Blind Fury (42 page)

There was another half-hour delay before Anna sat down with Sonja. The latter was nervous, and Anna was struck by how tense she was, yet determined to begin. Sonja sipped a glass of water, and Miss Flynn indicated that she should start.

Anna switched on the tape recorder, giving the date and time and location before asking Sonja to begin her statement. Sonja nodded and licked her lips.

“I met my husband when I was working in a bar in Aldershot. It was around the time of the Kosovo war, more close to the end of it, as the soldiers were all returning. My bar was popular with the Paratroopers, and some nights it was rowdy. The boys would let off steam and get drunk, but we tolerated it because the owner of the bar was making a lot of money. I was living in a rented flat—just two rooms—with my mother. She spoke little English and was quite poorly, and she had been doing housecleaning, but that had got too much for her, so we were dependent on my wages.”

Anna stifled a yawn; she couldn’t see where Sonja’s statement was leading. She began to concentrate on the woman in front of her, trying to keep up at least some semblance of interest. Sonja was obese and had a flat face and thin lips, and she had little or no expression, but she kept her chubby hands clenched. She was very different from the picture her husband carried, and yet Anna could sometimes see that Sonja had once been attractive by the way she spoke, and held her head up, and her eyes were a bright blue. There was a lightness to her, even though her belly hung low and her huge breasts pushed against the table, while her thick legs beneath the table were wide apart, her ankles swollen.

“I admit that I did have a few relationships with some of the soldiers, and I also admit that they sometimes gave me money, but I wasn’t a tart. I only went with the nice ones. I used to see John come into the bar with his mates. They’d often get drunk, but he was always a real gentleman. I liked him from the first moment I saw him. He asked me out for a date, a real one, wanting to take me to a movie, and he did come on to me, but I rejected him. I didn’t want him to think I was an easy lay. I wanted it to be different with him. I really liked him, and he came and met my mother and was kind to her.”

Sonja gave a long sigh, then sipped more water. Anna was taking sly looks at her watch, wondering how long the so-called statement would go on.

“I don’t know how much he cared for me, but we had several dates, and I still wouldn’t go to bed with him. He said it was all right, and he never pushed himself on me, he never tried it on like some of the other Paras. There was another barmaid, a blond girl called Chrissie. She was younger than me, and we were never friends, but we worked hard alongside each other, and she was popular. It was well known that she was no angel; she really put it about. One night John had come in with his friends, that Micky Dillane was one, and they were getting boisterous. We often had to call in the police or the army to haul the lads out . . . It was near to closing time—in fact, the boss had rung the bell to say last orders . . .”

She sipped more water. “On this night John was sort of ignoring me—well, it felt like he was—and at about eleven o’clock, I went out to the backyard with some bin bags to stack in the wheelie bins. They didn’t see me, and I was really hurt, because he was kissing Chrissie. She had her skirt pulled up, and he had his hands all over her. I thought she tried to push him off her, but it could have been my imagination. I was upset, and after I’d washed the glasses, I went straight home. Next lunchtime, Chrissie didn’t come in, and it made us short-handed. We called her flat but got no answer. When she still hadn’t turned up for the night shift, my boss was worried.”

Sonja licked her lips, and sweat trickled down her face. “They called the police, but nobody knew where she was. They asked me if I’d seen her, and I lied, I said I hadn’t, as I’d been busy in the bar all night. I never told them I’d seen her out by the bins with John. I just kept my mouth shut.”

Anna was on full alert, leaning forward.

“They kept on searching for her, and it was weeks later that her body was found. She’d been raped and strangled with her own tights. John and his cronies didn’t come back to the bar for some time, but when they did, I asked John to meet me after work. He agreed, and we met up in an all-night hamburger café. I said to him that I’d been questioned about Chrissie, and he went quiet. At first he hardly said a word, then I said to him that I’d seen them together on the night she disappeared. He was upset, begging me not to say a word, and if the police asked questions about him, would I say that when the bar closed, I was with him?”

