Langton was wearing a suit and freshly ironed shirt. They had both been driven from the station to the airport. Langton had only a small folding carrier and his briefcase. He had glanced at Anna's pull-along suitcase with some amusement.
'It's almost empty,' she said.
'You won't have much time to shop if that is your intention, Travis. We meet the ex-wife at ten tomorrow morning and get the next flight back to London in the afternoon.'
Anna made no reply; she had hoped for a half-hour blitz on the shops. She hoped that she could at least have a quick whiz round the duty-free.
They had cut the time short, so no sooner had they checked in and gone through security and passport control, than Langton insisted they go straight to their gate to wait for boarding. They were sitting together, his head buried in the early edition of the Evening Standard, when she saw Professor Marshe heading towards them. Anna was astonished. She had not really allowed herself to think that the time alone with Langton meant so much. It did, and she suddenly felt foolish; he must have arranged for the Professor to join them.
'James!' The Professor was wearing another of her chic little suits and high-heeled shoes, her hair once more in a chignon.
Langton looked up and folded his paper. 'Good God, what are you doing here?'
Anna pursed her lips, irritated; the act was all rather unnecessary.
Professor Marshe sat next to Langton. 'Are you going to Milan?'
'Yes, we are, are you?'
'Yes, I've got a lecture and talks with a publisher there to bring out my latest book in Italian.' She gave a cool nod to Anna.
'Well, what a coincidence,' Langton said.
Anna clenched her hands. He was a dreadful actor. She felt like the proverbial spare part as he made conversation about her book. Professor Marshe asked what seat numbers they were in; he looked at Anna to check their tickets.
'Maybe we can switch so I can sit next to you?'
'Fine, yes; we're going to meet up with Wickenham's ex-wife.'
'Where are you staying?'
'The Hyatt Hilton.'
She laughed, showing her even white teeth.
'As if she didn't know,' Anna thought. No wonder Langton hadn't wanted Lewis or Barolli with him; she felt like the perfect stooge.
They boarded the plane. Langton was all over Professor Marshe, lifting her bag into the locker, checking her safety belt, even folding her spiffy little jacket so as not to crease it. Anna sat almost at the very back of the plane, next to a very large, sweating man whose many magazines and newspapers spilled out onto the floor. Langton and Professor Marshe were in the second row, just behind the curtain separating the economy and business class seats.
Arriving at Milan airport, Anna passed through customs way behind Langton and Professor Marshe. They seemed to be in deep conversation; he was constantly bending down to listen to her, guiding her with one hand at the small of her back. There was a familiarity about them that Anna found upsetting, though she had no right to feel that way. It seemed that the Professor was a regular visitor to Milan, and in the taxi they discussed which restaurant they should dine at that evening. She was staying at the Four Seasons hotel, so they dropped her off before they went on to the Hyatt. Langton waved goodbye as the valet took her bag and waited for her to go into the hotel.
As they drove away, Langton gave a sidelong glance to Anna. 'I don't want this spread around the Incident Room, Travis.'
'What exactly?'
'That she's here; they won't believe it's coincidental and they'll put two and two together and come up with Christ knows what, so let's just keep this between ourselves, okay?'
'Whatever,' she said, petulantly.
'I wouldn't be surprised if the Commander tipped her off, you know, that we were coming here. She even wants to talk to the ex-wife.'
'Will you allow her to do that?'
'I dunno, maybe. I was quite impressed with her yesterday.'
Before they could continue, Langton's mobile rang and he spent the rest of the journey to the hotel listening as Lewis reported the phone tap results. He hardly said a word until he cut off the call.
'Well, our suspect isn't making any calls, but his daughters have phoned each other and talked about their interviews. It seems the skinny one…'
'Emily,' Anna interjected.
'Yeah, she's in therapy.'
'I'm not surprised, she was very nervous, but she's also very bright.'
'She kept on asking Justine if she knew what we knew, and if so, who had told us; what do you make of that?'
'I don't know. Maybe their mother will enlighten us; didn't you say Justine was staying with her when we found Louise Pennel's body?'
'Yeah.' Langton looked out of the car as they arrived at the hotel. 'Do you want to have dinner this evening?' he asked, as the porter opened their car door.
'No thanks; best get an early night.'
Anna waited for her case to be removed from the boot before she followed Langton inside. He was standing at the reception desk, checking them both in; it gave Anna a moment to take in the vast foyer of the luxurious hotel. She had never stayed in one as elegant or as costly, and she was impressed at the way Langton appeared to be very much at ease. He dangled her key and told her that she was on the seventh floor. There was a sauna, health spa and swimming pool, if she felt like some exercise.
'I didn't bring my costume.'
'There's a boutique in that corner: you can buy yourself one.'
'I am not really in the swimming mood.'
'So you don't want to eat?'
'No, I'll get some room service sent up.'
'Fine, well, I'm in room 307; if you need me, just call down. Let's have breakfast in the morning.'
They stood side by side as the elevator glided up to the third floor. As the doors opened, Langton was checking his text messages.
'Goodnight, Travis.'
'Goodnight.' The doors closed and she continued up to the seventh floor. The porter was waiting at the door of her room, and gestured for her to go in ahead of him. It was large and very spacious with a double bed and a small balcony. She gave him a tip; as soon as the door closed behind him, she flopped onto the bed. Somewhere in her mind she had been scripting a scenario of her and Langton together, trying to work out how she would react to him making a pass at her. Now she realised he had not the slightest intention of doing so; she felt foolish and angry with herself that she could have so misjudged him.
Langton left the hotel and walked to the Four Seasons where Professor Marshe waited in a pale blue chiffon cocktail dress, carrying a small silver handbag that matched her sandals, looking cool and sophisticated. 'Not brought little Travis with you?'
'No, she's getting an early night.'
'Do we eat here or would you like to go somewhere else?'
They took a taxi to Bebel's on the Via San Marco.
Remote in hand, Anna switched the TV from channel to channel. She decided she'd watch Titanic as she hadn't seen it the first time round. She had eaten her dinner and drunk half a bottle of wine from the mini bar; wrapped in her towelling robe, she propped up the pillows and settled back on her bed. After only fifteen minutes, she fell asleep. She woke with a start, just as the Titanic was sinking; the room phone was ringing and so was her mobile.