Blind Fury

Chapter Thirteen

Anna 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 Langton. “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.”

Langton let him go on without interruption. Anna sat silently beside him, watching Smiley closely. He did not react to anything his lawyer said but sat impassively with his head tilted down.

“You must know, Detective Chief Superintendent, that Mr. Smiley should have had a lawyer present during his last interview and during the video identification process...”

Gregson was either waiting for Langton to interrupt him or query what he was saying, but he remained silent. Eventually, Gregson closed his thick leather-bound notebook and tapped it with his well-manicured fingernails. There was a long pause.

“I hear what you are saying, Mr. Gregson,” Langton said finally.

“Well, I’m pleased that you—”

“Shut up. Shut up and listen to me. I have given you the best part of half an hour without interruption, and now it’s your turn to listen to me.”

“I resent the way you have just spoken to me.”

“You can resent it as much as you like. It would be simple, Mr. Gregson, if your client would admit here and now that he did meet Margaret Potts, that he did know her, because we have a witness—”

“I’m sorry, but I have to interrupt you. This witness you maintain met with my client—”

“This same witness picked Mr. Smiley out as the man in her flat who came to repair a blind and offered to put in place another one at a lower price. She left Mr. Smiley alone with the victim, Margaret Potts. He can deny it, he can swear on his children’s lives that he was never there, but he was.”

Langton had found John Smiley one of the hardest nuts to crack. Because he had shown no emotion, it was difficult to know if they had gained any ground with him. The DCS was becoming so frustrated that Anna was afraid he would lose his temper for real, so she intervened, her voice softer and quieter, in an attempt to draw a response and calm the atmosphere.

“Mr. Smiley, we don’t want in any way to jeopardize your work, and I know it is difficult for you taking so much time off.”

Smiley leaned forward, his tone bitter. “If I get the sack, I will sue the police for harassment. I did not know that woman Potts, and this so-called witness is lying. God help me, I don’t know why anyone would do such a thing, but—”

“Her friend was murdered; she was raped and strangled. If you are afraid that by admitting you knew Margaret—”

“I DIDN’T KNOW HER. HOW MANY MORE TIMES DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY IT? I DIDN’T KNOW HER!”

Gregson quickly placed his hand on Smiley’s arm to quiet him. This was the first time he had lost control. Langton stepped in again.

“Fine. You must then know of someone else working at Swell Blinds who did the work for this witness, someone with access to the wooden slatted blinds, someone who could arrange to put up a pair on the cheap and fix the vertical blinds that needed to be repaired.”

Smiley was back in control. He shrugged and said that as far as he knew, there were a number of employees who used to work only on the vertical blinds but might also have access to the slatted ones.

“We used to get a few in that weren’t the right size — you know, if I hadn’t done the measurements properly, so we’d have a stack of them that were useless; anyone could have picked them up from the warehouse. I would say that was what this woman was paying cash for. We’ve sold off some at one time or another.”

“Then give us the names of employees you think might have sold them to our witness.”

“You ask Mr. Rodgers — he’s the one who knows who was employed and who wasn’t. Some of them were cash in hand, especially the ones doing up the vertical blinds for the housing association contracts. They would have twenty or thirty flats to work on. I’m the professional one, because I only did the top clients.”

Langton jotted down a note, passing it to Anna; she glanced at it and then folded it over. “I’d like you to look at this photograph, please, Mr. Smiley. Specifically, look at the markings to the victim’s neck.”

Smiley glanced down and then peered closer.

“Can you see the small indentations that have cut into her neck, where something was wound round three times and then drawn tightly?”

Smiley nodded, staring down at the photograph.

“On this victim, you can see the strangulation marks, but made by something different, something without links,” Anna continued.

Again Smiley really gave his attention to the photograph.

Langton tapped Anna’s knee beneath the table to keep going.

“These marks were made by a link chain and a pull cord from a vertical blind or a wooden slatted blind.”

Smiley leaned close to Gregson and whispered to him. They had a lengthy conversation, with Gregson shielding their faces with his notebook. Then he laid it down. “I understand where you are going with this, but perhaps you should be made aware that my client is knowledgeable with regard to the types of cords and chains used by Swell Blinds. The same cord and chains are manufactured in bulk; millions are used by most companies in the industry, not just Swell Blinds. It would therefore be impossible for you to categorically state that this could be used as evidence against my client.”

John Smiley was released from custody with no charges at nine-fifteen. Langton had remained in the interview room while Anna took both Gregson and Smiley out to reception. In a fit of temper, Langton hurled the files off the table and then kicked them. Anna returned to find him with all the files and statements littering the floor.

“I think we should call it quits for tonight,” she said, and began to pick everything up.

“You want to have a drink?”

“No. I’d like to get home — it’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I think we should get access to John Smiley’s bank accounts, check his cash withdrawal amounts, and see if they link up to any dates and vicinities of our murders.”

“Get on it, because next time we bring that bastard back, I am going to nail him.”

Anna placed the files back on the table.

“You seeing this Ken Hudson on a personal level?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.”

Langton leaned back in the chair, loosening his tie. “I said he had the hots for you, didn’t I?”

She disliked the way he was looking at her. “I actually had the hots for him, and now we’re quite serious, so I’d be grateful if you could cut out any snide remarks.”

“Who’s being snide?”

“Sorry, I just interpreted what you said the wrong way. It’s all new, and I feel protective over my friendship with him.”

Langton stood up and collected his files. He gave her one of his smiles that used to make her forgive him for anything, then moved closer and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy for you. Next time you see him, give him my best.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The following morning Anna received in the post a photograph of Ken Hudson at age eight. He was wearing a clown’s nose, a silly wig, and big flat shoes. He had scrawled on the back in black felt-tip pen, To my funny lovable Anna, from Ken.

