‘Why are you doing this? Is it because you’re pissed off he didn’t ask you to go to Queen’s Gate?’
‘God, no. Just being a friend,’ Lewis muttered as he left.
Langton was on the phone when she entered his office. He gestured for her to wait for him to finish his conversation, then continued in the mouthpiece: ‘Right. Yes, yes, we’ll do that. Yes, yes. Travis and I are going to pick him up now.’
He threw Anna a pained expression.
‘Fine. Thank you. Talk later.’ He replaced the phone. ‘They’re certainly getting hot under the collar. They don’t want Daniels questioned without legal representation. So when we pick him up, he gets to make his call.’
‘Did you tell Lewis you wanted me to go with you?’
‘Yeah. Way I want to work it is “slowly, slowly catchee monkey”. If he isn’t the one, we’ll know fast. Since so many of these fucking solicitors run the show now, I just want one crack at him before he starts the “no comment” game.’
He looked at her steadily for a moment.
‘Does your hair grow like that, or is it some kind of style?’ He cocked his head to one side.
She ran her fingers awkwardly through her hair.
‘It just has a bad habit of doing this.’
‘Well, go and tidy yourself up. We leave at a quarter past one. Get some lunch too, if you haven’t had any.’
She was headed for the door.
‘Travis?’ he said quietly.
‘Yes?’
‘What did you think of the film retrospective?’
Anna hesitated. ‘He’s talented and the parts are getting bigger. If he is our man, he’s going to lose all that. It’s a lot to risk. And if he’s not?’
‘Yes. That’s why we have to be careful. There’s quite a few embassy top dogs living along Queen’s Gate so they’re used to seeing cops around. It’s not going to put the wind up anyone.’
‘Do you think he’s the killer?’
‘No point in thinking, unless I have the evidence to prove it. What’s your gut feeling, though?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’ She looked at her shoes. ‘With his looks, he could get any woman he wanted. And he’s linked in those magazines with all the starlets and socialites. It doesn’t make sense in one way that he’d gamble a future like that, but if he is a psycho, maybe he’d get off having a secret life and being able to disguise it.’
‘He certainly found the right profession for disguise.’
‘Those celebrity magazines keep pumping out who he’s seen around town with, but there doesn’t appear to be any one woman. Maybe he’s gay; thirty-eight, never married? Makes sense.’
Langton flipped open one of the magazines. ‘Better do some reading. I hate this stuff.’
Since he seemed finished with her, Anna walked out of his office.
By one forty-five they were in the patrol car outside Daniels’s house, which was on the left-hand side of Queen’s Gate at the Kensington Gardens end. According to the two officers outside who had seen him that morning at a first-floor window, Alan Daniels had not left home.
Langton turned and gave Anna a small half smile before he preceded her up the stone steps of the large, pillared entrance of the elegant house. The bells for the other floors had the residents’ nameplates, but the section occupied by Daniels showed no identification-.
Langton rang the bell. After a few minutes a disembodied voice said, ‘Yes?’
‘Mr Daniels?’
‘Yes,’ the voice said carefully.
‘It’s the police.’ Pause. ‘Could you open the door, please?’
The door opened with a click. Langton and Travis stepped into a beautiful, high-ceilinged hallway which smelled of polish. The floor was covered in mosaic tiles, which encircled the statue of a Greek goddess at the centre of the hall. There was a gleaming mahogany hall table, on which a few letters were neatly piled. The door, presumably leading to Daniels’s apartment, was at the right of a wide, crimson-carpeted staircase. Oil paintings lined the walls, as the staircase soared upwards to the floors above.
It gave Anna a momentary shock when the door swung open to reveal Daniels; she was seeing the celluloid image she had been staring at all morning become flesh and blood. He appeared taller and slimmer and his hair was different: blond, silky, cut in what seemed to her a Victorian style. His features were more delicate and the high cheekbones rendered his face more gaunt than on the screen. But his eyes in real life remained the most extraordinary violet colour, enhanced by his dark eyelashes. He wore a black polo-neck sweater, faded jeans and a pair of old velvet slippers with an embroidered gold monogram.
‘Is this about the residents’ parking?’
‘No.’ Langton took out his ID badge. ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector James Langton and this is Detective Sergeant Anna Travis. We need to talk to you, Mr Daniels. Could we come inside?’
‘I suppose so.’ Daniels hesitated, then stepped back in the lighted hallway. ‘Come in.’
Nothing about him gave any indication of his background, thought Anna; certainly not his aristocratic tone of voice and haughty manner. They followed him into a vast dining room, where light entered from a wall of glorious stained glass. Anna gazed in wonder. Over the dining table hung a crystal chandelier, and impressive crystal lamps had been placed at either side of the fireplace. The table must have been twenty feet long and the accompanying chairs had red velvet seats.
‘Every time there’s a concert at the Albert Hall, they insist on removing the residents’ parking bays,’ Daniels was complaining earnestly to Langton. ‘It’s disgusting that we all have to pay to park here.’
Langton nodded, showing little interest. Anna was studying the pattern on the oriental rug beneath her feet when Daniels interrupted her reverie.
‘This way, Detective,’ he said with a faint smile. Embarrassed, she followed the two men into the drawing room at the front of the house, overlooking Queen’s Gate. Two tiger skins were splayed impressively across the polished wood floor and several distinguished oil paintings hung from the walls.
Daniels gestured for them to be seated. Anna sat down awkwardly on one of the huge white sofas with brilliantly coloured silk cushions. She had never seen such wealth in all her life. Langton remained standing, unaware of his image caught behind him in a fifteen-foot mirror. Daniels sat down on the edge of the sofa opposite, paying Anna little attention. Between the two sofas there was a carved coffee table, piled with expensive magazines and art books.
‘This all feels very serious.’ Daniels’s head was tilted towards Langton.
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Langton said quietly. ‘We are investigating a series of murders. We would like you to answer some questions.’
In this big room, Langton’s voice made a slight echo.
‘It’s more serious than parking, then,’ Daniel responded with a self-deprecating smile. ‘May I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea?’
‘No, thank you, sir.’
‘Were the murders in this area?’
‘Yes. We would like you to accompany us to Queen’s Park police station.’
Daniels’s eyes widened in surprise.