Clean Cut(99)
Author:Lynda La Plante

    ‘Who told you that?’

    ‘I don’t remember, but it scared the shit out of me that Camorra could hack a cop to pieces and get away with it. I mean, I wasn’t going to talk then, no way.’

    ‘So you are certain that Eugene Camorra attacked the detective who had questioned you: James Langton?’

    ‘Yeah. Camorra had a machete; he was always wielding it around, it was razor sharp. I’m telling you, Camorra was a madman; he boasted about it. It scared the shit out of everyone.’

    Idris began to sob again. He blubbered about a little boy and what Camorra had done to him: he had kept his skull and hands until they were black and shrunken, and then wore them like a necklace.

    The door was rapped on: their time was up. Anna collected her papers.

    Idris tried to reach out for her hand. ‘Please get me a retrial, ma’am–please. I never killed that girl.’

    Anna clicked her briefcase closed. ‘You watched Camorra kill that little boy?’

    ‘Yeah, yeah–we had to; if we didn’t obey him, he would turn on us–he…’

    He never got to finish; the officers gestured that it was time for Anna to leave. She walked out, hearing Idris still calling her name, saying that he was innocent.

    In the car park, Toby Freeman approached her. ‘Do you think we’ll get a fair crack at a retrial?’

    Anna wound down her window. ‘I really couldn’t say.’

    ‘Well, look, thanks for your help–I really appreciate it. Way I see it, basically Idris is innocent and was too terrified to admit the truth.’

    Anna merely smiled and drove away. She felt drained and couldn’t wait to get home and shower: get rid of the stench of the prison; get rid of the images Idris had conjured up; get rid of the animal Eugene Camorra, who had dominated her thoughts for the months they had been trying to trace him.

    Anna sat in a bathrobe and began to rip at the pages and pages of her notes. She did not care if Idris Krasiniqe was awarded a new trial or not: she didn’t want any more of the sickness to invade her life. She knew, without a doubt, that DCI Langton must have recognized Eugene Camorra, just as she was certain he had fed him the horror poison.

    Camorra had died in terror; she could only imagine the terror of the poor little boy whose decapitated body was found, like floating rubbish, in the canal. She could also imagine the terror of Carly Ann North, of Gail Sickert, her little girl and her two other children.

    Langton’s physical and mental control both astonished and frightened her. He was a formidable man, and she had no desire to get on the wrong side of him. She now knew she held a secret–a very dangerous one.

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