Blind Fury (22 page)

Anna decided that rather than get into an argument with him, she’d stay quiet. The fact that Langton was judging everything by what Welsh had said to him surprised her. She had not picked up any gut feeling that John Smiley was their killer; he had at no time appeared to be lying. The only time she had felt a hint that anything was suspicious was when he had talked about the back lanes behind the London Gateway service station.

Langton then called various other teams on different cases for an update. Just realizing that he was also overseeing numerous other inquiries and with the same intensity and hands-on control impressed Anna, even if she did think he was wrongfooting their investigation.

It was late afternoon when they arrived back at the station, and they could see at once that there had been a lot of new information added to the board in the incident room. Mike Lewis gave them an update, listing all the interviews and the fact that the back lanes were used on a regular basis by some of the other girls. The inquiries around the outhouses and barns had produced a lot of descriptions of various trucks and vans, along with the news that a farmer had moved on some travelers who had parked their wagons there. An old caravan had been searched, and blankets and sleeping bags had been brought in, along with hypodermic needles and condoms.

It was obvious that there had been a considerable amount of legwork done since they had been in Manchester, but Langton ignored it, instead asking to see the file on the blue-blanket victim.

The case was four years old, the victim never identified, her naked body wrapped in the soiled blanket, on which there was no laundry marking. She had been strangled and raped, and her body was badly bruised. Her age was between twenty to thirty, and there were no police records of her fingerprints. She was dark-haired. The one piece of evidence the original team had hoped would help identify her was a small tattoo of a lizard on her right hip. There had been no jewelry, no clothes, and although the Thames Valley Murder Squad had given extensive press and television coverage, no one had come forward.

Mike Lewis said that the victim was found by a farmer, and her body, wrapped in the blanket, had been left in a field by a ditch. It was equidistant between two service stations, but closer to the M6 motorway than to the M1.

Langton stared at the dead girl’s face. It was impossible to say whether or not she was a prostitute, but the postmortem had revealed that she was sexually active; also, the rape had been violent. The killer had left no DNA, and she had no restraint marks and no defense marks on her nails and hands, either. She had been strangled, possibly by her own tights, and there were three lines around her throat, as if her tights or a cord had been wound around it and drawn into a garotte. The killer had taken it away.

The victim’s photographs were pinned up alongside those of Anika Waleska and Estelle Dubcek. Although the team had now identified both girls, they had no information about how they had come to be in the area where they were found. Three days were missing from when Estelle was last seen, and nobody recalled seeing Anika for weeks before her body was discovered.

“Could she be foreign? Polish, like the other two girls?” Langton asked.

Mike shrugged. “No idea. I mean, with the Anika girl, we’ve been trying to trace a dentist who fixed her front teeth, but we don’t know if that was done in the UK, and we’ve not had any joy from the television network regarding their anonymous female caller who tipped us off on her identity. They put out a request for her to get in contact, but she hasn’t, and we’ve been back to the Polish embassy for help but got no result.”

Langton moved on to the photograph of Margaret Potts. He tapped her face. “If Potts died because she witnessed something, then she’s our best bet. We’re going to have to concentrate on her and go back and interview everyone who knew her again.”

Mike glanced at Anna, but she gave no reaction. “Okay, we’ll keep on going,” Mike said.

It was Barolli who asked if John Smiley was still in the frame. Langton shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. We’ll have to get Mr. Rodgers, who owns Swell Blinds, to give us more details of Smiley’s routes and visits for measuring up the blinds, and to go back to before the company moved to Manchester.” He turned to look again at the board. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Three, maybe four victims, and we’re nowhere. But I don’t want to give up; we keep on going even if it feels like we’re wading through treacle. Go back and keep at it until we get a result. We might have missed something.”

“The van driver who discovered Estelle’s body is coming back in. Is there a reason?” Mike asked.

“Yes, my gut instinct. I think he lied, and I want to question him in person. I don’t believe he could have seen the body that easily, unless he already knew it was there. I want to find out why he lied.”

The team was depressed after Langton left. Mike suggested they take a weekend off, recharge their batteries, and return on Monday to start refreshed. Anna remained behind, typing up her report of the prison visit to Welsh and the interview with Smiley. By the time she left the station, it was after ten, and she couldn’t wait to get home and take a leisurely relaxing shower. It had been a very long day with a long drive, and her back ached.

