Blind Fury by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page A

in, passes out orders, and swings out again, but I’d have really liked the opportunity of working alongside him in his earlier days.”
    Anna agreed, which led them to discuss how many cases Barolli and Langton had subsequently worked on together, from the serial-killer movie star to the Red Dahlia case. Where Barolli had not been as fortunate as Anna was in the many cases between.
    “He sort of specializes in serial murders, doesn’t he?”
    Anna nodded and then recalled the horrendous case when Langton had almost been killed. She didn’t want to think about the details even now.
    “You had a scene with him, didn’t you?” Barolli asked, and Anna gripped the steering wheel.
    “Yes, but it was over a long time ago, and I don’t really want to talk about it.”
    “Okay,” said Barolli, unperturbed. “So let’s go back to this animal Cameron Welsh. You said that Langton was on to him—dog with a bone, you said, right?”
    “Yes. We got the lead from an ex-girlfriend of Welsh’s,” Anna recalled. “We’d been on the investigation for about two months when she walked in, wanting to speak to whoever was in charge of the inquiry. She was very attractive and had worked for him in the city, but he had recently fired everyone, and at first we thought it was maybe a case of sour grapes. There had been a lot of press about the discovery of the second victim, but at that stage, we didn’t even know he’d killed before.”
    Anna recounted how, after a lengthy talk to Langton, the girl had said she was certain the victim had been a temp in Welsh’s office a year or so previously. Langton had checked back and discovered that their victim had indeed been working for Welsh and had been sent to him by an agency. They then brought Welsh in for an interview. He was, Anna explained, polished and cool, and had an answer for everything. All they had was the girl’s statement. Welsh had dismissed the accusations as ridiculous and maintained that, as he had recently closed his company, she was simply trying to implicate him in a crime with which he had absolutely no connection.
    “So old Langton reckoned he was going to jump the country?”
    “Yes and no. It wasn’t that—he kept on saying that it was a gut reaction and we now had to delve into Welsh’s life for clues.”
    “What did the girl say he’d done, apart from fire her?” Barolli stuffed the coffee cup down beside his seat.
    “She said he had come on to her and she had been smitten with him. He had invited her to a couple of dinner parties, and she was really a bit overawed by him, but when he asked her to stay over after one of these dinners, she refused. Her reason was that she’d had a lot of wine. He was polite, saying he would drive her home, which he did. Then, for a long time afterward, he was cool toward her. She said he hardly acknowledged her at work, and it was very distressing.”
    They were driving in the middle lane, Anna not going over the speed limit. Barolli complained about the speeding vehicles passing them, and then he patted the dashboard, asking how long she had owned the Mini, how much she’d paid for it, and did she find the automatic easier than the gearshift. He had an annoying habit of asking her a question and then answering it himself. He felt that with a car that could go over a hundred, it was better to have a shift gear than automatic, and if he was given the choice, he would go for a shift, but then he wouldn’t consider buying a Mini, as he liked something more substantial.
    “Did you choose this color?”
    “Yes.”
    “What color would you call it?”
    “Navy blue, Paul, and the upholstery is leather.”
    “I like two-tone cars, white and black.” He waved his hand at the signpost indicating the mileage to the service station and suggested that she pull into the London Gateway Services so he could get her a coffee. Anna said she didn’t want one but agreed to drive in and wait when Barolli said he needed to use the