Blind Fury

by Lynda La Plante

  Langton was charming. “I’ll make certain I come and stay here again,” he said.

  “Ken was sorry he had to leave, but he’s on duty this morning,” Mrs. Hudson explained.

  They finished breakfast, and Langton insisted that he pay for himself and Anna, although Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t hear of it. Langton tucked the money into her apron pocket anyway, and then, gesturing for Anna to hurry, he walked out munching a piece of toast covered in marmalade.

  Mrs. Hudson began clearing the table.

  “Is Ken married?” Anna asked, making sure Langton was well out of earshot.

  “No. He’s been close to it a few times, but he’s such a ladies’ man that I don’t know when he’ll ever settle down. You know my daughter lives in Richmond? She’s got two children, and we go and stay as often as we can.”

  “Well, when you see him again, will you thank him for me? I really enjoyed last night, and the bed was so comfortable, I slept like a dream.” Anna hesitated and then wrote down her mobile and new home phone number. “Next time you are in London, please give me a call, as I’d like to see you again.” She meant she’d like to see Ken again, but before she could say anything else, Langton bellowed from the hall.

  Anna was touched. Mr. Hudson had cleaned her Mini. All the mud from the previous day’s rough riding down the muddy back lanes by the murder site was gone. Langton was smoking, and before Anna could thank Mr. Hudson properly, Langton told her to get moving, as he wanted to be back in London after lunch.

  They drove off, Anna waving to Ken’s parents as they stood watching them leave. “What a lovely couple,” she said.

  “Yes, they’re sweethearts. They don’t make ’em like those two anymore,” Langton agreed as he studied the route for them to head onto the M6 and then on to Manchester.

  “You’ve got marmalade on your tie,” she said, watching him swear and rub it with his finger.

  Swell Blinds’s headquarters were in Salford, situated in an old warehouse complex with numerous other small firms. Anna and Langton didn’t get there until after ten. The first thing they saw was a couple of Transit vans lined up outside in listed parking bays. They knew that Smiley was already at work, as they had his registration number. Langton had a quick glance over his van, and there was not a scratch or mark on it. It was, as Barolli had said, in pristine condition.

  The reception was a small area cordoned off with glass panels. Mr. Rodgers was there with a rather elderly secretary behind an old desk with a computer and telephone. She had many filing cabinets to either side, and an in- and out-tray of receipts and orders in front of her. She left them to talk in private. Arnold Rodgers was edgy, and it took a while for Langton to put him at ease by assuring him that they were just making inquiries regarding an investigation in London. He made it clear that they were not on any account interested in Mr. Rogers’s company.

  “It’s about some girl that was murdered, isn’t it?” Rodgers said.

  “That is correct, and we are here only because Mr. Smiley was parked at a service station near where she was found, and we are hoping he may be able to assist us. You know, if he saw anyone, any other suspicious vehicle.”

  Mr. Rodgers said he’d received a call from Wendy Dunn, and she had told him that she’d passed on the contact numbers of two other employees.

  “She was very helpful, and we also really appreciate you giving us some time today,” Langton said pleasantly.

  “Do you want to look over the warehouse?”

  “That would be good, yes, thank you. I believe Mr. Smiley is here, isn’t he?”

  “He’s not, actually; he had a big delivery yesterday to Glasgow, so he’s got the day off today. Do you want me to get him in?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  At that moment, the elderly secretary tapped and asked if Langton and his assistant would like a cup of coffee. They refused, with Anna less than happy at being referred to in such a way.

  While Langton was talking to Mr. Rodgers, it gave Anna the opportunity to have a good look around the small office. It didn’t appear that busy, and the phone had not rung once while they had been there. As the two men set off on a tour of the workshops, Anna asked them to wait.

  “I’d be grateful if you didn’t call Mr. Smiley and inform him that we are here,” she said politely. “It’s an informal meeting, Mr. Rodgers, and we’d like to keep it that way, okay?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And we’d also like the details of Mr. Smiley’s deliveries to Glasgow yesterday.”

