Barolli had started to act edgy, as they were constantly being monitored by the other inmates. They would come and stand a few feet away from them, staring at Welsh and then Anna. The officers would gesture for them to move away. None of them spoke, which was also unnerving. If anything, they appeared to be slightly afraid of Welsh, who would glance at them and toss his hair away from his face. None of the officers seemed to like the fact that the three of them at the table occupied a lot of the space in the recreation room. Twice, one or another prisoner had walked out into the exercise yard and stood gazing into the room, leering at Anna.
“Do you have anything further to discuss? We don’t have much longer,” Barolli said. Anna had kicked him under the table. She wanted to leave, but by this time so did he.
“I would appreciate it if you left me the files on the investigation to date, as I need more to work on,” said Welsh. “So much of what I have said is pure conjecture, and I think I could be of further assistance.”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” Anna said, placing her briefcase on her knees, ready to go.
“Why not?”
“They are highly confidential, and I think we have given you more than enough time. The reality is that you have given us nothing that we are not already privy to and working on.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said angrily.
Anna stood up. “Whether or not you believe it is immaterial, but thank you for your time.”
Barolli rose to his feet. “We do appreciate the trouble you’ve taken, Mr. Welsh. You have done a considerable amount of work, and I feel sure, although the team is working along similar lines, we will be taking on board all your suggestions.”
Barolli signaled for the unit guards to call the main prison so they could be led out. Welsh was furious. He swept all his papers onto the floor and yet remained sitting. “That’s it, is it?” he demanded.
The officers moved closer, and one told him to pick up the papers. Instead of doing so, he got up and walked swiftly away, returning to his cell.
Driving back, Anna was unable to keep her anger in check.
“Whatever you may think, it was another waste of time. As if we haven’t considered everything he told us.”
Barolli glared at her. “I disagree. What about the possibility that she knew her killer and—”
“I have already questioned her husband and her brother-in-law. In the meantime, because I did trace them, Langton is checking in to the possibility. We’ll get the information about who harassed our victim.”
Barolli shook his head. “Well, thanks for telling me.”
“He gives me the creeps, and you weren’t the one subjected to the ogling by the other prisoners. Twice he touched my foot under the table, and if you can’t see it, that’s all he is doing — making himself out to be numero uno in the secure unit.”
“I think he already is.”
“Now we’ve given him even more kudos. Well, you did — talk about stroking his ego!”
“Maybe if you did, we’d get more out of him.”
“He doesn’t have anything,” she snapped, hands gripping the steering wheel.
“You think what you like. I beg to differ.”
Anna was completing her report when Mike Lewis came over to tell her they had a Tom McKinney in the interview room.
“He’s a truck driver that Margaret Potts had dealings with. He still works for the same delivery company, which supplies watercoolers. His firm is based in Scotland and Manchester, but he does the long haul back and forth to London twice a week, delivering to Bayton grocery stores.”
“Did he admit to getting beaten up by her contacts at the bailiffs?”
“I’ve not talked to him yet, and there’s another bloke coming in later this evening — a salesman for a cosmetics company. Both of them had dealings with her, so we may be able to get a lead at least on how she worked her area of the service station. I want you in on the interview.”
“Can you give me a few minutes while I finish up the report?” asked Anna, pleased that she would be working on a line of inquiry unconnected to Cameron Welsh.
“Sure. How did it go?”
“Well, Barolli and I have different takes on it. Welsh did bring up the fact that maybe Potts knew her killer, could have been stalked by him. I might go and interview her brother-in-law and husband again, but to be honest, I didn’t get a feeling from either of them that they would want to kill her.”
“Okay. When you’re ready, I’ll see you down there — interview room one.”
Anna was eating a sandwich and carrying a cup of coffee as she headed for the interview room. Mike was already there, explaining to Tom McKinney the reasons they had requested him to come in for questioning. The man was huge, very overweight, and his body odor was so pungent that the small room reeked. He was sweating profusely, with his big hands laid flat on the table, as Anna was introduced to him.
“You do understand that you are simply assisting our inquiry?” Mike said.
Tom nodded, then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I thought at the start it was about me driving license. I had a bit of a prang a few days ago, not my fault, but that’s why I came in.”
“But you now know we are asking you about a woman called Margaret Potts.”
Anna sipped her coffee. Tom looked from one to the other. “I don’t know who she is.”
Mike glanced at Anna. “She was a prostitute, and she was murdered.”
Tom’s mouth gaped. “You want to talk to me about that? I dunno her, I’ve never heard of her.”
“But you did know her, Tom,” Mike said quietly.
“No, no, I never even heard of her. I don’t understand what this is all about. I mean, why? Why you got me in?”
“Because we know that you picked her up at a service station and—”
“Hang on, when was this? I’ve been off sick for months and only just got back to work, and then I had this problem with a bloke in a Transit van. He bloody gave me a false address and—”
Anna showed him the mug shot of Margaret Potts, laying it flat in front of him. “This is Margaret Potts.”
He squinted at it and licked his lips, then shook his head, saying, “I don’t know her. I swear on my life I never met this woman.”
Mike explained patiently that they had a witness who had described contacting him for a specific reason: he had refused to pay Margaret Potts for her services and had been abusive toward her, and as a result, the witness had traced him via his license plate to his place of work and had a confrontation with him on behalf of Margaret.
“You paid him fifty pounds, didn’t you?”
Mike paused as Tom puffed out his cheeks, sweating even more, but eventually, he admitted to meeting Margaret Potts. “She called herself Maggie. I didn’t know her other name, but she didn’t look like that photo; she was all made up and fancied herself. She was an old bitch and with a mouth on her, and I did shove her out of me cab because first she said it was a tenner, then she said it was twenty-five quid. My wallet was on the dashboard, and she grabbed it, so that’s why I slapped her around and kicked her out. She wasn’t hurt, ’cause she stood there screaming abuse at me.”
“She has been murdered, Tom.”
“Fuck me, you can’t get me for nothin’ more than what I just said. She was a dirty whore that was always hanging out at the London Gateway Services. I’d seen her there loads of times on my way back to Glasgow. I used to make my deliveries and then grab a bite to eat there before I drove up the motorway.”