“I asked for plain. Do you like chocolate? Because I can’t stand it.”
“Yes, thank you. Just not straightaway.”
They drove off, Langton eating his muffin and swearing again, as the coffee was too hot. She couldn’t help but smile, since he had sugar around his mouth, like a child. He quickly wiped it off with a napkin.
“You get anything from Smiley’s interview?”
Anna repeated that she had felt he was overtalkative, but apart from that, he showed no sign of nerves.
“Ex-Para, so he’s got a lot of training under his belt. Must be a tough sod. They checking out his explanations as to why he was at the service station?” Langton asked.
“I think so, and they’ll also check the deliveries he says he made on the two days.”
“Happily married, right?”
“He says so. Two children, mortgage on the property, and no police record, just the discrepancy over the vehicle’s registration documents.”
“Mmmm. We should keep him in the frame.” Langton took out his length of string and began tying a knot.
“Is that working?” she asked.
“I dunno, but apparently, it takes twenty seconds for the urge to come and go, so tie a knot and untie it, and you shouldn’t feel the need for a cigarette.”
“How long have you been trying it out?”
“Few days. It’s driving me nuts, but I’ve not had a cigarette for twenty-four hours. Slipped up yesterday because I couldn’t find the string. I’ve not got a pack with me and no lighter, so maybe it’s working. If it doesn’t, I’m thinking about going to a hypnotist.”
Anna smiled again. She was so unused to his chatty manner, and she almost laughed as he swore, unable to untie his last knot.
“I had a friend who went to a hypnotist,” she said. “It took all of five minutes, and when he came out, he thought it was a total waste of fifty pounds, then he went up to a kiosk to buy a pack of cigarettes and instead asked for a packet of peanuts.”
Langton looked at her. “Did it work after the peanuts?”
“Yes, apparently so, but he put on weight.”
Langton laughed. “I doubt that would happen to me; I never put on weight.” He rested his arm along the back of her seat. “You have, I notice.”
“Me?”
“Yes, around your hips. Not been working out?”
She flushed and continued driving.
“So how’s your love life?”
“Mind your own business.”
He withdrew his arm and sipped his coffee. “Just making conversation. Don’t get all arsey.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You get these two pink spots on your cheeks, dead giveaway when you get rattled.” He pressed his seat farther back, complained about the lack of leg-room, and then fiddled with the radio. “Do you want the news?” he asked.
“Don’t mind. There’s some CDs if you want to listen to music, and there’s The Times on the backseat.”
Langton turned off the radio and reached for the newspaper. They drove mostly in silence as he read the paper, but he had an annoying habit of reading out bits of articles and nudging her every time he turned a page.
“I can’t read in cars,” she said.
“Thank you for that vital piece of information, Travis. To be honest, I never have the time to read the upmarket rags; it’d take hours. I think they’re bought by commuters because sitting on a train every morning for a couple of hours, they’ve got nothing better to do. I do a crash zap through all the crap ones, keeps me updated...”
“Do you read books?”
“When do I have the time? It’s mostly autobiographies, but I can’t remember the last one I read. I’ve had Napoleon on my bedside table for six months. They’ve got his horse’s skeleton in one of the war museums — Chelsea. It’s surprisingly small. I think it was an Arab, but then he wasn’t a big fella...”
Anna realized that in all the time she had known him, they had hardly ever had a normal conversation, one that wasn’t connected to a case they were working on. She wondered when he would get around to discussing their investigation, but he continued reading out sections from the paper until they headed onto the M1. He tossed the paper into the backseat all crumpled up and with the pages muddled. She found that irritating, as she hadn’t even had time to glance at it. It reminded her of her father getting angry when she had taken out the art section of a Sunday paper before he had finished it. She also recalled that, like Langton, her father never seemed to have the time to read the morning papers, but his Sundays were spent poring over all the weekend editions.
“Stop in at the London Gateway,” Langton said suddenly.
“What?”
“When we get to the service station, drive in. I’ve not had a look around yet. Then go to where Estelle Dubcek’s body was discovered. Pull onto the hard shoulder so I can get out and have a look.”
Anna nodded. He was leaning over to pick up her files, which were stacked on the backseat with her briefcase. “You mind if I look over these?” He was already opening the file containing the photographs, so it was rather pointless even replying.
“Pretty girls. I don’t believe there wasn’t one person who didn’t remember them, maybe gave them a lift. Picked up, strangled, and raped. Doesn’t make sense. Both Polish, like Smiley’s wife — it’s a big coincidence.”
Langton sifted through the files and then tossed them back onto the seat behind him. “No one identified them at train or coach stations, so how did these kids get to the service station? They had to get a lift from someone, or they were snatched maybe trying for a ride. Not so with Margaret Potts, we know about her, but these two young girls...”
“We’re here,” Anna said, driving into the London Gateway.
Langton directed her to the car parking area. He got out and stood for a long time looking around and then bent down to her window. “I’m going to use the loo, do you need to go?”
“No. I’ll wait.”
She watched him striding toward the conveniences, sipping her cold coffee, waiting. It seemed an age before she saw him coming out from the restaurants, and then he disappeared again into the shopping area. It was ten minutes before he headed back toward the Mini.
“Okay. Next drive into the truckers’ area and point out where the Transit van was parked,” he said, and slammed the passenger door so hard the Mini rocked. Anna did as he suggested, and he was another fifteen minutes walking around the parked vehicles, looking at the CCTV cameras, and talking to one driver for a while before he returned.
“The van was parked almost under the surveillance camera,” Anna pointed out, passing him the photograph.
Langton nodded and then asked her to head off to where Estelle Dubcek’s body had been discovered. They drove toward the slip road passing the service station’s petrol station, and Anna remarked that the last time she had been there with Barolli, they had seen a young girl hitching a ride. Langton said nothing as she headed back onto the M1. He was checking his watch to calculate how long it took to get to the area on the hard shoulder where Estelle’s body had been discovered.
Anna eventually parked and Langton got out, gesturing for her to join him.
“Okay, so this is where the guy says he parked his van to take a leak, right?”
“Yes.”
Langton looked around and then crossed to the hedge. He stood for a while, turning toward where the ragged crime-scene ribbons were still in place. “He pisses here, looks over there, and sees the body?”
“Yes.”
Langton chewed at his lip, twisting his string around his fingers. He then pushed his way through the hedge and jumped over the ditch. “She was lying here, her head facing north, yes?” he shouted.