They drove in silence back to the station, Anna's mind churning over everything they had discussed with Sandra. Gordon, as usual, had not said more than a few words, but he was at least onto the fact that the antiques fair was not that far from Honour Nolan's village.
Anna gave him a sidelong glance. "Yes, my thoughts exactly. It's another link, because Julius D'Anton also knew Alexander Fitzpatrick."
"What if he was hiding out at the farmhouse and somehow D'Anton saw him?"
"But if he was hiding out, he's not likely to have been wandering around an antique fair, is he? It's another schlep to check it all out; it'll mean contacting all those dealers that had a stall, especially the guy that Sandra said owned a shop. It might be local, it might not, but that's what you have to start on as soon as we're back at the station."
"Okay."
Anna decided that she would go over to the forensic lab and see if they had any results from the tests being done on the Mitsubishi. This time, she wanted to find out if there was any crossover from the clothes worn by Julius D'Anton—anything that would place him in the jeep.
Pete listened as Anna outlined what she wanted tested. He shook his head. "You must be joking. We've had it stripped down, and it was given a very thorough clean, apart from the small blood swipe."
"What about the map?"
"There were prints, but nothing clean enough for us to run by the database."
"The note?"
"Ditto. It does look as if the numbers were, as you thought, directions to the farmhouse. We're testing soil samples, but they will take a while. Then we've got to match them with samples taken from the farmhouse."
Anna sighed with impatience.
"You can well sigh, Detective Travis, but have you any idea of the amount of forensic work going on? The body count keeps on growing every time I turn around. This guy brought in from the Thames—his clothes are all pegged out, so are Donny Petrozzo's clothes, then there's the guy shot on his toilet ...""Stanley Leymore.""Yes, him—we've got all his gear being tested. The cost is mounting. We've brought in three extra assistants and the path lab is screaming blue murder. They are as inundated as we are.""What about the toxicology report?""Jesus! Ask Fielding, I don't know. I'm aware he's getting in extra people too, but the costs—do you know how much it is just to get the soil samples tested?"Anna wondered if Cunningham was under pressure; her budget must be through the roof. Maybe that was why she was so bad-tempered all the time."So, we still on for dinner sometime?"Anna suddenly relented and smiled. "I'm sorry. Yes, of course we are.""When?""Why not tomorrow evening?""Great. You want me to bring anything?""No. Say about eight?""I'll be there."Anna jotted down her address and asked if there was anything he couldn't eat."Nope. See you tomorrow night."By the time Anna got back to the station, it was almost four. She hadn't had lunch, but didn't have time to go up to the canteen, as Cunningham had asked for yet another briefing. These were starting to get on everyone's nerves: usually an inquiry spaced them out, to give the team time to do their jobs. There were a lot of disgruntled people banging down chairs. Anna could see that the incident board had more information, but much of it was eliminating the vehicle owners whose number plates had been listed by Jeremy Webster. It was the wait for evidence from the forensic and pathology reports that was holding them up. The body count was, as Pete Jenkins had said, mounting: Frank Brandon, Donny Petrozzo, Stanley Leymore, and now Julius D'Anton.Anna was quickly marking up the information on D'Anton that she'd got from his wife, the possible link to the farmhouse, and his association with Alexander Fitzpatrick, when Gordon hurried over to say that he had tracked down five stallholders' names and addresses. He was waiting for the organizers to give him more details, but he had the name of two who also had antiques shops in the area, one in Oxford and another in the village of Shipston on Stour. Anna told him to form a new section on the board and write up everything.He was busy doing so when Cunningham made her usual scowling entrance. "Okay, everyone, listen up. I am getting a lot of pressure regarding the mounting costs. We have to really concentrate on ..." She turned to the board as Gordon finished writing. "What the hell is this?"Anna stood up and explained that Julius D'Anton might have been in the area of Honour Nolan's farm, and that he might also have been driving the Mitsubishi."Might?""Yes, it's possible, but my interest is that D'Anton knew Alexander Fitzpatrick—""Right now we do not have any evidence that this man is involved, Travis. We have not a shred of evidence that he is even in this country. What we do have are four dead men and very little else. The killer, or killers, are dropping these bodies like flies without anything that helps us with the murder of Frank Brandon.""I'm sorry, but I disagree with you. We know Frank worked for Donny Petrozzo, we know Donny bought hot cars from Stanley Leymore, and we know that at one time Julius D'Anton knew Fitzpatrick.""What exactly does that give us?""A link!""Bloody fantastic, a link. We still don't know who was the main dealer in that stinking squat, nor why Frank Brandon was there, and we don't have any clue as to who the man was possibly standing behind him. I don't buy that it might have been Fitzpatrick. You tell me why an internationally infamous drug operator would risk entering the UK to schlepover to Chalk Farm, and for what—to score some cocaine? It doesn't fit. He is on our Most Wanted lists. All this supposition about this couple and their farmhouse has not brought in any connections.""Bar the fact that Honour Nolan is Julia Brandon's sister.""So what does that give us? We don't have any connection between Julia Brandon and the dead men, apart from a dodgy marriage to Frank Brandon. We're going round in circles.""But the circles keep on joining up," Anna said defensively."Do they hell! Show me—1 am all ears. We need a break, and I can't see us finding it by constantly bringing in supposition instead of hard evidence.""I think both Honour Nolan and her husband, Damien, lied about how well they knew Alexander Fitzpatrick.""But, Travis, what does that give us?""Well, there is the painting of a boat.""Painting?""Yes, it's of a very large, oceangoing yacht called
