Silent Scream (36 page)

When she thanked him, he gave her a card. If she ever needed a driver, someone with experience as a bodyguard, he said, she should call on him.

As soon as Mason saw Anna leave, he called Tony James. He’d had a weird interview with a detective from the Met, he told him, a woman attached to the murder investigation of Amanda Delany. In no way had he said anything derogatory about the brothers, he reassured Tony; he just wanted him to know that a policewoman was sniffing around.

‘Was it Anna Travis?’ Anthony asked.

‘Yeah. Detective Anna Travis.’

Anna headed into an old building on Marylebone High Street that had once housed exclusive apartments. The clinic was in the basement.

‘You must be Anna.’ A pretty, dark-haired girl was at the reception desk. ‘Dr Berry’s actually ready to see you, but could you first fill in this form, please?’

Anna had almost completed it when the door to one of the surgery rooms was flung open. She glanced up to see an attractive and youngish man with wild curly hair wearing a white medical coat. He clapped his hands, turning to Anna.

‘Anna? Yes? Come on through.’ Dr Berry turned to his receptionist and said she could close up for the night. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided Anna into his surgery. It was a large, all-white room with a massage bed in one corner. There were arrays of candles, and lists of the therapy choices in frames on the wall: hot stone massage, therapy massage, Indian head and shoulder massage, Thai foot massage and manual lymphatic drainage.

‘I’m Gordon,’ he said. ‘First, let me take this contraption off you. I hate them and they often do more damage than good.’ He undid the collar and tossed it onto a low chair. ‘Now, tell me exactly what happened.’

He had long slender fingers, with straight-cut nails, and had to bend slightly towards her as he was so tall. He gently felt the side of her neck and then up to her skull, putting a little pressure around the nape of her neck. He lit two perfumed candles and turned on a stereo unit; the music was sweet and low, and sounded like water and flutes. Next, he took out some small bottles of oils from a glass-fronted cabinet and uncorked them.

‘Take off your coat and let me see what you have on underneath.’

Anna was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He asked her to remove her trainers and shirt and lie on the massage bed, face down.

Anna felt uneasy; she remembered hearing Berry tell the receptionist that she could leave.

‘It’s just my neck,’ she said, and he turned and smiled at her.

‘You have a problem about being here with me?’

‘Not really.’

‘It’s up to you. But I’ll be using oils and don’t want to mess up your clothes. Also, I want to massage your shoulders and down your back. You’ll find towels behind the screen.’

He still had the smile on his face and, blushing, Anna went quickly behind the screen to undress.

While she was thus occupied, Gordon Berry laid fresh towels along the massage table.

‘I don’t think you have any damage other than muscle strain,’ he said. ‘Nothing seems to be out of line, on the contrary. Often these minor types of injuries cause discomfort – it’s Nature’s way of saying ouch, but I think the stress of what happened has made you stiffen and we can remedy that easily.’

Anna wrapped a soft white towel around herself and came from behind the screen. He had his back to her and was testing the heat of the stones he was going to use on her.

‘Have you ever had hot stone massage?’

‘No.’

‘It’s James Langton’s favourite, and I have to say we’ve seen a lot of progress with his leg injury. Often, having knee surgery makes you limp and it throws the back out of line. Although James had some serious internal injuries, we’re making great moves forward. I know he finds the sessions very relaxing.’

He turned to her. ‘Is he a close friend of yours?’

‘No, he’s my boss actually.’

‘Ah well. Up you get, face down and rest your head in the ring here.’

It felt strange staring down at the floor. The piped music was very faint and she closed her eyes.

‘You’re a detective?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured.

He moved the towel away, and inched down her jeans to feel the base of her spine.

‘You’re very tense around the shoulders, so just relax and I’ll get started.’

The oil smelled slightly of liniment and he was quickly onto the area that was painful. He explained that he would be placing the stones down her back; if they were too hot, she just had to tell him. It was extraordinary how good the heat felt. Now he was using the perfumed oils and applying more pressure, massaging her back and sides.

‘He’s quite a character, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘I actually met him through his wife, who’s been a regular client for many years. It took quite a lot of persuading for him to come to me, but now he’s here twice a week and I think he’s found it very beneficial. That was some injury. We’ve also been working on the scars on his chest.’

Anna said nothing, surprised that Gordon had referred to Langton’s wife. She wasn’t sure if he had remarried, further proof of how little she really knew about Langton in the passing months since they had parted. She put the thought out of her head and began to relax.

‘Ah, that’s better. Now you are giving up to me,’ Gordon said softly.

‘I have been a bit stressed out, actually.’

‘I suppose it’s part of your profession. Are you working on any specific case?’

Without going into details, Anna told him about the constant pressure the team was under to produce a result in big cases, how much time it took for them to eliminate suspects, how she was always in trouble for going it alone and not sharing her findings with the team.

‘Well, in every business there are rules and sometimes it’s hard to adhere to them, especially if you are onto something you feel is going to be productive.’

‘Yes, it just sort of takes over your life. You go to bed thinking about who did what, trying to remember everything, and then when you suddenly find a link, it gets exciting. I don’t seem able to share things until I have dug deeper, re-questioned, tracked down information – and so I’m constantly in hot water.’

‘I bet old James can be a hard taskmaster.’

‘That’s very true.’ Anna closed her eyes as Gordon moved behind her to gently massage her scalp and face. It felt wonderful and she sighed.