She wiped her eyes. “They
did
ask me about him—they were asking about all the soldiers in the bar that night. I told them he was my boyfriend and that he’d been in the bar all night and then took me home.”

“You gave him an alibi?” Anna said quietly.

“Yes, I did. You see, I wanted to get married. I had my mother to look after, and it was hard for me, all on my own. I said if he wanted me to keep on lying for him, he should agree . . .”

She shrugged her wide shoulders. “We got married. I loved him. He was what I wanted, and when I asked him about Chrissie, he said that what had happened was an accident. She had come on to him, egging him on, and when he took her round back into the fields by the pub yard, she rejected him. He said he had squeezed her throat when he was trying to kiss her and suddenly realized she was dead, so he took off her tights and wrapped them around her neck. I didn’t understand but wanted to believe him—I needed to believe him. He was my way out of that stinking bar.”

“You never told this to anyone?”

“No, never, but even though I tried not to think about it, it was always somewhere in the back of my mind. It didn’t matter that Chrissie was promiscuous; I’d had plenty of boyfriends, too, and it was no reason for her to end up in that field.”

Sonja gave a helpless gesture. “What it did was make me cautious with John. I was so afraid he’d do it again. I was always wondering if he was seeing other women, it didn’t matter that we had two children. The fear was always sitting inside me, and I warned him that if he ever crossed the line, if I ever found out he was seeing other women, I’d report him. I kept him short of money, made sure he always came home to me because, yes, I was afraid he would do it again.”

She drained the water and set it carefully down on the table. “He has, hasn’t he? He betrayed me. All the years I’ve protected him and looked out for him, and he’s been with other women again.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her grief was just for herself, not for any of her husband’s subsequent victims. Any sympathy Anna had felt toward her had evaporated. She spent some time getting the exact dates and location of the murdered Chrissie, whose surname Sonja thought was O’Keefe.

“I won’t get charged with anything, will I?” she asked, looking pleadingly at Anna.

Miss Flynn had not said one word, but she, too, looked to Anna for an answer.

“That will depend on whether your statement can be verified. In the meantime, we will begin checking out your information.”

Sonja looked up as Anna pushed back her chair. “It’s the truth, I swear before God, but I can’t protect him anymore. I never want to see him again, and he will never see his children again.”

She gasped for breath and gestured at herself. “This is what he did to me. I used to be such a pretty woman, but when you live with a secret like that, something has to give because of the guilt. I have hated myself, but you know . . . he has nothing, I know that now.”

Langton was sitting at Anna’s desk, having by now watched the entire video of her interrogation of John Smiley.

“Tomorrow I’ll be with you; we’ll do the interview together,” he said.

She rested her briefcase on the desk, and he reached for her hand, patting it lightly.

“It’s been a long day,” he said tiredly.

“Yes. How did your case go, the Pixie?”

“I got a full confession and more crocodile tears. The bastard.”

“Well, congratulations.”

He stood up and smiled. “We’ll get Smiley tomorrow, so go home and get a good night’s rest.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night, Anna.”

She started to walk away and stopped. He rarely, if ever, called her Anna.

“Don’t you have one to go to?” she asked.

“One what?”

“A home.”

She caught a look in his eyes, a split second of pain, and then it was gone.

“Got a lot of catching up to do here. Go on, get out.”

Chapter Eighteen

A
nna thought about Langton on the drive home. She was certain he was trying to get closer to her, but she didn’t know why. Perhaps he didn’t like the fact that she was no longer under his control, emotionally, at least. As she drove up to her garage, she saw Ken sitting astride his motorbike. Her spirits lifted immediately. As he took off his helmet, she got out and flung her arms around him. “Oh, I needed to see you!”

Arm in arm, they headed toward the lift. They kissed frantically as they reached the flat, besotted, and it didn’t take long for them to undress and get into bed. Having him with her made all the weights of Anna’s day disappear. Wrapped in his arms, she said that she couldn’t think of anything better than to have him there.

