Blind Fury (30 page)

Langton clicked his fingers for Anna to show Margaret Potts’s photograph again. “This woman was murdered, John, strangled and raped, and these three young girls”—he slapped the table with the flat of his hand—“were also murdered—so you see how serious it is if you are lying about just getting screwed?”

Smiley had sweat beads over his forehead and upper lip.

“If you just admit it and say to me, ‘All right, yeah, that’s what happened. I paid her twenty quid and she went down on me. I finished the work and then I left,’ that will be the end of the story. But because you lie and say you’ve never even met her, you have to see that from my side, it looks suspicious, doesn’t it? It looks to me like you might have another reason for lying—and that reason could be that
you killed her
.”

Langton leaned on his elbows. Smiley had his head bowed.

“You could also be lying about not knowing these young girls, and because of that simple lie, you’ve gone and got yourself into a shedload of trouble. The reason for that one little lie is because you also knew every one of these girls.”

“I don’t like this,” Smiley said, with his head still bowed.

“I don’t like it, either, John.”

Smiley eventually looked up. “I want a lawyer, because you are not asking me about why I was at that service station; you tricked me, and this isn’t about that at all. You’re trying to make out that I’ve done something terrible.”

Langton began to restack the photographs.

“You never said who this witness was,” Smiley went on. “Who is she? What’s her name? I’ve got a right to know who’s saying these things about me.”

Langton stood up. “‘She,’ Mr. Smiley? Very well, we’ll get you a lawyer. Might be a bit of a wait. Would you like another coffee?”

“
No
.”

Langton nodded to Anna, and she stood up.

“See you later, Mr. Smiley,” Langton said briskly.

They left him sitting mopping his head with a handkerchief.

Walking along the corridor, Langton turned to Anna. “What do you think, Travis?”

“Not sure.”

“I am.” Langton paused and gave her a sidelong look. “Because we’ve got that lady Emerald Turk, we can keep him here for further interviews. I want him to stew, because it’s all we’ve really got to hold him on.”

“I’ll get a lawyer sorted out.”

“Wait a second. He’s lying—right? You telling me you don’t think he’s the killer?”

“I’m not saying anything. The man is terrified of what his wife will say if he’s going to be held in custody. But even if we get him to admit that he did know Margaret Potts, we have no evidence that he killed her or the three Polish girls.”

“You ever think that maybe he’s wily enough to know that if he admits to knowing Margaret Potts, he had to have also seen or known about her working the service station?”

They continued down the corridor, and this time it was Anna who stopped.

“All along we’ve kept on saying that Margaret is the odd one out—that she’s older, tougher, and more worldly than the other three victims.”

“Yes—and?”

“We would need to prove that Smiley didn’t just see her once but that he kept on meeting up with her at the service station or elsewhere, because she wasn’t murdered until two years later. Emerald Turk puts him in her flat bloody years ago, near Christmas 2005, so even if he admits that he did meet with her that one time, we have a very long gap in between.”

They continued to walk along the corridor, and Langton put his arm around her shoulders as he listened.

“If we can find out that Smiley was a regular client of Maggie’s, we have a phone call from her to Emerald in which she says something about the
Evening Standard
newspaper, but she also sounds drunk, so I’m not sure where I’m going with this.”

“Try me,” Langton said briefly.

“Okay. We’ve checked back to a possible day or night when the call was made from a pay phone, maybe at the service station. Margaret said she wanted to come over to Hackney to stay, but Emerald apparently refused. Anyway, the
Standard
ran a front page on the blue-blanket victim we now know to be Dorota Pelagia . . .” Anna stopped. “I haven’t got this sorted in my brain because of the odd time frame, but what if Margaret Potts read about the blue-blanket murder and worked out that it was connected to John Smiley?”

“Tried to blackmail him, something like that?”

“Maybe . . . so she had to be got rid of—which is why she is the odd victim out, so to speak.”

Langton had left his arm around her shoulder, and she found it a bit uncomfortable, but she wasn’t able to simply shrug him away.

“It’s possible,” Langton agreed. “I mean, she might not have known where Smiley worked, and had no means of contacting him until she saw him at the services, or alternatively, she was often in contact with him . . .”

Anna stepped away so he dropped his arm. “I think I need to go back and question everyone who knew her again, and that includes Emerald Turk. Again, this is something that’s just sort of clicked and . . .” She came to a halt.

“Yes? Share it.”

“Well, Emerald Turk was wearing an outfit she said had been left in Margaret Potts’s suitcase. It was a very expensive velvet-type tracksuit, and she also said there had been some other clothes.”

“Where’s this going?”

“Money. Everyone tells me that Margaret Potts never had anything and was always desperate for cash, but if she was blackmailing someone—John Smiley—she might have had cash, and she wasn’t seen around the service station a few weeks before her murder.” Anna sighed. “I really need to sit down with all my notes and work out the time frame for all this.”

