Anna then turned from the notebook back to the case file. Krasiniqe had a string of offences, from possession of cannabis to common assault; he’d had community punishment when only eighteen years of age. His last offence was the robbery, when the judge had ordered his deportation after sentence; yet eight months after his release, he was still at large and this time had murdered Carly Ann North.
Anna sighed. It was just unbelievable, especially with the ongoing case against Arthur Murphy. How could this man have been allowed to stay in the country, after a judge’s order for deportation!
In the same meticulous writing, Langton had made a few personal notes: one about Barolli being too overweight; another, that Lewis was slacking, as his wife was expecting another child and, with a toddler, he was often tired and late for work.
Anna sat back. She wondered how many of these private notes he had made about her, but she didn’t have time to continue looking over the file. She had to get herself to work on time!
The day went slowly. Murphy was taken before a magistrate. Bail, as they knew it would be, was refused and he was shipped off to Wandsworth prison to await his trial.
Anna returned home to change and get ready to leave for Glebe House. First, she picked up Langton’s keys and went round to his flat.
There was a stack of post, mostly junk mail, on the doormat. She picked it all up and took it to the dining-room table, to sift through it. There was a similar stack already on the table. The flat was quite tidy; she wondered if his ex-wife had been round. Anna knew she often stayed there with Kitty. If this was the case, she hadn’t bothered to empty the laundry basket in the bathroom. Anna stuffed everything into a bin liner to take home to wash, and then went into his bedroom.
The bed had been made and the room looked reasonably neat. The only photograph on his bedside table was of Kitty, sitting on a pony and beaming into the camera. Anna checked for any unpaid bills on the dressing-table, but there were just some ten-and twenty-pound notes left with change on top. She opened a drawer to take out some fresh pyjamas and, as she did so, she found a photo album. Anna felt guilty about looking through it, but couldn’t resist. It was of his wedding to his first wife. She was, as Anna had been told, very beautiful and they looked very much in love. At the end of the book was a small remembrance card from her funeral.
Anna replaced the album and shut the drawer. Just as she turned away, she noticed a piece of newspaper sticking out of another drawer. She eased it open. It was crammed with newspaper articles, cut out and pinned together. Anna checked the time and reckoned she had better get a move on, or she would be later than ever to see Langton. Collecting them all, she put the cuttings into her briefcase.
Langton wheeled towards her in the reception area, beaming. ‘I was just about to give up on you.’
‘I’m sorry. I went over to your flat to collect some clean pyjamas.’
‘Any mail for me?’
‘Yes, I’ve brought it. Can we go somewhere and sit down?’
‘I already am,’ he laughed.
Langton spun round and headed towards a lounge area, banging the double doors open with his chair. Anna gave a rueful smile; even in his wheelchair, he still had the habit of forgetting she was behind him, barging through doors and letting them swing back in her face.
‘As you can see, it’s a hive of activity,’ he said, gesturing to the empty room.
‘Well, that’s good, we can have some privacy.’
‘They’ll all be watching some crap on TV, or in the bar; you want a drink?’
‘No, thanks. Have you had something to eat?’
‘I think it was fish, but it could have been Christ only knows what; I could have used it as a table-tennis bat.’
She sat in a comfortable chair and placed her various bags on the coffee-table. Langton manoeuvred the chair to sit opposite; as she took out the mail, he glanced through it, muttering that it was all rubbish.
‘I left a load of junk mail behind,’ Anna told him. ‘I think your ex-wife had been there and left even more. There’s a few bills you need to pay.’
‘Yeah yeah, leave them — I’ll sort them.’
‘Do you have your chequebook with you?’
‘Yeah yeah, and my credit card, so no problem.’
She laid out his clean clothes. He kept twisting in his chair.
‘You look well,’ she said. He didn’t. He was unshaven and he smelled of drink. ‘Been in the bar, have you?’
‘I have; there’s nothing else to do, and don’t ask about the conversation in there — load of fruits. Can’t have a sane conversation with any one of them.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
He suddenly went quiet. ‘Nope. It’s not, just making conversation.’
She leaned forwards. ‘How’s the physio going?’
He bowed his head. ‘I can’t walk yet and it’s painful, but the bastards won’t give me any more painkillers. They count them out like I was ten years old.’
‘Well, they have to do that for a reason; you don’t want to get addicted to them.’
‘What would you know about it?’
‘Well, I’m really glad I schlepped all the way here, if you can’t be pleasant.’
‘I hate this fucking chair.’
‘You seem to be very adept at wheeling about in it.’
He shrugged. ‘I might be in it for the rest of my life.’
‘Of course you won’t.’
‘I hate it — hate being so dependent, you know? I can’t even take a piss without falling over.’
‘Well, you were told it would take time.’
‘Oh, stop talking down to me as if I was mentally screwed up as well as physically.’
‘You know, undergoing a life-threatening operation, and then—’
‘I know what I went through. Sometimes I wish I’d never pulled through.’
‘Well, I for one am glad that you did.’
‘Are you?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘You fancy being attached to a cripple, do you?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Well, if you want a straight answer: as it is, you are pretty unpleasant, but—’
He interrupted her. ‘Well, I’ve given this some thought, and I want you to know that I’m not coming back to your place. In fact, I think it’s probably better if we call it quits right now.’
‘Call what quits?’
‘You and me, Anna — what do you think I’m talking about? I don’t want you coming to see me any more. I mean it; you didn’t bargain for this, nor did I. So, let’s just be adult about my situation.’
‘You think you are?’
‘What?’
‘Being adult about this!’
‘I reckon I am.’
‘Then why don’t you take into consideration my feelings?’
‘That’s just what I am bloody doing!’
‘No, you are not. You haven’t even given me a chance to say what I think, what I feel—’
‘I’m all ears.’
He was making her feel so frustrated, there was such anger in him.
‘Maybe the fact that I love you should be considered.’
‘Do you?’
‘You know I do.’
He turned away.
‘You don’t show me any kind of affection whatsoever; you’ve not even touched me, let alone kissed me,’ she said.
‘Hard from this chair.’
‘Oh stop it, please.’
He bowed his head and the tears streamed down his face. She was not expecting that. She got up and went to him, wanting to put her arms around him.
‘For Chrissakes, leave me alone.’