“I’ve had such a long, shattering day, and yet we are at long last moving the case forward.”

“Yeah, me, too. We got verification today that Welsh is being moved the day after tomorrow. That’s the reason I was able to make my escape.”

They got up and made bacon sandwiches, as hungry for food as they were for each other. Anna didn’t elaborate on the day’s events, and Ken didn’t feel inclined to give more details on the problems they were having with Welsh. Instead, they discussed dates for their wedding, and Anna said that perhaps after this case, she would take some unpaid leave for a few months. This would give them time to look for a place to live.

Ken was surprised. “You’d want to do that?”

“Yes. You know, I have never taken a holiday, never mind proper time off, and I think now is the right moment.”

“I thought you were ambitious?”

“I am. Let’s say I’m not at the moment, although I would like to try and get my promotion. But the thought of not being involved in another case straightaway comes as a big sense of relief.”

They discussed finances. Ken knew that starting more training as a child psychologist, expanding his degree to work with mentally challenged children and underprivileged teens, would not be well paid. He was embarrassed to admit that his salary would be in the region of £12,000 to £14,000 a year. He was surprised to discover how much Anna earned; she also had a substantial savings account: £170,000.

“I never spend all that much. Maybe because I never have time to go shopping,” she said. “This flat cost more than I ever believed I’d be able to afford. I’ve got a mortgage, but I was able to use some money my dad left me, and I sold my previous flat. So when we sell this one, we won’t have any money problems for a few years, at least. When I return to work, we’ll have my wages combined with yours.”

Ken put his arms around her, clearly loving her even more. Her practicality and generosity had overwhelmed him, he said. “It’s strange, isn’t it? There’s me, saving every cent to be able to continue getting more training as a child psychologist, and there’s Welsh with a degree, having all the time to study, plus three meals a day, living in a comfortable cell and financially well off.”

Anna hugged him. “I wouldn’t even think about it. He’s never going to be able to do anything but have even more time to face up to the waste of his intellect. Also, he’ll be out of your hair soon, so you won’t have to see him again.”

The following morning, Ken had to leave early for his shift on the unit. Anna took a lazy shower, washed her hair, and then dressed, ready to go into the station. She knew it was going to be another long day, and she was glad that Ken had stayed over, because she had slept so soundly in his arms. Usually, if the day ahead looked like a tough one, with lengthy interrogations, she would have forced herself to check over her files and notes in preparation, and more often than not, she would have had a restless night. But having Ken there made her feel calm and confident.

Anna was at her desk by eight-thirty. She had stopped to buy a Starbucks coffee and was eating a cream donut when Barbara passed.

“All right for some. I eat one of them, and I roll on extra pounds.”

Anna smiled and licked her sticky fingers.

“He was here all night, I think—Langton,” the DC went on.

“Was he?”

“Yeah. In Mike’s office. When he was a DCI, he used to have all his shirts stacked up—had me going back and forth to the laundry for him.”

“He’s got a wife to do that now.”

“I suppose he has. You never know with him, but then you probably know him better than any of us.”

Anna couldn’t help smiling, Barbara was so obviously fishing for gossip, and she looked her straight in the eye. “Why do you say that?”

Barbara hunched her shoulders. “You know, we all sort of knew you were with him for a time. You know, when he got injured . . .”

“Ah, yes, then. That was a long time ago.”

“He still gets a lot of pain. I presume he’s taking tablets for that—caught him taking a handful this morning. Is he still having problems?”

“I don’t know.”

“We got some added details coming in regarding that murder Sonja Smiley told you about. Nothing confirmed yet, but they did have a cold case, and the victim
was
a Chrissie O’Keefe, so Mike will be hoping to get more details this morning.”

“Good.”

“So this new man in your life, what does he do?”

“He works in Barfield Prison.”

