At that moment, Dr Salaam came back in and apologized for not being available. He said he had two patients suffering from insomnia; he laughed and said that he himself very rarely ever had that problem as, by the time he was able to get to his bed, he was exhausted.
Anna thanked them both for giving up their time. The doctor shook her hand and walked with her to the door to show her out.
When she had gone, he closed the door behind her and bolted it both at top and bottom. ‘What did she really want, do you think?’ he asked his wife.
‘Eugene Camorra might have been given some Jimson weed. I didn’t press on it too much, but she said he had shown symptoms,’ Esme replied.
‘Well, I congratulate someone. If he died in agony and feeling the terror, then so be it.’
‘Whoever it was did not take them from us; I was so careful.’
‘Of course you were, my dear. Besides, the only people there were police officers, so I am sure she is not trying to implicate one of them.’
Esme kissed him and went upstairs to their flat to start dinner. Dr Salaam said he would be only a few moments.
After drawing the shutters, he turned to the cabinet. He stared at the bottle with the red cross over the label, then took it down. He shook it, then went over to the small reception desk and took out a miniature silver shovel. He emptied the contents and counted, sliding each pill across the silver shovel and back into the bottle. He then screwed the cap back on and replaced the bottle, locking the cabinet. Fifteen small white tablets were missing.
Anna returned home, dissatisfied; she had somehow thought that she would gain some answers. Her suspicions still lingered. Did Langton know that it was Camorra who had attacked him? She tried to recall his reaction at Orso’s house when they had arrested Camorra; neither man had shown any sign that they remembered the other. Langton had never mentioned it during their questioning of Camorra.
Unable to sleep, Anna could not stop her mind churning over. She smacked her pillow to try and get more comfortable. So what if Langton did have something to do with the death of Camorra? He was a despicable human being; no prison sentence could be harsh enough for the crimes he had committed. Still, she could not rest easy, because Langton was a police officer; if he had taken the law into his own hands then it contravened all that they aspired to as upholders of the law. Break the rules once, and the next time was easier. Langton was known to be a risk taker: had he taken the ultimate one?
After a restless night, Anna sat drinking a strong black coffee. She was determined to get some answers. She made a shortlist of people she wanted to talk to. If they did not confirm her suspicions, then she would make herself bury them.
Mike Lewis was getting his young son into a pushchair when she turned up at his house. Like Anna, he was having a break before his next case; unlike her, he was enjoying his time off. Anna said she just needed to ask him a couple of questions. He shrugged and said he was on his way to the playground.
‘Did you recognize Camorra as the man who had attacked Langton?’
He stopped pushing the pushchair. ‘What?’
‘Did you?’
Mike walked on. ‘Look, it was a long time ago. To be honest, it was such a nightmare that it’s kind of blank — but in answer to your question, no.’ He stopped again. ‘Maybe if Jimmy had said something I’d have thought about it, but if anyone was to recognize him, it would be him, right?’
‘You know Camorra got meals sent into the station.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I think someone got to him.’
Mike pushed his son harder in the pushchair. ‘I dunno where this is going, Anna, but if someone did that, then it had to be Orso. What’s your problem?’
‘Nothing; just tying up loose ends.’
‘There always are some on any case. I just don’t quite understand where this is leading.’
‘Never mind. You enjoy your time off.’ She walked away.
Mike stood there, then turned and looked after her, before he continued on to the park to play with his son. Suddenly he felt uneasy, wondering what Anna was up to.
Barolli was also at home; although working on a case, it was his weekend off. Anna sat with him in a rather untidy lounge, as he chatted on about still being miffed he’d not been brought onto the investigation.
Anna took out the mug shots of Eugene Camorra. ‘Is this the man who attacked Langton?’
‘Could be,’ Barolli said.
‘But you were there — you saw him.’
‘Yeah, but you gotta remember there was this big bloke in front to start with, then the bastard came out of nowhere. I dunno…yeah, it looks like him, but I couldn’t be certain.’
Anna put the photograph away.
‘Why do you want to know?’ Barolli asked. ‘I know who that is, by the way — that’s Eugene Camorra, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘So what’s with you asking me about him?’
Anna said it was just tying up loose ends. She was surprised when Barolli tapped her knee and said, ‘Your loose ends — or Jimmy’s?’
‘Mine.’
Barolli leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘Drop it. Whatever you think you can gain by this, it is not gonna do any good, you hear me? Drop it.’
Anna felt the tears stinging her eyes. ‘I can’t.’
‘Then let me give you some advice: whatever you are trying to uncover will destroy you. If you keep going, it’ll be down to the woman spurned.’
‘That is not true,’ she said angrily.
‘Isn’t it? Just drop this crap, Anna.’
‘He’s a bloody police officer.’
‘So am I!’ snapped Barolli.
‘And so am I!’ she retorted.
‘Then drop whatever you are doing and get on with your life,’ he said more quietly.
‘So Mike Lewis called you, did he?’
‘Mind your own fucking business. I mean it, Anna; now go on home. This is my weekend off.’
Anna drove out to the police station in the New Forest. They were surprised to see her. She asked to speak to the officers who were working the cells when Camorra was held.
She waited in an interview room for ten minutes before Officer Harris joined her. Anna was very pleasant, putting him at his ease, as she asked seemingly innocuous questions regarding Camorra and his arrangement to get food sent in. He said that DCI Langton had been privy to Camorra’s requests, but was always warning them to check every meal tray.
‘What about the time he ordered steak tartare?’
Harris shrugged. He had given Camorra a menu from the local Italian restaurant. He would choose what he wanted to eat and they would call the restaurant; it was delivered, inspected and taken to his cell. Camorra said they should take the money out of the wallet that they held when he was taken into custody.
‘And DCI Langton approved this?’
‘Yes, he often checked the trays personally.’
‘Did Mr Orso ever have access to these trays?’
‘No, he was locked up.’
‘So only DCI Langton and yourself were overseeing these food trays?’
‘No: whoever was on duty, ma’am.’
‘Thank you.’ She got up and, almost as an afterthought, asked if he had been around when Camorra was taken ill. He said that he was: in fact, he had been the officer who called a doctor.
‘He’d gone apeshit, like he was seeing monsters or something coming through the walls. He was screaming and shouting that they’d come for him and he was trying to remove his clothes; said they were eating him. He was really crazed and his eyes were rolling back in his head, mouth frothing, really crazy.’