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.”