Chapter Twelve
Anna arrived at the station early the next morning. She was about to head up to the canteen for breakfast when she saw Professor Marshe arrive by taxi. Anna gave a small nod of acknowledgement and continued into the station.
She was midway up the stairs when Professor Marshe called out. 'Excuse me; it's Detective Travis, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'Is DCI Langton in?'
'I think so; his car's outside.'
'Good, I need to speak to him.'
Anna hesitated. 'I'll tell him you are here if you'd like to wait.'
'It's all right, I know the way.'
'I'm sorry, but the Incident Room is only for officers connected to the case.'
Professor Marshe gave her a cold, arrogant glance. 'In case you have forgotten, I was brought in on the case by DCI Langton. Excuse me.'
Anna stood patiently on the stairs, watching her pass. Today, she was not wearing her hair in a chignon but loose, held back with a velvet alice band. It made her look a lot younger and prettier, if rather old-fashioned. She was wearing a chic, tailored suit in pink and black tweed.
Anna changed her mind about going up another floor to the canteen and instead followed Professor Marshe into the Incident Room, eager to see the reactions.
Professor Marshe headed straight into Langton's office, leaving a waft of perfume behind her.
Lewis looked over to Anna and raised an eyebrow. 'She's a pushy piece, isn't she?'
Anna watched Bridget put two coffees on a tray and head towards Langton's office.
'I'll take that in, Bridget; I need a quick word with the Gov.'
'Oh, thanks.'
Anna balanced the tray on her forearm and was about to knock on Langton's door when she heard his familiar bark. 'It's none of your business!'
'Of course it is. You brought me onto the case and you haven't even got the decency to call me and give me an update. I wouldn't even have known that you had a suspect, but I saw the Commander last night and she told me. I felt like a total idiot.'
'After what happened with you and the press, I presumed you would have been too embarrassed to discuss it, let alone with the Commander.'
'I am not embarrassed in the slightest; if you want my input then I am prepared to give it. The Commander felt that I would be invaluable: that's why I am here.'
'Why? Do you need another chapter in your book of exploits, capturing serial killers that no one could have arrested without your help?'
'Don't be crass.'
'I wasn't aware I was being crass, sweetheart.'
'Don't call me sweetheart! Just tell me straight: do you want my advice or not?'
'As you are here, why not? But don't let's waste time: if you have anything to say about our suspect, do it in front of the team.'
'I need time to read the update on who he is.'
Anna nearly dropped the tray as Langton opened the door. 'Ah, Travis; can you sit with Professor Marshe and give her an update on Wickenham? You might as well have my coffee. I'll be in the Incident Room.'
He passed Anna, leaving his office door ajar. Anna carried the tray in and placed it down on his desk. Professor Marshe was sitting cross-legged in the straight-backed chair, one leg swinging back and forth in irritation. 'Christ, he's a chauvinistic bastard,' she muttered.
Anna smiled sweetly and proffered the coffee. Professor Marshe reached for the cup and looked into it. 'Do you have any cream?'
'No, but I can get you milk if you want.'
'Forget it.' Professor Marshe took a bottle of water out of her briefcase. 'So tell me about this Winchester character.'
'Wickenham,' Anna corrected, and hesitated before sitting in the chair behind Langton's desk. Professor Marshe opened her notebook, clicked on her pen, and tapped the page.
'Right, first give me his personal details: age, etcetera etcetera, marital status, children?'
Anna excused herself to get her own notebook. Langton was sitting with Barolli and Lewis in the Incident Room.
'Keep her out of my hair, Travis: be aware she's very pally with the Commander, so anything you do say to her will be repeated.'
'Yes, will do.'
Langton weaved through the desks to come to her side. 'We're still getting the line-up organised for this afternoon but don't tell her that; just see if she can bring anything to the table.'
'Okay.' Anna hesitated; she could smell alcohol on his breath.
'What?' he said, glaring at her.
'There's a packet of mints in my drawer if you want one.'
He frowned, and then walked back to join Lewis and Barolli. Anna returned to his office. He was beginning to really concern her; it was still only nine o'clock.
It was after eleven when, accompanied by Professor Marshe, she went back into the Incident Room. Anna had felt at times that she was being interrogated, but by the end she was impressed. She watched Marshe go up to Langton and talk quietly with him for a while before he called for everyone to pay attention. They did not exactly jump to it, but the room eventually fell quiet.
'Charles Wickenham, I believe, is now your prime suspect. When I was first brought in, I mentioned that your killer's marital status would be an important factor. I think it is imperative that you interview his ex-wife: the profile I have been compiling for you underlines that your killer has a hatred of women. This is very deep-rooted and would have begun in his early childhood.'
She continued, repeating virtually all that Langton had discovered from the locals about Wickenham and his father; although it was still only hearsay, it appeared to be the focus of her profile. As she talked, some of the officers continued to double-check Wickenham's alibis for 9 January. Langton paid little attention, constantly sending and receiving text messages. The rest of the team were also becoming impatient: they were already privy to so much of what she was saying. Then there was a pause. She twisted a lock of her blonde hair round and round her manicured index finger before she eventually spoke. Her voice had changed; she spoke quietly and calmly.
'I have discussed a sociopathic tendency; it is quite rare for them to become violent.'
Anna glanced at Langton, who was looking at his watch impatiently.
'However, in this case I think you are dealing with a very, very dangerous specimen. I do not doubt that you have the right man. Everything I have discussed is a profile of someone with a compulsion to create terrible pain. His own self-loathing is so deep that he can go to horrendous lengths and feel no remorse whatsoever. This man enjoys the act of torture, of mutilation, and of watching his victims die. I would say he was addicted to drugs, probably amphetamines to get high and, I think, something to iron his hyperactive side down: it could be grass, even morphine. He will have access to these drugs due to his background, and this is where you have to tread carefully, as he is also quite likely to commit suicide: not due to any kind of remorse, but one, to escape from incarceration, and two, fuelled by his fury at being caught.
'His ego is such that he believes he is above suspicion. He thinks his intellect is above that of any of the officers leading the enquiry. I would say he will have arranged his alibis and be very confident that he is safe from prosecution. You have no witnesses. You have no weapons. His tools of torture will, I am certain, be close to him; he will enjoy cleaning and inspecting them. He will also enjoy the fact he is under suspicion, because he is certain he can outwit you. The key will be to allow him to think that is the case; the more you give this man rope, the more he will move towards placing the noose around his neck and hanging himself. But tread carefully, because he will even enjoy hanging!'
Langton was still texting, but the rest of the team were now listening very attentively. He did look up when she started on how they should proceed.