Her home phone was ringing as she opened the front door. For a moment she was reluctant to answer, just in case the weekend leave had been canceled. But it was Ken. He asked at first if she’d had a good drive home, and when she said she had literally just walked in the door, he commiserated.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling. Mum gave me your number.”

“No, I’m glad, as I wanted to thank you. I really enjoyed meeting your parents.”

“I’m thinking of riding down to see my sister. I’ve got the weekend off.”

“So have I.” She found herself smiling.

“You free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

They agreed to meet in the early evening and then decide whether to take in a show or just eat out. She gave him her address and directions and found she was still smiling as she turned on the shower.

Langton might not have gotten a result from the trip up north, but she had, and it was the first time in longer than she could remember that she looked forward to spending time with someone who had no connection to work.

Chapter Eight

A
nna spent the first part of Saturday cleaning her flat, going to the laundry, and buying more wine and groceries. She had a hair appointment in the afternoon and used the free time to check through cinema listings and a few stage plays she thought might be of interest.

Ken arrived at six, bearing a large bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine. He wasn’t wearing his leathers and explained that he’d left his bike at his sister’s so he could shower there before coming across town to see Anna. He was wearing a casual leather jacket, jeans and a T-shirt, and tough black leather boots. He made her laugh as she put the flowers in a vase, saying that he thought he’d been so well organized to arrange to visit his sister and get changed, but had forgotten to bring shoes.

He was impressed with her flat, admiring the stunning view as he stood on her small balcony overlooking the river. Anna smiled, appreciating what the now-familiar skyline must look like to someone seeing it for the first time. She came to stand beside him, and they discussed how they would both like to spend the evening. He had seen most of the latest films, as there was little else to do on his evenings off from the prison. They checked out the
Evening
Standard
’s Friday theater listings, narrowing the choices down to
Hamlet
at the National Theatre or a new play that had rave reviews at the Royal Court. They decided on the latter, as Ken was keen to go to an Italian restaurant on the King’s Road called La Famiglia, which served Tuscan food. He’d eaten there before and loved it.

“It’s very popular.” He grinned.

“In that case, we’d better book a table.” She grinned back, adding, “I’d hate to come between you and your food.”

As Anna drove west through the early-evening traffic, Ken remarked that his sister had also asked if Anna would like to have lunch with her family the next day. “I’m sorry if I sound like I’m crowding you, but I’ll be staying over there tonight. I’ve got a friendly game on tomorrow morning over in Twickenham, which is partly why I came down this weekend.”

Anna found a parking spot quickly, and yet again he made her laugh as he at first said she’d never get into the small space. He closed his eyes as she reversed in one, inched forward and it was done.

“That was impressive—not that I wasn’t confident, of course! It would have taken me a few attempts, but the classic would have been to watch my mother—well, she’d never have even attempted it. My old man checks his bumpers every time she comes back from the grocery store.”

They were in plenty of time for curtains up, and Ken wouldn’t hear of her going dutch on the tickets.

“About tomorrow—you won’t have to watch the game, but I’ll need to call Lizzie, as she’ll be cooking up a storm, roast chicken and all the trimmings.”

They went into the theater and sat in their seats.

“I’d like to watch you play, and yes, I’d love to come for lunch,” Anna told him, filled with a mixture of excitement at being asked and trepidation at meeting his sister so soon.

Ken rang his sister on his mobile and then remembered to turn it off. Anna did the same.

“I was at the Royal Shakespeare Company, and in the middle of
Julius Caesar,
this bloke’s phone starts pinging out Beethoven’s Fifth,” Ken told her. “I hate the things. It was so distracting not just for the audience but for the actors.”

It was at this point that the loudspeakers asked for all mobile phones to be turned off, and they grinned at the shared joke before settling back as the play began.

Anna could not remember the last time she had been to the theater, and she found Ken’s closeness to her comforting. He couldn’t help but touch her shoulder, as he was so big, but she hoped that wasn’t the only reason that his arm was pressed against hers.

During the intermission, they stood outside the theater rather than join the crush in the bar, enjoying the sight of the crowds around Sloane Square. He was gently protective of her, making sure she didn’t get jostled by the other audience members as they made their way back to their seats for the second half.

