Blind Fury (26 page)

Langton sat with Anna, drinking a cup of coffee, having been present for the morning briefing when the team learned of the latest developments. He was astonished that Olga had employed all three young girls and yet felt obliged to call the television company with regard only to Anika Waleska.

“I doubt she watches much TV.” Anna snorted. “She’s a horrible woman, and I’d really like to get her for tax evasion and her treatment of these girls. Just think how much she must be pocketing from all her scams. A lot of her so-called housecleaning is in cash payments; plus, she’s got contracts for cleaning schools and hotels. Her full name is Olga Pavlova, but I can promise you there is nothing balletic about her.”

“Eh?”

“It was sarcastic. There was a famous ballerina called . . . Oh, never mind.”

“Yeah, she must be stashing it away. We can deal with her later, but right now we have to keep her sweet, as we need all the help we can get from her.”

“She’s got a flat in the Boltons in Chelsea, she drives a Mercedes, and she owns a big flat in Earl’s Court that she rents out to her workers.”

“Have you checked with Estelle’s flatmate, Katia, and her boyfriend, Mikhail, to see if they were part of Olga’s dirty business?”

“Barolli’s on to that. I’ll be going to talk to the present occupants of the flat.”

Langton sighed and drained his coffee. “What about going to see Cameron Welsh again?” he asked.

“I’ve said I’ll do it.”

“That’s very big of you.” He gave her a quizzical look. “I didn’t think you wanted to go again.”

“I don’t, but I think as I have been privy to all his previous interviews, I might be able to cut through the dross,” Anna said, looking him in the eye.

“Fine, run the Polish connection by him.”

“I think I might get the train, save that long drive. Maybe stay overnight and come back the following morning.”

He stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Mrs. Hudson cooks up a good breakfast.”

She gave a small laugh, agreeing, as he moved off. The conversation prompted her to confirm her travel arrangements. She’d leave early Wednesday morning and return on Thursday. She decided to call Ken at once to tell him. She was so eager to meet him again that it overshadowed any distaste at having to talk to Cameron Welsh, but if the prisoner acted up, she would just walk away.

Ken was thrilled and said he would meet her at the train station, drive her to his flat so she could leave her overnight bag there, and then take her to the prison. She would not be having his mother’s cooked breakfast after all.

Anna stood on the wide steps of the house in Finborough Road, ringing the doorbell of flat three. Eventually, the big door with glass panels was buzzed open, and she entered a large hall with a mosaic tiled floor. These old houses around Earl’s Court were all huge, four stories and with high ceilings, and at one time had been the family residences of wealthy people. Now most of them were subdivided and rented out.

Anna walked up the wide staircase; a pretty, dark-haired girl was waiting for her on the third floor. The flat was made up of one huge sitting room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a communal bathroom. There were four single beds in the main room, and the bedrooms held three beds each. It looked like a dormitory from an old-fashioned boarding school, with bags and suitcases littering every available surface.

Anna met with four girls and sat on one of the beds as they drank coffee from chipped mugs. Two could not speak any English, one was virtually acting as interpreter for the others, and the fourth girl had a terrible cold and was constantly sniffling and sneezing. Anna explained that she was not there for any immigration purpose but to ask them about three other girls. When shown the photographs, however, no one there recognized any of the victims. They had all been in London for six to nine months only, and it was obvious that they hated working for Olga. They complained about how mean she was and how they were putting in a sixty-hour week. No one could wait to leave, as it was not pleasant having to share such a crowded flat.

It took some time for them to explain how they had paid in advance for their paperwork, jobs, and accommodation in London, and how they were met at Gatwick airport by Olga’s husband, who drove them to the flat. They said he was surly and rude to them and very much under Olga’s domination. He helped in her company and organized the painting and decorating of other properties she owned and rented out.

Anna was quickly on to Olga’s husband, asking them to describe him, as she wondered if he could be a suspect. He was Polish and, they said, much younger than she, but he had something wrong with him. He had asthma and was always coughing and wheezing so was more or less her full-time chauffeur.