Anna had forgotten to send her photograph: it was still in her briefcase. She had meant to post it yesterday on her way to the station but would take it with her when she drove to Leeds tonight. Both she and Ken had to work this Saturday. She was checking her appearance in her wardrobe mirror when she bent down to slip on her shoes and it triggered off the remark about Maggie Potts’s shoes being new. She had even underlined shoes on the incident board. Instead of driving directly to the station, she did a detour to Hackney to question Emerald Turk. She was curious about what else the suitcase had contained apart from the tracksuit.

Anna rang the doorbell and waited for about five minutes. Emerald unlatched the door and peered out, keeping the safety chain on.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” she said. “It’s bloody half past eight in the morning.”

It was actually nine o’clock, but Anna asked if she could come in, as she had a few things she wanted to talk over.

“Christ.” The chain was unhooked. “I only just got the friggin’ kids off me hands with a neighbor. I didn’t get home till four-thirty. I’ve got a life, you know, and this is starting to really piss me off.”

“I’m sorry, but you were brilliant at the video ID. Everyone was impressed — you handled yourself very well.”

“Yeah, I got a good memory, ain’t I — and they had someone here waiting when I got back.”

Anna was surprised.

“Yeah, they took me kitchen blind and the one that had fallen down from the box room. I don’t mind that, ’cause it’s been on the floor for years, but they can see in me kitchen from the flat opposite.”

“I’ll get someone to sort that out for you. May I sit down?”

“You’ve been here often enough, you could probably make yer own coffee. Do you want one?”

“No, thanks.”

Emerald looked rough. She had a long coughing fit and lit up a cigarette straight after. “I gotta give up, they cost a fortune.” She inhaled deeply and let the smoke out in rings. “What do you want this time?”

“This is difficult, Emerald, because I don’t want to insult you, but what we’re sort of coming up with is that Margaret may have been making quite a few quid. You were wearing a really nice tracksuit you said belonged to her...”

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me the other items you found in her suitcase?”

“I told you there was nothing much. And some stuff I just chucked.”

“But can I see what you kept?”

Emerald continued to smoke, sticking the cigarette into the corner of her mouth and squinting one eye as the smoke drifted ups. “What do you want to see them for?”

“I’m just trying to find out if Margaret was maybe saving money or spending more than usual.”

Emerald shrugged and then carefully stubbed out the cigarette in a saucer. “If she had money, she used to send it to her kids at the foster home they live in. There wasn’t any money in her case.”

“But the clothes — were they new?”

Emerald led Anna into her bedroom. It wasn’t all that untidy, but the bed had not been made, and there was a sequined evening dress and gold high-heeled shoes chucked onto the floor at the end of it. Emerald went to her wardrobe and opened it up.

Anna looked around the bedroom. She noticed an open cardboard jewel box covered in a flower pattern, with beads and bangles heaped inside and hanging out of it. Beside it was another case, a black leather one. It looked as if that was where she kept her better-quality jewelry.

“Right, here you go. As far as I remember, it was this jacket, this skirt, and two blouses. The pants I chucked because they weren’t my size, nor were her bras, and like I told you, what I didn’t fancy, I tossed out.”

“With the suitcase?”

“Yeah.”

Anna looked over the jacket. It was nothing special and came from Topshop; the blouses were from Zara; and the skirt was a wool three-tiered pale blue one of good quality.

“This is nice,” Anna said, fingering it.

“Yeah, not my style, though. I’ve not worn it, just shoved it in the wardrobe.”

“What about the velvet tracksuit?”

Emerald gestured to a laundry basket. “I wear that a lot. It’s nice and comfortable.”

“Did you ever see Margaret wearing things like this?”

“Funnily enough, no. They were all folded ever so neatly as well. She used to wear more cheap sexy T-shirts and short skirts — you know, anything to show off what she was stacking.”

“What about jewelry?”

Anna saw the way Emerald darted a quick glance at her dressing table and the jewelry boxes.

“No, nothing in the suitcase. It looks like she had to have kept some other gear somewhere. I know she used stations. But when they closed all the left luggage places ’cause of bloody terrorist scares she left it with me or dossed down at various hostels.”

“There were no shoes?”

“No.”

“What about a nightdress?”

“Oh yeah, hang on... And there was a dressing gown. I use them — they’re in the bathroom.”

Anna followed Emerald into the hall and to the small bathroom. Hanging on the door was a terry dressing gown and a pink nylon nightdress.

“Was she wearing these when you last saw her? When the man came to fix the blinds?”

“No, they was in the suitcase. I washed them ’cause she wasn’t always that clean.”

Anna asked if Emerald knew the foster parents’ address for Margaret’s children, but she didn’t.

“Is that it, then?”

“How much money was in the suitcase, Emerald?”

The woman’s jaw dropped and then clamped shut. “You got a friggin’ nerve! There was no money, I told you. I’ve shown you everythin’ I kept, and the rest I bloody tossed. Now just clear on out of it. I’m through with you.”

“Why are you getting so angry?”

“You are accusin’ me of nickin’ cash, and I told you I never found none, like I never found no red notebook, neither.”

“Really? So you saw it, did you?”

“Jesus Christ! She showed it me, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right, Emerald. If you did find it and also found some cash, how much did you find?”

Emerald walked back into the kitchen. Anna waited a beat before she followed and saw Emerald shaking her packet of cigarettes, which was empty. She hurled it at the pedal bin.

“Please will you just tell me the truth. I can’t do anything about it, because her suitcase was here in your flat. I just need to know if Margaret had money.”

Emerald picked up a cigarette stub from the ashtray and puffed it alight. “She was quite flush, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Emerald sat on one of the breakfast stools. “’Cause I let her stay, she gave me a few quid.”

“Was that unusual?”

Emerald sighed, smoking virtually right down to the tip of the cigarette. “Yeah.”

Anna watched her run the tap over the cigarette stub. She was surprised to see the woman close to tears.

“I knew she was dead — right? — so I took it. It’s all gone on stuff for the flat and the kids. I mean, I’d had the friggin’ suitcase, but I never opened it, not till I knew what had happened to her.”

“How much was in there?”

