Blind Fury

Chapter Fourteen

Anna drove into the station car park at eight-thirty. She’d had to leave Ken’s flat at such an early hour that she’d had little or no sleep. Hurrying into the incident room, she booked on duty and, from Barbara, got the address of the Potts children’s foster parents. They were across London, in Brixton, so to make the appointment, she left virtually straightaway.

Joan passed her on the way out. She stared after Anna as she got a bright “Good morning.”

Joan dumped her briefcase on her desk. She said she’d just seen Travis hurtling out of the station like a teenager.

Barbara sidled up to her.

“What?” Joan asked.

“She’s engaged — got a ring on her wedding finger. I couldn’t help but notice it. She waved it in front of me enough times.”

“Engaged?”

“I presume so. She didn’t actually say she was, but—”

Joan interrupted her. “Who to? I’ve never seen her with anyone. You must have gotten it wrong.”

Barolli walked in. “Gotten what wrong?”

Barbara began to sort out the work on her desk. “Barbara says Travis is engaged.”

“She’s having you on. Is she here yet?”

Joan giggled. “Been and gone.” She switched on her computer and told Barbara she shouldn’t spread gossip.

Barbara returned to her desk, retorting, “Wait until you see it. Looked like a row of nice diamonds.”

Anna parked on a pleasant tree-lined street; the semi-detached houses had seen better days, but they were reasonably well kept, apart from a couple that looked as if they were divided into numerous flats. She rang the doorbell of number eleven and waited.

“Good morning. Are you Mrs. Walters?” Anna asked.

“Yes.”

Anna showed her ID and introduced herself. Mrs. Walters stepped back, and Anna followed her along a dingy hallway into a large sitting room. It was not well furnished, and it had worn carpets and old velvet curtains.

“Should I have my husband present?”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I have a few questions and want to make it clear to you that they are connected to an ongoing investigation into the children’s late mother, Margaret Potts. I am not from any Social Services or foster-care agency.”

When Mrs. Walters sat down, Anna realized that she was younger than she looked, though devoid of any makeup, and her hair was pinned back unflatteringly.

“Do you want a cup of tea or anything?”

“No, thanks. I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I really appreciate you seeing me.”

“I did have concerns. I mean, I don’t know what it’s about. I’ve no problems with the children. They’re both at school.”

“I am sure you are taking great care of them.”

“To the best of my ability, I am. They’re good kids — well behaved and getting on better at their school.”

“Did you ever meet their mother, Margaret Potts?”

“Mother?” Mrs. Walters gave a derisive look at the ceiling. “Hard to describe her as one, and their father’s even worse. I know he’s out of prison, but there’s not been a single Christmas card or birthday card. How do you explain to them that he probably doesn’t give them a thought?”

“Did Margaret?”

“At first she would stand outside and not come in, just stand there looking up at their bedroom window. It’s at the front. I think once or twice they saw her, but that always caused trouble, because they’d want to talk to her but were scared they’d have to go back to that wretch of a father. It’s hard because we can never say anything bad about the parents, so we make up excuses — you know, they do love you, et cetera. More important is to make sure they don’t think it’s their fault.”

“Did she come and visit them?”

“Not for a long time to begin with, then she arranged to take them out on a Saturday. Three times she promised to come — never turned up once. In the end, I told her that if she couldn’t be here when she said she would, then it was better for her not to come at all.”

“Did she remember their birthdays?”

“That’s the only good thing I can think about her. She did sometimes send presents and cards, but she can’t have thought too much about what she chose. Her boy, Eric, is nine now, and into computers; the girl, Margie, is eleven. The things she sent were too babyish for Eric, and it was always dolls for Margie — you know, Barbies and My Little Pony, when she’s into pop stars and the like.” Mrs. Walters sat straight-backed in the chair opposite Anna.

“I suppose you are aware of what happened to her?” Anna asked gently.