Langton cupped her face in his hands, saying, “You take as much time as you need, sweetheart.”

It was as if he were about to kiss her. Quickly, she pulled back, and just in time, as Barbara appeared in the corridor, heading for the ladies’ toilets.

A lawyer was arranged for John Smiley, but it took over two hours for him to arrive. James Gregson was young and deliberated over virtually everything they told him. He expressed concern about the legality of holding Smiley in custody without formal charges, and Langton, taking the bit between his teeth, said they had direct witness evidence that Smiley knew and had met Margaret Potts. Gregson went off to speak with his client as Mike brought Langton up to speed about the possibility of the chain or cord from Swell Blinds being used to strangle the victims.

“Jesus Christ, when did you come up with this?”

“Looking over the postmortem reports. I’ve sent the link chain from the vertical blinds up in the incident room over to forensics, and we’re waiting on a delivery of the actual cord and chains used by Swell Blinds. They’re being brought down from Manchester.”

“Get them from Emerald Turk’s flat as well. She’s got both, hasn’t she?”

Mike hadn’t thought of that, and he flushed, but Langton dug him in the ribs.

“Now you’re cooking.”

Smiley was with Gregson for two hours, and it was now after seven-thirty. At eight o’clock Langton and Lewis informed them both that Smiley’s further detention for questioning had been authorized and they would continue the interview until the morning. Smiley was allowed to call his wife to let her know that he was to remain in custody overnight.

Langton made no mention to Gregson that they were waiting on a result from the cord and chains from forensics. It had been disappointing when Pete had called to say that the chain from the incident room was thicker than the indentations left on the victim’s neck; although it was similar, the small raised links were wider apart. As the items from Swell Blinds had now been delivered from Manchester, he would hopefully have a new and possibly different result by morning.

Chapter Thirteen

A
nna spent most of Thursday evening trying to mark up the exact time frame between Emerald Turk’s statements and the discovery of the bodies. When Ken rang at ten o’clock, she was ready to call it quits for the night. He commented that she sounded tired, and she gave him a brief rundown of the long day. She doubted that she would get the weekend off, but even if it was just Sunday, she said she might drive up to see him.

“Well, it might be a waste of time.” Ken groaned. “We’ve had a few problems, and with me skipping off for more free time than I’m allowed, it looks as if I’ll be working.”

“Sunday as well?”

“Yep.”

“What’s been happening?”

“It’s Cameron Welsh—he’s being a real pain in the arse. You wouldn’t believe what he looks like.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s not washed since around the last time you saw him. His hair is lank and dirty, he stinks, he’s not shaved or eaten, and he’s making trouble with all the other inmates in the unit.”

“Do you know why?”

“We don’t have to have a reason; sometimes it’s just down to stir craziness, but we’ll have to get a doctor in to see him if he carries on. It’s often a prelude to something going to blow. He shat all over his bedlinen, and no matter how many privileges we’ve removed from him, he remains a belligerent nasty sod. Plus, he’s been stealing from the other inmates, which creates havoc.”

“Is he violent?”

“No. He has a thing against me, though—spat in my face this morning. Tomorrow we’ve asked him to be checked over, get something to calm him down, but we’ve had him screaming and shouting all night long. If you ask me, he’s gone a bit gaga.”

“When will you know if you have to work?”

“It depends. I have more experience than a couple of the other officers; it gets quite hairy in here. Secure unit is a small place and very claustrophobic. We have to turn around duty so we don’t get as nuts as the prisoners.”

“Well, let’s hope we can meet up. I really miss you.”

“I tell you, if it’s not this weekend, I’m riding down the first opportunity I can get, and I’m sorry if I’ve sounded like a moaning twat. It’s just I’ve had my fill today—in fact, I’ve got to go back in. I’m over in the main prison getting a bite to eat.”

“Take care. I love you.”

“Do you have a photograph you can send me?”

She laughed and said she’d dig one out, but they were mostly from her childhood. She asked him to send her one of him in return.

“Kiss good night, then.”

Anna went straight to her desk and rummaged through the drawers, bringing out old photo albums. She thumbed through all the pictures of herself with her parents and then found one of herself at age eleven, doing a cartwheel. She took it out of the album and drew a heart on the back.
You
make my heart somersault
, she wrote beneath it, then tucked it into an envelope, ready to send it off in the morning.

The next morning was busy. Langton had the press conference at Scotland Yard, and most of the team was there, so the incident room was quiet. Smiley would be brought up from the cells as soon as they all returned. Anna thought back to her first meeting with Emerald Turk. She wished she’d asked to see the other items of clothing that had been left in the suitcase, as somehow the tracksuit didn’t fit all the depressing descriptions she’d been given of Margaret.

