“How many girls do you employ?”
“I have maybe six or seven; it depends on what work I have coming in, and I send the girls out.”
“Do your clients pay you directly?”
“Yes, then I pay the girls.”
“Were you aware that Anika wasn’t registered to work—had no National Insurance number?”
“I not ask questions.”
“Can you tell us how she came to be working for you?”
“One of my girls bring her to me. They knew each other from Poland, and she was very nice girl.”
Anna took out the picture of Estelle Dubcek. “Does this girl work for you?”
Olga looked at the photograph for quite a while and then nodded.
“Do you know this girl’s name?”
“Yes. That is Estelle Dubcek, but she was trouble; only work for me six or seven months.”
“When did you last see her?”
Olga shrugged. “Long time ago. As I said, she was not a good worker, not like Anika.”
“Where did the girls stay when they worked for you?”
“I have a flat they use. I charge rent out of their earnings; they come and they go. Anika work for me and also restaurants at night.”
“Did you know that Estelle wasn’t registered to work, either?”
“I don’t ask questions.”
“Both these girls were working illegally.”
“I say I not ask questions.”
“But you must have known when they did not produce a National Insurance number.”
“No.”
“How did these girls know to contact you?”
“I have advertisements in Poland. Students, colleges, if they want work, they contact me or they introduce me to their friends.”
“Olga, Estelle Dubcek was also murdered.”
It was hard to see what the woman was thinking; her scarf covered most of her face, and the dark glasses made it impossible to see any reaction in her eyes.
“Two girls who worked for you have been murdered,” Anna repeated.
“Listen to me, please. I call the television, I give them information that I knew Anika was working in a restaurant, but she was not living in my flat and not housecleaning. I wanted to help, but at the same time I did not want to become involved in any way. I have nothing to do with what the girls did after they leave me.”
“Have you ever used a company called Swell Blinds?”
Olga looked confused. “No.”
“Have you ever met someone called John Smiley?”
“No.”
“Would you be prepared to give us the address of the people both Anika and Estelle worked for?”
“No, I don’t want to do that. I have a very good reputation, I have built up clients over twenty years. They are good people, I have no people that are bad. My girls, I make sure are honest and well dressed and hardworking.”
“And you take a big slice of their earnings, don’t you?”
Olga gestured to her lawyer and then pushed back her chair. “I go now, that is enough. Thank you.”
“And it’s just housecleaning, is it?” Anna said, trying to keep control. She wanted to snatch the dark glasses away from the woman’s face.
“I am honest woman, I have honest business.”
“Two girls who worked for you are dead. You may be an honest woman, but you—”
She was interrupted as Olga stood up with her hands clenched at her sides and burst out: “I have pressure to come here, and I do so out of wanting to be a good citizen. You are trying to make things bad for me. I go now.”
“Please sit down. We have not finished.”
Olga’s lawyer whispered to her, and she sat down again, taking a crumpled tissue from her coat pocket. “I answer everything and tell you all I know.”
“Not quite. You see, it’s possible that you are withholding evidence. We will have no option but to continue questioning you. I would now like you to look at this third photograph.”
Anna took out the photograph of the blue-blanket victim, who they were certain was Dorota Pelagia, and laid it down in front of Olga. She at last removed her dark glasses and stared at the photograph. Anna got out two more pictures, watching her closely. The woman had puffy bags beneath her eyes, and the rims of her glasses were imprinted on her cheeks.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” she murmured.
Olga then turned to have a whispered conversation with her lawyer, holding the hand with the tissue across her chin so it was hard to determine what she was saying, apart from that she was speaking in English. Eventually, her lawyer requested a private conversation with Anna and Mike before he would agree to continue the interview.
Olga returned to the interview room half an hour later. She was wearing her dark glasses and was very subdued. Her lawyer had once more made it clear that for his client to continue, the police would have to agree that no charges could be brought with reference to her illegally employing the girls. In return, she would hand over a list of her clients that dated back five years, and allow them to visit the girls living in her flat. She would also submit tax and VAT receipts for her cleaning company and a list of girls she previously employed.
It was eleven-thirty by the time Olga left the station. Anna and Mike were privy to information that had opened up their case. Dorota Pelagia had worked for the cleaning company, so they had three victims linked together. All three girls had worked for Olga over the past five years. None was full-time, and in all cases, they worked only short periods when they arrived in the UK. The work entailed housecleaning for not just private clients but hotels and offices. It would mean yet another extensive round of questioning and checking out all the names and addresses. So far, the police had uncovered no connection to Swell Blinds but hoped that they would discover a link.
The following morning, Barbara and Joan began cross-referencing all the data that they had from Swell Blinds to see if they had delivered to any of the new companies and private addresses Olga had listed. On the board were the details of the recruitment adverts placed in Poland. It appeared that the girls would answer, and Olga’s contacts in Poland would subsequently arrange for them to come to England. They were given fake identity documents owned by a female Polish immigrant who was legally registered to reside and work in the UK. The same documents were sent back and forth, and the photographs were not even changed, since the girls were all about the same age, with dark hair or hair dyed to match the photograph as closely as possible.
