‘Yes, sir,’ they both repeated.
‘Go home, calm down and take the weekend to reflect on what idiots you’ve been then start afresh Monday.’
‘We were going to update the team,’ Dewar said.
‘Travis, have you fully updated Barolli?’ Langton asked.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good, he can bring us up to speed. Now, the pair of you clear off while Barolli and I have an adult conversation.’
Anna and Dewar picked up their belongings and headed off towards the station car park, feeling rather sorry for themselves. Although they were in the lift together, they didn’t speak. But after some moments of reflection, Anna came to the realization that their standoff was pointless and was the first to break the ice.
‘We really let ourselves down in there, Jessie.’
‘Yes, I know. The problem is we both think and see things differently and I’m all too often the Devil’s advocate.’
‘We’re not that different, Jessie.’ Anna sighed. ‘God knows how many times Langton’s called me headstrong.’
‘I get frustrated at times, especially back home,’ Dewar admitted. ‘The FBI is very male-dominated and I’m the only woman on my team. Many of the men still support the view of J. Edgar Hoover.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Women can’t handle the physical rigours of being a special agent and shouldn’t be in the FBI.’
‘The Met’s not much different on some squads. Equality is slowly improving things but working on “man-turf” is never easy.’
‘I know, but why should we have to work so much harder to prove ourselves and succeed?’
‘So one day we can rule the world of policing,’ Anna said with a wry smile.
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Dewar said.
‘Good idea – fancy something to eat as well? We don’t have to discuss the case but I’d like to know more about the FBI course.’
‘Only if you let me pay.’ Dewar smiled, and so did Anna.
‘Fine by me. You doing anything over the weekend?’
‘I’m going up to Norfolk to visit an old college friend who married a Fakenham farmer.’
Anna broke into a laugh. It was contagious, and as Dewar giggled, they left the lift together.
Chapter Thirteen
Anna woke on Monday morning looking forward to going into work. She had spent a pleasant weekend visiting her gym twice, shopping for clothes, sportswear and trainers for her FBI course and generally lazing about watching DVDs she had rented. Unusually for her, she had not even looked at or thought about anything to do with the Josh Reynolds case. Her Friday-evening dinner with Jessie Dewar had been very pleasant. Anna had suggested a Venetian-style bàcaro restaurant off Regent Street where they had enjoyed sharing tapas-sized portions of cuttlefish in squid ink, spinach and egg pizzette and meatballs. They had also shared a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a tiramisu dessert that was to die for. As she got dressed for work, Anna smiled, recalling that whilst they were eating their food, Jessie had asked why she had chosen that venue for dinner. Anna had pointed to a blue plaque on the wall, commemorating the fact that the premises were once the home of the famous Venetian painter Canaletto.
‘Having heard you tell Gloria Lynne how much you loved art, I thought you’d feel right at home here,’ Anna had said, causing them both to laugh loudly and Jessie to ask, ‘Is that what you Brits mean by “taking the piss”?’
Anna had been keen to know more about the forthcoming course, and Jessie immediately stressed that the name of the game was to make friends and contacts. Everyone would be referred to by their first names, rank was immaterial and all participants would be treated as equals. The course classes were made up of about two hundred US law-enforcement officers and fifty from foreign police organizations. The physical fitness programme on the course was very intense and reflected J. Edgar Hoover’s belief that physical fitness could be the difference between success and failure, even life and death.
‘Best I remember my running shoes,’ Anna remarked.
Jessie laughed. ‘I’d take two pairs as they wear out quickly, especially on the Yellow Brick Road.
‘What’s the Yellow Brick Road?’
‘I can’t tell you as it would spoil the surprise,’ Jessie said, with a wag of her finger.
The best thing about the dinner was that during the whole evening was they hardly discussed the investigation.
As Anna drove to work, she reflected that by the end of the evening she had got to know Jessie a lot better and respect her more. Not once had she boasted about herself; on the contrary, she had admitted that she was ‘occasionally’ wrong, overzealous and in her own words ‘a pain in the ass’. She had been polite, funny and enjoyable company and her knowledge of serial killers and their psychological behaviour was both fascinating and informative. Anna wondered if Jessie’s argumentative, bull-in-a-china-shop manner was some sort of front to prove that she could stand up to anyone, particularly men. Anna recalled her saying in jest that she never mixed work with sex, but lived in hope of finding Mr Right. It struck Anna that Jessie, like her, might be very much alone outside her professional world. She didn’t know if Jessie had family, friends or work colleagues that she was close to or confided in. After Ken’s death, Anna had discovered what it was like to be lonely, trapped in a world where you felt empty inside, where nobody listened to you or showed you compassion. Anna was also very aware that you didn’t have to lose a loved one to feel like that and hoped, having seen the other side of Jessie Dewar, that loneliness was not something she suffered from.
The first thing Anna did on arrival at the station was to go straight to Barolli’s office and apologize to him for her and Jessie’s behaviour.
‘Did you take her for a lobotomy on Friday?’ Barolli asked.
‘What’s happened now?’
‘Nothing – Dewar’s full of the joys of spring, singing your praises and being pleasant to everyone.’
‘Well that’s good news.’
‘But will it last?’ Barolli raised his eyebrows.
‘I hope so, especially as you will be working closely with her in a few days’ time.’
‘Paul Simms is in your office with Dewar. He brought over a load of paperwork and stuff to do with the Reynolds case.’
‘Oh, shit!’ Anna exclaimed and raced off, regretting she had not said anything to Jessie at dinner about meeting Paul for breakfast. She feared another argument as she entered her office and saw the two of them talking.
‘I’m really sorry, Jessie. I was going to tell you at dinner but I didn’t want to spoil the evening,’ Anna said.
‘Tell me what?’
Anna looked at Paul Simms, whose alarmed expression told her that she was about to drop them both right in it.
‘I, um, well…’ Anna was racking her brains to come out with something plausible to cover the delicate situation.
‘Do you know what Anna wants to tell me, Paul?’ Dewar asked inquisitively. Paul shrugged his shoulders.
‘Please don’t tell me you two have already met in secret and discussed the case?’ Dewar asked in mock surprise.
‘You knew?’ Anna asked, somewhat taken aback. Paul’s head fell forward and he half raised his hands in the air in surrender.
‘Your micro-expressions and inflections gave you away when I asked you if you’d spoken with him. Same when I asked you about Pete Jenkins.’
‘You knew I’d spoken with him as well?’
‘Not for certain but I do now.’ Dewar grinned.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I understand in both instances why you didn’t tell me. I was quick to blame DI Simms for all the errors in the initial investigation and had we met before today I’d probably have given him a mouthful.’
‘And Pete?’ Anna enquired.
‘I wasn’t certain, so it wasn’t worth arguing about.’