Lynda La Plante - Deadly Intent

"Maybe he already has," Phil said.

"No, no. Eight million, or whatever he thinks he's got his hands on, isn't enough. Remember, a man on the run needs a hell of a wedge to keep him safe. It's payout time every bloody minute; to cover his tracks will cost. So what did he come here for?"

Langton turned to Anna and asked her to run by him the entire scenario that involved Julius D'Anton.

Anna opened her notebook. She detailed the sighting of Julius D'Anton driving the Mitsubishi, trying to collect the antique table with a wad of cash; his broken-down van, traced to the garage in Shipston on Stour; the discovery of his body, floating in the Thames; the postmortem, detailing that death was due to an overdose of Fentanyl. "As with Donny Petrozzo."

Langton stopped her. "Forget Donny Petrozzo; just focus on D'Anton."

"Well, he had been at Balliol at the same time as Fitzpatrick, so we thought that, when he crashed his van, he might have walked up to the farmhouse, seen Fitzpatrick there, and recognized him; that's how he got access to the Mitsubishi, and enough money to go back to buy the table."

"Go on." Langton wafted his hand.

"His widow at first said that he hadn't returned that weekend, but she later retracted her statement, saying she had not actually been at

home, so it was possible that he had returned. She said that she was having an affair with the builder, and was away the entire weekend with him." "What about the property?""Well, the D'Antons had only just bought it and were renovating it. They made their living doing up property to sell, though D'Anton continued to deal in antiques. His widow also admitted that he was still using drugs; he spent time in rehab but was, invariably, clean for only a short while before he started using again.""Where was his body found?" Langton asked, rubbing his head."Just by the weir in Teddington. It was estimated that he had been in the water for at least two or three days, but death was down to an overdose of Fentanyl, as with Donny Petrozzo.""Just keep off fucking Petrozzo, I said, and stick to D'Anton!""That's about it."Langton pursed his lips, and said that it was all supposition."We do know the Mitsubishi was at the farmhouse," Anna said quietly. "We have had soil and horse-manure samples tested."He sat in brooding silence; nobody liked to interrupt. After a few moments, he stood up and tapped D'Anton's picture. "He, I think, is the key. He and his wife buy houses, sell up, move on. Hard to find an address, right?"No one could fathom out where Langton was going with his queries; he seemed unsure himself. "There are no coincidences! All that 'he maybe recognized Fitzpatrick'—well, not one of us did, did we! So take that out of the equation. Look at his character: D'Anton, junkie, did time for drug dealing, wife stands by him, in and out of rehab—a real loser. There he is, with an eye for antiques, and a table that the dealer himself said he had wrongly underpriced—everyone with me so far?"Anna sat on the edge of her chair, tense, listening; finding her old admiration for him flooding back. You could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he attempted to knit together a scenario that made sense. He gave long pauses, rubbing at his temple, and then he smiled. "So much for clapping my hands and catching at a fly," he said. Then he stood up and tapped D'Anton's photograph. "Okay, try this for size. Our junkie antique guy can't get the table because he's been turned down, but he learns that the table came from a cottage. Like a good cheap-creep dealer, he pays a visit. He discovers that the old lady has already sold up anything of value, so he asks about any other properties close by. Right so far, Travis?"

"Yes, we interviewed the old lady in question. She remembered directing D'Anton to Honey Farm."

"D'Anton drives his van into a ditch, and can't reverse out, so he walks to the farmhouse. He needs to get someone to haul him out." Langton turned over the sheets of paper the financial team had used. He drew the farmhouse and the narrow lane leading to it in childish and rather inept strokes. "According to our surveillance team, the couple stay very much at home. They don't use the front entrance, but the rear—correct, Travis?"

"Yes, the bell doesn't work."

Langton nodded. "Julius D'Anton—no money, pissed off; no deal with the table, pissed off—gets to the farmhouse. No answer. What if, parked in their yard, is the Mitsubishi? Not only parked but, maybe with the keys in the ignition?" He looked at everyone.

Anna coughed. If her theory was supposition, this was surely just as much so.

"D'Anton opens it, looks inside. What if there are drugs or a stash of money in the glove compartment? I'm not talking big money, maybe a couple of grand; could have been in a wallet, whatever. He needs something to go back and sort his van out. Nobody around, so he just gets in and drives off. D'Anton gets to the village; tries to buy the table, pays over money, but it won't fit in the back of the jeep. He drives on; even arranges for his van to be shifted by the locals. Guess what? Honour is serving in the shop! Honour, who fucking knows that jeep, but does not know D'Anton. I am assuming Fitzpatrick was the one who drove it to the farmhouse. Did she call, to ask Fitzpatrick if he had let this creep drive it?"

Langton patted his pockets, really needing a smoke, but then controlled himself; instead, he began to twist the pen round and round. He

asked Travis to give details of the vehicles known to have been used at the farm: there was only the old Range Rover. If the Range Rover had been used to follow the Mitsubishi on the motorway, it would have had a hard time keeping up. There was now a time gap, he believed, due to the fact that whoever was following D'Anton lost him. "Hard man to track down, if he moved addresses. This time gap is vital." On the board, he marked up:1. Donny Petrozzo knew D'Anton2. Donny Petrozzo was involved with Frank Brandon3. Frank Brandon had come into contact with Alexander Fitzpatrick, but knew him only as Anthony Collingwood; Frank had been offered a deal that it was hard to walk away from: a lot of money, enough to marry and buy a houseLangton drew links between each man, and circled D'Anton's name."We now have this junkie wheeling around in a stolen jeep. He's found a stash of money in the glove compartment—remember, this was the same jeep that Frank Brandon drove to the squat." He drew another link over to where he then wrote drug squat, underlined it, and tossed the marker pen aside. Langton then continued, covering the night Frank Brandon was shot dead, and the fact that whoever was with him was wounded but escaped and drove to Honey Farm."Now, what if—and it's a big if—what if Julius D'Anton did contact Petrozzo, because he had something big to sell?" Langton looked around the room. "The box of Fentanyl was still in the back of the Mitsubishi. I don't think he knew what the hell he'd got."There was a unanimous gasp; suddenly everything started to make sense."Julius D'Anton may not have been murdered; he could have tested the stuff out and killed himself.We all know it's fucking lethal. If he was dead as a dodo in the jeep, Donny could have tossed him into the river, driven the Mitsubishi back to the garage in Wimbledon—and bingo, walks straight into the hypodermic needle, courtesy of Fitzpatrick." It was not a curtain down, but it felt like it. Anna wanted to applaud him because, as theories went, it was a bloody good one.They were all given their day's investigation by the duty manager, working alongside Cunningham. She said to Anna, "You are with Langton; he wants to reinterview D'Anton's wife."She looked confused."Langton didn't quite finish his oration this morning. James thinks that the reason Fitzpatrick brazened it out here is because the drugs are still missing.""Shit!" Anna said. "So that's what he's after. Does he think they're at D'Anton's house?""Maybe. They haven't surfaced anywhere else. That's for you to find out."By the time Anna got into the patrol car alongside Langton, he was resting his head back on the headrest. "You didn't give us your punch line," she said, smiling."I need to stop off at a chemist; pick up my prescription," was all he said in reply. He closed his eyes, as if all his speech making had exhausted him.