The new arrivals were charged for this helping hand and were then moved into the flat owned by Olga to start working. She took 50 percent of their earnings, plus rent. It was obvious that the girls ignored the contract to work for Olga for a minimum of two years, since as soon as they had managed to save enough, they left. Olga said resentfully that it was always difficult to keep tabs on her workers; often the girls proved to be work-shy, belligerent, and to her mind, ungrateful.
Margaret Potts was the only one with no link. The time gaps between the murders were also of concern. Had the killer been active during the years between? Dorota Pelagia was the first victim, her body found four years ago. Next was Margaret Potts, two years ago, and then Anika and Estelle, a year apart. It did, however, link more or less to the same time that John Smiley had left London to work in Manchester. Swell Blinds had moved five years ago.
Langton sat with Anna, drinking a cup of coffee, having been present for the morning briefing when the team learned of the latest developments. He was astonished that Olga had employed all three young girls and yet felt obliged to call the television company with regard only to Anika Waleska.
“I doubt she watches much TV.” Anna snorted. “She’s a horrible woman, and I’d really like to get her for tax evasion and her treatment of these girls. Just think how much she must be pocketing from all her scams. A lot of her so-called housecleaning is in cash payments; plus, she’s got contracts for cleaning schools and hotels. Her full name is Olga Pa
vlova, but I can promise you there is nothing balletic about her.”
“Eh?”
“It was sarcastic. There was a famous ballerina called . . . Oh, never mind.”
“Yeah, she must be stashing it away. We can deal with her later, but right now we have to keep her sweet, as we need all the help we can get from her.”
“She’s got a flat in the Boltons in Chelsea, she drives a Mercedes, and she owns a big flat in Earl’s Court that she rents out to her workers.”
“Have you checked with Estelle’s flatmate, Katia, and her boyfriend, Mikhail, to see if they were part of Olga’s dirty business?”
“Barolli’s on to that. I’ll be going to talk to the present occupants of the flat.”
Langton sighed and drained his coffee. “What about going to see Cameron Welsh again?” he asked.
“I’ve said I’ll do it.”
“That’s very big of you.” He gave her a quizzical look. “I didn’t think you wanted to go again.”
“I don’t, but I think as I have been privy to all his previous interviews, I might be able to cut through the dross,” Anna said, looking him in the eye.
“Fine, run the Polish connection by him.”
“I think I might get the train, save that long drive. Maybe stay overnight and come back the following morning.”
He stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. “Mrs. Hudson cooks up a good breakfast.”
She gave a small laugh, agreeing, as he moved off. The conversation prompted her to confirm her travel arrangements. She’d leave early Wednesday morning and return on Thursday. She decided to call Ken at once to tell him. She was so eager to meet him again that it overshadowed any distaste at having to talk to Cameron Welsh, but if the prisoner acted up, she would just walk away.
Ken was thrilled and said he would meet her at the train station, drive her to his flat so she could leave her overnight bag there, and then take her to the prison. She would not be having his mother’s cooked breakfast after all.
Anna stood on the wide steps of the house in Finborough Road, ringing the doorbell of flat three. Eventually, the big door with glass panels was buzzed open, and she entered a large hall with a mosaic tiled floor. These old houses around Earl’s Court were all huge, four stories and with high ceilings, and at one time had been the family residences of wealthy people. Now most of them were subdivided and rented out.
Anna walked up the wide staircase; a pretty, dark-haired girl was waiting for her on the third floor. The flat was made up of one huge sitting room, two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a communal bathroom. There were four single beds in the main room, and the bedrooms held three beds each. It looked like a dormitory from an old-fashioned boarding school, with bags and suitcases littering every available surface.
Anna met with four girls and sat on one of the beds as they drank coffee from chipped mugs. Two could not speak any English, one was virtually acting as interpreter for the others, and the fourth girl had a terrible cold and was constantly sniffling and sneezing. Anna explained that she was not there for any immigration purpose but to ask them about three other girls. When shown the photographs, however, no one there recognized any of the victims. They had all been in London for six to nine months only, and it was obvious that they hated working for Olga. They complained about how mean she was and how they were putting in a sixty-hour week. No one could wait to leave, as it was not pleasant having to share such a crowded flat.
It took some time for them to explain how they had paid in advance for their paperwork, jobs, and accommodation in London, and how they were met at Gatwick airport by Olga’s husband, who drove them to the flat. They said he was surly and rude to them and very much under Olga’s domination. He helped in her company and organized the painting and decorating of other properties she owned and rented out.
Anna was quickly on to Olga’s husband, asking them to describe him, as she wondered if he could be a suspect. He was Polish and, they said, much younger than she, but he had something wrong with him. He had asthma and was always coughing and wheezing so was more or less her full-time chauffeur.
“Does he drive a van for the painting and decorating?”
They were unsure, as he always drove them in Olga’s Mercedes. If they had work a long way out of London, he would take them and collect them.
It seemed more and more obvious that Olga was coining it in, and by the time Anna left, she had called the incident room to get them to check out the husband.
