Langton shook his hand. ‘Just a routine enquiry. Thank you again.’
Disappointed, Mullins followed them to the door. When it swung open, his startled, stammering assistant jumped from the desk outside.
‘He played a detective, I remember that. Blond, very good-looking, isn’t he?’
Anna thanked him for seeing them. Langton had already disappeared.
The Chateau Marmont was situated off Sunset, on Marmont Drive. It was almost seven o’clock when they drove in and gave the keys to the valet parking attendant. Anna was tongue-tied, overawed by the sprawling hotel and its private bungalows. She wondered if they would see any film stars crossing the lobby.
It was some time before the assistant manager was available to see them. He was very diplomatic and very evasive; he said he was unable to give them any details of any guest staying presently or in the past, as it was against hotel procedure.
Langton flashed his ID. ‘I understand you must guard your guests’ privacy, but since this is possibly a police matter, it would be diplomatic of you to assist me in every way you can. I don’t want to have to return with LAPD and with uniformed officers and patrol cars.’
They left fifteen minutes later with the information that Alan Daniels had been staying at the hotel, in one of the secluded, private bungalows. He had stayed for five weeks, covering the period that Maria was murdered. He had used a hire car during his stay. It was a Mercedes-Benz.
As they drove away, down Sunset, they passed the Blues Club again, a short distance from the Chateau. Langton raised an eyebrow.
‘Very convenient.’
His mobile phone rang and he patted his pockets to look for it.
‘It can’t be London, it’s after three a.m. there.’ He opened his phone. ‘Hello? Hello?’
‘Who is this?’ said a female voice. ‘You called my cell phone; didn’t leave a message. I just dialled re-call.’
‘Ah yes, are you?’ He covered the phone and nudged Anna. ‘What was the name of the fucking witness, the Maria case? What did he say her name was?’
‘Angie Dutton,’ Anna said.
Langton went back to his call. ‘Is this Angie?’ he asked smoothly.
‘Yeah, who are you?’
Anna listened as he gave as little information as possible and said that he would like ten minutes of her time. After a lot of batting to and fro, he said he would meet her at ten. He snapped the phone shut and grinned.
‘Well, Angie has a very sexy voice and probably some vital information. She’s working at a club: Sequins … Takes her break at ten.’
‘Can we eat something before then?’
‘We can. But you aren’t coming with me. This one I do on my own.’
Anna gave him a look, but he didn’t catch it.
‘You know, I think my luck is changing.’
He decided they should go back to the hotel and freshen up. Anna had just pulled into the appropriate lane of traffic when Langton gave a sudden laugh.
‘What?’
‘I thought everyone here in LA worked out.’ He laid his arm flat along the back of the seat, so his hand almost rested on her neck. ‘How about the walking pimple and his hair-weaved gov, Mullins?’
Anna gave a rueful smile. She felt really tired after the long drive from San Francisco and then around Los Angeles. He picked up on her mood fast.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing, just flagging a bit.’
‘How about we take a trip to Santa Monica, get a bite to eat there? No, on second thoughts, we won’t have the time.’
‘I’ll get something in my room.’
‘Hell, no. Why don’t we go and eat somewhere famous? You’re not in LA every day.’
‘I don’t really have anything suitable to wear, but’
‘OK, hotel it is then.’
In her room she showered and blow-dried her hair again. With all the showering and the swimming, her curly hair was getting difficult to control. She headed down to the lobby just after eight o’clock. She was surprised to find that this time Langton had pulled out of his ever expanding wardrobe a light sweater and casual jeans.
‘Turns out they don’t do real food here, just sandwiches, so I booked us into a place the manager said was OK. Don’t worry, Travis, I’ll drive.’
He was an appalling driver and nearly killed them both just pulling the car out of the residents’ car park and on to the wrong side of the road. On two occasions he almost drove over the central line. After that, the car slowly crawled along the road, looking for the right address.
Once inside the restaurant, Langton almost became a gentleman, guiding Anna to the table with his hand on her elbow. He seemed in a really good mood. A phone call from a sexy-voiced woman can do that to a man, Anna reflected.
‘This is all right, isn’t it?’ he grinned, looking around once they had ordered.
‘Anything come in from the station?’ she asked.
‘Let’s, for half an hour, not discuss work.’
Surprised, she picked up her wine. ‘Cheers!?’
It was so perfectly chilled and delicious that, after a few sips, her mood lifted too.
‘Did you and old Jack get along, then?’ Langton asked her suddenly.
‘Yes. Oh, yes, he was a great dad. Not at home a lot, but when he was we had his complete attention, me and my mother. He was always arranging outings, you know picnics, theatre, that sort of thing. And he always turned up to watch me at gymkhanas. I was obsessed. I wanted my own pony so much, but we could never afford it, of course, with the upkeep, stable fees, horseboxes, all the stuff that goes with it. But I’d ride every Saturday afternoon.’
‘Did you win things?’ he asked, draining his glass.
‘Yes, I did. Once, Dad pinned my rosettes all over me, covering me from top to toe and took a photograph: firsts, seconds and thirds, all different colours,’ she smiled.
‘My daughter, Kitty, wants to take riding lessons, but I know what you mean. It costs. Then you’ve got to get jodhpurs, hard hats and stuff.’
‘You can usually get second-hand kit from most stables that teach.’ She paused. ‘Does your wife ride?’