Free Clean Cut by Lynda La Plante Page B

nothing to do with police work.’
    ‘You’re telling me you needed to be reminded of whether or not you fancied me?’
    Again he had laughed, dismissing it with a waft of his hand. ‘The date of your birthday? Now forget it. It’s just a joke anyway; and besides, you constantly have your nose in your official notebook–more than any other officer I have ever worked with.’
    It was true; in fact, her father had tipped her off. He always said to write everything down, because the memory can play tricks. If you are required to recall in detail an incident for the courtroom, your book becomes your security blanket.
    Langton’s notebook had a red elastic band wound tightly round it. It was slightly curved, as if it had taken the shape of his chest. Anna eased back the elastic band, and wrapped it round the palm of her hand before she opened the book. His small, tight handwriting covered every page, back and front, until three-quarters of the way through, when it stopped abruptly. The thin pages were stiff; a couple she had to blow apart, which made her think that no one had read the notes recently. Maybe Lewis hadn’t bothered; if the notebook was such a joke, he might not have thought it of any value.
    The writing was meticulously neat, but not that easy to read; she peered at page one.
    The call out for the horrific murder of a teenage girl called Carly Ann North came in at 9 a.m. The body had been discovered on wasteground behind King’sCross station. Although only sixteen years of age, North had already been convicted of prostitution and sent to a young offenders’ institute. She was from a very dysfunctional background, both parents heroin addicts. She had been knifed and her wounds were horrific; the killer had attempted to decapitate her. He had also tried to remove her hands, to avoid fingerprints being taken. A police officer had disturbed the killer, having seen three men loitering near the wasteground. He caught him, but the others, obviously acting as lookouts, ran off, leaving their friend fighting with the officer. The killer was an illegal immigrant. The judge had ordered at his trial that, after serving a sentence for rape, he should be deported. Underlined was his name: Idris Krasiniqe , aged twenty-five.
    Anna then turned from the notebook back to the case file. Krasiniqe had a string of offences, from possession of cannabis to common assault; he’d had community punishment when only eighteen years of age. His last offence was the robbery, when the judge had ordered his deportation after sentence; yet eight months after his release, he was still at large and this time had murdered Carly Ann North.
    Anna sighed. It was just unbelievable, especially with the ongoing case against Arthur Murphy. How could this man have been allowed to stay in the country, after a judge’s order for deportation!
    In the same meticulous writing, Langton had made a few personal notes: one about Barolli being too overweight; another, that Lewis was slacking, as his wife was expecting another child and, with a toddler, he was often tired and late for work.
    Anna sat back. She wondered how many of theseprivate notes he had made about her, but she didn’t have time to continue looking over the file. She had to get herself to work on time!
     
    The day went slowly. Murphy was taken before a magistrate. Bail, as they knew it would be, was refused and he was shipped off to Wandsworth prison to await his trial.
    Anna returned home to change and get ready to leave for Glebe House. First, she picked up Langton’s keys and went round to his flat.
    There was a stack of post, mostly junk mail, on the doormat. She picked it all up and took it to the dining-room table, to sift through it. There was a similar stack already on the table. The flat was quite tidy; she wondered if his ex-wife had been round. Anna knew she often stayed there with Kitty. If this was the case, she hadn’t bothered to empty the laundry basket in the bathroom.