“Can you explain why that fragment was discovered in your Mercedes, Mr. Daniels?”
“Perhaps whoever removed the seats from the wreckers’ yard dropped it.”
“No. Both seats were wrapped and protected for the entire period they were kept at Hudson’s.”
Daniels leaned back and gave Langton a confident smile. “That would just be the word of whoever removed the seats.” However, the anger in his eyes betrayed him. He was getting rattled.
“Did Melissa Stephens ever get into your Mercedes?”
“No! She certainly did not.”
“Could you please state where you were on the night of seventh February of this year?”
Daniels gave an impatient sigh. “I have told you before: I was filming in Cornwall for that entire week.”
“Although you were on call for that entire week, there were four days you were not required on the set.”
“I nevertheless remained in Cornwall.”
“The basement of your property in Queen’s Gate is rented to a John and Carina Hood. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I have here a statement they made, in which they say that you were at home on two of those nights. There is another statement from two members of the film production staff, in which they say that you were not, as you just stated, in Cornwall for the entire period.”
As Langton read the statements, Daniels leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling. When Langton had finished, all he said was, “I apologize. I must have been mistaken.”
“So you were in London on seventh February?”
“If you say so. However, without my diary in front of me, I really can’t tell you exactly where I was. But my agent might be able to provide details.”
“His secretary recalls there was a delay in filming due to bad weather and she was granted permission for you to leave Cornwall. You were therefore not required for the four days, from fifth to eighth February.”
Daniels leaned over to whisper to his lawyer, who was jotting down the dates.
“We will need to check on this,” Radcliff said.
Langton ignored him and repeated his question to Daniels. “Did you, while you were in London, meet Melissa Stephens?”
“No.”
“So, you are saying that you never saw her?”
“That is correct; I have already said it three times.”
“During those dates, did you drive your Mercedes in London?”
“I may have.”
“You may have?”
“I may have driven it, but I also had a car and unit driver at my disposal, so it is quite likely I may not have driven myself.”
“You now admit to being in London for that period?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
“Did you drive your Mercedes?”
“I doubt it. As I have just said.”
Langton flicked over the page. “Would that unit driver be Roger Thornton?”
“Erm, yes, I believe so.”
“Mr. Thornton has given us a statement. He says he drove you from Cornwall to your house in Queen’s Gate on fifth February and then collected you for the drive back to Devon on eighth February, at four o’clock in the afternoon. He states you did not use him for the two days in between. That would be the sixth and seventh of February.”
Daniels sighed, as if bored with the line of questioning.
“So, during those two days, did you drive your Mercedes?”
“It is possible.”
“On the last day, eighth February, before you returned to filming, you contacted your insurance company in the morning.”
Langton passed over a memo from the insurance brokers, which described a phone message from Alan Daniels that he had been involved in an accident. While there were no injured parties, according to his message, he felt the car was not roadworthy and had subsequently canceled his insurance. He did not claim for any damage or the subsequent loss of the vehicle.
“That was quite an expensive loss. Why did you not claim for the damage?”
“I couldn’t be bothered,” Daniels said. “I had to get back to filming.”
“But that same morning, before returning to Cornwall, you took the Mercedes to the crushers’ yard?”
“Yes.”
“Making no claim for the damage?”
“As I acknowledged previously, that might appear unusual for someone like yourself. I simply decided to get rid of the car. In fact, I bought a new car, a few days later.”
Langton persisted calmly. “No claim was made, although your Mercedes is valued at forty thousand pounds.”
“It was probably worth more. The vehicle was very badly damaged down one side and I did not want to lose my no-claims bonus. Have you any idea how high insurance premiums are for members of my profession? These vintage cars cost a fortune for spare parts. I simply cut my losses.”
“So you drove the Mercedes to the crushers’ yard?”
“Yes.”
“It was still roadworthy then?”
“Obviously.”
“Did you at any time drive Melissa Stephens in your Mercedes?”
“No, I did not.”
“Where you were on the night before you took the Mercedes to the yard?”
“I was at home.”
“All night?”
“Yes.”
Langton flipped through the file and withdrew the basement tenants’ statement again. They recalled speaking to him on the pavement outside his Queen’s Gate property at half past nine that evening. They could be so particular about the time and date because the conversation concerned Daniels’s decision to give them three months’ notice to leave, as he wanted to refurbish the basement flat. The Mercedes was parked in the residents’ bay directly opposite. They stated that they saw Daniels driving away from Queen’s Gate, toward Hyde Park.
“So, it seems you were not at home all that evening?”
“I probably went out for a drive. I don’t remember.”
Langton placed Melissa’s photograph in front of him. “Did you meet Melissa Stephens?”
“No.”
“Do you deny that she was ever in your Mercedes?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Would you look closely at this picture of a gearstick? It is from a vehicle the same age and make as yours. Do you agree that this car I am showing you is an automatic and identical to yours?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Now, I am showing you a photograph of the wound to the right side of Melissa Stephens’s neck; an injury, the forensic pathologist informs us, caused by her head either being held or forcibly pressed down against the gear lever, leaving a clear round impression but not breaking the surface of her skin.”