“Yes, of course. I mean, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, it was a terrible thing and in a way sort of worse, because I think she’d been trying to straighten herself out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The last time I heard from her, she rang here and told me that she was going to arrange to take the children to some fun fair, as she was looking for a permanent place to live.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, must be nearly three years. I never spoke to her again, and next thing the Social Services came here to tell me she’d been murdered and I had to tell the children. By this time they didn’t react all that much, and we never heard from any of their relatives.”

“Did Margaret ever send the children money, specifically around the time before she was murdered?”

“Money?”

Anna saw the woman tense up, so she carefully explained that they believed Margaret might have been getting access to reasonable sums of money. “We are still investigating her murder, and this may be a possible link to discovering what happened to her or why she was killed.”

Mrs. Walters got up, went over to a dresser, and opened a drawer from which she took out a big envelope. “These are the cards and a couple of letters she sent.”

Anna smiled and took the envelope, aware that Mrs. Walters had not answered her question.

“I keep them for when they leave here — you know, so that they have something to remember her by or not. They can do what they like with them, but the Services encourage us to retain anything they get sent.”

“May I read them?”

“Yes, please go ahead.”

Anna opened birthday cards sent to Eric and Margie over a couple of years. Big scrawled writing was on the envelopes and inside the cards: To my lovely Margie from her mummy and For my big boy Eric, from his loving mummy. There were only three letters on cheap pink notepaper, and Anna found reading them moving.

There were rows of crosses as kisses. The first letter had been written six years ago. The second letter said virtually the same thing and was written six months later. The third letter was dated eighteen months before her death.

Anna looked up as she replaced the letters and cards into the envelope. “She never showed up for the weekend she promised?”

“No, I never heard from her again, apart from that phone call.”

“So she never sent any money?”

Mrs. Walters again seemed tense. “If she had, I’d have reported it. We have to, if it’s for the children.”

“You know, it is important, Mrs. Walters, if you did receive any money from Mrs. Potts.”

“If it was a check, we’d report it and arrange an account if that was what was wanted.”

“I am referring to any cash sent to you.”

Mrs. Walters clasped her hands together.

“I can fully understand,” Anna said quietly, “that if you did receive cash, then you naturally would have put it toward things for the children. I am not in any way insinuating that there was any wrongdoing on your part.”

Mrs. Walters twisted her wedding ring around and around. Anna went for it. “How much did Margaret Potts send you, Mrs. Walters?”

“She didn’t send it.”

Anna leaned forward. “I’m sorry?”

“It was in an envelope pushed through the letter box. We — that’s my husband and I and the children — had been at a sports day at the school, and when we came back, it was lying on the doormat.”

“When was this?”

The woman was really nervous now, constantly licking her lips. “Six months or more before her body was discovered.”

“Can you tell me how much it was?”

“I’ve wondered and worried about this, you know. I said to my husband we should tell the Services, and then we’d had it over a week and done nothing with it, and it sort of stayed in that drawer. I took a tenner here and there for things, and he needed to pay off his car, and then the washing machine broke down, so we bought a new one. It wasn’t as if we spent it on ourselves. We take them out on trips in the car, and I need a washing machine.”

“Just tell me how much, Mrs. Walters, that’s all I want to know.”

“Over a thousand pounds.”

“In used or new notes?”

“Old ones: ten and twenties.”

Anna returned to the station, knowing that Margaret Potts had not only left money in her suitcase but had also given Mrs. Walters a large amount. Anna sat at her desk and calculated the timing between the two amounts of cash. It was possible there was even more money, as Emerald Turk could have lied about how much was in Margaret’s suitcase. Mrs. Walters also could have lied about the amount. Adding this to the new clothes, new shoes, and so on, Anna was certain that their victim was in possession of more money than she was earning as a prostitute. She crossed to the board and jotted down her new information.

Barbara glanced at Joan and then craned her neck to have a look at Anna’s left hand. She turned away quickly when Anna came over.

“Have we had access to John Smiley’s bank accounts yet?” Anna asked.

