“Have you got a degree yourself?” Anna asked, impressed but not wanting to sound as if she was.
“Yes. I’m only working in the prison for a couple of years. I eventually want to work with underprivileged teenagers. I suppose it’s from the years watching my mum handle all the kids she took on. She’d still be running herself ragged with them, but she had open-heart surgery two years ago. That’s another reason I chose Barfield — it’s close enough for me to keep an eye on her. If I didn’t, I know she’d get roped into doing too much.”
Langton yawned and poured himself another coffee. “Are you basing Welsh’s hatred of women on his murders?” he asked.
“No, since his victims were not low-class women. You see, Welsh has a real, deep-seated hatred of sexually aware women, like prostitutes. It’s obvious that he had a sick obsession. I think it stems from how he believed his mother rejected him. In his papers, he had to discuss child abuse and how to handle a badly affected youngster, and he wrote a long section about the need to understand how a child reacts to parental rejection. He focused on the loss of a mother and the abusive overcontrolling father. I don’t think he was ever subjected to sexual abuse himself; it was more a mental thing. He talked about how a child will withdraw into his or her own world, and he elaborated on what I presumed were painful memories from his own life. It may have appeared cushioned by wealth, but he consistently underlined the importance of the damage that occurs when a child is excluded from the natural normal love from a parent.”
“She ran off with a close family friend, didn’t she?” Anna poured herself another coffee. Langton had remained silent, deep in his own thoughts, but Anna was enjoying the conversation.
“Apparently, but I think it was a woman she ran off with, not a man. I base this on something he came out with when there was a possibility of having a female prison visitor. I got a tirade against the fact that some women choose to become visitors of long-term prisoners. He said they were all lesbians and that he wouldn’t have one clean his shoes. I remember he went on to describe the woman his mother had left him for as an evil bull dyke. Whether or not it was true, I don’t know... but the fact remains that he was left at a young age to be brought up by his father.”
“Do you mind if we call it quits for tonight?” Langton asked shortly afterward, and signaled for the bill.
Anna was disappointed. She would have liked to spend more time chatting with Ken, but it was late, and she presumed that Langton would want an early start the following morning. He was fast asleep as they drove back to the bed-and-breakfast.
Although Ken offered to make more coffee, they both refused and went up to their rooms. Anna used the bathroom first; she had a quick shower and washed her hair and, coming back to her room, found a small hair dryer on the bedside table. She could hear Langton banging around next door as she brushed out her hair. She could also hear him speaking on the telephone but couldn’t make out who he was talking to. Eventually, she went to bed, and no sooner had she drowsily turned off the bedside light than Langton was banging on her door, calling out that he was going down for breakfast.
Anna had slept better than she had in months. Dressing in a hurry, she opened the curtains and saw Ken outside, getting onto his motorbike. She couldn’t believe it was already eight o’clock.
Breakfast was a substantial affair of sausages, fried eggs and tomato, and crispy bacon, with a pile of toast. Mrs. Hudson insisted on making a fresh pot of tea, so Langton and Anna were alone in the small dining room.
“You sleep all right?” he asked.
“Yes, out like a light. What about you?”
“Terrific. I’ve been with the incident room again, and judging from the new information regarding John Smiley, he is even more like the description from Cameron Welsh. Married, kids, good job, hard worker, with no one having a bad word to say against him.”
“That could also be because he is just that, a decent guy. We’ve nothing on which to make an arrest. The only evidence against him is he was parked at the London Gateway Services; plus, we’ve checked out his delivery drops for that period, and they have been verified.”
“I know. Aren’t you going to eat that sausage?”
Anna passed it over and watched as he thudded the HP sauce over it and attacked the sausage as if he were ravenous. Anna had started to notice how much Langton ate, wolfing down the sandwiches at tea yesterday afternoon, then the curry in the evening, and now he was piling through his breakfast at breakneck speed, hardly pausing between mouthfuls.
Mrs. Hudson came in with the tea and more toast.
Langton was charming. “I’ll make certain I come and stay here again,” he said.
“Ken was sorry he had to leave, but he’s on duty this morning,” Mrs. Hudson explained.
They finished breakfast, and Langton insisted that he pay for himself and Anna, although Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t hear of it. Langton tucked the money into her apron pocket anyway, and then, gesturing for Anna to hurry, he walked out munching a piece of toast covered in marmalade.
Mrs. Hudson began clearing the table.
“Is Ken married?” Anna asked, making sure Langton was well out of earshot.
“No. He’s been close to it a few times, but he’s such a ladies’ man that I don’t know when he’ll ever settle down. You know my daughter lives in Richmond? She’s got two children, and we go and stay as often as we can.”
“Well, when you see him again, will you thank him for me? I really enjoyed last night, and the bed was so comfortable, I slept like a dream.” Anna hesitated and then wrote down her mobile and new home phone number. “Next time you are in London, please give me a call, as I’d like to see you again.” She meant she’d like to see Ken again, but before she could say anything else, Langton bellowed from the hall.
Anna was touched. Mr. Hudson had cleaned her Mini. All the mud from the previous day’s rough riding down the muddy back lanes by the murder site was gone. Langton was smoking, and before Anna could thank Mr. Hudson properly, Langton told her to get moving, as he wanted to be back in London after lunch.
They drove off, Anna waving to Ken’s parents as they stood watching them leave. “What a lovely couple,” she said.
“Yes, they’re sweethearts. They don’t make ’em like those two anymore,” Langton agreed as he studied the route for them to head onto the M6 and then on to Manchester.
“You’ve got marmalade on your tie,” she said, watching him swear and rub it with his finger.
Swell Blinds’s headquarters were in Salford, situated in an old warehouse complex with numerous other small firms. Anna and Langton didn’t get there until after ten. The first thing they saw was a couple of Transit vans lined up outside in listed parking bays. They knew that Smiley was already at work, as they had his registration number. Langton had a quick glance over his van, and there was not a scratch or mark on it. It was, as Barolli had said, in pristine condition.
The reception was a small area cordoned off with glass panels. Mr. Rodgers was there with a rather elderly secretary behind an old desk with a computer and telephone. She had many filing cabinets to either side, and an in- and out-tray of receipts and orders in front of her. She left them to talk in private. Arnold Rodgers was edgy, and it took a while for Langton to put him at ease by assuring him that they were just making inquiries regarding an investigation in London. He made it clear that they were not on any account interested in Mr. Rogers’s company.
“It’s about some girl that was murdered, isn’t it?” Rodgers said.
“That is correct, and we are here only because Mr. Smiley was parked at a service station near where she was found, and we are hoping he may be able to assist us. You know, if he saw anyone, any other suspicious vehicle.”