“It was a few hundred...” She had tears spilling down her cheeks as she choked out, “All right, it was about a grand, in mostly ten- and twenty-pound notes.” She was still lying, because it had been two thousand pounds, but she was too scared to admit the amount.

“Thank you for that information, Emerald. As I said to you, I just needed you to be honest with me.”

“Will I get booked?”

“I shouldn’t think so. But it won’t really be me who decides,” Anna walked to the front door. “It’s all about us trying to find out who killed your friend. We believe Margaret might have been blackmailing someone, and that is the reason why she had so much money.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, but I swear on my kids’ lives, I dunno nothing about anything like that.”

Anna passed her card over, saying that if Emerald should think of anything else that might be of help, she was to contact Anna on her direct line. Emerald’s hand was on the front door, ready to open it, as Anna said there was one more thing that bothered her. Emerald slapped the door with the flat of her hand. “Bloody hell, now what?”

“It’s just you said Maggie left her suitcase with you and that you had no contact with her apart from the one phone call, and you mentioned she left a message.”

“Right, yeah. It was her, wantin’ to stay.”

“You have stated that was the last time you had anything to do with her, that you never saw her again, and then you found out she was dead.”

“Right. I read about it in the papers.”

“If what you have told us is the truth, the last time Maggie stayed with you is when the blinds were repaired. That was a long time ago, so you kept her suitcase here for many months.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you. If it had contained clothes and money, why didn’t she come back for it? Unless you did see her again after that phone call, which you maintain was the last time you spoke to her.”

Emerald kicked at the front door, swearing, and Anna stepped well back.

“You think I don’t fuckin’ feel about it, ’cause I do! I mean, she was a right pain in the arse, but I can’t be blamed for what happened to her. It’s got nothin’ to do with me, and I was about the only friend she bloody had, so that’s why I’ve said nuffink.”

“Nothing about what, exactly?”

Emerald sighed, leaning her back against the front door. “I was just coming back from work, and she turned up. She wanted to stay and said she could give me a few quid. She didn’t want to go into a hostel, as people were nicking stuff off her.”

“When was this?”

“Maybe two months before she was murdered. She had her case with her, and she’d been drinking, so there was no way I’d let her in with the kids. It was a Saturday, like today, and they were at home.”

Anna said nothing, waiting as Emerald gave another long, shuddering sigh.

“I told her she could leave her case with me, but that was it. She got a bit stroppy but then handed it to me.”

“How did she look?”

“Same as always. Well, not exactly. She didn’t look like she’d been workin’, know what I mean? And she’d had her hair bleached. Anyway, she said she’d be back for it in a couple of days. She also said — and this got me pissed off — that it was locked and she’d know if I’d opened it. Bloody nerve, I thought, considering how much I’d done for her.”

“Was she carrying anything else?”

“She had a big holdall bag. Never left that with me. She walked off and...” Emerald paused. “She turned and gave me a wave and was smiling. To be honest, I did feel bad, but then I shut the door. I put her case into the box room, and I swear on me kids’ lives I never opened it. Well, I knew she had some hard-nut friends, like. Remember I told you they duffed up a geezer that tipped her out of his truck, so I left it alone. I even waited after she died in case someone or other contacted me about it. When nothin’ happened, I pried the lock off it and said nuffink to nobody about it.”

“Thank you, Emerald.”

Anna added the new details from Emerald to the incident board and wrote that a priority should be tracing the foster parents of Margaret Potts’s children. She then went to ask Mike if it was possible for her to leave before lunch, as she had a prior commitment.

“Not like you, Travis,” he said, sounding surprised by her request. He also pointed out that she had not worked weekends for some time.

“It’s quite important,” she persevered, “and it’s not as if we’re inundated.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Okay, permission granted. Family thing, is it?”

“Yes,” she lied.

Anna drove up to see Ken, arriving early Saturday night. He was on duty until eleven but had left a key with his neighbor. He would have to work Sunday but said he would try and swing it that they had at least part of the day together. She was tired out after the long drive and had gone to bed, waking when he got in beside her. He kissed her and then flopped back onto his pillow.

“Listen, my mum has asked if you’d like to go over tomorrow. You don’t have to, but as I’m on duty, I just wondered...”

She leaned up on her elbow and said that she’d love to see his parents again.

“Honestly, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Didn’t you say it was their wedding anniversary? Maybe you could come by later?”

“I love you,” he said, giving her a hug.

Anna arrived at Ken’s parents’ with a large bouquet of flowers, and Mrs. Hudson hurried her into the kitchen. As she put the flowers into a vase, she explained that she’d been baking an anniversary cake and had to finish the icing but didn’t want her husband, Roy, to see it.

“I’m going to get him to clean that car of yours, which will keep him outside. He’s down at the store, getting a nice bottle of wine for dinner and...” The front doorbell rang. “That’s him, never has his keys. I won’t be a minute. Actually, no, you’d better come out, or he’ll want to come in and say hello.”

Roy Hudson was wearing overalls and Wellington boots, ready to wash and polish his own car, which was parked alongside Anna’s Mini. Anna said that he didn’t really need to wash hers.

“I always obey orders, love, and the wife’s keeping me out of the way ’cause she’s probably baking up a cake or something, so you go on back inside.”

He gave her a smile almost identical to Ken’s, which left her with no choice but to return to the kitchen. She watched, fascinated, as Mrs. Hudson prepared the marzipan and wrapped it around the layered sponge cake; then she was shown how to mix the icing and prepare the cones for the decoration.

“I’ll show you how to make little roses. We’ll need the white icing to dry nice and hard so the colors don’t run, and if you’d like to practice, you can use the breadboard.”

Mrs. Hudson was extremely patient and encouraging as Anna managed to make awful clumps of pink icing over the board. After a number of attempts, she managed a rather good small rose with petals.

“That’s ever so good, dear. Now you can put them on the cake.”

