Barolli glared at Anna to get out of her seat to return to the main area.
Cameron moved closer to the bars and addressed Anna. “Let me get into his mind. I will become the man you want and give you an insight into who he is.”
Anna stood up, still refusing to look at Cameron directly as he continued. “You have three dead girls — one prostitute and two unidentified victims. You have no suspect and no witness, no DNA — you have nothing! But I guarantee I will be able to help your inquiry. Trust me. However, I need to have access to all your files to date on all three cases, the pathology and forensic details and statements and...”
Anna at last plucked up the courage to look at him directly.
Their eyes locked for a moment, then she turned away, picking up her chair to walk back down the aisle following Barolli. All the hair on her body was standing up, as if she had stepped into an ice-cold room. Cameron Welsh was the last person she would trust, and she swore that she would not subject herself to another visit. Due to the prison security they had to wait for the guards to take them back into the main prison. She could sense that Cameron Welsh was looking at her via the small hand mirror.
Chapter Three
Anna was writing up her report on the incident board and couldn’t help overhearing Barolli chatting with Mike Lewis.
“Bloody drove all the way to Leeds to sit and listen to this egotistical bastard telling us that he could help crack our case. He only wanted all the forensic and postmortem reports and the photographs... sick fucker.”
“If we want an insight, we could always bring on board a profiler,” Mike said.
Anna joined them. “But not one of them is a killer,” she pointed out.
Barolli was surprised, asking if she was having second thoughts.
“No. I think he just wanted us — or me — there for his own kudos in the prison system. He will brag how he was able to get Met officers to come to him.”
“You should have seen his cell,” Barolli fulminated, “lined with hardback books like a library; he even offered Anna still or sparkling water! I dunno about it being a prison within a prison. It’s more like a ruddy holiday camp, and he was as tanned as if he’d been to the South of France.”
Mike looked at Anna and grinned. “Must be out of a bottle, as it’s not exactly sunbathing weather. So, wasted journey?”
She was about to agree when Detective Chief Superintendent James Langton walked in. They all turned, and he gave them a brief nod of acknowledgment, then came over to survey the incident board. He read Anna’s note about the prison visit and indicated for her to join him, tapping the mug shot of Cameron Welsh.
“How did you find him?”
“As arrogant as ever. In fact, he looked even younger than his mug shot.”
“Shows what three meals a day and no stress can do. You want to take me through the meeting?”
“It’s all there. He didn’t have anything, and we think it was a ploy to entertain himself.”
“So he wrote to you.”
“Yes. That’s a copy of the letter he wrote — you’ve already seen it.” Anna pointed to the board.
“Taken a fancy to you, has he?”
“I would say he’s too in love with himself to fancy anyone else. He makes my skin crawl.”
Langton looked at her and smiled. “What if he could get inside our killer’s head?” he said.
“I truthfully think his own head is stuck so far up his arse that he’d be incapable. He just wants to pull our strings. All this is a sick game, and I don’t want to see him again.”
“Got under your skin, did he?”
“Yes — and Barolli’s. Ask him what he was like.”
“I will. Okay, thanks.”
Anna returned to her desk as Langton went into Mike’s office. They were there for quite a while. Meanwhile, the incident room was quiet, as the officers had no new evidence and still no identification on their victim. Both Jean and Barbara had been working through all the Mispers on file but had no result.
Emerald Turk’s address had been searched while Anna was at Barfield, but no suitcase had been found. Barolli had also started looking for any ex — police officers who might have known Margaret Potts, but his inquiries fell on stony ground. It was depressing; the case was grinding to a halt.
Barolli came up to Anna’s desk and pulled at his tie. “I’ve been on to bailiff companies, but so far I’ve had no luck in tracing anyone who knew Potts or anyone who was an ex-copper. I dunno how far back I need to go in checking out retired Flying Squad guys, because they’re usually the ones that take up security or bailiff work. Maybe we need to talk to Emerald Turk again.”
Anna shrugged. They were grasping at straws, but to date, Emerald had been the most informative person with regard to the first victim.
“I don’t know if she can be any more help, but I don’t mind doing it,” Anna said. She wished they at least had the victim’s suitcase, and even better, her notebook with the license numbers.
Barolli ran a hand through his hair. It was hard to believe that they had no ID on two young beautiful girls and were still concentrating on Margaret Potts because they had little else to go on. Joan had been working on the possibility that they could identify their girl from dental records, but even though they were able to show on Crimewatch the two unusual front-teeth implants, they had not received a single call.
Mike came out of his office and signaled to Anna for her to join him and Langton.
Langton was sitting behind Mike’s desk, flicking through reports. He looked up and smiled at Anna as she came in. She was slightly thrown, although he had promised that their relationship would be more relaxed. She sat down and waited for him to finish glancing through the reports. Eventually, he let out a long sigh. “Not good, is it?” he said.
She knew he was referring to their inquiry, and she nodded.
“We have nothing, which is worrying,” he went on. “Pity the team didn’t get Potts’s suitcase — even better, the bloody notebook with the license-plate numbers. That’d have been really helpful.” He smiled at her again, and she started to find it unnerving. “Shame you didn’t question Emerald Turk first time round and not that impatient bugger Barolli. Knowing you, I doubt you’d have let it slip past you.”
She was even more puzzled and glanced at Mike Lewis, who was leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
“Maybe not,” she said.
Langton stretched back in his chair and puffed out his breath. “I’ve got a lot of cases I’m overseeing, but this one causes me the most concern. Three dead women estimated to have all been killed by the same perpetrator — and from the MOs, it’s maybe more than estimated — but nevertheless, we have no leads connecting each victim. Hard to, when two remain unidentified. All we know for sure is that Potts was earning her keep shagging punters from the service stations, but whether or not the other two girls were also on the game...” He shrugged. “Then we have this creep Cameron Welsh. Now, if he is tugging our strings out of a misguided ego trip and he just wants to prove something to himself, do we dismiss him out of hand? What if he does have information? What if he could, as he said, get into the mind of our killer?”
“I very much doubt that,” Anna said, but she sensed what was coming and wouldn’t look at Langton.
“We have to go back,” Langton said, “and this time I will allow him to look at the postmortem report and—”
“You may be right, but I hope you don’t want me to go and see him again.”
“Sorry, but I do. He wants to interact with you. In Barolli’s report, he said Cameron turned his chair away from him so he wouldn’t have to look at him, and directed his entire conversation to you.”