Backlash by Lynda La Plante Page B

jealous of her relationship with Langton. How often have you run to the canteen for his chicken toastie, picking out the tomatoes because he hates them?’
    Barbara refused to rise to the bait, sliding her unfinished plate to one side and walking off with a foul expression on her face. Sometimes Joan really pushed it with her.
    Anna was studying the mug shots of Henry Oates. Langton had said that he had no idea what Oates looked like. The man had a very unpleasant expression. His hair was a dirty
blond, very thick and wiry. He had wide-set pale blue eyes and a boxer’s face; the bridge of his nose in profile was very flat and saddle-shaped, but turned up at the end with pig-like
nostrils. His mouth was very narrow and turned downwards, and, like a petulant child, he glared into the camera lens.
    ‘Unpleasant-looking, isn’t he?’ Anna said, as Barbara and Joan walked into the office.
    ‘He’s even nastier in the flesh; his skin’s very pale – redhead’s skin with freckles,’ Barbara replied as Anna turned and glared at her.
    ‘No offence, ma’am. You’ve got red hair, but you don’t have that coloured skin.’
    Anna chose to ignore Barbara’s acerbic comment.
    ‘Is he fit? You can’t tell from the mug shots,’ Anna asked as Joan handed over her coffee.
    ‘Wiry, with big shovel-like hands. Barolli said he stinks like a skunk and lived in squalor like an animal,’ Joan replied as she moved along the board to point out the photographs
taken from Oates’s basement flat.
    ‘So you joining the team, are you?’ Barbara asked.
    ‘I don’t think that’s a matter that concerns you, DC Maddox.’
    Barbara, having been put in her place, trudged over to her desk as Joan told Anna how well she looked.
    ‘Thank you. How’s your mother?’
    Joan pulled a face. ‘Same as usual, nothing is ever good enough for her. She’s got me waiting on her hand and foot, but she’s got meals on wheels delivering her lunches. She
doesn’t really go out any more, her focus in life is the TV, and I got Sky for her so she’s got enough channels to keep her happy.’
    Anna asked if the HOLMES computer in Mike Lewis’s office was live and linked to their case, and on being informed that it was she picked up the Jordan files along with her briefcase and
said that she had some work to catch up on while she waited for Mike’s return from Wandsworth. She had contemplated revealing that she would now be heading up the Rebekka Jordan investigation
but felt it would be rude not to speak with Mike personally before informing the team together.
    Anna was looking at Henry Oates’s details on the computer and noting that there was little known about him other than his age, date of birth, current address and that he
was divorced with an ex-wife and two kids who now all lived in Scotland. She did not see DCI Mike Lewis enter the main office, but Barbara did, and from her desk she watched his reaction as he
opened his office door.
    ‘Travis.’
    Anna looked up and smiled. ‘Hi, Mike. How’s it going?’
    ‘I’m fine. How’s things with you?’
    ‘Great, thanks. I hope you don’t mind me using your desk. I needed computer access to your investigation so I could get up to speed.’
    Mike was wrong-footed, but made no reference to the fact he was surprised to see her, and even more surprised when she had implied she was on the team. Tight-lipped, he hung up his coat and drew
the blinds down as his office window looked out into the incident room.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he asked in a brusque manner.
    Anna immediately realised that Langton had not, as he had promised, spoken to Lewis.
    ‘I got a call from Langton about the Rebekka Jordan investigation.’
    ‘Yes, and . . .?’
    ‘He said he’d ring you.’
    ‘About what exactly?’ Mike asked as he pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. Anna could clearly see that he was upset.
    ‘First off, Mike, let me make it clear that I’ve been put in an awkward situation here.