  “Yes, of course,” the flustered man repeated.

  “Thank you.”

  The warehouse had two sections. One was for the cutting of the wooden blinds, which were stacked in rows of shelves in order of size. There was a separate area with coils of the cord used for threading them through. Three men were working on the long table with circular saws of various sizes.

  The paint spraying took place in the second section, where one man was working in overalls with a face mask. He was spraying and laminating wood, and there were many slats left to dry.

  “This is it,” Mr. Rodgers said.

  “Does Smiley work in the warehouse when he’s not making deliveries?”

  “No, he’s transport. He works alongside Rita in the office when he’s not delivering. We have to have the exact measurements, and he also handles all that—sometimes goes out to measure a property before they submit the orders. We’re very small, even smaller than we were, but we’re managing to keep our heads above water. He’s a trusted employee, you know,” Rodgers went on. “A hard worker and respected by everyone in the company.”

  Anna and Langton left Swell Blinds shortly afterward, as there seemed little more useful information to be gleaned. Langton had collected a mass of leaflets and was checking out the prices. “Expensive,” he observed.

  “Thinking of ordering some, are you?”

  Langton laughed and stuffed the leaflets into the glove compartment. “Wouldn’t be my decision,” he said.

  Anna said nothing. She found it rather a sexist remark, implying that he left any home decor responsibilities to his wife. He never talked about her or his children, preferring to keep his personal life private. In fact, Anna wasn’t even sure if he had remarried. She knew he had a stepdaughter called Kitty and a baby son, but it had been such a long time since he had mentioned the boy that she couldn’t recall his name. It was strange, because although they had been virtually closeted together for almost two days, she felt more distant from him than ever. It was further confirmation to Anna that whatever had gone on between them was no longer an issue, and more and more, she was starting to see him in a different light. It wasn’t that she didn’t like or respect him; it was the age gap—something she had never considered. Beside Ken, he had appeared so much older, which he was, and she realized how little, apart from work, they had in common.

  “Your son is called Tommy, isn’t he?” she remembered.

  Langton grunted in agreement but seemed disinclined to discuss it further. She tried again. “You must have little time to spare for the family.”

  “Time enough. Is this SatNav thing working?” He messed the screen.

  “Yes, should be there in two minutes. It’s 12 Buxton Avenue.”

  Smiley’s house was only a few miles from the warehouse. The area was not that upmarket, with a lot of big council estates. They then branched off to a middle-class enclave of small semi-detached properties that looked almost identical but were better maintained.

  Langton and Anna walked up the neat drive, noticing that the small square of grass looked freshly mow.

  “We keep it very low-key,” Langton murmured as he rang the doorbell. Smiley answered and looked taken aback to see them both.

  “Just need to straighten out a few things, Mr. Smiley, as we were in the area. You mind if we come in?”

  “No, come on through.”

  They followed him down a small narrow hallway, and he ushe
red them into his sitting room.

  “Is your wife here?”

  “She’s in the kitchen.”

  Smiley gestured for them both to sit in the well-furnished room. The sofa was still covered in plastic.

  “Sorry about that. It’s to keep the kids’ dirty feet off of it,” he explained, and tried to remove it, but Langton said not to bother. He settled himself in an easy chair while Anna perched on the arm of the sofa. Langton asked a few questions about the deliveries, and then he opened his notebook.

  “Tell me, John, do you ever use that back lane behind the truckers’ stop at the London Gateway?”

  “No, didn’t even know there was one.”

  “I’d like to go over a few things about the two occasions we have your van on CCTV. Basically, if you can recall anything unusual, whether you noticed any of the trucks as being regulars . . . that kind of thing.”

  “I gave all the details that I could remember at the station. I only stopped off for such a short time, you see, and never really paid much attention to any of the other vehicles,” Smiley repeated.