“No, no, I don’t think so. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You won’t. I’ll mix up a blue and a green for the writing, but I’m not putting on how many years we’ve been married, there’s not enough room.” She laughed.

To spend half an afternoon icing a cake and then having toasted cheese sandwiches with Roy and Brenda was a lovely experience. She was asked a lot of questions about her own parents but not, thankfully, about her work. She was so relaxed that she didn’t think about it until she was sitting drinking tea with Brenda, who was surrounded by all the photographs of her foster children.

“Did the parents of the children you cared for pay regular visits?”

“Some did, but to be honest, most of them only made promises. The hard part for me was when they didn’t turn up. I’d get the children all bathed and dressed smartly, and they’d sit at the front window waiting. Time and time again, the promises were broken, and they would be so disappointed, and then we’d have tantrums and tears.”

“Did the parents send birthday cards and gifts?”

Brenda shrugged. “Often when they first came to me, we’d get phone calls and cards, but inevitably, they would peter out. Roy and I would try and make up for it — you know, by having special parties and cakes.”

“What about money?”

“Well, the Social Services obviously paid for us to do the fostering, and they didn’t really like us to take money off the children’s parents. Most were single parents; sometimes if money was sent, we’d put it into a savings account for the child. We’d never touch it ourselves.” Brenda poured herself another cup of tea. “Why do you ask?”

Anna gave a brief outline of a victim’s children being fostered but didn’t go into details about Margaret Potts.

“Were her children abused?” Brenda asked.

“I honestly don’t know; they could have been. It seems, as far as I know, that it was almost a relief for their mother to have them taken away, as her husband was violent to her and a drunkard.”

“We used to get a lot of poor mites that had been half-starved, never mind thrashed, but you know...” Brenda hesitated.

“Go on, please.”

“I always looked on my charges like a garden. It may sound silly, but you can take a run-down, bedraggled garden, and with tender loving care, you can make everything come alive. Now, sometimes, no matter how hard you work, the weeds take over and strangle the nice orderly flower beds. Or you can get a bed of nettles spring up, and they’re the worst — they’re always hard to keep from growing back. We had some, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t stop them stinging and doing the worst damage. I believe the worst kind is when a child has never known affection, has been ignored and never touched or kissed or cuddled. They were the hardest to deal with, because they couldn’t trust being loved.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“It was, but the rewards always made everything worthwhile. I had a little tigress once, she’d bite and kick and was very destructive, and I was run ragged by her, as she also made the other children unsettled. Just when I was wondering if I’d taken on too much, she came into the kitchen. I knew she was behind me, and I was wondering if she was going to sidle up and kick me on the ankles, but she wound her skinny little arms around me and asked if she could call me Mummy.”

Roy appeared in the doorway, looking grubby but minus his Wellington boots. “Oh, she’s not going on about her garden theory, is she?”

Brenda laughed and offered him a cup of tea. “He’s a one to talk. He first started saying that I was out of my mind taking on one, never mind a whole houseful of them, but it was him that went and bought a caravan so we could take the kids to the seaside.”

Roy sat down with his tea as Brenda opened a drawer, taking out one of her photo albums.

“Not the albums, Brenda love, she’s been shown them.”

“I wanted her to see the ones with you on the beach, Roy, with all the children by the caravan.”

Anna crossed to her, smiling and saying, “I want to see the photographs, I really do.”

“I’m going to have a bath and leave you both to it.”

Roy walked out and Brenda sat down, searching through the album, but suddenly gasped, “I’ve got to put the leg of lamb in the oven! Here, dear, you look through them.”

Brenda carried out the tea tray, and Anna sat on the sofa with the albums. There were lots of holiday snaps, with caravan, without caravan, and with various children on a donkey ride. They seemed to be all ages, and what was touching about them all was the joy on their faces. Anna went to replace the album, and stacked in the drawer in no particular order were loose family photographs. She couldn’t resist looking through them, seeing Ken at different ages with his parents and Lizzie, and with a good-looking younger boy whom she presumed was his brother, Robin. He was, as she’d been told, handsome and darker-haired, like his mother, with a fine chiseled face and dark brooding eyes unlike either parents’.

She was about to replace them when she saw a picture of Ken with his arm resting around the shoulders of a tall man of a similar age. They were smiling into the camera. Ken was wearing a tracksuit, while the other man wore what appeared to be some kind of uniform; dark trousers and a jacket with something on the lapels. He was also holding the leash of a full-grown German shepherd.

Anna felt chilled, recalling Pete’s words when he phoned her from the forensic lab to discuss the blue blanket found wrapped around Dorota Pelagia. It had dog hairs over it, and he said he thought they were possibly from a German shepherd. She wanted to shove the photograph back into the drawer and forget she’d seen it. Was it a coincidence? Then Langton’s mantra entered her mind — there are no coincidences — and she jumped when Mrs. Hudson walked into the room.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you, dear? I’ve put it on low heat to cook it really slowly.”

Anna licked her lips, which felt dry. “Brenda, who is this in the photograph with Ken?” She passed it over.

Brenda sighed heavily. “Ah, it was terrible. I don’t think Ken ever got over it. That other lad is Jack, and the dog was called Rex: he worshipped it. Jack was a dog handler at the prisons, and it was through him that Ken became interested in doing the same work — you know, before he goes back to studying again. Has he told you he wants to qualify to work with special needs teenagers?”

“Yes, yes, he did mention it. What happened?”

Brenda still held the photo in her hand as she sat on the sofa. “Rex was Jack’s guard dog; Jack had had him since he was a puppy — you know, they take them home to get them familiar with their trainer or handler, I think they call them, and I’ve never come across an animal that was not only so obedient but so clever. He’d dribble a football around, and his eyes used to follow Jack, because he doted on him. I know he could be ferocious, that’s what he was trained for — Jack only had to click his fingers for that dog to sense what he wanted him to do.”

“What happened? You said Ken found it hard to get over something?”

