Blind Fury (25 page)

Eventually, they grew hungry. Anna wore a white cotton robe. Ken wore a towel wrapped around his waist as they went to make something to eat. They had a quick meal sitting side by side, constantly touching and kissing, and then couldn’t resist returning to bed.

There was no theater, no attempt to leave her flat; they just made love over and over again. They slept wound around each other, and when they woke up they returned to the kitchen to make steak and salad. Anna opened a bottle of wine. They lay beside each other, and it wasn’t until late at night that they talked about what they should do the following day. They thought about a movie, and Ken suggested they drive to Ham Park at Hampton Court Palace, where they could hire a motorboat to go up the Thames.

“I take my nephews there a lot when I’m down to see Lizzie. We can get all the way up the river, as far as Waterloo, or go the other way, Twickenham, Teddington . . .”

“I’d like that.”

Sunday was beautiful, and when Anna drew back the curtains, the sun streamed into the bedroom. Ken lay on his stomach, still deeply asleep, as she went into the kitchen to brew up coffee. She had bought bagels and cream cheese with smoked salmon. As she prepared the tray, her mobile rang; she hesitated and then ignored it. She was not going to allow anything to interrupt her day.

Anna drove them to Ham and, as Ken had suggested, left the car at Hampton Court Palace. They walked hand in hand across the bridge and down to a small dock with motorboats for hire. They were not exactly high-powered; they more or less putt-putted along. Ken steered for a while until she took over. She was enjoying herself more than she could remember. He sat beside her with his arm loosely around her shoulders.

The round trip took over an hour and a half, and they then walked back across Hampton Court Bridge to have a hamburger and fries at Blubeckers restaurant. Ken had a beer, Anna had a glass of wine with her hamburger, and then she ordered a chocolate ice cream that they shared.

“How’s your case going?” he asked.

“It isn’t. We seem to be going nowhere, and I maybe have to pay another visit to Cameron Welsh. It’s not as if I’d ever want to set eyes on him again, but it would mean that I could maybe stay over, see your flat, or even stay at your parents’ again.”

“That’s terrific! And you’ll stay with me—I’ll make sure I’m off duty. Do you know what day?”

“Maybe midweek, but it’s not been arranged yet.”

“He’s been up to his old tricks, by the way.”

“Who—Welsh?”

“Yes, he’s a real pain in the butt. He accused one of the other inmates of eating his lentil soup, then it was someone had taken his hair gel. He had a hissy fit about anything and everything, and he can get the other inmates to flare up by making nasty snide remarks under his breath, so we had a lot of tension to deal with.”

“I wouldn’t normally have agreed to see him again, but if it means having time with you, then I will have to deal with it.”

“Has he been of any use at all, or is he just wanking around?”

She laughed and then thought about it. “Trouble is, my boss thinks he’s said some very informative things that he reckons have helped our inquiry. I don’t agree, but the fact is, he comes up with stuff that we are already checking out, so I suppose that shows he is on the ball.”

“Like what?”

“The last time we were there, he said we should concentrate on a victim called Margaret Potts. He kept on and on about there being a witness.”

“Witness to what?”

Anna explained briefly the situation with their case, concluding, “So, Margaret Potts is the odd one out, in that she had no Polish connection, unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she saw the killer or knew him. The other girls were young and attractive, unlike her. She was a hardened prostitute.”

“But why the interest in Welsh?”

“Because he has contacted the incident room, especially me, and keeps on implying that he has information.”

“Could he have?”

“I doubt it. He’s been in prison for the time the murders were committed. There was a possibility that he talked to another prisoner who may have been released, and that was why he kept on with saying that he knew something . . . but we’ve run checks as far as is possible and come up with nothing. Next, he says he can get into the mind of the killer, being one himself; it’s all really tedious, because he’s such a loathsome creature, but we have to deal with it just in case.”

Ken ordered two cappuccinos and said that he would be glad when he’d done his time at the jail, as sometimes it felt as if he, too, were a prisoner.

“You know something I can never understand?” he added. “You have these animals like Fred West—how many young girls did he murder?—and yet they just disappeared without a trace, one after the other, even his own daughter.”

