Pete had shaken his head; yet another vehicle the forensic lab had to check over. It was filthy, mud-spattered, and inside were used coffee beakers and takeaway food cartons, mounds of newspapers, and a few odd pieces of bookcases and ornaments. These could possibly have been bought at the antiques fair, as there were also some of the flyers on the passenger seat, along with an old T-shirt and jeans, and a rolled-up sleeping bag. In the ashtray were also some roaches. They left everything as it was. Anna knew she would have to work out a time frame of when D'Anton was last seen alive by Michael Sudmore, with what looked like quite a wedge of cash, to when his body was discovered in the Thames. She would need to go back to talk to Sandra, his widow, about the exact dates when Julius had said he was onto something big, and the fact that his fingerprints were found in the drug squat in Chalk Farm. They knew when his van had been taken into the breaker's yard at Mc Naulty's: it was two weeks before the murder of Frank Brandon.
Anna and Pete found a table for dinner in a small Italian bistro in Oxford city center. They had not bothered to drive any farther a field to the famous, Michelin-starred eateries outside the city. The food was delicious and, apart from a few rowdy students, they had an enjoyable meal without mentioning the case once. Anna relaxed, helped by a very good bottle of Merlot and Pete's equally good company. Anna told him about her student days here, and how she had rarely ever had enough money to dine out further than a McDonalds. She never brought up the times she had driven back and forth to see Langton in the rehabilitation home. In fact, it never crossed her mind, and she enjoyed telling Pete about her old bicycle that she had ridden around the city until it had been stolen. From then 011 she had walked, even though she had been certain she'd seen another student whizzing past on it.
The case finally reared its head when, as they left the restaurant, Pete had asked for some tinfoil. From his glove compartment, he took out a plastic knife, then took copious scrapings of mud from around the hubcaps, wheels, and sides of the Morgan. "I'm impressed," Anna said, watching him."Yeah, well, it looks like it may rain, so better to do it now."The rain started coming down about half an hour later. Pete had put the roof up, and despite a few areas where tape covered some cracks, they could hear each other. They ran into heavy traffic on the motorway, as a truck had overturned, and spent over an hour inching along. They found themselves discussing the case, all Anna's theories and suppositions. Pete queried many of them, but became fascinated and also slightly in awe of her productive detective mind."I take after my father," she said. The conversation turned to her personal life, and she found herself telling him more than she could recall telling anyone else. How her father had been such a powerful force in her life, and her delicate mother such a loving support to them both."You are lucky," Pete said. He gave a few details about his own childhood. He had been brought up mainly by his grandmother, who had doted on him, until he was twelve years old. After she passed on, he went to live with his father in Devon. He was a builder and carpenter, who would spend whatever he made in the pub. His mother had been a nurse, who had left his father for a doctor, and emigrated to Australia. The broken promise of her sending for him had hurt him deeply, but thankfully his grandmother had always made him feel very loved. When he did eventually fly out to Australia to meet his mother and stepfather, she was a stranger."It's odd. I went out there with every intention of forming a bond with her—you know, wanting her to be special—but she was a strange, cold woman. Maybe she regretted leaving me, but I don't ever recall her holding me in her arms.""That's awful," Anna said, remembering how her mother would be at the gate waiting for her to come home from schooclass="underline" always there, always with her arms out for a hug."The way I was brought up made me wary of relationships. Women Were either like my granny or the type my father used to bring homefrom the pub—and he had a real variety. He was never too particular: blond, brunette, fat or thin. I don't think he liked to sleep alone, or cook or do any household things like washing up, so whenever I got back from school, there was always a strange woman hoovering and dusting.""Is he still alive?""Nope. He committed suicide eighteen years ago. Went out to his hut, where he would supposedly do his carpentry, and threw a rope over a beam.""Did you ...""Yeah, I found him—not a pretty sight. But I called the police and they took care of everything. From then on, I was sort of on my own. I inherited what little he had—the cottage and a couple of outhouses and fields. I got about fifty grand. I went to university in Liverpool; no idea why I chose that one, because I could have had the pick of a number, but off I went, money in the bank, good digs, and a sort of freedom I had never really felt before. I had a terrific time—there's nothing like the Liverpool sense of humor—and I made great friends there; we still keep in touch.""Did you meet your wife there?""No, I was back in London when we met. In fact, we only really knew each other for a few months before we moved into the house in Hampstead, and then got married a year or so later."Anna stared from the window as the rain lashed down."Have you ever been married?" Pete asked her."No. Not even close.""How come?""Well, I'm not that old for one thing—I'm only twenty-eight." And yet it did sound old to her, and she was shocked."You ever lived with anyone?"Anna suddenly didn't want to talk. "Not really.""Oh, I see. You can pump me for my seedy background, but you don't seem to want to go into yours." "Your background didn't sound seedy to me. I told you, I had a great relationship with my parents." "But what? You gave everything to your career?" "Yes."He laughed and gave her a sidelong look. "You must have got hurt hard.""No, I didn't." She really didn't want to get into the Langton relationship, and was beginning to get irritated by his persistence. At last, the traffic thinned out and they could pick up some speed.He reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Sorry. I just want to get to know you—I suppose that's obvious."She smiled and released her hand. "Well, I've never been very good at expositions, so let's just say maybe I will give you the gritty details some other time.""Gritty?"She sighed and then shook her head. "I was joking. There's really nothing else to know about me.""You going to stay with me tonight?""No, I'd like to get home—but how about I cook you breakfast tomorrow at my place?""Okay, it's your call."Anna still didn't really understand why she was keeping Pete at a distance. She did find him attractive, and she was getting fond of him and enjoying his company.She was still pondering it when she drove herself home after collecting her Mini from Pete's garage. He had kissed her briefly—it had felt good, but not passionate—not like she had felt with Langton. The "gritty" truth was that she was unable to let Langton go. She hadn't wanted to continue the relationship, and she was certain that he didn't either, but why was she so tentative about making more of her friendship with Pete?Undressing and getting ready for bed, she felt terribly sad. She curled up like a child in her big new bed. The few sexual relationships she had had in her past had meant nothing compared to her infatuation with Langton. In many ways, that was what it had been: never a steady or serious affair. He had never been a friend, but a demanding lover. She wondered if that was why she couldn't move forward with Pete. He was just too damned nice! He didn't excite her. Langton had certainly done that. In bed, at work, in every way, he had dominated her—at times, really frightened her—but she had thrived on his ability to make every nerve in her body tingle. She wondered if she would ever feel the same way about anyone else, even knowing what a dangerous creature Langton was. Instead of making her reject everything about him, it made her long for him to wrap her in his arms and make love to her. She didn't think about what had gone on that day with Pete, the discovery of D'Anton s van, the possibility he had met Alexander Fitzpatrick at Honour Nolan's farm. All she thought about, as she cried herself to sleep, was how much she missed James Langton.