Brenda sighed again. “Jack used to have a van with a dog cage in the back, but Rex was never locked in, since he was so well behaved. Maybe we’ll never know how it happened, but they were on the M6 when a ten-ton lorry jackknifed across the central divide. There was a head-on collision. Rex had somehow sensed it, because he’d moved from the cage to shield Jack, and he took the full impact.”

“Did Jack survive?”

“Yes, although he had terrible injuries and was in the hospital for months.”

“When did it happen?”

“Four or more years ago. We had this photograph in a frame on the mantelpiece, but Ken told me to put it away because he couldn’t stand to look at it.”

Roy came in at that point and asked if Anna would like a sherry. She said that she’d maybe have one later, but if they didn’t mind, she’d like to change for dinner. When she’d left the room, Brenda held up the photograph to replace it in the drawer.

“She found this picture of poor Jack and his dog.”

“Sad business. Do you want a sherry?”

“No, love. I’ll get the vegetables prepared, and then I might go up and have a little rest.”

“I’ll set the table, shall I?”

“Already done. You sit and watch some TV.”

Anna’s overnight bag had been placed in the same room she had slept in before. She lay down and closed her eyes, chastising herself. Just as she had suspicious about finding the blue blanket at Ken’s flat, she now felt the same way about the photograph. It was horrible that her work could encroach on her like this. One moment she was utterly relaxed and happy, and the next, she had turned back into Detective Inspector Travis. Deeply troubled, she fell asleep and woke only as Brenda gently shook her a few hours later. Anna sat up and immediately apologized.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve had a little sleep as well, but Ken’s just called, and he’s on his way here.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty, and you must be hungry. We usually eat a lot earlier, and Roy’s hovering around the kitchen like a starving man.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Anna swiftly washed her face and put some fresh makeup on. Downstairs, the table was set, and there were her flowers in the center and champagne glasses with a bottle of Moët in an ice bucket with a big pink bow. Anna noticed a number of happy-anniversary cards on a side table as she heard the rumble of Ken’s motorbike.

She hurried into the hall as he walked in, opening his arms and swinging her up to kiss her.

“You two come and sit down,” Brenda called out fussily. “Your dad’s ready to carve.”

“Give me two minutes to wash up, Mum. Start serving, I won’t be a tick.”

Ken had taken a quick shower and changed from his work clothes into a white T-shirt and jeans. Anna noticed that he broke his usual teetotal habits to take a glass of champagne to toast his parents, and it was sweet the way his father had a few glasses too many, as did Brenda. Yet again it felt like she was truly welcome, and Brenda had cooked up a storm serving roast lamb, roast potatoes with gravy, carrots, and green beans. She was rosy-cheeked and giggly as she brought in the anniversary cake, making sure everyone knew that Anna had made the iced roses. Ken gave a funny formal speech, praising his parents’ longevity and happy marriage, hoping that he’d be lucky enough to find someone like Brenda one day. He kissed his mother and gave his father a hug and said that as it was a special night, he would do the washing up.

“I’ll be your assistant,” Anna said, piling up the dishes, and together they insisted that Brenda and Roy go and put their feet up.

Ken was fast at stacking the dishwasher, while Anna washed the fragile champagne glasses by hand. He washed the pans and the meat dish beside her and then left them to dry. After that, he did a quick wipe around all of the surfaces before tossing the cloth into the sink and saying they could call it quits.

“Your mum has put my overnight bag into the room I used last time I stayed.”

He grinned. “She’s very diplomatic, but you are sleeping with me, and it’s a quick good-night to those two, who’ll stay up for hours watching old movies, and then...” He took her in his arms, kissing her passionately. “Has it been a tedious day for you?” he asked, letting her go.

“Far from it. I love being with your parents, and I also had a good sleep this afternoon.”

“All right for some. It’s been a real shit of a day for me, but I don’t want to talk about it, I just want you beside me.”

Ken’s room was not what she had expected. There was a rowing machine and a set of weights, but little else of a personal nature.

“When I went off to university, they redecorated, and there were foster kids using it; when they all moved out, I sort of moved back in, but I just keep some clothes and books here. I don’t want them to think I’m moving back on a permanent basis. Lizzie and the kids use this room as well when they stay. So don’t think I’m a cross-dresser when you find frocks in the wardrobe.”

“You also keep your flat pretty unlived in.”

“Ah, you noticed. Reason is, I am saving, because when I move to London to work at this special unit, I want to buy a place of my own. Until then I live like a monk.” He laughed. “Well, that’s not quite true. Mum still insists on doing my washing and ironing — I think it makes her feel needed.”

“I’ve heard some excuses in my time...”

He grinned and was about to take her in his arms when she asked about Jack. He moved away from her.

“I found his photograph,” she said, “the two of you together with his German shepherd.”

“Did Mum give it to you?”

“No. I was putting away a photo album, and it was in the drawer. I did ask her about it, though.”

“Jack was the best friend I ever had. He worked at the prison. You know about the crash?”

“Yes.”

“If it hadn’t been for Rex, he’d have taken the full impact. Somehow Rex got out of the cage to shield him. Bloody juggernaut jackknifed across the motorway. When they found him, the dog was crushed against the steering wheel, and Jack had been pushed sideways, head cracked open on the passenger-side window.”

“But he survived?”

“Yeah. He was concussed for over a week. When he came round, he kept on asking about Rex — my God, he loved that dog. None of us could fathom exactly how it had happened, but it looked as if he had a sixth sense and hurled himself at Jack to protect him. They had to bloody peel his body off him...”

Ken turned away, and she put out her hand to comfort him, saying, “But he saved him.”

“Right, but in many ways I wish he hadn’t. He still talks about Rex, still sometimes asks about him.”

“But it was four years ago.”

“Yeah, but Jack doesn’t understand, because he’s got the mind of a ten-year-old and is now in a home — will be for the rest of his life.” Ken lay back on the pillows with tears in his eyes. Anna had never been with a man who showed such open emotion. He was close to crying, and she wished she’d never brought it up.