“Due in this afternoon,” Barbara said, able to see clearly the ring on Anna’s finger. “That’s lovely,” she said, nodding toward it.

“Thank you.”

“Diamonds, are they?”

“Yes, Barbara, and seed pearls. It’s Victorian.” Anna couldn’t stop herself. “It’s an engagement ring,” she blurted out.

Barbara looked again at Joan. “Oh, your mother’s, is it?”

Anna giggled and shook her head. “No, it’s mine, Barbara. I’m engaged.”

“To be married?”

“That is the usual reason for wearing an engagement ring, isn’t it?”

“Well, congratulations! Aren’t you the quiet one? So who’s the lucky fiancé?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Happened on the weekend, then, did it?” Joan asked, looking over.

They were blatantly nosy, but Anna couldn’t take offense. “Yes, it happened on the weekend.”

The news went round the incident room like a forest fire. Barolli was told by Joan, he told Mike Lewis, and the rest of the team was told by Barbara. DI Anna Travis was engaged to be married!

Anna secretly enjoyed the furtive attention, she knew they would be drawing up bets to try and find out whom she was engaged to. It wouldn’t be a secret for too long.

The excitement over the engagement abated only when Mike Lewis received the details of John Smiley’s bank accounts. They were impressed by his wages, as they were considerably higher than many of the team members were earning; forty-five thousand pounds a year. The money was paid directly into his account. Smiley had numerous direct debits for things like gas and electricity; his mortgage was also paid directly. He had withdrawals of eight hundred pounds every month paid into an account in the name of his wife, Sonja Smiley. They presumed this was for housekeeping. He didn’t appear to make cash withdrawals on a regular basis; maybe his wife paid him out of the housekeeping. He had three cards, one of which was in the name of Swell Blinds and was used only for diesel. Another was for his NatWest cashpoint, and a third was a department store credit card.

“Bloody well organized, isn’t he?” Mike said, looking at the columns of figures.

In a high-interest savings account, Smiley had twelve thousand pounds. He had a pension arranged with Swell Blinds’ employees, and basically, that was it.

Anna leaned over Mike’s shoulder. “So the only lump sums of cash that go out are paid directly into his wife’s account. If she is handing out pocket money, they live a frugal life. What about an expense account for Swell Blinds, anything on that?”

“We haven’t seen that come in. I can get on it.”

“We also need to go back further. These are all this year’s, right? But if he was being blackmailed by Margaret Potts, it wouldn’t be recent; she’s been dead two years. Take it back to three years ago.”

Anna repeated to Mike the amount of money they knew their victim had in cash shortly before she died.

“You see, the money in the suitcase was left at Emerald Turk’s, along with a bunch of new clothes, so she would have to be blackmailing Smiley after the blinds were put up in her flat, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“The money from Mrs. Walters was about six months before she was murdered.”

Mike was scrolling through the bank statements with Anna standing beside him.

“With him being such a model husband and not shelling out even for holidays, as far as I can see, it’s going to be easy to see if he starts making cash withdrawals to pay her off.” Anna drew up a chair. “Although if the money was in tens and twenties, used notes, it doesn’t quite gel if he wasn’t withdrawing large sums to pay her off, does it? At the same time, Margaret would have been paid in used notes by her punters.”

“If she charged ten or twenty quid for a blow job, that’s a hell of a lot of johns for that amount of money. She’s not likely to have saved it all up, is she?”

“We don’t know. She could have, and this is all a waste of time,” Anna said, glancing at her ring. She would have to get it made to size, as the bandage was sticky.

“So who’s the lucky bloke?” Mike asked, staring at the screen.

“You don’t know him.”

“So he’s not one of us, then?”

“No, he’s not.”

“That was what the family commitment was on the weekend?”

She grinned. They were all the same, so nosy. She got up and stretched and then turned back to Mike. “What if John Smiley was also doing a bit of moonlighting? We are pretty certain he got paid by Emerald Turk to put up a blind in her flat: what if this was a regular thing? He could be making cash in hand that way.”

