Anna reckoned it was best to keep her mouth shut. Cunningham was not someone she wanted to tangle with at this stage of the investigation.
It was half an hour before Julia Brandon rejoined them. She was dressed in a Chanel suit and high heels, her hair swept back into a pleat with a comb. Anna noticed she also wore a very large square-cut diamond on her ring finger and diamond-stud earrings. She had a pink-and-gold designer handbag that must have cost around four or five hundred pounds. Her makeup was immaculate and she seemed very much in control of her emotions. She insisted on calling her financial adviser, which took another ten minutes as she quietly gave him the details of why she needed him to meet her at the mortuary. She also spoke to Mai Ling about the children.
It was almost an hour before they departed. Anna helped Julia into the back of the patrol car. Cunningham sat in the front seat with their driver. Throughout the wait, she had been on her BlackBerry. Anna could barely get a handle on her. She seemed to behave as if there was no one else around and paid little attention to the well-dressed widow.
When they reached the mortuary, a smartly attired, rather polished man was waiting. He had a deeply tanned face and his balding head was almost as shiny as his flamboyant tie. As soon as Julia saw him, she gave a light cry and ran toward him. He held her in his arms, comforting her. Then Julia broke away from him, but still held tightly to his arm. She introduced him.
"This is David Rushton."
Rushton held out his hand to shake Cunningham's. She then wafted her hand to Anna, and he looked at her with a woeful expression.
"This is a terrible thing. I'm hardly able to believe it," he said. He asked if he could accompany Julia to see her husband's body. Cunningham agreed and, taking Anna to one side, told her to deal with the viewing as she had calls to make.
Anna hoped that the terrible injuries to Frank's face had somehow been fixed. The three of them entered the cold, bare room where a mortuary assistant was waiting. Rushton guided Julia toward the body. Anna stood to one side and quietly asked Julia to look at the body, and say if it was Frank Brandon.Julia clung onto Rushton as the cloth was eased away from her husband's face. She stared down; her face was drained of color, her breath coming in short sharp hisses."It is Frank, isn't it?" she whispered.Rushton held her gently and nodded.Anna guided them out of the room, still feeling that it was unnecessary to have put the widow through the process. Rushton drove Julia away in his new Mercedes, having agreed that he would return to the station later that afternoon to talk with Cunningham.Cunningham was standing, arms folded, in front of the incident board as everyone gathered. By now Anna had met three of the team: DS Phil Markham, who was a big, square-chested man with iron-gray hair, an old pro; DC Pamela Meadows, who was pleasant enough, with bad acne; and DC Mario Paluzzo, a part-Italian, swarthy-faced officer who had hardly given Anna the time of day."Right, everyone, listen up. We're doing quite well tracking down the owners of these vehicles. So far we don't have any with a police record, but we'll be running them by the Drug Squad in case they have any information that's not on the database. As you can see, we still have around twenty more to track down, so maybe one of those will give us a lead that'll tell us what he was driving—or who."We don't know what work our victim was doing, or who for. We think it was some kind of security chauffeur-type job, but we're hoping to get more on this when the family accountant comes in later. We are waiting, as usual, on the forensic department to bring in their results, though I know they took a lot of prints. As yet, we haven't got the full ballistic report, but we do know he wasn't using drugs, so he wasn't at the squat to score for himself."Cunningham went on to detail the fact that Frank's widow was wealthy and would gain a half million on life insurance payouts. She described the Wimbledon home, mentioned the two little girls and the ex-partner.Anna listened intently, surprised that Cunningham seemed to have some suspicion regarding Julia Brandon. Before the DCI wound down, they were interrupted by a visitor from the forensic lab.Cunningham smiled broadly as he approached. "Well, we arc getting special treatment. Everyone, this is Pete Jenkins, who heads up the forensic team."There were murmurs all round. Anna got a smile of recognition from Jenkins, who seemed very relaxed as he joined Cunningham at the incident board.He began by taking out files from a bulging briefcase. "I sensed you'd be hungry for what we have to date. Obviously, you'll learn a lot more when you come to the lab, but—"He was interrupted by Cunningham. "How we doing on the fingerprints?""We have a fair amount and we're running them through the database, but that's not my department. I really wanted to discuss the blood spattering, as I think it's crucial to the case."Jenkins pinned up a large drawing in four parts: one showing a door with bullet marks, then three of the blood-spatter patterns at the murder scene.He took out a pen. "The first bullets went through this door. As you can see, I've made notes of the size of the victim. He was five feet eleven. The shooter, I would say, was much smaller, maybe five seven. He fired three shots at the victim through the door. Then I think he opened the door. Now, with the door open, the shooter fires again, this time at the head and face of the victim."Jenkins pointed to the red markings. "As you can see, the blood spattering is exactly the height of the victim, but what is important is the way the blood has hit the wall behind him. There is a clear outline: there was someone else standing directly behind your victim. This person I would say is at least six feet three. He must have been covered with the victim's blood."