“Just before the accident, we’d been out to celebrate; he’d gotten this new job in London working for a top security firm. He and his girlfriend were about to move — well, she did move; he’d been worried that he couldn’t get permission to take Rex with him. Dog handlers often have to wait for the animals to retire before they can ask to keep them as a pet.”

Anna broke down in tears, and Ken looked at her, surprised. “What are you crying for?”

“Because of what happened in my head. I couldn’t stop it, and now I feel disgusted, ashamed, because of what I thought.”

“And what did you think?”

Anna sniffed and then reached for a tissue from the bedside table. She explained to Ken about the coincidence, the blue blanket and the dog hairs, but before she could finish, he had thrown the duvet aside and gotten up.

“Wait, just let me get this straight — because of evidence, forensic or whatever it was — you made a connection between me, the friggin’ dog, and a murder victim. Is that right? Am I right?”

“It just happened; I couldn’t help it.”

“You couldn’t help it?”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood at the end of the bed wearing just his boxer shorts and staring at her in disbelief. He then leaned forward, dragging the duvet away from her. She was naked.

“Go into the other bedroom,” he hissed. “I don’t want you here with me. Go on — get out. Get out!”

“No, I won’t.”

He reached forward and gripped her arm so tightly it hurt, but no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t release herself. He dragged her to the door.

“Don’t do this, please, Ken.”

He pushed her away from him and picked up her nightdress.

“Put this on and get out.”

“No, I won’t.”

He glared at her as she pulled on her nightdress. “Okay, stay and do what you like, but I’m out of here.”

He picked up his jeans from the floor and started to get dressed. She went to him, wanting to put her arms around him, but he wouldn’t let her near him. She sat on the bed as he dragged on his T-shirt, zipping up the fly on his jeans.

“You know, I really believed that we had something special, and you come here, sit with my parents — for what? Because you think that I have some connection with this sick case you are fucking working on.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, but I can’t help that it’s always in the back of my mind and—”

“You keep me out of your mind from now on.”

It was awful. He grabbed his bike boots and walked out, slamming the door. She ran after him, and Brenda came out onto the landing.

“What’s happened?”

Ken was by the front door with his leather jacket and bike helmet. “Go back to bed, Mum. It’s nothing. I have to leave.”

“Please don’t go,” Anna said, heading after him down the stairs, but he’d already opened the door. She held on to it, still trying to persuade him not to leave, but he roughly pushed her away and slammed the door shut.

Brenda came out of her room again as Anna began sobbing. Brenda knew her son had gone because she couldn’t help but hear his bike start up and roar off.

“Whatever’s happened between you?” She was midway down the stairs.

“Please just leave me alone — it was all my fault.”

Roy appeared above them on the landing. Brenda looked up and told him that Ken had left.

“I know that, I could hear his bike. What’s been going on?”

Anna sat on the stairs, sobbing. Neither Brenda nor Roy seemed to know what to do, and then they looked shocked as Anna sprang to her feet.

“I’m going after him.”

“Don’t you think you should calm down, love?” Roy said.

Anna ran past them to her room, not wanting to talk, just desperate to leave and follow Ken. They were still on the landing, full of concern, when she came out.

“It was all my fault, but it’ll be all right.”

Roy was moved. “You’re very upset. I don’t think you should drive.”

“I’ll be all right, really, and I’m sorry this had to happen. He’s gone without his uniform, and I have to see him.”

Brenda walked back down the stairs with her. “Don’t worry about his uniform. He’s got a spare in his flat — but I’m worried about you.”

Anna put her arms around Brenda and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll write to you.”

They both watched her drive off too fast, and Roy closed the front door.

“What on earth do you think sparked that off?” he asked as he put his arm around his wife.

“I don’t know. They seemed so happy together, but you know Ken. How many girls has he split up from? He never seems able to keep one for more than a few months.”

“I thought this one was different, but then what do we know?”

Anna parked beside Ken’s motorbike. She’d driven erratically, veering between crying and angrily shouting at herself, but she managed to calm down enough to keep within the speed limit. All she cared about was making up with him.

She hurried into the block of flats and ran up the stairs. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She kept on ringing it, but he didn’t open the door. Next she banged on the door with the flat of her hand.

“I know you are in there, Ken, and I am not leaving until you talk to me. KEN, OPEN THE DOOR!”

But he didn’t. So she kept her hand on the doorbell for what seemed like an age before slumping down in the doorway. Next she took out her mobile phone and rang his, but he didn’t pick up. She kept on calling him until it was switched off. She got up again and hit the door, then kicked it.

“Open the door, Ken.”

A neighbor looked out. He saw her standing there and asked if she was all right. She apologized and said she was just waiting for Ken to let her in.

“I hope he does soon, darlin’, as you’re waking up the whole block.”

She went back and sat on the stairs, beginning to think that he was not going to give in. She still had her mobile phone in her hand, and after a while she texted a message to Mike Lewis. She was so tense and angry that it took some time. It was even hard to believe it herself as she left the text that the team should check into prison officers and security guards who were dog handlers, and to go as far back as when Cameron Welsh was under arrest and on trial.

That done, she sat huddled on the stairs, and when she put her phone away, there by Ken’s photo was the envelope with her photograph that she’d forgotten to send to him. She had to have been sitting there for fifteen minutes before Ken finally opened his front door. She looked up at him.

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” he said.

“I won’t go away until we’ve talked. Please let me come in.”

He stepped back into the flat, and she picked up her bag and followed him. He was sitting on the end of his bed, still in his jeans but barefoot. She felt like a schoolgirl, standing in the open doorway. She passed him the envelope. “I meant to post this to you.”

He didn’t take it, so she threw it on the bed. He opened it and looked at the picture of her turning somersaults.

“Very nice,” he said, tossing it aside.

She didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t make it easy, looking at his watch. “I have to be on duty tomorrow, so why don’t you say what you have to say so I can get some sleep.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Try starting with what it feels like to think you know a woman, trust her, fall in love with her, and then find out she thinks you’re a murder suspect. You’ve brought her into your family, and all the time she was fucking checking out if...” He shook his head. “How could you be with me and even contemplate that I could not only be lying to you, but using you because I was some warped killer.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Of course you bloody did. Why don’t you admit it? To be so two-faced beggars belief.”

“I’m not two-faced.”

“Christ, you even admitted what you thought when you found the blue blanket — and what’s this about dog hairs? My best mate’s never going to have a life — what’s with you suspecting even him?”

Anna stood in front of him, crying. She knew what he was saying was partly true, and she didn’t know how she could rectify the damage to their relationship.

“I’ll go because I don’t see how I can make it up to you. All I can say is that...”

“Say what? Always on duty, are you?”

“Yes, if you must know. Yes, I am, or I used to be, but not with you.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t humorous, it was cold laughter, and his eyes were still intensely angry.

“Can I make a cup of coffee?” Anna asked.

“No, you can just leave me alone and go back to London. I mean it, Anna. I can’t deal with this.”

She went into his kitchen. She was shaking, and even though she didn’t want a coffee, she made one. She walked back to the bedroom; Ken was now in bed, leaving only a small bedside lamp on.

“Do you want one?” she asked.

He sighed and shook his head. She moved slowly into the room and then sat on the edge of the bed. She was hesitant at first, beginning to explain about her visits to Cameron Welsh, the ongoing interrogation of their only suspect, John Smiley, how they were attempting to build a case against him but how it continued to fall apart no matter what new developments implicated him.

“I was told that the blanket found wrapped around Dorota Pelagia had German shepherd hairs, and we are certain it was one of the blankets issued to prisons.”

He lay with his eyes closed.

“Are you listening to me? Look, what happens is the trail of clues sort of fire up inside your brain. We’ve thought that our killer might even be a police officer or someone that the victims were able to immediately trust. Something clicked inside my head when I saw your friend in his security uniform and with the same type of dog that would leave hairs on the blue blankets. For a second I was suspicious, or what it was more like was piecing together a jigsaw. Cameron Welsh has maintained that there was a witness, and he may have been right. He’s constantly mentioned that he knows more, that he seeks out small clues he wants us to follow. We’d reached a conclusion that he was lying, that he didn’t have anything more to tell us, but what if he knew all along about someone — possibly a security guard? It would make sense, and that’s what he has been holding back.”

Ken remained with his eyes closed.

“I hated having to sit with him. He was constantly giving me these sexual gloating looks. He repels me, but I had to meet with him because my boss insisted. After the last visit, I was certain that it had all been a ploy to get me there, that he was enjoying himself, that he might even have had some fantasy about me, but I only agreed to meet with him again because it meant that I could spend time with you.”

Still no reaction.

“For the first time in my life, I want to be with someone more than I want my career. Previously, I would be the first person to forgo leave, but I’ve taken more time off than I have on any other case because I wanted to be with you, and if you asked me, I would walk away from the entire career that to date has been the most important thing in my life.”

He said nothing. There was a long pause, and she stood up. “I’ll go now.”

He flipped open the duvet, inviting her in, and she crawled in beside him fully clothed. He lifted his arm for her to snuggle closer, holding her tightly.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said softly.

She remained beside him in her clothes all night. They fell asleep, exhausted. She was woken by him gently touching her face; he was already dressed for work.

“I have to go, but I can be back early afternoon. Can you wait for me?”

“You’ll never get rid of me.”

He straightened and headed for the door, then turned back. “You know, maybe I was so mad because I’d had a really bad day. Cameron Welsh is making life difficult at the unit. We had an unpleasant fight between inmates, and he was the one that sparked it off; we’ve even had him sedated, but he’s getting worse by the day. I think you were right — I think he does have this fantasy about you, and whether or not it’s my intuition or his, I think he knows about us.”

“How?”

“No idea, but he’s made a few snide remarks. I ignore them. If you think he does have more information, I doubt you’ll get any sense out of him.”

She sat up. “What did he say about us?”

“He never says anything directly; it’s mumbled when he passes me. He said something about redheads being the devil. Another time he said I’d pay for betraying him, just crazy stuff. But we’ve had to make him give up a lot of his privileges, so that enrages him, and like I told you, he’s refusing to wash and eat.”

“Will he be transferred?”

“I’ve suggested it. If he acts any crazier, he should be shipped out to Broadmoor. So that’s why I flew off the handle so easily.”

“You should have told me.”

“It wasn’t the right time. And then, well, you know what happened next.”

Anna jumped on top of the bed and held out her arms. He moved away. “There was something else I intended to do and... I don’t know if this is the right time even now.” He went to the dresser and opened a drawer. He took out a small box and then returned to the bed. “It’s secondhand — Victorian, I don’t know if you’ll like it — and maybe you will want to spend time thinking about it. You don’t have to give me an answer straightaway.”

She could feel her heart thudding. He moved closer and opened the box. It was a ring, a thin gold shaft with flat rose diamonds and pearls.

“Is it what I think it is?” She had to catch her breath.

“Like I said, you don’t have to make any decision now. It might not even fit.”

“Is it an engagement ring?” She could hardly get the words out.

“Yes.”

She hurled herself at him, almost making him drop it, hugging him and kissing his face.

“Do you want to try it on?”

She held out her left hand, and he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her ring finger. It was not a perfect fit, but she didn’t care; she felt as if she would explode with happiness.

“Do you want me to ask you properly?”

“Yes.”

He flushed and licked his lips.

“Okay... Will you marry me, Anna Travis?”

“YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!”

After Ken had left for work, Anna took a long bath, constantly holding up her hand to look at the ring. She found some Bandaids in the bathroom cabinet and wrapped one around her finger so the gold shaft would fit tightly. She then did something that she had never done before; she put a call in to the incident room, but it was still early, and Mike wasn’t available. Barolli, Joan, and Barbara were also not at work, so she left a message with the duty sergeant that she would be unable to be present today. She was going to say she had food poisoning or the flu, but instead said it was a personal matter and she would make contact later in the morning.

