Blind Fury (29 page)

“Okay, that’s it,” he said.

“Thank you for calling.”

“You know, you sound different. Want to tell me something?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good night.” He hung up.

She went to bed wondering what all that had been about, but she wasn’t prepared to divulge anything about Ken to him. She
was
different, she was more confident in herself because of her relationship, and she was determined to keep it private. She had always hated the gossipmongering that went on about her previous relationship with Langton, and the realization that she had at last moved on from his hold over her emotions felt good. She didn’t feel in any way that Ken had the same stranglehold; their love was somehow cleaner and gentler by far. She was loved, and it was special because she felt as if she could have another life apart from the Met.

As she got into bed, Ken called, and they spent over an hour chatting, neither wanting to end the call, wishing they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I’m looking forward to the weekend,” he eventually said.

It wasn’t until then that she told him about the new developments, hoping it wouldn’t mean she had to work instead.

“Whatever, let’s just try and see each other as soon as possible,” he told her. “I never stop thinking about you, missing you.”

“I miss you, too. I love you.”

“Take good care of yourself, Anna. Kiss you good night.”

“Good night.”

He laughed and told her to hang up because he couldn’t. She did and then curled up in bed thinking about him, wanting to be close to him, the call from Langton forgotten.

It took two days to organize and film enough John Smiley look-alikes in order to be able to hold the identity parade. Mike then rang Smiley, requesting him to come down to London to assist inquiries. If he’d refused, they would have been forced to arrest him and bring him to the station, but he agreed. Mike asked if he wished to have a lawyer present. Smiley hesitated, asking how long it would take, as he would have to get time off work. Barolli was listening in to the call on the speaker. Smiley didn’t sound scared, more confused than anything.

“Is this still about my van and me being seen at the service station?”

“Yes. We need to eliminate everyone seen in a vehicle there on that day.”

When Mike Lewis replaced the receiver, Barolli sucked in his breath. “He could do a runner, you know.”

Mike shook his head, reminding Barolli that with two kids and an apparently oversize wife, it was unlikely; also, he knew that Langton was still using favors with the guys in Manchester, so if anything suspicious happened, they would make contact.

“To be honest, he seemed more worried about taking time off work.”

“Yeah, I heard, and I’d say it has to be uncomfortable there with his boss. We’ve certainly been busy around him.”

“Well, if we can prove he lied . . . Travis seems to think Emerald can identify him, but she’s such a hard-nosed slag, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“It’s all we’ve got.”

“I hear you.” Mike’s desk phone lit up; it was Barbara tipping him off that Langton had arrived in the incident room.

Langton was standing in front of the incident board, lecturing the team. “Do you know that a quarter of London’s population, over one and half million people, were born abroad? The biggest groups are Indians and Afro-Caribbeans, but the rest are Poles arriving in large numbers and seeking work, like our three girls.”

“I didn’t know we had that many,” said Mike.

“Well, we do, and I’m getting a lot of stick from the assistant commissioner that we are slacking in our inquiry. The last thing the Met wants is to be accused of sweeping this case under the carpet, never mind the pressure about going over budget. So, on one hand, it’s cut the costs, and on the other, get a friggin’ result.”

“Well, we might.” Mike took the chance to update Langton on the day’s latest news.

“Yeah, we’ll see how it pans out with the ID and if Smiley is still in the frame, but we need more,” Langton insisted. “Even if he did previously know Margaret Potts, we’ve got no fucking evidence he was our killer.”

“It proves he lied.”

“Not enough. Citizens Prosecution Service wouldn’t give us the nod to charge him on that.”

Mike sighed, unsure where all this was going, concerned Langton was hinting at replacing him.

“Get ready for a big press conference, Mike, and even if Smiley gets off the hook, we can say the inquiry is questioning a suspect. I don’t like being pushed by the top brass, so set it up.”

“Yes, Gov.”

“When Smiley comes in, I’ll handle the interview, along with Travis.”

“Whatever you say.”