“He could, but right now he denied ever being at Emerald Turk’s.” Mike was still scrolling through sheets of bank statements.

“Who’ve you got tracing dog handlers connected to Cameron Welsh?” Anna asked.

“Barolli. You think it’s worth another visit to Barfield?”

“Welsh has gone a bit gaga, acting up badly; they’ve had to sedate him.”

“Checking up on him, were you?” Mike asked.

“Yes. Listen, this doesn’t take two of us. I’ll go and get some coffee.”

Mike nodded and then asked her to go back to the two previous employees from Swell Blinds to see if there was any moonlighting going on. He also wanted to get the expenses paid out to Smiley. But somehow he was doubtful they would find that Smiley had withdrawn money for blackmail payouts.

“Thanks for this,” Barolli said sarcastically to Anna as she returned to her desk with her coffee. He held up his phone. “I’ve been hanging on for up to fifteen minutes. I keep getting cut off. I’ve been put through to so many different departments...” He returned to his caller. Despite all the effort, he had not been able to make any connection between security guards and Cameron Welsh. To go back so many years, when a number of the companies had folded, and having to battle with the red tape attached to the security protocol was frustrating and time-consuming. Obtaining the details of Cameron Welsh’s escorts to and from the court at his trial was almost impossible.

“Cameron Welsh. Five years ago, he was on trial for murder and held at Brixton Prison... No, dog handlers — we need the names of the security guards that... No, only Cameron Welsh.” He sighed.

Barbara received an abrupt call from Arnold Rodgers with regard to her request for John Smiley’s expenses. She was told that there was no specific account; the employees brought in receipts for meals and any extra expenditures. John Smiley had never abused this system.

There was also little useful feedback from the two ex-workers of Swell Blinds. Apparently, Mr. Rodgers was strict about any kind of cash deals, as most of the blinds were made to order, so there was not much left in the warehouse to be sold off at a cut price.

Anna sighed. Flicking through her notebook, she found her notes on the last interview with Smiley. Contrary to what the two men claimed, he had said there were often windows wrongly measured for blinds, which, when they were delivered, proved unusable. Smiley had suggested to Anna and Langton that it could have been any number of men employed by Swell Blinds who went to Emerald Turk’s flat.

Anna sat tapping her teeth with her pen. If they found no cash taken out from Smiley’s bank account around the time he might have paid off Margaret Potts, then he must have gotten it somewhere else.

She tossed the pen back on her desk. She was beginning to feel as frustrated as Barolli, who was having a lengthy conversation with a security company. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Was it possible they were wrong and had been for weeks and that John Smiley was innocent? She was sick to death of hearing about Swell Blinds. She then smiled. When she married Ken, there would not be a blind in a single solitary window.

“Paul,” she called over to Barolli.

He was replacing the phone.

“The blinds we took from Emerald Turk’s flat — are they over at forensics?”

“Yeah, they’re checking out the cords, and like everything else, it’s a bloody—” His phone rang, and he snatched it up. Anna yawned and then put in a call to Pete Jenkins.

“You calling to arrange dinner?” he joked.

“Nope, this is a really long shot. You know the pelmet that’s fixed to the top of the slatted blinds?”

“Yeah, we’ve got that in here as well.”

“I know they were up for a few years, but can you do me a favor and dust for prints? They’re fiddly to hang, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know, but I wasn’t asked to dust for prints, just check out the cord.”

“Yes, I know, but can you do me a favor?”

“Okay, done and dusted, ha ha. Now what about that meal?”

Anna couldn’t help smiling as she told him that she was engaged and maybe one night she’d bring her fiancé for dinner.

“That’s a kick in the teeth. Never mind, I did but try.”

Barolli was on yet another lengthy call, so Anna went over to Barbara.

“You know that little woman, ex-receptionist for Swell Blinds...”