‘Maybe you’re not a team player.’

‘Mmmm . . .’

‘What, besides work, do you enjoy doing?’

‘Not a lot. In fact, I don’t really seem to find the time to do anything.’

‘You should – it’s always good to be able to stand aside for a time. You should make it a priority to have what I call private time.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I play polo. I ride out at Ham Gate in Richmond and play for their team. I don’t own a horse, not got the finances for that, but every weekend I ride or play squash, try and catch a show in town. You like the theatre?’

‘I haven’t been since . . .’ She couldn’t recall the last time she had been to see a West End show.

‘Movies?’

She closed her eyes and told him how many films she had been watching recently connected to her investigation.

‘Ah, but that’s still work. So what case are you on?’

Anna hesitated and then described the case. By now he had laid a warm facecloth over her forehead and more hot stones around her shoulders. He placed one in each hand.

‘Shush now, just relax, and when you feel ready you should slowly sit up. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Anna lay in a blissful state, her breathing shallow and calm. When he returned, he removed the facecloth and gently brushed her hair from her face with his hands.

‘Feeling better?’

She smiled up at him and nodded. He took the stones from her hands and she sat up slowly, feeling a little dizzy but incredibly relaxed. She laughed.

‘Good, that’s a nice sound,’ he said, watching as she swung her legs down from the bed, one arm holding the towel in place around her chest.

‘Right, go and get dressed and I’ll be in reception.’

‘You have a car?’ Gordon asked as he stood behind the small reception counter closing up his appointment book.

‘Yes, but it’s still in the garage,’ Anna replied, handing him a cheque.

‘Whereabouts are you going?’

‘Tower Bridge.’

‘Let me give you a lift. I live further up the river in an old warehouse conversion.’ He fetched his jacket and turned off the lights, waiting at the door.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. Don’t forget your neck brace, but I wouldn’t advise you wear it.’

‘Thank you. A lift would be great.’ She held the neck brace over her arm and followed him out.

‘Are you married?’ he asked casually as he drove through the West End.

‘No.’

‘Just to your job?’

‘I suppose so.’ She wanted to ask him the same question, but felt awkward. When they arrived at her block of flats, he asked if it was also a warehouse conversion. It was just a matter of course to ask him up to see her top-floor flat.

‘This is really great,’ he said, as she opened the doors onto the small balcony.

They went into the lounge. Seeing her jumble of files and printed cards, laid out over the floor and on the table, she apologised.

‘Hey, you don’t have to worry, but I can see you bring your work home with you.’

She opened a bottle of wine and fetched glasses from the kitchen. When she returned, he was looking over the cards.

‘What are these names?’ he asked.

‘Suspects.’

‘In the Amanda Delany case?’

‘Yes.’

As they sat on the sofa and ate cheese and crackers, Anna couldn’t remember a time when she had, with an almost total stranger, not only discussed a case she was working on, but talked about her suspicions.

‘It’s a hard one to piece together, as we have a slew of suspects who had some kind of axe to grind against the victim, from ex-lovers to agents and even parents.’

Gordon was an attentive listener. He asked sensible questions and Anna enjoyed talking to him and hearing his views. She described how Amanda’s body had been found, what items were missing from her house, how every time they made a strong move forward they took two steps back. How the team strongly believed that both her agent and the investment banker had a motive, but that she herself felt that neither would be capable of murder. She didn’t even consider how unethical it was, divulging so much confidential material to a near-stranger.

‘Unless they hired someone,’ Gordon suggested.

‘Even that’s hard to believe. I think her agent was driven by her emotional tie to the investment banker.’

‘Well, a woman in love is capable of Christ only knows what. Obsession can drive someone to do the unthinkable.’

‘But to hire a hitman? Come on, I don’t think so. Also would a hitman rape her?’

Gordon picked up a photograph of Amanda.

‘She was very beautiful, very famous – and if you think about the rumour that someone had sexual intercourse with Marilyn Monroe in the mortuary, maybe the killer couldn’t resist.’

Anna frowned.

‘Men have sexual obsessions,’ he continued, ‘and if you take away the hitman, then that will leave you with a man who was obsessed by her, someone whom she may have hurt, betrayed or made to look foolish, and that could result in a fury that made him stab her with such ferocity. You say he left marks of the hilt of the knife?’

Anna sipped her wine, listening, aware that she had also come to this conclusion.

Gordon looked through the file of photographs showing the victim
in situ.

‘He never touched her face.’

Anna drained her glass, knowing she had gone too far.

‘I’d better put those away. Everything we’ve discussed is highly confidential, so please don’t mention any of it to James Langton.’

Gordon looked surprised. ‘As if I would.’

‘I shouldn’t have shown you any of this or even discussed the case. It’s very unprofessional of me.’

‘Well, it’s quite unprofessional of me to do this.’ He reached over and drew her close and kissed her. She was so surprised she didn’t resist, nor when he kissed her again.

‘How’s your neck?’ he asked softly.

She moved closer to rest in his arms. ‘No pain.’

He was silent for a few moments and then looked down at her as she lay against his shoulder.

‘I could leave and we make a date for tomorrow, or I can stay and still see you again.’

‘I think . . .’ she murmured.

He tilted her chin gently and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

‘I’d better go.’

‘No, stay, or at least have another glass of wine.’

‘Ah no, better not, Detective Travis. Drink driving and all that.’