“Does he drive a van for the painting and decorating?”

They were unsure, as he always drove them in Olga’s Mercedes. If they had work a long way out of London, he would take them and collect them.

It seemed more and more obvious that Olga was coining it in, and by the time Anna left, she had called the incident room to get them to check out the husband.

It was disappointing, but by late afternoon, after lengthy interviews, they had no new information. Neither Barbara nor Joan, after cross-referencing Swell Blinds contracts, had found any match with any of the clients for whom Olga’s cleaners worked. Depression was threatening once more.

Anna left early for an evening’s grooming and to pack for the trip to Leeds. Only Barolli had looked at her with some suspicion, as he knew how much she hated Cameron Welsh.

Barolli had by this time interviewed Olga’s husband, who, although unpleasant, was obviously a sick man, as he was gasping for breath during the entire interview. He did not own a white Transit van but drove a small ex–Royal Mail van carrying three workers used for decorating and all the various cleaning equipment and materials. His English was not too bad, but he constantly had to use a puffer to help his breathing. Barolli discounted him, doubting that he would have the strength to strangle or rape a young woman, let alone give his own wife a seeing-to.

•  •  •

As the train came into Leeds station, Anna was standing by the door, ready to jump out. Her heart was racing, and when she saw Ken waiting behind the barrier, she ran to him. She dropped her overnight bag as he scooped her up into his arms. She had never experienced such a strong feeling. It was like being a teenager, and she wanted nothing more than to stay close to him and not have to go to the secure unit.

Ken’s flat was part of a complex used by officers working at the prison. A small building with ten modern flats, it had little to endear it, as it was like a square cinder block. His flat was spotless but sparse, with one bedroom, a lounge, a kitchen, and a bathroom. He had made no effort to personalize it, admitting that he intended to stay there only until he could afford to put a deposit down on his own place. He had, however, stocked the fridge with steaks and salad and smoked salmon. There was also a bottle of pinot grigio chilling for Anna, among the cartons of fruit drinks and health foods.

He brewed up fresh coffee, and they had some croissants with his mother’s homemade jam, and then he led her into the bedroom. It, too, was devoid of anything personal. However, the bed was covered with a cheerful yellow duvet and matching pillowcases. There were no pictures, but Anna could see a stack of Harley-Davidson magazines, and in a small bookcase were his books on psychology and numerous autobiographies. The one thing he had spent money on was a large plasma-screen television; beneath it was a stack of DVDs.

Anna placed her toiletries in his white-tiled bathroom, where there was a pile of white bath towels and matching hand towels, a laundry basket, and a pair of rope sandals with a big white terry-cloth dressing gown. She liked putting her toothbrush in the holder beside his. Out of curiosity, she opened the small glass-fronted bathroom cabinet. It contained some aftershave, an electric shaver, and two fresh tubes of toothpaste. Anna didn’t know the name of the aftershave she liked on Ken; she picked up an orange glass bottle with a wide silver top and couldn’t help smiling: it was Clinique Happy for men.

When she came out of the bathroom, Ken was lying on top of the duvet, waiting for her.

“I’m on duty at two,” he said, “off again at five. You can use the car I collected you in to come back here when you are through with Welsh, and I’ll walk—it’s not that far.”

Anna flopped down beside him, and he immediately hooked his arm around her, drawing her close. “I don’t know if I can get the next weekend off, so this is a bonus,” he said.

They kissed, and she didn’t want to move out of his arms. “I missed you,” she said softly.

He rolled away from her and then leaned up on his elbow, looking down into her face. “I don’t know whether it is the right time to tell you this . . .”

She felt her heart thud. What was he going to tell her? That he was with someone else, engaged, had a girlfriend—that this was just a passing thing and not to get too serious?

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone,” he said instead. “It’s probably too soon, and I’m no good at this kind of stuff, but you are suddenly the most important thing in my life.”

