‘Yes, but neither was Sickert.’
‘So? It could be an assumed name. We have found no record of him and we don’t even have a Christian name. We’ve taken prints from the bungalow but there’s no match on the database.’
‘Anna, I don’t know. I mean, I’ll talk to Barolli and see if he has a better memory of the guys, but we were both in shock.’
‘Are you saying you wouldn’t be able to recognize them again if you saw them?’
‘I dunno. Like I said, it went down so fast.’
‘What about the prints taken from the hostel where they were living?’
‘Yeah, we got prints.’
‘So, what if we try and match them from the ones we got from this guy Sickert?’
Lewis took a deep breath. ‘Well, you can ask Sheldon to instigate that.’
Anna chewed her lip. ‘To be honest, he’s very much against even carrying on looking for Gail, Sickert or the kids. Can you help me with it?’
‘Anna, you’ve got to understand, I’m involved in another murder enquiry.’
‘Forget it!’ she snapped.
‘No, listen to me. I will do what you ask, but you have to understand this has got to be formally directed. I would say that the correct people to go and see would be those who are involved in trying to trace—’
Anna didn’t wait to listen; she got up and glared at him. ‘You know they are just fucking around. Langton’s alive; if he was dead, it would be a different matter. With thousands of illegal immigrants loose, not to mention those on bloody parole missing, this will just be placed on a stack of thousands of other missing bastards.’
Lewis now stood up as well. ‘Does he know?’
‘He doesn’t know anything. Right now it’s the last thing he needs. He has to use all his strength to recover. To get him all stirred up over what may be a dead-end… I don’t think is a good idea.’
‘Right, just get mine and Barolli’s angst up.’
‘Forget it; just forget it, Mike.’
‘I can’t, all right? I can’t. I’ll do a print check, but for Chrissakes, Anna, give me a break!’
She walked him to her front door, where he said a rather curt goodnight. She watched him head down the stone stairs to the main exit then bolted the door.
Anna called Glebe House and was put through to Langton’s room. She told him she would not make it over to see him that evening. She put it down to the pressures of work, and said that she’d had a long day but didn’t feel like going into details. He didn’t sound disappointed, and talked about how well his physio session had gone: he’d been walking around the gardens.
‘That sounds like a big improvement; without a stick?’
‘Yeah — well, most of the way. Will I see you tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good — only if work pressures aren’t too much,’ he said sarcastically.
She didn’t want to get into an argument, but he was no fool and knew her case was winding up for trial, so her excuse didn’t ring true.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked, this time softly.
‘Not that good, but I’d prefer to tell you all about it when I see you.’
‘I’ll make sure I’m available,’ he joked.
‘See you tomorrow then.’
‘Yep, until tomorrow.’ He replaced the phone before she could say anything else.
She sighed; she knew how important her visits were to him even though he’d never say so. She redialled and asked to speak to him again. A night nurse answered, who told her that he had asked not to be disturbed.
As she was leaving for work the following morning, Barolli phoned. He apologized for not getting back to her, but had been in bed with a streaming cold. He sounded as if he was still hardly able to breathe.
‘Mike Lewis called me,’ he said, sniffing loudly.
‘Did he tell you why I wanted to see you?’
‘Yeah, and he’ll run the prints for a check, but you know it was a hostel and we had Christ knows how many.’
‘Yes, I know that, but if there is a match?’
‘Right, right. You know, Anna, when it went down, I was behind Mike, and I didn’t really get to see the bastards’ faces either. I never even saw the big bloke — well, not for more than a few seconds when he ran past.’
When Anna described Sickert, Barolli said he couldn’t recall if either of the guys had dreadlocks, though both were black. She couldn’t really understand why neither Lewis nor Barolli felt as she did. She knew how much they cared for Langton and how many times they had worked alongside each other; their lack of enthusiasm depressed her.
There was no mention of Sickert in the incident room as the case against Vernon Kramer went before the crown court. He was wearing a sober grey suit, white shirt and tie. It never ceased to amaze her how the legal teams cleaned up their clients. He pleaded guilty to harbouring Arthur Murphy, but claimed he was afraid of him, saying that Murphy had threatened him if he did not help. This lie was swiftly demolished, as they were able to report that Vernon was actually wandering around buying fish and chips and beer, and could at any time have contacted the police. It was pointed out that the newspapers had front-page photographs of Murphy and requests for the public to assist in tracing him. Vernon replied that he didn’t read newspapers. In summation, he was found guilty and, as he was on parole, he was returned to Wandsworth prison with an extra eighteen months added onto the rest of his previous sentence. This time, he was to serve the full term with no leave to apply for parole.
Sheldon looked at Anna and shrugged. ‘Should never have been on early release anyway, the sick bastard.’
‘No wonder Gail was scared, her brother a killer and his best pal a paedophile.’
‘Listen, both of them are sick fucks, but Murphy’s going down for life. Another couple of years and Vernon here will be back in a hostel with more of his sicko friends. He’ll probably meet even more in the nick: they get segregated for their own protection from the other cons; come out and they’re at it again. He reckoned he was clever because he wasn’t on the sex offenders’ register; this time, I’m gonna make damned sure he is.’
Langton was sitting in the lounge, chatting to two other residents when she walked in. He waved, slowly stood up, and then walked towards her with his arms outstretched.
‘Eh, take a look at me?’ he grinned.
She wrapped her arms around him, almost in tears; he was a little unsteady and joked that she was pushing him over. They walked together to a vacant area, with two armchairs and a coffee-table. He sat down and she noticed that he winced in pain as he grasped the arms of the chair, easing himself down. He then blew out his breath.
‘I’ve got some good and some bad news,’ he smiled.
‘Well, I’m all ears.’
‘Tomorrow I’m having a physical assessment and if I pass, I’m coming home at the weekend.’
She was shocked: she hadn’t expected him to be released for another week at least.
‘They don’t keep us here for long, you know — get ’em out fast is their motto! So, how do you feel about that?’
She forced a smile. ‘It’s wonderful! This weekend?’
‘Yep. If I get under the weather, then I’ll be back for another two weeks — it’s the way they work it — but I reckon as soon as I’m out, that means out out.’
She leaned across to kiss his cheek.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Should I go back to my place or come and stay with you?’
‘What do you think?’ she said in mock anger.
‘Well, I won’t be much use, you know. I can’t drive yet, but I’ll get compensation and that’s dosh for a taxi back and forth to a gym and the physio. I’m going to need a lot of work done on my knee. You know what the nurse said to me? Said it’s going to feel like housemaid’s knee. I said to her: “Well, never having been one, I wouldn’t know, so what does it feel like?” And she said: “Fucking painful!’” He laughed and she couldn’t help but join in.