  Langton took out Margaret Potts’s photograph. “You were shown this before, John, but I just want you to take another look, to make sure . . . Ever see this woman, John?”

  Smiley took the photograph and again said he did not recall ever seeing her, unless she was up by the back lane they had described. If she was, he wouldn’t have taken much notice of her.

  Too much information, Anna thought.

  “Now, these two girls . . . The coincidence is they are both Polish, and I believe your wife is also Polish?”

  “She is, yes, but I’ve never seen those two girls before. Like I said when I was at the station, if they were hitching a ride, I wouldn’t have stopped. I’ve never given anyone thumbing a ride the time of day.”

  Anna watched John Smiley closely. Yet again he did not appear to be in any way distressed by their questions. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans with brown suede boots. He was, she thought, as she had before, quite a good-looking, fit man. The combover was offputting, but he was attractive in a macho way. He was also very clean, as was clear from the condition of his nails and his hands. The room had a similar feel to Ken Hudson’s parents’ but was not as cozy. For a man with two children, there were no toys or children’s belongings anywhere.

  “I’d like to meet your wife,” Langton said.

  For the first time, Smiley was ill at ease. “I’ve not mentioned anything about this to her,” he said. “I don’t want her getting upset. You know, with your coming here, it looks suspicious, and even though I’ve got no worries, I don’t want her to think I’ve done anything wrong.”

  “It’s just routine, and we’ll make sure she’s not worried. You’ve been very helpful, and I really appreciate your time.”

  Smiley left the room and Langton glanced at Anna. He nodded to the mantelpiece showing a few photographs of the couple’s wedding and two rather stilted school photographs of their children.

  Mrs. Smiley bore no resemblance to the pretty dark-haired girl in the wedding photograph, or the small picture Smiley carried of her in his wallet. She was about seventeen stone, with solid thick arms and legs like tree trunks. Her hair was cut short and worn in an unflattering style with a barrette on either side of a part. Her face was devoid of any makeup.

  “This is Sonja,” Smiley said as he hovered behind her. She was almost as tall as he was, and he sort of skirted around her to stand by the sofa.

  Langton introduced himself and then Anna. Sonja gave them a curt nod. “What is this about?” She had little trace of an accent and cold blue eyes.

  “We are just making inquiries, investigating a case that we believe your husband may have information about.”

  “What case?”

  “A murder inquiry.”

  She turned to her husband and then back to Langton. “Why do you want to talk to John?”

  Langton explained that his Transit van had been parked in a service station close to where the murders had been discovered.

  “Not one, then, more than one?” she asked.

  “Yes, that is correct,” Langton said.

  “Why do you think John can help you?”

  “Because we are asking anyone we have on CCTV at the location to try and recall if they saw anything suspicious.”

  “I don’t know anything about it, but my husband is a good man, and if he can, he will help you. Can you help them, John?”

  “No, love. I only stopped off for a bathroom break, then, as usual, drove on. You know I like to get my deliveries over and done with as soon as possible so I can get home to say good night to the kids.”

  “You also fit blinds, don’t you?” Anna asked him.

  “Yes, it’s all part of the delivery. I take the measurements sometimes before the orders, and then when I deliver, I put them up. We’ve found it’s better if I get the exact size, as the blinds are made to measure. If they’re out by so much as half an inch, we have to take them back to the workshop.”

  Langton showed him the photographs of Anika and Estelle once again. “Did you ever go to either of these girls’ homes to measure for blinds?”

  Mrs. Smiley looked at the photographs left on the coffee table and then back to her husband.

  “No. I’ve never seen them,” he replied.

  “They were both Polish,” Langton said quietly.

  Mrs. Smiley picked up one photograph after another and then shrugged. “I never seen them; they look very young.”

  Langton then laid out Margaret Potts’s photograph on top of the others. “This woman was also a victim.”

  “Why are you showing these pictures to my husband?”

  “Well, we hope he might have seen them at the service station.”