“That’s what is really difficult with our case. Fred West’s victims were girls who wouldn’t be missed—well, most of them. They went to his house of their own accord. It was as if he could pick out the ones no one would care about or report missing. We, by contrast, have two beautiful girls, and yet we can find no one who noticed their absence, no one who cared enough about them to report them missing. Even if they were, as we suspect, coming into the UK without the proper paperwork, it’s hard to believe they could be picked up and murdered.”

“You think they knew their killer?”

“We’re trying to find some kind of link.”

Ken signaled for the waitress to get the bill, and Anna leaned forward to touch his hand. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have gotten into my work.”

“Yes, we should. I’m going to have to if we see each other, just like I can have a good moan to you about my job. I didn’t want to interrupt you talking, it’s just that I’ll have to ride back tonight, as I’m on early call tomorrow morning.”

“What time will you have to leave?”

He leaned over to kiss her and grinned. “Got a couple more hours yet.”

The flat felt horribly empty after Ken had left. Anna cuddled the pillow he had used, wishing he were still beside her, missing him badly already. It had been such an innocent, lovely day, and for once she fell into a deep long sleep. It wasn’t until she was dressed and ready to leave for the station the next morning that she picked up her mobile. There were four calls from the incident room. She replayed them as she headed down to the garage. Two calls were from Barolli, asking her to contact him; the third call was from the Polish translator, asking Anna to call her; and the fourth was from Mike Lewis, and his message was terse.

“Call me back when you pick this up—urgent! I think we’ve got our bride.”

Chapter Ten

W
here the fuck have you been all weekend?” Barolli greeted her angrily.

“I was with friends. I didn’t expect to be needed, and if you ever speak to me like that again, as your superior officer, I will place you on a disciplinary report.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d have your mobile with you. It came in late Saturday night.”

“Have we an identity? Mike said something about you’d got the bride.”

“He was being diplomatic, since you did all the tattoo business, but as no one could get hold of you and your landline is screwed . . .”

“I had to get a new number, unlisted. I’ll give it to the office manager. So—have we got the girl identified?”

Barolli got out two sheets and said they had two girls who fit the description; both had been married on the same day, both were dark-haired and in their early twenties. “Mike is checking them out now. He’s in with the interpreter, who, I’ve got to say, worked her shriveled butt off all weekend.”

Anna took off her coat, wanting to hear more details, but Barbara signaled that there was a call for Barolli on line two.

“You look very refreshed,” Barbara remarked to Anna.

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice weekend?”

“Yes, I did, actually.”

“Joan and me have square eyes, but we’ve finished the entire load of Swell Blinds contacts and—”

Barolli gave a yell as he placed down the receiver. “The anonymous caller just rang the TV station—she has agreed to come in to see us. Bloody marvelous! It’s all happening this morning!”

He went off whistling as Anna checked her voice mail and opened up her computer. She jumped when Mike Lewis’s office door banged open and he strode over to the incident board, prodded the picture of the victim from the blue-blanket case, and began to write:
Bibiana Nowak married Marek Ryszard in Krakow and number two is Dorota, who married Stanislav Pelagia in Warsaw. Both girls were aged twenty-two in 2002, both were dark-haired and around the same height, five feet five, again matching our victim, and neither has been seen for some time.

Anna joined him and asked if both girls were still married. It was more likely their victim was either divorced or separated, since the wedding date on the tattoo had been covered up.

“We’re just running checks, but because we’ve got blurred e-mail pictures, it could be either one of them.”

Fifteen minutes later, they received information that they could delete Bibiana Ryszard. She had been traced so was still alive and still married.

Half an hour went by before they received the news that Dorota Pelagia had still not been traced, but they had tracked down her husband. He was in prison and had been for seven years, charged with armed robbery.

The officials in Poland were trying to locate Dorota’s family. Coming in via e-mail were two pictures of the young woman on her wedding day. She was wearing a short white dress and white shoes and stood holding a small bouquet. She looked shy and had a sweet soft smile. Her husband, Stanislav, towered above her, very broad-shouldered, with dark brooding looks. E-mails were crisscrossing back and forth as the team waited for further results.

“It’s her,” Anna said firmly. She picked up the photo of the victim taken at the mortuary, pinned it beside the wedding picture, and then did the same with the murder-site photographs. “They should get on to Customs, Passport Control, run the name to see if and when she might have entered the UK.”

But Passport Control had no record of a Dorota Pelagia entering the UK, and they had gone as far back as 2003.