Langton moved farther down the incident board. “Barolli interviewed Emerald Turk first, right?”

“Yes, Gov.”

“So we should have reached this conclusion about Smiley’s connection two years ago. Thank Christ for Travis. She came up with the tattoo to identify Dorota Pelagia, and if we’d had that woman Olga in earlier, we’d have had them all bloody identified.”

“We couldn’t put pressure on the television programmers. It works because the callers can remain anonymous, and it took a lot of stroking for them to keep asking for her to come forward. Three programs’ worth.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not letting her walk away from running an illegal fucking domestic agency,” Langton said angrily. “Did her husband check out?”

“Yes.”

“What about other employees?”

“Her agency runs with just him and three other guys who decorate and do the heavy cleaning.”

“They checked out?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re back to John Smiley, whom we’ve had since Christ knows when as a possible suspect.”

“Yes.”

“YES! Well, pull your finger out, Mike, and either get the bastard sewn up or bloody move on. That prisoner Cameron Welsh has been bleating on about a witness. Seems the guy from behind bars can do more than any of you
or
your team. If need be, go back and talk to him again.”

Langton stormed off, leaving Mike standing like a spare part. He was about to return to his office when something caught his eye on one of the postmortem reports. He moved from one report to another, reminding himself how the description of the strangulation of each victim was similar; the women had been killed by stockings or tights wound tightly around the throat. Only with one victim, Estelle Dubcek, did the forensics suggest it may have been some kind of cord or thin chain, due to the indentations left around the jugular. The fact that they’d never found whatever the killer had used, plus the removal of all personal items such as the victims’ handbags, had not so far been an issue, but now Mike believed there was a lot more to it. He hurried over to Barbara’s desk.

“I want you to call Swell Blinds and ask them to send samples of the cord used on the wooden slatted blinds, plus the small link chains used on the vertical ones.”

Barbara pointed to the vertical blinds hanging in the incident room. “You mean those link chains between each strip?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want, and I want them here as soon as possible. Bike them up, whatever is fastest.”

Mike went over to the window and checked the manufacturer’s name. These blinds were not made by Swell Blinds, but he didn’t think they would be all that different. He unhooked the chain from the lower section, leaving four strips turned flat against the window. He then put in a call to Pete Jenkins at the forensic lab and told him to expect a delivery, explaining that the chains might not have the same indentation, but a similar one could have been used to strangle Estelle Dubcek.

“Similar isn’t good enough, you know, Mike.”

“Yes, I hear you. You’ll be getting the real thing sent over later.”

“Okay, I’ll get on to it.”

“Thanks, Pete, and I’ll appreciate this is a priority.”

“Always is. Bye now.”

Smiley arrived in the early afternoon and was taken straight to the video recording room. He was wearing a suit with a white shirt and dark tie; he had also shaved, and his hair was combed back. Barolli reported that he was compliant, agreed to the video ID and did as directed, only talking about his concerns about how long he would be required, as he had to get back to Manchester.

At three o’clock, Emerald Turk was driven in to the station car park in an unmarked patrol car. She was taken into the video suite, and the two ID officers explained to her that she was required to look at all the men on the video. Each would hold a number. If she recognized the man who had fitted her blinds, she was to state his number. The team waited.

Emerald appeared to be enjoying all the attention, and as none of the team was allowed to speak to her, the two ID officers made a point of being patient and thanking her for her assistance. She watched the videos twice, and unlike most people in her position, she didn’t say a word. She was asked if she would like to view the entire tape a third time, but she said she didn’t need to see it again, as she was certain that number three was the man. Number three was John Smiley.

By four-thirty Smiley was sitting in an interview room. They had given him coffee and a sandwich, and he had hung his suit jacket over the back of his chair. Langton and Travis entered, and Langton asked if he would like to have a lawyer present.

Smiley shrugged. “Do I need one?”

“That is up to you, Mr. Smiley. You are here to answer questions and assist the inquiry. If at any time you feel you would like representation, then you may ask for a lawyer to be present.”

