat up in bed, thinking about her parents. Isabella Travis had been like a child in many ways. She had been sexually assaulted as a young
art student. Anna’s father, Jack, had investigated the case, became her protector and subsequently her husband. Anna’s entire childhood had been blissfully ignorant of any trauma; they had kept it so far removed from her that she had never known the truth until both parents were dead. Could she, like her father, take on Langton and love him, no matter what?
Anna continued to work on Murphy’s forthcoming trial; at the same time, she made the daily visits to see Langton. She found it very exhausting to drive the distance every night there and back before going into the station the next morning. Some nights, the prognosis was good and he was cheerful; other nights, he was morose and in great pain. The injury to his knee was taking a long time to heal, but what made her really worried was the latest talk she had with the head nurse.
He described Langton’s physical condition as 50 per cent better; however, he was not mentally coping with the injuries. He was, as she well knew, deeply angry, but what she had been unprepared for was to be told that he was suffering from deep depression. He was also drinking heavily and creating ill-feeling amongst the other patients.
It did not help for Anna to be told that, during these rehabilitation periods, many officers behaved in much the same way. They were so used to being in control: to lose it became so emotionally debilitating that often the nurses, physiotherapists and psychiatrists were unable to make any headway until they were about to be discharged. Anna could not bring herself to ask if it was conceivable that Langton would be able to return to work. It was looking highly unlikely, every visit.
It was not until the weekend, however, when she was checking through the bundle of newspaper clippings she had taken from Langton’s flat, that she became most concerned.
There were over thirty more cuttings, all about the Home Office’s inept handling of the deportation of illegal immigrants and the appalling situation that had resulted. Why had Langton kept them? Not only had he cut them out, but his handwriting was also scrawled across them, and he had ringed photographs of suspects.
She wondered if any of them had any connection to his own case, but they were all dated before he was attacked. Anna packed them away in a folder; she would bring it up next time she went to visit. Then she
worried: maybe she shouldn’t ask him about them, as it would look as if she had been snooping around his flat. She decided she would contact Mike Lewis again.
Lewis agreed to drop by her place later that afternoon. It was almost three when he turned up and said he couldn’t stay long as he was working. He seemed very uneasy.
‘I’ve felt bad about not going to see him but you know, work pressures and with a wife and new kid on the way…’ He trailed off, obviously feeling guilty.
‘I see him most nights,’ she said, placing his coffee down on the table in front of him.
‘Word is he’s not doing so well,’ Lewis said, avoiding looking at her.
‘It’s going to take time.’
‘Yeah, I guess so–that was what I was told.’
‘Has Barolli been to see him?’
‘I dunno, I’ve not spoken to him in a while. He’s on another case. Life goes on!’ Lewis paused. ‘He’s not going to get back to work, is he?’
Anna drew up a chair and smiled. ‘Well, that’s what they say, but you know him better than anyone. I don’t think he’s going to give up that easily.’
‘It’s not a question of giving up though, is it? If he’s still unable to walk, then there’s no hope of him coming back. I know he wouldn’t take on any kind of pen-pushing job. Maybe that’s why I can’t face it, you know; I hate to see him this way.’
There was a long pause. Anna waited. Lewis suddenly bowed his head.
‘I keep on thinking about that night–you know, when it happened. I’ve been put on sleeping tablets by my doc. I just keep on seeing the look on his face
when that bastard slashed him and thinking, could I have done something to stop it happening? It all happened so quickly. I thought he would bleed to death. Barolli’s the same; he was off for a few weeks, you know. Having worked with the old bastard for so long, we really felt bad. He was always so…’ Lewis shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
Anna picked up the file. ‘I found these newspaper cuttings in his flat. Can you have a look at them for me?’
‘Sure.’
She handed him the file and walked out to get some fresh coffee and to leave him alone for a few moments. When she returned, Lewis had them laid out on the coffee-table in front of him.
‘More coffee?’
‘No–no, thank you.’ He leaned back, and then gestured to the cuttings. ‘The case we were on: that girl was raped and murdered by an illegal immigrant, Idris Krasiniqe. He was supposed to have been deported, but slipped through the net.’
‘I’ve read the case file.’
‘I think all these are just the Gov’s fury at what happened.’
‘But all these cuttings are dated before that.’
‘I suspect the Gov was going to really make a loud noise about it. As you can see, all this press, all these bastards walking around, but suddenly it’s all gone quiet. Home Office have put their hands up and admitted they have screwed up, probation department ditto. Nobody is taking the flak for what has gone on–what is
still
going on–and the prison service is helpless to deal with the overcrowding.’ He sighed. ‘Which leaves us, the police, in a pretty pitiful state. We catch them; they
are released or, as you can see from this article…’ He picked it up. ‘Bloke is put into a hostel, cuts off his tag, goes out and kills a thirteen-year-old girl! Beggars belief. Jimmy was getting fed up to the back teeth with it all.’
Anna nodded. ‘I’m on a case with a guy let out early on parole who killed a woman; her twelve-year-old daughter found her.’
‘There you go. I can tell you, there’s an awful lot of us that are about to throw the towel in. If I was the Gov, I’d walk away, get my pension and live the rest of my life out of this bloody city. It’s all out of control; without the money and the manpower, we’re flailing around like idiots. What he ever thought he could do about it, only he can tell you.’
‘Has he called you again? Last time you mentioned that he kept in touch.’
‘Yes, he calls me, at work, at home. Yes, he bloody won’t let up–but, like I said the last time I was here, there’s not a lot I can do.’
‘It’s hard to believe they haven’t arrested the man who attacked him.’
‘No, they never found him. In reality, we should have had an armed operation, but the Gov was impatient.’ Lewis drained his coffee and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘But what about the attack on Langton?’
‘You tell me, case left open…’ Lewis rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘I can’t start hunting them down in my free time, for Chrissakes; besides, we don’t even know where to start looking. We think the bastard is already out of the country–I told you that. The murder enquiry was over when we caught the killer and he got sent down for life.’
‘But what if Langton’s life sentence is him stuck in a fucking wheelchair?’ she snapped.
‘Look, don’t do this. It’s out of our hands. He’s alive.’
‘You mean there would be a bigger enquiry if he was dead–if he’d died from his wounds? Is that what you are saying?’
‘No!’
‘Then what is happening about tracking down the men who did this to him?’
Lewis sighed. ‘There is a new division set up to deal with all the problems surrounding immigration, illegal immigrants, parole jumpers, et cetera. The Home Office are backing them, and—’
‘That sounds like a big whitewash load of crap,’ she said furiously.
‘Maybe it is, but it’s ongoing, and maybe you need to talk to them. But…’ He hesitated.
‘But what?’
‘Well, word of warning. You are part of the murder squad; they are a different department, so you don’t want to muddy the waters.’
‘Muddy the waters?’
‘Yeah. If you start making moves on them, they won’t like it. As it is, they’re keeping their heads down because of all the bad press.’