is Damien Nolan's child.""Has Travis called in yet?""Nope, but I just texted her the results, as she wanted it confirmed.""Thanks, Phil. Can you see if the governor of Brixton will okay a phone call to Adrian Summers?""Sure. He's popular today."Langton grunted as he returned to reading the file. Yet again he noted just how often DI Travis's name cropped up; she was really hands-on throughout the inquiry. It was mainly down to her that they had forged ahead to the final conclusions. The fact that, after their extensive investigation, they still did not have Alexander Fitzpatrick banged up was a real bone of contention with Langton. It was like rubbing salt into a wound; the fact that he had been a witness to the man's audacity when he impersonated a Fraud Squad officer made Langton really smart.He leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to place himself in Fitzpatrick's position. Did he by now have another false passport? Had he somehow arranged to get out of the UK? Or was he still hiding out? If he was, who could possibly give him shelter? The more Langton tried to think where Fitzpatrick could go, the more he came to a grinding halt.Langton physically jumped as the desk phone rang, and he snatched it up. Phil had got Adrian Summers's permission to take the call and he was being brought to the phone. It was a matter of minutes before Langton spoke to him, querying what had been discussed with Dl Travis. He replaced the receiver, now privy to the fact that, according to Summers, Damien Nolan had written the directions to the farmhouse. Langton buzzed into the interview room to ask Phil to bring him the statements from Damien Nolan. He then checked the time, and his face twisted with annoyance. Travis had received this information at nine-fifteen that morning; it was now after three. Once again, he felt that Travis was acting as she had done in the past—without team input—but, at that precise moment, he was not sure of the relevance. However, after rereading Damien Nolans statements, Langton knew full well.Nolan denied passing any note; his lawyer had said that the directions to the farmhouse could have been written at any time. Nolan had also denied being the father of Julia Brandon's youngest child. Nolan had implicated his wife as being part of the drug scam by his refusal to answer any question with regard to Honour; all he had responded was "no comment."Langton rapped the edge of his desk with his knuckles; he then placed a call to his contact. The undercover officer was able to verify that the suspect was in residence, and showed no signs of moving out. Langton, without any confirmation to the team, had retained twenty-four-hour surveillance on Damien Nolan. He was now concerned that his plan of waiting might be jeopardized by Anna Travis. It never occurred to him that, like his protegee, he too had acted unprofessionally by not consulting the team. Like Anna, he had suspected Nolan of being implicated; unlike her, he had not placed the note as a priority.Mrs. Eatwell was wearing a pale oyster twinset with a pearl necklace. She had a tweed skirt and velvet slippers and, for her age, was remarkably sprightly; only her hands were an indication, as they were very arthritic. She was sitting in a wing-backed chair close to the fire, and spoke to Wendy as if she was her personal maid, asking for a cup of green tea. Anna recalled the first time she had met her: how she had explained about the table and D'Anton's visit, and how she had given directions to the farmhouse farther along the lane. Anna now suspected that she must have phoned Honour to expect visitors—the police. Just how much she knew, Anna was determined to find out."Thank you for agreeing to talk to me," Anna began."I don't really have an option, do I?""Not really.""I don't see that I can be of any help. I really have nothing else to add to my previous statements. I have been questioned over and over again ...""I know that, Mrs. Eatwell, and you have denied being aware of the drugs discovered in your garage, but you have admitted caring for your son—so you were, at all times, fully aware that he was a wanted criminal.""He is my son: what was I supposed to do?""Do you know where he is now?""No, I do not.""When was the last time you saw him?"Mrs. Eatwell explained that Alex, as she called him, first visited her over eighteen months ago. She said that she had had no contact with him for many years, and was surprised when he called in to see her. She hardly recognized him, though he had provided for her since her husband died."So did your son arrange monies to be paid to you?""He opened an account, and I just withdrew any money when I was required to pay for work done. The cottage needed to be renovated, and I only have my pension.""What name is the account under?" Anna asked.Mrs. Eatwell became wary, and said that it was her personal account. Anna whispered to Gordon and he left the room. He went to talk to Wendy to ask about Mrs. Eatwell's bank accounts and access to any statements. In the meantime, Anna pressed on, asking about the time her son came to stay, when he was injured. Mrs. Eatwell said that he had turned up very late one night, and she had wanted him to go to hospital, as the wound to his shoulder was infected."Did he seek medical advice?""No. I bathed it with disinfectant, and replaced the bandages; it was a deep flesh wound, and he was in a great deal of pain.""How long was he here with you?""Just a few days. He slept in the spare bedroom; in fact, he slept most of the time. He hardly touched his food, then he showered and dressed and said he would be leaving."Anna flicked the pages in her notebook back and forth as she worked out the time frame of when Alexander Fitzpatrick had stayed; she knew it had to be directly after the shooting of Frank Brandon. "During the time he was here, did he have any visitors?"Mrs. Eatwell conceded that Honour had been to see him."What about Damien Nolan?""What about him?""Did he also visit your son?""No.""Was there anyone else?"Mrs. Eatwell pursed her lips, trying to think."What about the visit from the antique dealer?""Oh yes—he came. He wanted to know if I had any other furniture to sell. He asked about the table I had sold to the local antique shop." She continued to explain that she had not been aware of the table's value; it was outside the kitchen door and she used it to stack firewood. When Sudmore had seen it, he paid her two hundred and fifty pounds for it. "It was in a dreadful state. I couldn't believe that it would have had any value at all, so I agreed to sell it.""Did you know that it was Georgian?""Good heavens, no—then Julius D'Anton came to the cottage. He said he had seen the table at an antique fair and wondered if I had any other pieces. You see, there was quite a lot when I moved in here, but I didn't like it. A lot I gave away to the local charity shops, and I also burned some of it to make way for all this nice modern furniture."Anna let her continue talking as she underlined in her notebook Julius D'Anton; the fact that Mrs. Eatwell knew his name made her suspicious. "This man, Julius D'Anton ...""Yes? I've been asked about him before. As I just said, he came round.""Did you know him?""I didn't. Even when he told me who he was, it didn't mean anything, but he said that he remembered me.""Remembered you?" Anna repeated.