It was disappointing, but by late afternoon, after lengthy interviews, they had no new information. Neither Barbara nor Joan, after cross-referencing Swell Blinds contracts, had found any match with any of the clients for whom Olga’s cleaners worked. Depression was threatening once more.
Anna left early for an evening’s grooming and to pack for the trip to Leeds. Only Barolli had looked at her with some suspicion, as he knew how much she hated Cameron Welsh.
Barolli had by this time interviewed Olga’s husband, who, although unpleasant, was obviously a sick man, as he was gasping for breath during the entire interview. He did not own a white Transit van but drove a small ex–Royal Mail van carrying three workers used for decorating and all the various cleaning equipment and materials. His English was not too bad, but he constantly had to use a puffer to help his breathing. Barolli discounted him, doubting that he would have the strength to strangle or rape a young woman, let alone give his own wife a seeing-to.
• • •
As the train came into Leeds station, Anna was standing by the door, ready to jump out. Her heart was racing, and when she saw Ken waiting behind the barrier, she ran to him. She dropped her overnight bag as he scooped her up into his arms. She had never experienced such a strong feeling. It was like being a teenager, and she wanted nothing more than to stay close to him and not have to go to the secure unit.
Ken’s flat was part of a complex used by officers working at the prison. A small building with ten modern flats, it had little to endear it, as it was like a square cinder block. His flat was spotless but sparse, with one bedroom, a lounge, a kitchen, and a bathroom. He had made no effort to personalize it, admitting that he intended to stay there only until he could afford to put a deposit down on his own place. He had, however, stocked the fridge with steaks and salad and smoked salmon. There was also a bottle of pinot grigio chilling for Anna, among the cartons of fruit drinks and health foods.
He brewed up fresh coffee, and they had some croissants with his mother’s homemade jam, and then he led her into the bedroom. It, too, was devoid of anything personal. However, the bed was covered with a cheerful yellow duvet and matching pillowcases. There were no pictures, but Anna could see a stack of Harley-Davidson magazines, and in a small bookcase were his books on psychology and numerous autobiographies. The one thing he had spent money on was a large plasma-screen television; beneath it was a stack of DVDs.
Anna placed her toiletries in his white-tiled bathroom, where there was a pile of white bath towels and matching hand towels, a laundry basket, and a pair of rope sandals with a big white terry-cloth dressing gown. She liked putting her toothbrush in the holder beside his. Out of curiosity, she opened the small glass-fronted bathroom cabinet. It contained some aftershave, an electric shaver, and two fresh tubes of toothpaste. Anna didn’t know the name of the aftershave she liked on Ken; she picked up an orange glass bottle with a wide silver top and couldn’t help smiling: it was Clinique Happy for men.
When she came out of the bathroom, Ken was lying on top of the duvet, waiting for her.
“I’m on duty at two,” he said, “off again at five. You can use the car I collected you in to come back here when you are through with Welsh, and I’ll walk—it’s not that far.”
Anna flopped down beside him, and he immediately hooked his arm around her, drawing her close. “I don’t know if I can get the next weekend off, so this is a bonus,” he said.
They kissed, and she didn’t want to move out of his arms. “I mis
sed you,” she said softly.
He rolled away from her and then leaned up on his elbow, looking down into her face. “I don’t know whether it is the right time to tell you this . . .”
She felt her heart thud. What was he going to tell her? That he was with someone else, engaged, had a girlfriend—that this was just a passing thing and not to get too serious?
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone,” he said instead. “It’s probably too soon, and I’m no good at this kind of stuff, but you are suddenly the most important thing in my life.”
She wanted to burst into tears; it was the most perfect thing anyone had ever said to her. She cupped his face in her hands, telling him, “I feel the same way. I can’t stop smiling, and I chose not to drive so I’d have more time to spend with you.”
They kissed passionately and then made love, and they would have gone on loving each other, but Anna knew she had to get to the secure unit in the time allocated. They showered together, and he would have taken her again, but she yelled that she had wet her hair and had to get it dried before she left.
She had never felt so unself-conscious and free. He plugged in his hair dryer for her and watched as she attempted to coax her hair into some semblance of a style, but she’d forgotten to bring her big roller brush. He sat on the edge of the bath as she reapplied her makeup.
“You look even more beautiful,” he said as she dropped the bath towel, ready to get dressed. He couldn’t resist taking her in his arms and smothering her with kisses.
By the time they had driven into the prison compound and Anna had passed over her ID, he had to hurry to the secure unit, while she went to pay a cordial visit to the prison governor. She was so happy that she didn’t mind sitting in his office and even accepted coffee and biscuits.
Hardwick was as long-winded as ever, and she was surprised only when he brought up Langton’s name, saying that he felt Langton would make an excellent commander, as his interest in prison reform was on a par with his own. She nodded her agreement, suddenly understanding why Langton had spent so much time with the governor. As with everything in his life, there was a hidden agenda. Then she recalled Barolli’s comment that Langton was in the running for deputy commissioner.
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