After the final curtain fell, they walked down the King’s Road, and she liked the way they stopped together, looking at many of the stores still open. She also liked the friendly atmosphere once they reached the restaurant. They were at ease with each other, discussing the pros and cons of the production. Ken was obviously a keen theatergoer and was surprised how few shows she had been to, living in London.

“I suppose it’s down to work. There never seems to be much time off, and when I do have free nights, I am usually going over the case files,” Anna said, beginning to wonder what she’d been missing out on.

The dinner was delicious, and once again, Ken refused to let her pay. As they strolled along the King’s Road—and it was quite a walk back to her car—she felt completely natural when he caught her hand. They’d stopped to look into the big Harley-Davidson franchise, where Ken pointed out the model that was his, remarking that he often came by there to buy extra parts to customize his bike.

By the time they returned to her car, it was almost midnight. Ken suggested he catch the tube from Sloane Square to Richmond, but Anna insisted she drive him to his sister’s.

It was actually a longer drive than Anna had thought, but she hardly noticed, she was having such a good time. She eventually drew up outside a small terraced house not far from Richmond High Street. They sat for a moment. Ken didn’t ask her to come in but made sure she knew about the arrangement for the next day. If she wanted to see the game the following morning, his sister would be going, and Anna could meet up with her and her children at the house. He opened the passenger door and then looked back, smiling.

“I’ve really enjoyed tonight,” Anna said.

He leaned across to kiss her. It was fleeting and not in any way sexual, and the next moment he was standing on the pavement watching her drive away. Anna realized she would have liked him to come back to her flat, but at the same time she was glad that she hadn’t jumped into having sex with him, as she had done in a couple of previous relationships—if such they could be called. But this felt altogether different.

•  •  •

After a night of intermittent sleep, she was eager to see him the following morning. She drove back to Richmond, aware that she was falling for him, and the drive seemed to take forever. Eventually, she parked outside his sister’s house.

Lizzie was a good few years older than Ken and had the same blond hair, worn in a loose knot. She was wearing a long skirt and boots with a fringed shawl, giving her a rather hippie look. Welcoming Anna, she explained that Ken had already gone to the rugby grounds. She then introduced her husband, Ian, who was sitting in the family kitchen surrounded by Sunday newspapers. He said he was on duty watching the chicken.

“He won’t be coming with us,” Lizzie said. “He’s not a rugby fan—well, nor am I, but our boys play.”

Anna then met her two sons. Ollie was dark-haired and angelic-looking, and the other, Oscar, looked like Ken, with thick blond hair and blue eyes. They were scruffy and loud, and no sooner had Anna been introduced than they piled into Lizzie’s old Range Rover to get to the match.

Lizzie was an appalling driver, constantly turning around to tell the boys to behave. She was very funny, saying she had been up early to peel the potatoes and prepare the vegetables, but she knew when she got back, she’d still have to take over the cooking.

“Ken said you are a detective,” she went on.

“Yes.”

“The boys will be pestering you later for some grisly details. They are at the age when anything dead fascinates them.”

“Do you work?”

“Good God, no, they take up all my time. I used to be a costume designer, mostly for TV commercials, and I might go back to it when they’re a bit older, but right now I like to take them to school and pick them up—you know, be at home for them.”

“What does your husband do?”

“Ian? He’s got his own IT company, makes a fortune, and we just like to spend it for him.” Lizzie laughed.

Anna had not spent a morning like this ever. She found she liked Lizzie, and she also liked the two boys who, although boisterous, were also well spoken. Their excitement was contagious. The game was rough, and Ken was cheered on by his nephews as they stood on the sidelines; even Anna joined in cheering and shouting encouragement to his team, although she was not sure of the rules.

By the time the game was over and they had returned to the house, the two women were chatting and laughing together like old friends.

Lunch was as Lizzie had expected, in need of her attention, as Ian had not put in the roast potatoes. Anna helped in the kitchen, setting the table, and, under instructions, made the big jug of gravy. By the time lunch was ready to be served, Ken had arrived, showered and sporting a bruise over one eye. He played around with the boys and then helped Ian carve and serve the big roast chicken.