Smiley cleared his throat and then said that he had nothing to hide. All he wanted was to answer whatever questions they put to him and go home. “I shall have to make this time up at the weekend,” he fretted, “as my boss is starting to get uptight about everything. He called me in last week to say that he respected all the years I’d put in with the company, and I told him, I said to him, that this was all about me being parked in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Langton let him talk on as he gave the sign to Anna to prepare the file of victims’ photographs.

“Yes, that is one of the reasons we’ve asked you to come in to talk to us, Mr. Smiley, and thank you for agreeing to do the identification video.”

“I was told I didn’t really have any option, and then I thought if I refused, it would look as if I was hiding something.”

“You were,” Langton said quietly.

Smiley looked confused.

Anna took out the mug shot of Margaret Potts and the pictures given to them by Eric Potts. “You denied that you had ever met this woman.”

“Right. Yes, that’s true.”

“No, it isn’t.” Langton leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Smiley, we have a witness. You apparently hung some vertical blinds and some wooden slatted blinds in her flat.”

“No. I don’t handle the vertical blinds.”

“But you do measure and hang the slatted wooden blinds.”

“Yes—that’s my job. I measure first, then the blinds get made, then I go and put them up. I’ve told you all this.”

“We know what you do, Mr. Smiley, but we also know that you were in a flat in Hackney and were paid in cash to—”

“Hackney? When was this?”

“Five years ago.”

“Five years? No way. We’d already moved the business to Manchester by then, and I don’t recall ever doing work in Hackney—definitely not in a cash deal. I don’t handle the money side. Arnold Rodgers, my boss, sends out the invoices, and customers pay him directly.”

“We have a witness, Mr. Smiley, and this woman”—Langton tapped Margaret Potts’s photograph—“Margaret Potts was inside the flat, so you have lied, and you did meet her, didn’t you?”

“No, I swear on my life, I never met this woman, just like I said when I was last here. I never met her, and I know what type of woman she is, and I wouldn’t give her the time of day.”

“What happened, John? You were there doing your job, and she was sleeping, woke up, maybe she was wearing a sexy nightdress and you got talking . . .”

“I never met that woman.”

“It’s pointless to lie. We know she was in that flat, we know you were there, and we have a witness who says not only did she see you there, but she also handed you cash. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll tell you why. You are ashamed of what went on between you. Did she come on to you? Offer you sex, offer to give you a blow job, strip for you? Come on, John, we know you met her, it’s useless to lie about it. Did you fuck her, John?”

“No, I did not! I never met that woman, and whoever it is saying that I did is the liar, not me. I’m married, I’ve got two kids, and I wouldn’t want to go with a slag like that. And I wouldn’t do any cash deals—it’s more than my job’s worth, ’cause I’ve worked for Mr. Rodgers for ten years, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that.”

“You couldn’t resist her, could you?”

“I never touched her.”

Langton sighed, picking up the photographs. He then gestured to Anna to lay down the photographs of the Polish victims. “Maybe you wouldn’t want to admit screwing someone like Margaret Potts, but these girls, look at them, they’re young and they’re beautiful. What about them, eh?”

Smiley was sweating but holding firm. “No. I never knew any of them, and that’s the honest truth. Now, you can keep asking me over and over, but you can’t get me to admit nothing, ’cause I am telling you the truth.”

Langton swung back in his chair, smiling. “No, you are not. We have a witness, John. We know you were in her flat in Hackney, and we know she paid you cash. I think you then paid that cash to screw Margaret Potts.”

“No, I did not.”

“So you admit you were in this flat in Hackney?”

“No.”

“John, let me help you out here. I can understand why a man like you doesn’t want to admit to having sex with a prostitute. You have a wife, and from what I saw of her, she’s the kind of woman who wouldn’t understand why you’d get your dick out for such a tart. She looked the type that would give you hell if she found out, so I can understand why you are lying. But you see, John, because we have a witness, it’s possibly going to turn into something more serious than you just taking your trousers off.”