“Do you know what time the press conference is due to end?” she asked.

Barbara looked over and shrugged. “I know the boss had a lot of journalists interested, so if there’s a Q and A session, it could go on for an hour or even more.”

Anna decided that would give her enough time to drive over to talk to Eric Potts.

She was just parking her car outside the debt collection agency’s offices when Eric appeared, carrying a coffee. She hurried toward him. “Mr. Potts, it’s DI Anna Travis.”

He glanced at her and gave an odd smile. “I know who you are. You got some news for me? It’s been a while.”

“Sorry, I don’t, but we do have a few developments.”

“I should hope so. I reckoned as I’d not heard anything and there was nothing in the press, it was all buried.”

“No, not by any means. Can I have a few words with you?”

“Got to be a few, as I’m on my way to a job. Café owes rent, and if I leave it any longer, I’ll be carrying out the goods while they’re still serving the customers.”

“It’s in reference to the last time you saw Margaret. You said you met her in a café over by King’s Cross station?”

“Yeah.”

“How did she look?”

“What?”

“You’ve told me that sometimes she looked really ragged and was always asking you for money.”

“That’s right.”

“This last time, did she want money?”

He sighed. “Look, I made it clear to her that I couldn’t go on shelling out cash to her whenever she called me, and I also said that the wife didn’t want her around. I told you this.”

“Yes, I know—but can you think back? Did she ask you for money?”

“She always did.”

“I shall ask you again: how did she look?”

Eric opened the lid of his coffee and took a sip. “She was cleaner than usual, but she’d aged. She was worn out, and she looked it.”

“Did she say she needed money?”

“Maggie didn’t have to say it. She was living at some other tart’s place, I think, or a hostel—I don’t honestly remember. I walked away from her, you know, gave her a few quid, like, and walked off. Oh, Christ, I told you all of this before. When I looked back, she was crying, and I never saw her cry no matter what was done to her.”

“Did she say anything to you before you left her?”

“No, not that I can remember.” He sounded irritated now. “She could lie, you know; things were always going to be different. She said to me that she wasn’t gonna be working the service stations, that she didn’t need to do it anymore, but it was a lie, because they found her body near one, right?” Eric straightened, turning away from Anna as he remembered something. “Hang on—she had new shoes.”

“What?”

“It’s odd. See, I didn’t want to look at her when I told her to stay away from me and the kids, so I kept me eyes down. That was when I noticed she had new shoes on, with high heels. She normally wore scuffed old things that were flat.”

“Do you think her other clothes were new?”

He suddenly lost patience, snapping, “I don’t fucking know! It was a long time ago, all right? Now I’ve got to go to work.”

Langton was in no hurry to start the proceedings with Smiley, but was having coffee and sandwiches in the incident room. It had been a big turnout for his press conference, and the assistant commissioner had also been present. Langton looked smart in a dark suit, immaculate crisp white shirt, and sober tie. He was holding forth about the number of television crews interviewing him.

Barolli sidled up to Anna’s desk and said quietly that George Clooney had handled the press like a pro.

“He loves it, doesn’t he?” he said, looking toward Lang-ton. “You know, rumor is he’s gonna be the next murder and serious crime commander. The current one was at the conference, and they were very friendly. Langton’s certainly hands-on when there’re photographers around. I hear that those hands were all over you as well.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Barbara said she saw you and the gov in the corridor.”

Anna was furious. “She should mind her own business, and you should keep that yapping mouth shut. Maybe if you’d done more of a thorough interview with Emerald Turk in the first place, we’d have been a lot further and faster than we have been!”

Barolli stepped back as if she’d slapped him. “That was a low blow.”

“A true one, though—and don’t think DCS Langton isn’t aware of it.”

She was angry at herself for rising to the bait so quickly. It would only create more gossip.

Langton started to come over, but before he could say anything, Anna stood up, afraid he would sit on the edge of her desk. She didn’t want anyone putting two and two together and coming up with any more gossip, so she launched straight in with her latest news.

“Margaret Potts had new shoes on the last time she saw her ex-brother-in-law. She looked smarter than usual, and she might have had money, but she still took some off of him.”

“That’s not much to go on, but we do have a big development from Pete Jenkins. Mike sent over a cord and chain from Swell Blinds, and though Pete is not prepared to give it one hundred percent—”

“I’m not following you. One hundred percent about what?”

“The chain might have matched the indentations on Estelle Dubcek’s neck—it’s got those small raised dots. She’s the only victim with them, but on Anika Waleska, he thinks the cord might be one of the type used to strangle her.”

“Wow, that’s some development! On the other hand how many products are there, not only from Swell Blinds but from every other company that uses them? It’s a coincidence, though.”

