Read Online Deadly Intent by Lynda La Plante - Free Book Online Page A

spend any more time with the scrambled-egg-and-tomato gourmet Gordon, who had said not one single word during her entire interview with Jeremy. She was not sure, though, which was worse—having to partner up with him or travel with Cunningham, who unnerved her. Anna was constantly expecting her to ask about Langton.
She didn't. "This kid is what?"
"Autistic," Anna replied.
"Well, it could be a big break or we could be the butt of a lot of flak, taking this nutcase's word."
"He is not a nutcase, ma'am."
"He isn't? Holed up in his bedroom or pushing trolleys around doesn't bode well for a witness, Travis."
"He might not be able to stand up in court, but I believe him. You have to meet him to understand the way his mind works."
"Yeah, well, 1 beljeve you. Thousands wouldn't."
Dr. Ewan Fielding was a thin man with bony hands and a rather high-pitched voice. As he drew back the green sheet from Frank Brandon's body, Anna had to turn away. Brandon s face was hard to recognize.the bullets having torn most of the right side of his skull apart. His mouth gaped; part of his jaw was broken and the teeth splintered. Anna couldn't help but think of James Langton. The two of them were linked in her mind as they had all worked together on the same case. She even recalled Brandon asking her out. She'd refused. Now she wondered if Langton knew what had happened to Brandon. She shook her head, trying to concentrate.
"Three gunshot wounds to the head and face," said Fielding, "and lower down, we have two more: one in his upper chest and, moving upward into his larynx, another just above his heart. He died instantly from the bullet that went into the right lobe of his brain. The bullets have been sent to ballistics. The deceased was healthy: very fit with strong organs and heart." Fielding had found no trace of any drugs or track marks.
Returning to the patrol car, Cunningham seemed irritated. "That didn't give us much. At least we know he wasn't using, so what the hell was he doing in that shithole?"
"Maybe he was working on something that took him there."
"Yeah, maybe, but we still don't know what he was actually doing. Let's see if we can get more from the widow."
As they headed out of London toward Wimbledon, Cunningham rested back in her seat and closed her eyes, her arms folded. Anna kept as far away from her as possible. Even sleeping, she looked tense and angry.
Julia Brandon was wan and red-eyed. She was wearing a quilted robe and slippers, sitting on one of the plush sofas with a tissue in her hand.
"The children don't know," she said in a heavy voice.
"They're not his, though, are they?" Cunningham asked. This was somewhat unnecessary, Anna thought; they already knew that.
"No, but he was wonderful with them. It's strange, really. I was always a bit worried how he would cope. He even said at one time that he didn't want any, but then he just took to them, and they had started to call him Daddy." Julia broke down in tears. She wiped her eyes, apologizing repeatedly.
    "Mrs. Brandon, we need to ask you some questions and then, if
you are willing, perhaps later today we will have you taken to identify your husband."
Anna again wondered if this was necessary. They had verification that it was Brandon from his fingerprints; to subject the poor woman to seeing the terrible damage to her husband's face would be a hideous experience.
"Yesterday you said you were unsure exactly what work your husband was doing, but we really need to know anything you can tell us. Have you had any further thoughts?"
Julia Brandon looked stunned at Cunningham's question.
"We need to know what vehicle he was driving."
"It was a Volkswagen, but he also drove my car." Julia rose shakily to her feet and crossed to a large glass-topped cabinet. Opening a drawer, she took out a folder and flicked through it. "These are his car insurance details." She passed the folder to Cunningham.
"Did your husband have a life insurance policy?"
"I think so, but I don't know the