This was almost too good to be true.
“And did you remember it?” Anna asked eagerly.
“Well, not her surname, but her Christian name was Estelle.”
The next port of call was the Polish embassy in Portland Place. Anna and Barolli sat in her Mini as they checked some facts about immigration. Barolli scrolled through the information.
“They’ve got this Works Registration Scheme introduced in 2004 when the new countries joined the European Union. This allows the UK to monitor where citizens, say from Poland, are coming into our labor market. They’ve got to register under this scheme if they want to work for an employer.”
“Well, let’s hope we get some luck with Estelle.”
Armed with the photograph of their victim, Anna asked if the embassy personnel could assist in identifying her. It was a tedious interview, with a number of the staff who at first were certain she had never been to the embassy, and it was not until Anna asked if the bar and kitchen workers could also be questioned that they got a result.
A waitress, whose English was poor, was brought to meet them as they waited in a small lounge. They used a barman to act as interpreter, as the girl became flustered when questioned. She was certain the victim was a girl called Estelle Dubcek who had worked as a relief waitress on two occasions. She did not know where she lived, and said that Estelle had not been at the embassy for several months, but she thought she was working as an au pair somewhere in Knightsbridge.
Returning to the station, Barolli kept on moaning about how people would not come forward. If their victim was Estelle and she had worked in Knightsbridge, why hadn’t the host family made contact after the extensive press coverage? Anna asked Barbara to start checking all the domestic employment agencies in the Knightsbridge area, and at the same time to contact Interpol and Passport Control. By six o’clock they had no further development; it was yet another frustrating day.
Just as Anna was getting ready to leave the station, Barbara received a call from a Mrs. Henderson who lived in Walton Street, close to Harrods. She said she had been contacted by the domestic agency she had used to hire an au pair for her two young children. The girl she had hired from the agency had lasted only a few months before she had to return to Poland for a family bereavement. Knowing she was leaving her boss without help, the au pair had suggested a friend whom she had met at the Polish embassy. The girl was no longer working for Mrs. Henderson and had not been for the past few months, but she had been called Estelle Dubcek.
Anna asked why the agency had made contact if the au pair did not come to her via them.
“Because I complained about the original girl they sent to me, and they would have replaced her, but when I said I had already hired Estelle, they got quite unpleasant.”
Anna arranged to call on Mrs. Henderson that evening. The house was impressive, and Mrs. Henderson, an American, was an elegant and rather brittle woman who explained to Anna that she and her family would be leaving England in two months’ time. The house was only leased, and the bank her husband worked for had recalled him to America.
“My children have already left with their nanny. I used the agency for the au pairs to help her out mostly on the weekend, as that is her time off. But as I mentioned to you, I was not that happy with them, and they cost a fortune.”
Mrs. Henderson gestured for Anna to sit down. It was a well-decorated large room with long bay windows overlooking Walton Street. The sofas and chairs were covered in pale yellow damask and matched the draped curtains. A large ornate fireplace with a fake log fire had a long glass-topped table in front of it, stacked with Vogue and Tatler magazines.
“Can you tell me what you know about Estelle?”
“Well, not that much, really. She was pleasant enough, but her English was poor, and to be honest, it wasn’t an ideal arrangement. And then when we got the news to pack up, I didn’t bother replacing her.”
Anna showed her the photograph taken of the victim, but only a head shot. Mrs. Henderson recognized her straightaway.
“Yes, that’s Estelle, she had long red hair. Has something happened to her?”
“Yes, she was murdered.”
“Oh dear God, that’s dreadful.”
“So I will need to know all you can tell me about her.”
Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “There’s not a lot I can add to what I have already said.”
“Did she live in?” Anna prompted.
“For the first month she did, but it wasn’t really working out, as she wasn’t used to looking after small children. She couldn’t cook, and she spent most of the time reading. I honestly didn’t see a lot of her; the only reason she was here was because the other girl had to go back to Poland.”
“Where did she go after she moved out?”
“Back to wherever she was living before, I presume. She would come in on a daily basis but stay over on the weekends when I really needed her.”
“Do you have an address?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. I did have a mobile phone number for her.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes, it will be in my phone — and I also have a bag belonging to her. When I told her she would no longer be required, she was truculent about it, but I explained why, that we were going back to the States, and she accepted it and left.”
“And this was when, exactly?”
Mrs. Henderson crossed to a desk and opened a drawer, taking out a leather-bound diary. “Three months ago. I paid her for the next month, expecting her to at least stay over the following weekend, but she never returned.”
Anna asked if Mrs. Henderson could show her the bag Estelle had left. It was a cheap black haversack, containing a nightdress and underwear, a pair of socks, and three English-language books. There was also a lined notebook with jottings and spellings, obviously used by Estelle to learn written English. They also could see that the spelling of her name was Dubcek. There was nothing else — no phone numbers or addresses. Anna thanked Mrs. Henderson and left, taking the haversack with her.
She would have liked to go straight home, as by now it was after seven, but she persuaded herself to return to the station to share what she had just learned.
At eight o’clock, Anna was still at her desk working on her report. Making sure she had done everything by the book, she passed the haversack to the property lockup. Mrs. Henderson had also given her the contact number and address in Poland for the previous au pair, whose name was Katia Rieika. With luck, they could track her down to ask for more details about Estelle. But first Anna rang Estelle’s mobile phone number. To her surprise, it was answered straightaway.
The voice had a heavy accent and it took a moment for Anna to ask who she was speaking to.
“Katia. Who is this, please?”
Anna explained slowly that she was trying to trace Estelle and believed that this was her mobile phone number.
“No, this number is mine. Estelle not here.”
It took considerable time to explain that it was very important for Anna to meet with Katia, as there was some concern about Estelle.
“She not here, she go away.”
Eventually, Katia agreed to meet. Anna would have preferred to see her the following morning, but Katia said she worked in a breakfast café and had to be at work early. So Anna asked if she could come and talk to her now.
Anna had to drive to Earl’s Court, and it was almost nine by the time she parked outside the address off Earl’s Court Road. The house had been divided into numerous studio flats. Rows of bells and scribbled notes were taped to the door to indicate the various occupants. Katia Rieika lived on the second floor, and as soon as Anna rang number twenty, the heavy door buzzed open.