Dare Devil, painted, I think, by Honour Nolan. If she didn't know Fitzpatrick, as she claims...""Is it his boat?" snapped Cunningham."I don't know. I am still checking it out.""Did she actually paint it?""I don't know that either," Anna said lamely."So all this is still just your supposition. It's no good going off to interview these suspects if you just come back with 'possibles,' for Chrissakes. Get your head down and check it all out.""We have asked for the soil from the wheels of the Mitsubishi to be tested, prove it was on the Nolan farm."Cunningham folded her arms. "Okay, and that, we know, is going to take weeks. We are waiting on fucking forensics to bring us something—and running around like blue-arsed flies is not, to my mind, bringing us anything we can get to grips with."Anna sat back in her chair, furious at the way she had been spoken to.Phil Markham raised his hand. "What do you suggest we do. ma'am?" His sarcasm was obvious."I want the Frank Brandon and Julia Brandon relationship delved into. 1 want to know where she got her millions. I want her under the hammer—put as much pressure on her as possible.""Hard with that bastard Simon Fagan watching over her," Phil muttered."Then put the pressure on her weasel-faced accountant. Get whatever warrants we need to make him squirm," Cunningham continued. "Above all, 1 want to know who was running that fucking drug squat. Any vehicle still not traced, get out there and find who owns it and who was inside that squat.""Well, we know Leymore was there at some point, because of his missing fingertip and the prints." Again this was Phil.Cunningham folded and refolded her arms. "Small fry, dealt in stolen cars. So, we are now going to focus on why Frank Brandon was shot? Why were they at this drug squat?"Anna coughed. "Maybe the scoring of drugs is not the reason. Maybe there was something else inside that squat.""Like what?""I don't know.""Terrific, thank you, Travis. Now, all of you get back to basics. This is a murder inquiry and the main development has to come from why Frank Brandon was shot.""Because maybe he was protecting someone?" Phil said."Find out who.""But what if Travis is right? What if Fitzpatrick is back in the UK?"Cunningham sighed and threw open her arms. "Then give me proof!"She then gave the main team the following day off, saying she wanted them all to take a breather and come back refreshed, with details and not supposition. Hopefully, by that time, they would at long last have some details from the labs.Anna packed up her briefcase. At least she would be able to sort her flat out and buy some groceries for dinner with Pete. Just as she wasabout to leave, Gordon called. There was someone she should talk to on line two—a Michael Sudinore, antiques dealer and owner of the shop in Shipston on Stour.Mr. Sudmore had a very fruity voice. Anna held the phone away from her ear, as he spoke so loudly. Sudmore had known Julius D'Anton quite well and was not that fond of him, as he often took a long time to pay for goods. D'Anton had such a poor record that Sudmore refused to sell him anything unless it was for cash. Sudmore had been at the village fair and met D'Anton, who was interested in a table but, as usual, tried his bouncing-check routine. When Sudmore had refused, D'Anton had agreed to come to his shop with the money within the next week. He had left twenty pounds for Sudmore to hold it for him. Sudmore was really not expecting D'Anton to show, as he had done this many times before.He also reckoned he had undersold the table, and was hoping D'Anton would not actually turn up to buy it. It was almost three days later when D'Anton returned with a large wedge of fifty-pound notes. He paid over the cash but said his van was in the garage, so he would not collect the table until the following week.Sudmore recalled that D'Anton was driving a black Mitsubishi jeep; it was not large enough for the table to fit in the back. He described D'Anton as being very full of himself, a bullshitter, saying that he-would soon be opening up a shop in Chiswick, as he now had financial backing. Sudmore recalled as best he could the clothes D'Anton was wearing—a polo-neck sweater and tweed jacket. He suggested that they call his assistant, who had met him, and ask her if she could remember anything else that might help them. When she asked for the woman's name. Anna almost dropped the receiver."She lives quite locally; she's an artist and only works part-time when I need her. Honour Kendal, lovely lady."Anna asked him to repeat the name, to be 100 percent sure."Honour Kendal. Her married name is Nolan."Anna replaced the receiver. She was buzzing. Could it have been coincidental that Honour Nolan was working in the same antiques shop that Julius D'Anton walked into? Was it coincidental that perhapsAlexander Fitzpatrick was there? Did D'Anton recognize him? Was he paid money to keep his mouth shut until they could get rid of him? Anna sat back in her chair. Coincidence? Langton always said there were no coincidences, just facts.This time she would make Cunningham wait until she was positive. She was certain that Alexander Fitzpatrick was in the UK, and he had to be here for a reason. If she was correct, he was taking out anyone connected to him. Uppermost in her mind, though, was still the question of how it all linked to Frank Brandon's murder in the drug squat on the Chalk Farm Warren Estate.