“Oh, well, that’s going to be quite a drag for you, going up and down to Leeds.”

“No, he’s starting work in London after we’re married.”

“Oh, working in a prison down here, is he?”

“No, he’s a child psychologist and will be working with mentally challenged children.”

“So he’s a bit more than a security prison guard?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice. Do Joan and me get to buy new hats?”

Anna laughed and said they should, as it would be a formal wedding.

“Oh, you’ll be wearing white, then?”

“Yes.”

“I would have liked a decent wedding myself, but we just went to a register office. It’s not the same; they wouldn’t even let anyone throw confetti.”

Langton walked in, and Barbara turned to him. “I know—a chicken and bacon sandwich, no tomatoes.”

“No, I’ve already eaten.”

Barbara scurried over to her desk as Langton looked at Anna. “We go in half an hour. Smiley’s lawyer is already here.”

He crooked his finger toward her. “You know, we might get a lot of unpleasant details if I’m right and he starts talking.”

“I think, with the added information from his wife, it could be in the cards. Barbara mentioned the cold case and that Chrissie O’Keefe is being checked out. Will they be sending over the case files?”

He nodded and then touched the knot of his tie. “You can handle it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Right, then, let’s go get the bastard.”

Smiley was brought up from the cells with Gregson at his side, the latter looking refreshed and smart. His client, by contrast, looked much the worse for wear. He had a bruise under his right eye and hadn’t shaved. His tie had been removed, along with his shoelaces, so his shirt was open from the collar, and the sweat marks on it were clearly visible. He asked if he could remove his jacket and did so, revealing sodden patches of sweat beneath his arms. His body odor was strong and unpleasant, almost as pungent as his wife’s.

Langton proceeded, repeating Smiley’s rights and saying that they would tape and video the interview. He began by explaining to Gregson, not even glancing at Smiley, that subject to Sonja Smiley’s statement the previous evening, there could be another charge leveled against his client in connection to a fourteen-year-old murder inquiry.

Gregson puffed out his cheeks. “I should have been given details of this before we started this session.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have them.” Langton shrugged. “We are waiting for confirmation from the team who investigated the murder of Chrissie O’Keefe, so I am being up-front with the possibility that your client was involved.” He looked directly at Smiley. “Your wife has claimed that she gave you an alibi for the night of O’Keefe’s murder. Do you wish to give details now or prefer to wait until we have been able to—”

Smiley interrupted. “I can tell you what I did do—the biggest mistake of my life. I married the bitch, that’s all I will admit to doing. She’d rake up anything to get me into trouble. You saw what she did to me, how she attacked me. Crazy fat bitch.”

“You’ve certainly changed your opinion of her,” Anna said softly.

“Yeah, it’s called telling the truth.” Smiley pushed his chair back slightly to rest his elbows on his knees. “You have no idea what I went through; you get into a situation, and then it goes out of control. I never wanted to marry her, I’d already finished with her. She came on like the Virgin Queen with me, wouldn’t let me screw her, although I knew most of the lads had given her one—
and
for money—but she wouldn’t let me near her, and it pissed me off, so I finished with her.”

Anna wasn’t sure why Langton appeared disinclined to press for details on their victims; instead, he leaned back in his chair, nodding.

After a moment, encouraged, Smiley continued. “You know, I had to put up with a lot of snide remarks from the lads about marrying her, and I just had to take it, understand?”

Langton nodded again, still not saying anything.

“So I got into the situation, right? I also had to take on her halfwit of a mother. She was senile, and I had to shell out money for her. Sonja wanted her to move in with us, but I drew the line there. I wasn’t having that, and I kept on making excuses. By this time I was in civvies and I got the job with Swell Blinds, worked my arse off for Arnold Rodgers, and then the old lady died, so that was one weight off me.”