She was dressed and sipping a mug of coffee when her mobile rang. It was Barbara.

“Hi. Good morning to you,” Anna said.

“You sound perky. We thought you were sick or something,” Barbara said.

“Just feeling a bit under the weather. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“Well, it’s all right for some. We’re in the incident room. Mike asked me to contact you, as we’re a bit nonplused about your late-night text message.”

Anna straightened out fast and agreed to speak to him. She explained what her message was about, that it was a possibility their killer could have been a security guard, a dog handler, maybe. This would explain the dog hairs found on the blue blanket.

“I’m not quite following why or how you’ve come to this conclusion,” Mike said.

“Cameron Welsh has maintained that he had information, and he’s led us along by the nose, but at one stage he suggested that our killer could be a police officer. I think he said someone of authority who would look completely trustworthy. We went down the police officers’ route but got nothing. What if the killer is a security guard? They have spare uniforms, they even pay for them, so even if our man was no longer working for a security company, he could have retained a uniform. Also, dog handlers have a van...”

“You think he works in Barfield Prison?”

“No, he’d be in London, maybe transporting prisoners to and from court. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s something we should look into. Go back five years to Cameron Welsh’s arrest and trial and see if we can get a result.”

Mike said he would look into it, but he didn’t sound that interested, possibly because it would be yet another long round of tedious clerical work. Anna asked if they had had any new developments, and he rather curtly said it had been only twenty-four hours.

“What about Smiley’s bank accounts?”

“Being checked out. If it’s not a rude question, where the hell are you?”

“Just with relatives. Something’s cropped up, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Did you get my messages to trace Margaret Potts’s foster parents?”

“In the pipeline.”

“If we do get a contact, I’d very much like to take the interview.”

“Right, I’ll make a note of it. Is everything all right with you?”

“Fine. Like I said, it’s a personal matter, but I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

Mike hung up before saying anything else. Anna felt a bit guilty but then shrugged it off. She’d never taken a day off before, and she knew she must have a number of days, if not weeks, due to her.

After the call, she decided to go out and do a grocery shop to cook a meal for when Ken returned home, since he’d given her his front-door key. As she left, she saw his neighbor and smiled, apologizing again for making such a disturbance. She couldn’t take the smile off her face, and as she walked to her Mini, she had a real desire to do a cartwheel like the one in the photograph. She also had a real urge to call someone to announce that she was engaged, and it saddened her that there wasn’t anyone close who would want to know. But she couldn’t feel down for long, constantly looking at the ring on her finger as she drove to the shops. She was not alone anymore, and just thinking about what the future held made her beam with joy.

She was happier than she had ever known it was possible to be.

“Security guard?” queried Barolli as Mike Lewis wrote Anna’s message on the incident board. “Where is she going with this? Do we move off John Smiley?”

“I dunno, but there’s not a lot we can do until tomorrow.”

“They have a van to move the dogs around in, don’t they?”

“Yep.”

“So the blue blanket could have been in the back of the van for the guard dog?”

“Yep.”

“I suppose their uniforms are sort of similar to coppers’... it’d be a way of getting the victims to trust him.”

“We’ll get moving on it first thing tomorrow, but we should maybe arrange another visit to Cameron Welsh. I’ll run it by the gov — see what he thinks.”

“Just thinking — Travis never stops, does she?” Barolli said.

Mike tossed the felt-tip marker aside.

“How come she didn’t work this weekend, and now she’s taken today off?” Barolli nagged. “That’s not like her.”

Mike sighed. “I don’t know. She said it was a personal matter. There’s not a lot for her to do here anyway. Okay get started on the Smiley bank accounts.”

Barbara was given the job of tracing Margaret Potts’s children’s foster parents, and it took almost all morning, as she was transferred to one department after another at Camden Council. She was told that details could not be disclosed unless someone from the station contacted them directly and explained in detail the reason for wanting to talk to them.

Barbara was almost pulling out her hair. Mike said that she should pay them a visit in person and tell them it was a murder inquiry.

Barolli, having been assigned to get the details of John Smiley’s bank accounts, had to contact Arnold Rodgers yet again. The police needed to find out how Smiley’s wages were paid and then get a court order for the bank to release the information they wanted.

As Barbara prepared to leave, she moaned, “It’s all the way over to bloody Camden! What’s up with Travis today? Why isn’t she in?”

“I dunno. Mike said it was something personal, but she’s been texting us all like a ferret.”

Anna’s prior commitment was a candlelit dinner. She’d cooked fresh pasta with homemade Bolognese sauce, and there were fresh strawberries with cream for dessert. Ken had looked tired out when he got in from work, but after his usual shower and change of clothes, he started to relax.

“Okay, rule one,” he said. “Neither one of us is allowed to discuss work.”

He sat down at the table as Anna served. It was not exactly the most romantic setting, but they could have been on a moonlit beach in the Caribbean, as they were so in tune with each other. They didn’t discuss how soon they would get married, but when Anna told him about Lizzie asking if she would like to have children, he growled.

“I don’t believe she asked you that!”

“Well, she did.”

“Cheeky cow. And God help me when I tell my mother — she’s been waiting for me to get married. Don’t say she asked you about children as well.”

“No, she didn’t, just your sister, and I will have to phone your mother and tell her we’ve made up, because she was concerned when we had that row. I hope it hasn’t put her off me.”

“So what did you reply?”

“To what?”

“Kids or not?”

Anna was teasing him as she told him how Lizzie had said that he would make a wonderful dad, and he covered his head with his napkin. “My family! Aargh!”

“So do you want to know what I said?”

He pulled off the napkin and looked at her.

“I do want children, Ken, and you will make a fabulous dad.”

He reached for her hand, kissing it, then blew out the candles. “Then we’d better get hitched as soon as possible. In the meantime, we should put some practice in.”

Ken scooped her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot. The washing-up could wait.