They all ate in the kitchen. Anna said little, enjoying the robust fooling around and the meal, which was delicious. There was apple pie and ice cream to follow. Finally, when Ian asked who would have coffee, Ken said with regret that it was time he left, as he would have to return to the prison. This took a lot longer than he intended, as he had to give both his nephews a ride around the block on the back of his motorbike. It was obviously a regular event, as they produced their own helmets. The boys were tremendously excited; Anna could see that they adored their uncle.

She was unsure whether to leave at the same time as Ken, but he said that he would love a cup of coffee at her flat, if that was okay. Anna realized that apart from that once, at no time had Lizzie or Ian mentioned her work. It felt as if it all belonged to another world. Lizzie had asked how long she had known Ken, but before Anna had been able to answer, one of the boys had dropped a hot plate. She liked the way Lizzie said it was just an accident and not to worry, but she made him clean up the floor all the same.

Anna got back to her flat at the same time Ken arrived on his motorbike. She brewed up coffee as he perched on one of the stools in her kitchen. “So that’s my sister,” he said.

“I really liked her. In fact, your whole family is lovely.”

“Wait till you meet my brother, Robin, the one in Australia. He’s a real ladykiller and raking in the money selling properties. My mum says he’s got all the best features from both of them, as my dad used to be a handsome man when he was young.”

“What work did your father do?”

“He was a quantity surveyor, but he always hated it; it was a job to pay for our education and keep Mum happy. Now that he’s retired, I think he’s happier than he ever was. Loves just pottering around.” Ken accepted a freshly ground cup of black coffee and asked about Anna’s family. She told him and realized how empty it sounded: both parents dead, no close relatives, herself an only child.

The time flew past, and it was almost six when Ken said he really would have to be on his way. He put on a big studded leather jacket and carried his helmet and his rugby kit in a small leather holdall.

“Maybe we could do this again?” he suggested as she walked him to the front door.

“Yes, I would like that very much. I sometimes don’t have the weekends off, though, it depends on the workload,” Anna said, conscious that this had never bothered her before.

“Well, I’ll call you. I doubt you’d want to come all the way back to Leeds. Do you think you’ll be seeing Welsh again?”

“I sincerely hope not.”

They looked at each other, slightly embarrassed, and then he tipped her chin up and kissed her lips. “I’ve wanted to do that all afternoon.”

She couldn’t think what to say, and the next moment he’d gone. She went outside to the balcony to watch his bike roaring off; all she could think was that she hoped he would call again soon. They had not discussed if either of them was involved with someone. In fact, it had been a totally relaxed weekend. And for her, it was almost unheard of not to have studied the case file or even spent a moment thinking about the investigation.

On Monday morning, back at the incident room, Mike asked Anna to work on the blue-blanket case files. Reading through the statements, pathology, and forensic reports, she could see there was little to go on, but she decided to focus on the small lizard tattoo. They had numerous pictures of it, and it didn’t look to be professional; it was rather blurred and dark in color, almost navy blue. They had no details of where the victim had lived, so it could have been done at any one of thousands of tattoo parlors, that is, if it had been inked in the UK. Even though the photographs had been shown on television and in the newspapers, nobody had come forward to identify the tattoo.

Anna decided to pay a visit to the tattoo parlor nearest the station in Hounslow. She had to wait while the tattooist finished working on a customer before she was able to sit with him and ask if he could give her any indication whether the little lizard was a popular design.

Ron of Ron’s Tattoos had so many studs in his nose, his lips, and his ears that it was hard for her to concentrate. His forearms and even his hands were covered in tattoos, and he had bitten fingernails, but he was very pleasant and brought numerous books to sift through to see if the design was one that had been printed up. They found a few that looked close to the photograph, but they were either larger or more snakelike.

“It’s very dark ink.” Ron pondered, looking at the photo.

“That’s what I thought. Do customers usually ask for it to be a certain color?”

“Yes. I would have thought it’d be better more greenish, but that would be just my personal choice.”

He turned the photograph this way and that; then he got an Anglepoise lamp out to have an even better and closer look. “It’s not very good,” he told Anna. “I wouldn’t say it’s exactly an amateur’s work, but you wouldn’t get a pro satisfied. It’s also upside down.”

Anna peered closer; she hadn’t really thought about it, but when he pointed to one of the books with a lizard-type design, the animal had its feet down. On their victim’s hip, it was facing up.