“Wendy Dunn?”

“Yes. Can you put in a call and ask her what happened to those blinds that came back from a customer because they didn’t fit?”

“What? That’s it?”

“Yep. Ask how many there were, and see if any of the workers used them to do a bit of moonlighting.”

“She’s on my way home, so as usual, I can call in and have a chat with her.”

It was yet another day with no result. In the past, Anna would have stayed on, determined to uncover something, but tonight she couldn’t wait to get home. She stopped off at a newsagent and bought Brides, Tatler, and Vogue to look for ideas for her wedding dress. She wanted a full white gown and all the trimmings, and she had saved enough to also have an expensive but not too large reception. With no father to give her away, she wondered if it would be acceptable to ask Roy Hudson.

She sat in bed munching Ryvita and cheese slices, planning a strict diet. She kept on cutting out articles and putting them to one side. Ken called quite late, as he had only just gotten off duty. He said he had told his parents, and they were over the moon. When she asked if it would be all right for his father to give her away, he said it would make his day.

“I’m not putting too much pressure on you, am I?” she said anxiously. “It’s just I suddenly thought I didn’t have anyone that I’d really want.”

“You know what we should start doing is looking for a place.”

“We could always live here at my flat.”

“No, I want us to have our own place. Next weekend off, we’ll start checking with estate agents and think about which area we’ll want to move to. It might depend on where I get work.”

Anna said she could put her flat on the market and join her finances with his savings. They needed to be realistic in working out how long it might take for her to sell and how much longer he had to work at the prison before he could find a job in London and apply to start his training. They arrived at a possible wedding date in a year’s time.

“Do you want an exotic honeymoon?” Ken asked.

“Yes.”

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do? Hire a gulet in Turkey and sail round the coast. We’d have a crew and chef on board and nobody else. You fancy that?”

Anna did. She wanted whatever made him happy.

“Right — I’ll bring brochures with me when I’m next down, and it might be this weekend. Okay?”

“Yes.” She snuggled down with her glossy magazine, and when the phone rang again, she thought it was Ken calling back.

“It’s me,” Langton said.

“Hello,” Anna replied cautiously.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I’m in bed, though.”

“I’ve just been told.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, and sitting up, she felt really nervous.

“So when did all this go down?”

Was he talking about her engagement? She couldn’t be sure, so she said nothing.

“You going to tell me who it is? Anna?”

“You met him. It’s Ken Hudson.”

“What? Are you serious? The big blond fella?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t let the grass grow under your feet, did you?”

“I guess I didn’t.”

“Don’t go jumping into anything, will you? You should take your time. It’s been how long?”

“That’s immaterial. I love him.”

“Take it slowly, is my advice. Live with him first, and don’t go making a big commitment.”

“That is exactly what we both want to do.” She would have liked to add that just because he had found it impossible when they were together to make a serious commitment, it didn’t mean everyone was like that.

“If you’re happy, there’s nothing more to say.”

“I want to have children.”

He laughed and then apologized. He didn’t mean it as an insult, just that it was all quite a shock to him.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Anna, so congratulations. I wish I could also offer some for the case, but it’s running on empty again.”

“Seems so, but maybe we’ll get a breakthrough.” She wanted him to get off the phone; she didn’t want to think about the investigation or anything connected to it.

“Good night, then, and I’m sorry if I sounded like I wasn’t overly thrilled. Maybe because you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“He’s everything I want. I’ve never been so happy.”

There was a long pause, and then his voice sounded gruff. “That’s good. I don’t think I ever made you feel that way. Good night, then, sweetheart.”

“Good night.”

She held the receiver in her hand and heard him click off before she slowly replaced it. It was hard for her to believe that after all the years she had been so besotted with Langton, she would feel depressed by his call. She had felt the undercurrent of sarcasm from him and didn’t like it. It didn’t occur to her that Langton had been hurt because he was the last to know, and that he still harbored deep feelings for her that he refused to allow to ever surface.