didn’t make her want to do the honorable thing. Instead, she threw it into the bin.
“Fucking coppers. Bastards.”
Anna had just reached her car when she got a call from Barbara in the incident room. They had traced an Eric Potts. He worked for a bailiff’s company with offices in Hendon. Whether or not it was Margaret’s brother-in-law, they were unable to confirm, as he was out on a job and wouldn’t be back in the office until lunchtime. Anna had been pondering whether to return to the station but now decided she’d have an early lunch and make her way over to meet with Eric.
Back at the station, the team continued slogging through the list of ex-prisoners, placing to one side possible suspects who might have had information for Cameron Welsh. The officers questioning everyone at the service stations were having no luck, with no one able to recall their redheaded victim. Barbara received yet another call from Cameron Welsh. He said he wished to speak to DI Travis, but when told she was not in the station, he said he would speak with Paul.
“Paul, your friend Cameron’s on the line!”
Barolli took the call, but this time Cameron was distinctly unfriendly and quite cold about DI Travis not taking his calls.
“She’s out working, Mr. Welsh, so if you have anything to say, please go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“I have more details I wish to discuss with you and Anna, but I find the cell door being closed very constricting. I want you to get permission for us to sit outside in the recreational area.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Then I won’t see you. Pass on my message to Anna.” The phone went down, and Barolli tutted.
“He’s really pushing himself, cheeky bastard.” He turned to see Langton standing by the incident-room board, which unnerved him slightly.
“What did he have to say for himself?” Langton asked, turning to face Barolli.
“Claims to have more information but wants us to talk without the bars.”
“Ignore him. Let’s see how long it’ll be before he calls again.”
“He was peeved that Travis wasn’t here to talk to him.”
“Really. Well, if this is all down to him having the hots for her, he can go and stuff himself. Where is she?” Langton demanded.
Barbara signaled to him. “She may have got a trace on a relative of our first victim, Margaret Potts. He works for a bailiff company and could be the person Maggie Potts used to track down punters who knocked her around.”
“Where did Anna get him from?”
“She traced Potts’s husband—it came via him.”
Langton threw a cool look at Barolli, who squirmed in his seat.
“Got to hand it to her,” the detective said sheepishly. “Always busy, busy . . .”
When Langton moved off to Mike’s office, Barolli turned to Barbara and asked in a different voice, “When did all this go down?”
“About an hour ago. She’ll be on her way to interview this brother-in-law. You never know, he might have some information we could use. Nothing else is happening, is it?”
Barolli pursed his lips. Yet again Anna had trampled over him, and he knew that if she was able to get this information now, he should have been able to find it months ago.
The office was above a fish-and-chip shop. The name of the company appeared to be Debt Collectors, with no other sign—just a small arrow in red felt-tipped pen on the card stuck to the door. Anna climbed up a narrow staircase, where the pungent smell of fried food hung in the air. From outward appearances, at least, the business didn’t look as if it were exactly flourishing.
At the top of the second staircase, a makeshift partition with a frosted-glass door had been built across the landing. Anna rang the bell, and the door was opened by a thin-faced woman in her late fifties with iron-gray hair and a matching suit.
“Yes?”
Anna showed her ID, and the woman stepped back.
“Come in.”
The small reception area was cramped. A desk and two chairs and a large
“Fucking coppers. Bastards.”
Anna had just reached her car when she got a call from Barbara in the incident room. They had traced an Eric Potts. He worked for a bailiff’s company with offices in Hendon. Whether or not it was Margaret’s brother-in-law, they were unable to confirm, as he was out on a job and wouldn’t be back in the office until lunchtime. Anna had been pondering whether to return to the station but now decided she’d have an early lunch and make her way over to meet with Eric.
Back at the station, the team continued slogging through the list of ex-prisoners, placing to one side possible suspects who might have had information for Cameron Welsh. The officers questioning everyone at the service stations were having no luck, with no one able to recall their redheaded victim. Barbara received yet another call from Cameron Welsh. He said he wished to speak to DI Travis, but when told she was not in the station, he said he would speak with Paul.
“Paul, your friend Cameron’s on the line!”
Barolli took the call, but this time Cameron was distinctly unfriendly and quite cold about DI Travis not taking his calls.
“She’s out working, Mr. Welsh, so if you have anything to say, please go ahead. I’m all ears.”
“I have more details I wish to discuss with you and Anna, but I find the cell door being closed very constricting. I want you to get permission for us to sit outside in the recreational area.”
“That may not be possible.”
“Then I won’t see you. Pass on my message to Anna.” The phone went down, and Barolli tutted.
“He’s really pushing himself, cheeky bastard.” He turned to see Langton standing by the incident-room board, which unnerved him slightly.
“What did he have to say for himself?” Langton asked, turning to face Barolli.
“Claims to have more information but wants us to talk without the bars.”
“Ignore him. Let’s see how long it’ll be before he calls again.”
“He was peeved that Travis wasn’t here to talk to him.”
“Really. Well, if this is all down to him having the hots for her, he can go and stuff himself. Where is she?” Langton demanded.
Barbara signaled to him. “She may have got a trace on a relative of our first victim, Margaret Potts. He works for a bailiff company and could be the person Maggie Potts used to track down punters who knocked her around.”
“Where did Anna get him from?”
“She traced Potts’s husband—it came via him.”
Langton threw a cool look at Barolli, who squirmed in his seat.
“Got to hand it to her,” the detective said sheepishly. “Always busy, busy . . .”
When Langton moved off to Mike’s office, Barolli turned to Barbara and asked in a different voice, “When did all this go down?”
“About an hour ago. She’ll be on her way to interview this brother-in-law. You never know, he might have some information we could use. Nothing else is happening, is it?”
Barolli pursed his lips. Yet again Anna had trampled over him, and he knew that if she was able to get this information now, he should have been able to find it months ago.
The office was above a fish-and-chip shop. The name of the company appeared to be Debt Collectors, with no other sign—just a small arrow in red felt-tipped pen on the card stuck to the door. Anna climbed up a narrow staircase, where the pungent smell of fried food hung in the air. From outward appearances, at least, the business didn’t look as if it were exactly flourishing.
At the top of the second staircase, a makeshift partition with a frosted-glass door had been built across the landing. Anna rang the bell, and the door was opened by a thin-faced woman in her late fifties with iron-gray hair and a matching suit.
“Yes?”
Anna showed her ID, and the woman stepped back.
“Come in.”
The small reception area was cramped. A desk and two chairs and a large
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