Further details were fed back to the incident room. Stanislav Pelagia had been arrested in March 2003, accused of domestic violence; he was released when his wife dropped the charges. Two further incidents had been recorded, and in each case no charges were brought.

“If Stanislav went to prison in 2003, we’ve got all the years since then in which she could have left him and arrived in England,” Anna said to Barolli; she was standing by his desk.

“We’re waiting to see if they can get any DNA for us to double-check that we’ve got the right girl. We can’t go ahead and ask people to come forward with information if we’re not one hundred percent sure she’s our victim.”

Barbara joined them. Now they had further details. Dorota had a sister living in Warsaw who claimed not to have seen her for between six or seven years. She knew Dorota had left her husband after his arrest. The family had been very much against the marriage, as Stanislav had a history of drug abuse, and they virtually cut off Dorota when she defied them and went ahead.

With the new evidence coming in, the team’s low spirits lifted, but they would still have to wait for confirmation that their victim was Dorota Pelagia. Due to the assault charges brought against her husband, it was a strong possibility that she would have loathed the tattoo of their wedding day, even more so since he was held in prison.

They were disappointed to learn that no DNA samples were taken from Dorota when she had been attacked by her husband. By late afternoon there were still no known whereabouts, yet Anna was certain they had the right girl. It was pointless thinking about bringing over her sister to identify her, as they had no body, thanks to the cremation. They were dependent on matching photographs, so her sister had agreed to send over more.

At six-thirty the woman who had called the television program regarding Anika Waleska arrived in reception. She was accompanied by a lawyer who made it clear that his client wished to remain anonymous. Mike Lewis explained the importance of his client’s telephone call, as it had led them to identify their victim, and he stressed that they needed further assistance. However, due to the severity of the case, and fully aware that she was assisting their inquiry and agreeing to be questioned, she would have to disclose her name.

So Anna and Mike Lewis were introduced to Olga but were given no surname. She was led into the interview room with her lawyer. It was hard to determine which of them carried the overpowering smell of mothballs. She was wearing a camel-hair coat, a silk head scarf tied beneath her chin, and large dark glasses. She was middle-aged and heavily built. Before they could ask anything, her lawyer again stated that it was imperative that nothing his client said would have legal repercussions. It was difficult to promise this, Mike said, because if Olga did have information that could implicate her in the murder, then they would have no option but to take action.

“I have nothing to do with hurting Anika.” Her voice was a guttural rasp.

“How did you know her?” Anna asked softly.

“She work for me, not regular, but when I first meet with her.”

Anna showed Anika’s photograph, asking, “Is this Anika Waleska?”

“Yes.”

“What work did she do for you?”

“I have a small company, housecleaning.”

“How long did she work for you?”

“When I first meet with her, it was three years ago and she work full-time, but then she get other work, so it was not regular.”

“How many girls do you employ?”

“I have maybe six or seven; it depends on what work I have coming in, and I send the girls out.”

“Do your clients pay you directly?”

“Yes, then I pay the girls.”

“Were you aware that Anika wasn’t registered to work—had no National Insurance number?”

“I not ask questions.”

“Can you tell us how she came to be working for you?”

“One of my girls bring her to me. They knew each other from Poland, and she was very nice girl.”

Anna took out the picture of Estelle Dubcek. “Does this girl work for you?”

Olga looked at the photograph for quite a while and then nodded.

“Do you know this girl’s name?”

“Yes. That is Estelle Dubcek, but she was trouble; only work for me six or seven months.”

“When did you last see her?”

Olga shrugged. “Long time ago. As I said, she was not a good worker, not like Anika.”

“Where did the girls stay when they worked for you?”

“I have a flat they use. I charge rent out of their earnings; they come and they go. Anika work for me and also restaurants at night.”

“Did you know that Estelle wasn’t registered to work, either?”

“I don’t ask questions.”

“Both these girls were working illegally.”

“I say I not ask questions.”

“But you must have known when they did not produce a National Insurance number.”

“No.”

“How did these girls know to contact you?”

“I have advertisements in Poland. Students, colleges, if they want work, they contact me or they introduce me to their friends.”

“Olga, Estelle Dubcek was also murdered.”

It was hard to see what the woman was thinking; her scarf covered most of her face, and the dark glasses made it impossible to see any reaction in her eyes.

“Two girls who worked for you have been murdered,” Anna repeated.