Daniels glanced at it. “So? There’s more than one Mercedes being driven around London. Maybe she was giving someone a blow job; I don’t know.” He got a warning tap on his arm from Radcliff.
Langton slowly closed the file. “The hair that was caught in the seat of your Mercedes has been identified as Melissa Stephens’s, so that would mean you have lied.”
Radcliff swiftly interrupted. “Wait a moment. These seats had been out of the car for some considerable time. It is quite possible that someone other than my client transferred not only the diamanté stone but also the girl’s hair.”
Anna, watching Daniels, saw the slight flicker of a smile again.
“Do you have any conclusive proof that this girl was in Mr. Daniels’s car? Because I do not think any of this evidence would stand up in court.”
Langton shut the file and reached for another that Lewis had ready and open. Anna was impressed by their smooth teamwork, Lewis always anticipating what Langton would need next.
Radcliff continued, “We are all aware of transferral of fibers and as the seats were held for—”
Langton interrupted him: “You will remember that these seats were immediately covered with bubble wrap upon being removed, gaffer-tap
ed, to exclude any dust or possible damage to the leather and subsequently taken to Hudson’s garage.”
“Yes, yes; you’ve told us this. What I am saying is that any one of those people who moved the seats or carried them out of the car or lifted them up into the removal vehicle could have contaminated your evidence.”
“That is a possibility,” Langton admitted.
Radcliff seemed momentarily satisfied. Daniels tried to catch his eye as if to congratulate him.
Langton did not miss a beat. Anna thought he played his hand like a professional gambler. “However, both of those men have verified alibis for the night Melissa disappeared and we also have sworn statements that the protective wrap around the seats was not removed during their entire time at the garage.”
“You are treading water, Detective Chief Inspector. With or without alibis, either of these men could have known where her body was left. They could have returned to her corpse to remove samples of hair or whatever. I’m afraid this does not hold up to scrutiny. How many weeks was it before her body was found?” Radcliff persisted.
Daniels gave his solicitor a sly smile.
“Melissa Stephens died the night she disappeared,” Langton said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “The seats were wrapped the following morning; they were never unwrapped.”
“It is just their word, though, isn’t it?”
“Not only the word of two mechanics, but also one paint sprayer and the salesman. Also, bear in mind that if the gaffer tape had been removed at any time after being attached, it would have damaged the bubble wrap. Instead, it all remained intact. Therefore, the evidence we retrieved from the car seats was not contaminated.”
Radcliff raised an eyebrow, seemingly confident this would be easily dismissed in court. Anna glanced back at Daniels, who was now appearing more confident, even rocking slightly in his seat.
Langton held out his hand. Lewis passed him a folder. Langton took out the photographs.
“Photograph one, from file two: a close-up of the bite mark to Melissa Stephens’s tongue.”
This was coming out of left field. Radcliff blinked. He knew nothing about this.
“Bite mark?” he said cautiously.
“Photograph two is from your client’s dental records. It’s a photograph of the impression made by a dentist in Los Angeles. As you can see, Mr. Daniels’s teeth have been recently capped. This dental work took place during the month of March this year.
“These were removed from Mr. Daniels’s study.” Langton withdrew another series of X-rays and photographs. “Mr. Daniels offered them to us as his original X-rays. As it turns out, they are not Mr. Daniels’s X-rays and therefore not his teeth.”
Langton slowly took out of the file an enlarged photograph of Daniels’s mouth, caught in a wide grin. A ruler had been placed alongside it to measure the exact size.
“Taken as a publicity still from the miniseries Falcon Bay, this photograph is dated two years ago. As you can see, Mr. Daniels has a very wide smile and is not yet showing the new capped teeth.”
Daniels leaned forward, smiling.
“They made a good job of my dental work, didn’t they?” he said to Radcliff. But Radcliff had smelled the sting coming and, if anything, looked more inclined to distance himself from his client than to respond to his camaraderie.
“Another picture of the bite marks to Melissa Stephens’s tongue.”
Langton placed it beside the photograph of Daniel’s grinning mouth. He took out two color transparencies, placing one on top of the other. “As you can see, it was a perfect match before Mr. Daniels had his dental work. This proves, without doubt, that it was your client who bit Melissa Stephens’s tongue, just as there is no doubt that Melissa Stephens was a passenger in Mr. Daniels’s Mercedes-Benz.”
Radcliff was sweating. He spent a considerable time playing with the sets of photographs. Anna noticed small beads of perspiration appearing on his top lip. Daniels, however, remained impenetrable. Anna thought he had lost awareness of her presence in the room, until he moved a fraction sideways and looked across at her with a barely detectable snarl before straightening up to face Langton. She found herself recoiling in horror. No one else in the room was aware of the intimacy of what had just happened. She could barely make out Langton’s voice above the ringing in her ears.