“Coincidence . . . remember my code? Never believe in ’em.” He smiled, obviously pleased with the way things were progressing. “We had a good press conference, and there will be a lot of coverage, so I’d say Cameron Welsh will be gloating—so much of what he’s said has made us think. It might be worth another visit.”

“Apparently not. He’s gone gaga.”

“What?”

“He’s refusing to wash or eat and is causing problems with the rest of the inmates in the secure unit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s probably had his few moments of fame—dragging us all there to visit him has turned his head.”

“How do you know all this?”

She flushed and could have kicked herself. “Just keeping tabs on him in case I have to go and see him again.”

“You speak to the governor?”

“No.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“Officer Hudson.”

“Ken?”

“Yes, Ken Hudson.”

Langton kept his eyes on her until she looked away, embarrassed.

“Okay, we go to interview room one in fifteen minutes. See you in there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Langton headed off, and now Mike Lewis came up to her desk. “The clock is ticking with Smiley. We’ve had him here since last night—what’s Langton waiting for?”

“Could be evidence?” she said, getting up and pointing at the board.

“You know as well as anyone here does, we don’t have enough to charge Smiley, and if that young lawyer’s worth his salt, he’ll know it as well.” Mike puffed out his cheeks. “Come on, what about the possibility that it was the same type of cord and chain, for chrissakes.”

“Same type won’t hold up. It’s got to fit exactly,” Anna said.

“But Emerald Turk picked Smiley out of the video lineup.”

“Whose word would you trust, someone like her or a man with a decent job and a family?” Anna sounded impatient.

“But she identified him.”

Anna sighed. “Doesn’t mean diddly squat. She could be wrong. It was nearly five years ago; plus, she admits to only seeing him fleetingly, and if the lawyer gets hold of all that, it’s a no-go. The only chance we might get to keep him here will be if Smiley admits he lied about knowing Margaret Potts, but I don’t think he’s going to fall down like the pack of proverbial cards. He didn’t even after Langton really hammered at him last night.”

Anna went to prepare for the next round of questioning, leaving Mike Lewis feeling irritated. He knew he should have been the one interviewing Smiley with Langton. It hadn’t helped that Barolli, with his usual spoon out, had told him that Langton and Travis were obviously still an item. Mike wandered to the board and noticed that Travis had written “new shoes” beneath the data on Margaret Potts; she’d also underlined it, and he had no notion what it meant.

“Barbara, what’s this ‘new shoes’ that’s been added?”

“No idea. Maybe she’s gonna buy herself a pair.”

Mike went back to his office and sat stewing. Barolli tapped and entered. “You want a coffee?” he asked.

“No. Did Emerald Turk hesitate over identifying John Smiley?”

“Apparently not. She watched the videos twice and then picked him out. Maybe we’ll get more from him after this session.”

“And maybe we won’t.”

“Something’s got to give, Mike; we’ve got front-page coverage in the
Evening Standard
.” Barolli dropped the paper on Mike’s desk.

“They moved fast,” Mike said, cheered, then: “Yeah, I’ll have a black coffee, after all.”

“Good work on that Swell Blinds stuff,” Barolli said. “Been slap in front of our faces for weeks.”

As Barolli shut the door, Mike looked at the
Evening Standard.
The dead women’s faces were lined up like a picture gallery, and on the next page was a photograph of Margaret Potts with information that the police were holding a suspect in custody after a lengthy investigation. He knew without reading it all that Langton was acting like a spin doctor. If Smiley was to be released, they would be virtually back to square one, but the Met could not be accused of dragging their feet.

Time was certainly dragging in the interview room, where James Gregson was proving to be tiresome. He claimed that his client was being held unlawfully, and if they had further evidence that he knew Margaret Potts other than a weak video ID, they should produce it or release Smiley immediately. He by now had the details of Emerald Turk, who she was and so on, and that Margaret Potts, a prostitute, had stayed in her flat. Smiley had also denied ever fitting any blinds for Miss Turk or being paid cash to install them. He denied that he’d ever had any interaction with Ms. Potts or met her at the service station.

Time and time again, Gregson asked for evidence that implicated his client in anything more than being parked at the service station. Smiley had also denied ever meeting or having any kind of knowledge of the three Polish victims. Once more Gregson asked for any evidence that could implicate his client.

“My client, I believe, was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time . . .”

Langton had listened as Gregson pompously suggested that they had no alternative but to release his client. “I would also like to add that I think this is bordering on harassment. Mr. Smiley has driven himself to the station to be interviewed, turned up of his own volition. At no time has he denied that he was parked at the London Gateway service station. I am also told that you have interviewed his wife, his employer, and a number of previous employees of the same company. Mr. Smiley has an exemplary employment record, he has no police record, and if this continues, he could lose his job.”