He explained how he had gone to the old house in the morning, to see if she was all right and the man in the pale blue suit opened the door. Running away down the street, he was arrested and thrown in a patrol car.
‘She charged that I had beaten her up. I was questioned by this revolting pig of a man. He was abusive to me. The really sick thing was, I had seen this man at the house. He was a Vice Squad officer and he used to be around there all the time.’
Anna guessed he was referring to Barry Southwood. Now, Daniels spoke so quietly that his voice was hardly audible.
‘They found her body about eighteen months after and arrested me on suspicion of murder. It was all unreal, terrifying. I had no money for a lawyer, nothing. I was certain it was him. I went back to that disgusting house to confront him. One of the women told me he’d done a runner, taken their money. She said he had threatened them that if they ever said anything to the cops about him, he would kill every one of them.’
Daniels was standing now, staring ahead, almost mesmerized, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.
‘Did you ever find out where he went? The man in the blue suit?’
‘Their pimp?’ He nodded. ‘I saw him on the front page of the Manchester Daily News. He was opening up a new nightclub. He had these TV stars around him. He looked for all the world like a successful businessman.’
‘What was his name?’
‘John George McDowell.’
He watched her get up and fetch her notebook. She wrote down the name.
‘I’ll pass it to the team first thing in the morning.’
He stood. ‘I have to go now. I hope that I have helped you. It’s been painful, telling you all this. I hope you will protect me, Anna.’
‘I’ll do everything I can.’
‘Promise me?’ He moved closer.
‘I promise, Alan.’
He cupped her face in his hands. When the doorbell rang, they jumped apart.
At the front door, Anna moved the spy hole aside: Langton was outside. ‘It’s my gov,’ she said, hopelessly.
Daniels shrugged his shoulders. ‘We’re not doing anything wrong, Anna.’
She opened the door.
‘Hi, I need to talk to you,’ Langton said. Before she could stop him, he brushed past her into the living room and froze. She followed helplessly.
‘Nice to see you again. I was just leaving.’ Daniels extended his hand. ‘Anna, see you soon.’
Langton stood in mute fury as he sauntered out. Anna closed the door behind her visitor.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Langton hissed.
‘He came to see me.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ He flopped down on the sofa. ‘You continue to amaze me, Travis. What the hell did you let him in for?’
She chewed her lip. ‘Urn I am still here.’
‘Don’t you be bloody sarcastic with me. Why didn’t you call in? He could have killed you.’
‘Why don’t you let me tell you what he came to see me about?’
‘I can’t wait,’ he snapped.
She summarized Daniels’s conversation, finally producing her notebook with the name: John George McDowell.
‘It’s bullshit.’
‘But we should check it out.’
‘Travis, don’t you want to know why I’m here?’ he demanded.
She blinked nervously.
‘Surveillance lost him in Wardour Street.’ He looked at her expectantly. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yes, sir. That’s why you’re here.’
‘Partly. Your boyfriend has been in your flat. Travis, we have a match. Sweetheart, it’s Alan Daniels’s fingerprints on your daddy’s photo frame.’
Her body started to shake. She had been alone with Alan Daniels for over three quarters of an hour.
Langton picked up her notebook. ‘We will check out this “John George McDowell”. From now on, Travis, you don’t make a move without me and the team knowing it.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We will get someone to look after you, as you don’t seem capable of acting like a professional officer.’
‘Will you be staying here?’
He glowered. ‘What the fuck do you think I am, Travis, your bloody babysitter? There is an officer parked outside your flat. Tomorrow, I want from you a full report of exactly what Daniels said.’
‘Yes, sir.’
After Langton had slammed the front door closed behind him, Anna bolted it, top and bottom. She stood in her small hallway, feeling angry. Not at Langton this time but at Alan Daniels, who had used her so expertly, as if she were just a pawn in his game.
John George McDowell had a police record, a long one, with many different charges: living off immoral earnings; two years for assault; another eighteen months for dealing in stolen property. After the nightclub closed down years ago, McDowell had spent more time in prison for aggravated burglary. Then the trail went dead and Mike Lewis was having a hard time tracing his present whereabouts. He waited for the Midlands police to get back to him.
Barolli was also on the phone. He had been assigned to check out their Cuban witness which resulted in a big run-around because he had been fired from the transvestite club for stealing. Barolli eventually discovered that he was working at a restaurant in the same area. Now Barolli was at his desk, having problems tracing their second witness. Jean joked with him that to lose one witness was unfortunate; to lose two was flipping careless. He was not amused.
Yvonne Barber, the deep-voiced prostitute, had moved from her last address and no one seemed to know where she had gone. A roommate said she might have gone to Brighton, but she hadn’t heard from her in over a week. Barolli cursed. It was very frustrating, especially as she had been warned to keep the police informed of her whereabouts.
Anna was finishing off her report on the previous evening when Lewis yelled over to Barolli to ask if they’d any luck with Daniels’s fingerprints. Barolli shook his head.