  She pursed her lips and then looked at her husband. “Did you see these women?”

  “No, love. I’ve already told them that.”

  Langton replaced the photographs in the envelope.

  “Wait a minute.” Mrs. Smiley pointed to Margaret Potts’s picture. “This woman is older, different. Is she Polish?”

  “No, she was from London.”

  “She was a prostitute who worked the service stations, picking up men, often truck drivers.” Anna watched Mrs. Smiley as her mouth tightened into a hard line.

  “I’ve seen her type in Aldershot, hanging round the soldiers on leave when they went to the pubs. Disgusting, they were. I worked in a bar for a while, and these women would drink themselves stupid.”

  “But you have never seen this woman?” Langton persisted.

  Smiley shook his head, and then Sonja folded her arms. “Have you got what you come for, then? Only being it’s John’s day off, I need him to do some shopping for me before the children get home for their lunch.”

  “Do you have some of the blinds from the company?” Anna asked pleasantly.

  “Yes, in the kitchen and bedrooms. We get them at cost price.”

  “Could I see them?”

  Sonja hesitated and then shrugged her wide shoulders, gesturing for Anna to follow her out of the room. The kitchen was orderly, with a pine table in the center and two place mats ready for the children’s lunch. They had all the modern conveniences, dishwasher and washing machine, deep freeze and fridge, and in the windows was a set of pale wooden blinds.

  “I’d have preferred white, but they only do them in different shades of wood,” Sonja said.

  The two women went up the stairs. There was a plastic runner all the way up and even on parts of the landing. Sonja was out of breath; she puffed and rattled as she gestured for Anna to go into the master bedroom.

  “We got them in all the bedrooms. That’s ours, and then our son, Stefan, has the box room and . . . this is my daughter Marta’s bedroom.”

  The room had pink walls, pink bedcovers, a pink carpet, and dolls and a dollhouse were stacked neatly against a wall with a big pink chest. The blinds were a darker brown in this room.

&nbs
p; “Very nice,” Anna said. “She’s very tidy.”

  “They both are. It’s no good having nice toys if they break them, so they’re taught to appreciate their things. My parents came to England with nothing. I never had such lovely things.”

  “Your mother died a few years ago, didn’t she?”

  Sonja glared at Anna. “How do you know?”

  “Your husband told us when he came to the station.”

  “I don’t understand. You’ve talked to him before, then, have you?”

  “Yes, when he was in London.”

  “I see.” She headed back to the stairs, grasping the banister rail, as she was so short of breath.

  As they reached the hall, Langton was waiting. He smiled. “We’ll be on our way now. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Smiley.”

  “Goodbye.” Sonja went straight to the kitchen, and John Smiley hovered to show them out.

  “I’m sorry not to be of any help,” he said, and promised that if he remembered anything at all, he would call them straightaway.

  Anna looked back at the house as she put her key into the ignition. “I bet she’s having a go at him. She didn’t know he’d been to see us in London. God, she’s an unpleasant woman, and that house is like a show home. Even the children’s rooms are in military order.”

  “She’d scare the pants off me,” Langton agreed.

  “She’s not very fit, either. Just moving up the stairs had her heaving for breath.”

  Anna adjusted the rearview mirror as they saw John Smiley exit from his house carrying an array of empty shopping bags. “I bet she’s got him on a short rein. I didn’t get anything new from talking to him, did you?”

  Langton made no reply. They drove in silence for a while.

  “Back to the station, sir?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do I drive straight back to the station?”

  “Yes.”

  Anna wondered if he felt, as she did, that the whole trip had been a big waste of time, apart from enjoying Ken’s family. She began to replay in her mind the previous evening, wondering if she would get to meet up with Ken again. It had been a while since she had felt physically attracted to someone, and the fact that he wasn’t connected to the Met was a major bonus. None of the male officers she worked alongside interested her, apart from Langton. She began to calculate how many years she had been emotionally tied to him, to the detriment of ever finding herself a partner.