She wanted to burst into tears; it was the most perfect thing anyone had ever said to her. She cupped his face in her hands, telling him, “I feel the same way. I can’t stop smiling, and I chose not to drive so I’d have more time to spend with you.”

They kissed passionately and then made love, and they would have gone on loving each other, but Anna knew she had to get to the secure unit in the time allocated. They showered together, and he would have taken her again, but she yelled that she had wet her hair and had to get it dried before she left.

She had never felt so unself-conscious and free. He plugged in his hair dryer for her and watched as she attempted to coax her hair into some semblance of a style, but she’d forgotten to bring her big roller brush. He sat on the edge of the bath as she reapplied her makeup.

“You look even more beautiful,” he said as she dropped the bath towel, ready to get dressed. He couldn’t resist taking her in his arms and smothering her with kisses.

By the time they had driven into the prison compound and Anna had passed over her ID, he had to hurry to the secure unit, while she went to pay a cordial visit to the prison governor. She was so happy that she didn’t mind sitting in his office and even accepted coffee and biscuits.

Hardwick was as long-winded as ever, and she was surprised only when he brought up Langton’s name, saying that he felt Langton would make an excellent commander, as his interest in prison reform was on a par with his own. She nodded her agreement, suddenly understanding why Langton had spent so much time with the governor. As with everything in his life, there was a hidden agenda. Then she recalled Barolli’s comment that Langton was in the running for deputy commissioner.

Anna had requested that Welsh remain in his cell with the door closed as she felt safer that way.

Entering the unit, Anna glanced over at Ken, who gave her a small formal nod and a secret wink as the other officers went down the aisle to tell Cameron that his visitor was ready to see him. Anna waited, aware of Ken and aware of the other inmates walking around the unit. Two went out into the exercise yard, but they kept their eyes on Anna. She was relieved when she was told that she could proceed down the aisle to Cameron’s cell. A chair had been placed outside. Cameron was sitting, as usual, facing out. He was wearing his hair drawn back in a ponytail, a white collarless shirt, and jeans.

“Good afternoon, Detective Travis,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his brooding eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Welsh. Thank you for agreeing to see me again.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it. I think about you all the time. You occupy my dreams, my every waking hour.”

“I thought I might give you an update on our case and see if you have any insights that may assist our inquiry.”

“How very kind of you. What have you done to your hair?”

Anna touched her hair, a little unnerved. “I just washed it.”

“How could you have done that if you drove here?”

“I came on the train.”

“So when did you wash your hair?”

She pursed her lips. “Can we discuss the reason I am here rather than anything personal, please?”

“Are you staying at a hotel?”

“No. I am returning to London.”

“You seem different.”

“Mr. Welsh, I will walk away in one minute.”

“Very well, Detective Travis, you may begin.”

Anna took a deep breath and outlined the Polish connection; she informed him that they now knew all their victim’s identities, which included the new case of the girl found wrapped in a blue blanket. He listened intently and without interruption, as she said that although they had paid close attention to his suggestions, they still had no connection between the three Polish victims and Margaret Potts, and that they had interviewed everyone who knew her again, but without any result. She also explained that the Polish girls were working for a domestic cleaning agency but at different times. It was possible that they might have known each other, but the main problem for the police was that they could not discover where the girls had moved on to, so they couldn’t question anyone who would have information.

Welsh nodded and then turned to his computer table and picked up a notebook. “This woman who hired them brought them into England. Did she also use them as whores?”

“No. They might have gone on to earn money that way, but we have no details. The only prostitute was Margaret Potts.”

“Did this woman have contacts anywhere else in England—you know, to pass the girls on to work for them?”

“No, she did not.”

“So you have three girls who were here, all about the same age, not sexually permissive, but were murdered by the same man? It doesn’t make sense. Your killer had to have access to them; if he didn’t know them, then it is too much of a coincidence that all three went with him of their own free will. He had to know them or know about their situation. So take me through what you know about each girl.”