“We did not find the tip of her tongue when we tested the contents of the victim’s stomach, nor was it recovered at the murder site. So I’m proposing that your client either spat it out or ate it. Either way, we can prove that it was Mr. Daniels who bit Melissa Stephens’s tongue.”
There was a momentary pause in the room while Lewis put the photographs back into the file.
“I am asking you again, Mr. Daniels,” Langton said abruptly, “did you, on the night of seventh February, meet Melissa Stephens?”
Radcliff leaned close to his client, covering his mouth as he whispered.
“Please answer the question,” said Langton.
“No comment,” Daniels said.
Langton sucked in his breath, disappointed. The last thing he wanted was for Daniels to resort to using the “no comment” routine for any further questions. He decided to switch tactics, informing Lewis with a quick note. Lewis nodded and brought out the case file on McDowell.
“Do you know John McDowell?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Daniels shrugged and said he thought it had to be at least twenty years ago.
“Twenty years ago, McDowell ran a successful nightclub, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
Langton planned to talk about McDowell, knowing Daniels would not be able to resist. With the pressure off from asking about Melissa Stephens, Langton continued the tactic of feeding the suspect questions that were easily answered; once more, trying to push him into a corner.
“Could you describe McDowell to me? We are trying to get an angle on the type of man he is.”
“Well, he was flashy, loudmouthed. Ran a string of tarts out of his club. He was a fitness freak, too, at the time he was visiting her house.”
“Whose house was that?”
“Lilian Duffy’s house,” he snapped.
“Could you tell me what your relationship with Lilian Duffy was?”
“She was a prostitute. She ran the Shallcotte Street house as a brothel.”
“But what relation is Lilian Duffy to you?”
Daniels chewed at his lip. He hated using the word.
“Lilian Duffy is what?” Langton persisted.
“My mother,” he said, recoiling back in his seat.
“You were born Anthony Duffy?”
“Yes.”
“And you maintain you have not seen McDowell for twenty years?”
“Yes!”
Langton pressed play on a tape recorder.
“I am going to play a tape to you; this is of a telephone call you made to Detective Sergeant Travis.”
Radcliff held up a hand. “What is this?”
“It is a tape of a phone call made from your client to DS Travis.” Langton turned to indicate Anna.
“You taped the call?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Radcliff turned to Daniels. “Were you aware of the call being taped?”
“Of course I wasn’t. We had been out together to see the ballet.” Daniels smirked at Anna. “We had a pleasant evening, didn’t we?” He sat back upright again. “There was no reason I should not call her. Especially after she had come on to me that first evening.”
As Langton played the tape, he watched Daniels’s reactions: his smirking glances at Anna and the manner in which he leaned close to Radcliff to whisper. After the conversation finished playing, Langton stopped the tape.
“You admit that this is your voice speaking to DS Travis?”
“Yes. Why on earth should I deny calling her?”
Radcliff leaned forward across the table and wagged
his finger at Langton. “What possible justification can you make for taping my client’s private phone call?”
“We were concerned for DS Travis’s safety.”
“Concerned?” Daniels’s mouth gaped.
“We had reason to be concerned. Your so-called ‘date’ was under our supervision. Part of this tape recording was made while your client was inside DS Travis’s flat.”
“What?” Daniels was losing his temper.
“She left her phone recording while you were in her flat. DS Travis was working undercover for our investigation.”
“For what reason?”
“I would say that is fairly obvious: you were a suspect in our murder inquiry. And I would say she did a very good job. You remained unaware of her intentions and we got the result we wanted.”
Daniels leaned forward, almost occupying the entire width of the table. “Which was what?”
“We were able to confirm that you had gained access to DS Travis’s flat. And from that you were placed under surveillance.”
“I was in her flat that night at her request. So what?”
“You had previously gained illegal entry to DS Travis’s flat.”
“No.”
“We have a set of your fingerprints, Mr. Daniels, taken from DS Travis’s flat.”
“And I have just told you that I was her guest. It would be strange if you didn’t find my prints there.”
“These prints, Mr. Daniels, were removed from the premises prior to the first evening you spent there.”
Lewis produced the picture frame in an evidence bag. “This frame was brought in by DS Travis before you spent time together in her flat. The fingerprints were subsequently matched to a banknote you handled at the Opera House.”
Daniels twisted his neck as if it was stiff.
Langton continued, “Previously, you described McDowell as a fitness freak, running a successful nightclub?”
“Yes, that was twenty years ago, yes.”
Langton replayed the moment of the taped phone call when Daniels described McDowell as a pitiful drunkard. “How did you know Mr. McDowell was now, twenty years later, a drunkard, if you had not seen him recently?”
“It’s a foregone conclusion; he was a heavy drinker then.”
“But then he was also a successful businessman. You said so yourself. How did you know about his present circumstances?”
Above Suspicion Page 37