He opened a notebook. "We've traced footprints from the area this person would have been standing in. They face at first toward your victim, then we have six quite clear footprints in blood as he walked away from the dead man. We also traced further prints outside the premises; then they faded. The prints are from a size-eleven shoe which would be about right for a man of the height I believe him to be."He flipped through his notes. "We have further footprints made by a sneaker and, as you know, substantial quantities of fingerprints— significantly, a set that have powder burns taken from the ledge and the wooded slat of the rear window. As 1 said, these will all be run by the database."Could that someone, who had accompanied Frank Brandon to the drug squat, have been involved in the murder? Or was he the reason Frank was at the drug dealers'? Back in her office after the briefing, Anna was making notes when there was a knock at her door. It was Jenkins."I know you were onto that blood spatter," he said as he shut the door, "but 1 thought I should get over here to confirm it before the ritual visitation to the lab.""I'm sure we all appreciate it. I've never known anyone to come into the incident room before. I think it's very important, next to the fingerprints—almost equally so.""I was wondering if you'd like a drink one evening."Anna was taken aback. "Well, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other.""Are you free tonight?""Erm, I'm not sure. I think we'll be under pressure here after what you've brought in.""Do you want to give me your number and I'll call you later?"Anna hesitated. Then it sank in—he was asking her out. She laughed and shook her head, jotting down her number on a Post-it note.He stuck it against his wallet. "Until later, then?" He gave her a grin as he walked out.She was left with a smile on her face. His invitation made her feel good; he was a nice-looking guy. She had no more time to think about it, though, as her phone rang. It was Cunningham asking her to join her in her office: David Rushton had arrived.The two were already in deep discussion when Anna joined them."I am obviously bound by client confidentiality," Rushton was saying. "I'm not prepared to divulge Mrs. Brandons financial situation, other than to say that she is well provided for and has substantial savings for both herself and her children.""Now she's in line for a heavy pay out on her husband's life insurance policy," Cunningham pointed out."I am aware of that, as I myself arranged the life insurance for her husband.""Why?""Why? I don't really think it is any of your business.""It obviously is. Mr. Brandon has just been murdered."Rushton paused a moment, then shrugged. "He was working in security as a chauffeur and bodyguard. The insurance was simply a precaution in case he was injured. As it turns out, I made the right decision.""Who was he working for?""1 really don't know. All I knew is what Mr. Brandon told me. In fact, I don't think he had been given the job when we discussed the policy."Cunningham glanced at Anna. Something wasn't right. "So he mentioned to you that he was going for a job?""Yes, I've just said that he was hoping for some work.""But you have no idea who it was for?""No."Cunningham sighed and doodled on her notepad.Anna leaned forward. "What can you tell us about Mrs. Brandon's previous partner?"Rushton tensed."You've said she was well provided for, so could you tell us who he was? I suppose we can start checking ourselves. It would be simpler, though, if you helped us a little.""They were not married.""Yes, we know that," Anna persisted, "but the children are his, is that correct?"Rushton chewed his lips."Mr. Rushton, what on earth is the problem? You obviously know who he is, and you've stated that you take care of Mrs. Brandon's finances ...""The children were born two years apart, by IVF treatment. Mrs. Brandon's ex-partner is now living in Bermuda."Cunningham looked to the ceiling. "Terrific. Could we just have a name?""He's unlikely to ever return to this country."Cunningham leaned back, sighing. "His name, Mr. Rushton?""Anthony Collingwood .. .Well, that is the name I was told.""Do you also handle his finances?""No, 1 do not. I have no business connection to him whatsoever. In fact, I've never met him."Cunningham stood up. Rushton looked a litde confused."Thank you for your cooperation. I'll no doubt ask you to come in again. DI Travis will show you out." Cunningham left Anna with Rushton, who was now pinkish in the face and flustered."I didn't have any business dealings with Mr. Collingwood. I want that made very clear," he stated repeatedly as he left the station.Anna returned to the incident room. Seeing Cunningham's door ajar, she went to get more details on Collingwood. She was about to knock, then stood listening."This case is really blowing sideways on me now. We've gone from a godforsaken drug squat in Chalk Farm to a connection with Christ knows who. 1 need someone from the Drug Squad over here to give me as much as they have on a guy called Collingwood. I've got a bit of a dozy team and could do with some backup."Anna hung back, unsure whether or not she should make herself visible. Then she froze."Well, she's with me, but to be honest, she seems in a daze. I don't know about her being sharp—I haven't seen any sign of it. She seems loath to open her mouth. In fact, I've got a young redheaded DC who seems more on the ball. Whatever happened to her when she was working for you ..."Anna had to take a deep breath. Was she talking to Langton?"All right, Jimmy, but I'd appreciate a few kicks up the arse, because right now we are going nowhere, apart from some autistic kid who has given us about every vehicle license plate in London."Anna did a fast U-turn and headed back to her poky office. She was shaking with anger. Cunningham obviously thought little of her, but to compare her with bloody Gordon was outrageous. She opened her laptop and went online. She Googled the name Anthony Collingwood: it came up empty. She tried known drug dealers and soon forgot her anger as she scrolled down.An Alexander Fitzpatrick was wanted for importation of a vast haul of uncut cocaine from the United States. His last known whereabouts were in Bermuda, but he had been sighted in Colombia. He had homes in Florida, Barbados, and Santa Monica. He also had so many different aliases that it was almost laughable—but one of them was Anthony Collingwood.Anna closed the file down, and went back online again to make sure she hadn't misspelled the name Anthony Collingwood. She then “Googled” Alexander Fitzpatrick himself.He was described as a handsome, charismatic man, with high intelligence; he spoke six languages. There were many pages on Fitzpatrick covering newspaper articles dating back to his original arrest for drug trafficking. Alexander Fitzpatrick was wanted on both sides of the Atlantic for drug dealing. Next Anna requested known aliases used by Fitzpatrick, and again, among twenty other names, was Anthony Collingwood. Photographs of Fitzpatrick showed him as a slim, attractive, long-haired hippy of twenty through to his midthirties, and then there was nothing. It was as if he had disappeared, but he still remained on the FBI's Most Wanted lists.Anna read and reread the attributes and stories on the Web site. Over and over again the words charismatic appeared, Oxford-educated, stylish, literate. Suspected of working with Mafia and Colombian drug cartels, the elusive and dangerous Mr. Fitzpatrick had accumulated massive wealth, but escaped arrest for now more than thirty years.Frank Brandon had none of these attributes but, as a tough ex-detective with broad shoulders, he must have felt capable of taking care