“Listen to me, please. I call the television, I give them information that I knew Anika was working in a restaurant, but she was not living in my flat and not housecleaning. I wanted to help, but at the same time I did not want to become involved in any way. I have nothing to do with what the girls did after they leave me.”

“Have you ever used a company called Swell Blinds?”

Olga looked confused. “No.”

“Have you ever met someone called John Smiley?”

“No.”

“Would you be prepared to give us the address of the people both Anika and Estelle worked for?”

“No, I don’t want to do that. I have a very good reputation, I have built up clients over twenty years. They are good people, I have no people that are bad. My girls, I make sure are honest and well dressed and hardworking.”

“And you take a big slice of their earnings, don’t you?”

Olga gestured to her lawyer and then pushed back her chair. “I go now, that is enough. Thank you.”

“And it’s just housecleaning, is it?” Anna said, trying to keep control. She wanted to snatch the dark glasses away from the woman’s face.

“I am honest woman, I have honest business.”

“Two girls who worked for you are dead. You may be an honest woman, but you—”

She was interrupted as Olga stood up with her hands clenched at her sides and burst out: “I have pressure to come here, and I do so out of wanting to be a good citizen. You are trying to make things bad for me. I go now.”

“Please sit down. We have not finished.”

Olga’s lawyer whispered to her, and she sat down again, taking a crumpled tissue from her coat pocket. “I answer everything and tell you all I know.”

“Not quite. You see, it’s possible that you are withholding evidence. We will have no option but to continue questioning you. I would now like you to look at this third photograph.”

Anna took out the photograph of the blue-blanket victim, who they were certain was Dorota Pelagia, and laid it down in front of Olga. She at last removed her dark glasses and stared at the photograph. Anna got out two more pictures, watching her closely. The woman had puffy bags beneath her eyes, and the rims of her glasses were imprinted on her cheeks.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she murmured.

Olga then turned to have a whispered conversation with her lawyer, holding the hand with the tissue across her chin so it was hard to determine what she was saying, apart from that she was speaking in English. Eventually, her lawyer requested a private conversation with Anna and Mike before he would agree to continue the interview.

Olga returned to the interview room half an hour later. She was wearing her dark glasses and was very subdued. Her lawyer had once more made it clear that for his client to continue, the police would have to agree that no charges could be brought with reference to her illegally employing the girls. In return, she would hand over a list of her clients that dated back five years, and allow them to visit the girls living in her flat. She would also submit tax and VAT receipts for her cleaning company and a list of girls she previously employed.

It was eleven-thirty by the time Olga left the station. Anna and Mike were privy to information that had opened up their case. Dorota Pelagia had worked for the cleaning company, so they had three victims linked together. All three girls had worked for Olga over the past five years. None was full-time, and in all cases, they worked only short periods when they arrived in the UK. The work entailed housecleaning for not just private clients but hotels and offices. It would mean yet another extensive round of questioning and checking out all the names and addresses. So far, the police had uncovered no connection to Swell Blinds but hoped that they would discover a link.

The following morning, Barbara and Joan began cross-referencing all the data that they had from Swell Blinds to see if they had delivered to any of the new companies and private addresses Olga had listed. On the board were the details of the recruitment adverts placed in Poland. It appeared that the girls would answer, and Olga’s contacts in Poland would subsequently arrange for them to come to England. They were given fake identity documents owned by a female Polish immigrant who was legally registered to reside and work in the UK. The same documents were sent back and forth, and the photographs were not even changed, since the girls were all about the same age, with dark hair or hair dyed to match the photograph as closely as possible.

The new arrivals were charged for this helping hand and were then moved into the flat owned by Olga to start working. She took 50 percent of their earnings, plus rent. It was obvious that the girls ignored the contract to work for Olga for a minimum of two years, since as soon as they had managed to save enough, they left. Olga said resentfully that it was always difficult to keep tabs on her workers; often the girls proved to be work-shy, belligerent, and to her mind, ungrateful.

Margaret Potts was the only one with no link. The time gaps between the murders were also of concern. Had the killer been active during the years between? Dorota Pelagia was the first victim, her body found four years ago. Next was Margaret Potts, two years ago, and then Anika and Estelle, a year apart. It did, however, link more or less to the same time that John Smiley had left London to work in Manchester. Swell Blinds had moved five years ago.