Langton nodded as if he understood where Smiley was coming from. Anna, like Smiley’s lawyer, was baffled by the rambling history of Smiley’s marriage and why he was being allowed to continue. Both sat back, listening, while Langton appeared to be even more interested, giving Smiley his full attention.

“You have kids?” Smiley asked.

“Yes,” Langton said.

“Then, maybe you can understand. First came my boy, Stefan, then two years later, my daughter, Marta. I love those kids, I loved them from the moment they were born. And Sonja was a good mother—I’m not saying she wasn’t—and we was living in Kilburn in a rented house, and I was workin’ my way up the ladder with Swell Blinds. You see, somewhere in my head, I’d reckoned I’d be able to walk away from her one day, leave her, but when the kids came along, there was no way out. No way was I going to leave them.”

“And she must still have threatened you?” Langton said it as if he were on Smiley’s side.

“Right. She’d never actually put it into words, just hints, know what I mean? If I went out for a pint with my old mates, she’d gimme a hard time; she was on my back like a leech, sucking the blood out of me. You have no idea what it was like to live with someone who monitored every move I made, who kept me short with pocket money. I had to tell her where I’d been, and I couldn’t stand it. I hated her.”

“Why didn’t you kill her?”

Smiley smiled. “Don’t think I never thought about it, but with two young children, I was trapped—understand me?”

“So she was virtually blackmailing you, is that right?”

“Yes, but like I said, she never came out with it. It was just always there, in the background.”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite understand. What was always there?”

“That she’d lied for me over Chrissie O’Keefe, given me the alibi.”

“Did you ever admit to Sonja that—”

Smiley interrupted Langton. “I told her it was an accident. Truth was, I was no longer interested in Sonja. I started to see Chrissie, but she went and did the same thing to me, coming on to me, getting me all excited, and then pushing me off her. It got me so mad! I knew both of them were a right pair of slags who gave it up for all me mates, but with me, they wanted a commitment, know what I mean?”

“Why do you think that was?”

“Most of the other blokes were already married. I was younger and single, that’s what I put it down to.”

“You were a catch, then?”

Smiley nodded. “Yeah, yeah—that’s right.”

“But you punished Chrissie, didn’t you?”

“Too right I did. Served her right, but I’ve paid the price. I had Sonja squeezing me and always the threat that she’d tell the cops if I didn’t do the right thing. Sometimes it felt like I was on a leash. All that was missing was the fucking dog collar.”

“But you found ways of cheating on her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. That was some comfort, know what I mean?”

“I bet it was.”

“She got uglier and fatter. I never touched her after my daughter was born, and it worked for me—you know, that she was eatin’ for England.” He laughed. “It meant she didn’t get out of the house that much, and then we moved to Manchester, and I sometimes had to do the long hauls back and forth to London, and she couldn’t put her friggin’ clock on me just so long as I got home every night.”

“Let’s go back to when you lived in Kilburn, John.”

Listening to Smiley’s accounts of his marital life or lack of it, Anna began to understand what Langton was doing. By now Smiley seemed to feel as if he were talking to a friend. He never acknowledged Anna but kept his focus on Langton, unaware that the DCS was slowly drawing him out. He had even unwittingly admitted to killing Chrissie O’Keefe.

Because Gregson was not privy to the details of O’Keefe’s murder, he could not understand how Langton had trapped his client. He made copious notes, but every time he began to speak, Smiley shut him up with a sharp dig of his elbow. In the end, Gregson burst out, “Mr. Smiley, I really feel that we should ask for a moment in private to discuss the fact that we have not had any disclosure regarding this Chrissie O’Keefe.”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna listen to you. You’re too young to understand,” Smiley said rudely.

Langton gestured to Anna to open the file on Margaret Potts. She passed him the photographs. He selected one and placed it in front of Smiley. “You have admitted that you knew Margaret Potts, but can you elaborate on where you first met her?”

Smiley tapped the photograph. “I said before—King’s Cross station in a café. I used to have breakfast there, and she was a regular.”