Anna nodded, not liking it and also not wanting to spend the long journey with him, but she didn’t have an option.
“Right, let’s see how the meeting with this guy Smiley pans out.”
“Shall I order a patrol car for tomorrow?”
“Nope, you can drive. You must know your way there blindfolded by now.” He smiled. Then Langton tied and untied the knot and remained silent, looking over the board again. “I want a check on any previous cold cases that might have similar MOs to our three girls.”
“Already doing that,” Joan murmured, although she had not as yet begun the check.
“I don’t like the missing three days. We need to go back and question Katia and the boyfriend. The victim had to stay somewhere. You don’t think he was shagging her?” he added, turning to Anna.
Anna shook her head. “Petrovich described Estelle as naive and not in any way sexually permissive.”
“Yeah, well, he might say that, but if this Katia was jealous, he might have screwed her in his hotel. He lives in, right?”
“Yes, but on his days off, he stays with Katia.”
“Go back and question him again, because we need to know if our killer picked up the poor girl and held her captive. Have you checked out the coach stations?”
Barolli said that they had, plus the train stations, armed with photographs, but no luck. Langton retied the knot, which was becoming annoying to everyone.
“Okay. Have another session with Eric Potts, see if he ever saw our white van. We don’t have it on CCTV footage for the approximate time Potts was murdered, but we’re not likely to, as it’s two years ago now and the suspect has owned the van since living in Kilburn, right?”
Langton put away his piece of string, checked the time, and announced that he had to leave. As he passed Anna, he promised that he would get on to the governor of Barfield to make sure they did a sweep of Welsh’s cell. He warned her not to pick up her landline until she had the new number.
As always, the whirlwind effect of Langton’s periodic visits left everyone uneasy.
“What’s with the string?” Barolli asked, and Mike smiled.
“He’s given up smoking. It’s something to do with every time you feel the need for a fag: you tie a knot, then untie it, and the urge subsides.”
Anna hoped that the urge would not be present on the drive up to Leeds, as it would get on her nerves even more than Barolli’s antics.
Mike passed out Langton’s orders, and Anna, along with Barolli, sorted out the next round of interviews. They called Eric, but he was not available. They decided not to contact Emerald Turk but to pay her another unscheduled visit to check if she had ever seen the white Transit van.
Emerald was as belligerent as she had been on the two previous visits. It helped that this time Anna was accompanied, and instead of interviewing her in the kitchen, they conducted it in the sitting room. Children’s toys littered the entire room, stacked on the sofa and easy chairs. Emerald made no effort to remove anything but stood, hands on her hips, in the center of the room as Barolli and Anna remained by the door.
“Have you ever seen this van?” Barolli passed over the picture of the van.
Emerald glanced at it and then shrugged. “I dunno. It’s a common sort of van, isn’t it?”
“Might have been parked close by; maybe Margaret was driven here in it. Have another look.”
Emerald sighed and snatched the photograph. “No. She’s been dead two years or more, so why would I fucking remember this van?”
“We think the driver may be connected to her murder,” Anna said quietly.
“Well, she wasn’t run over, was she? So no, I’ve not seen it, and I dunno anyone drivin’ one. Is that all you come for?”
“Thank you for your help,” Barolli said, glancing at Anna.
“My pleasure,” Emerald replied sarcastically, kicking a red tractor out of her way as she walked toward them.
“The suspect delivers blinds — wooden slatted ones,” Anna said as Barolli turned halfway out of the door. “Did Margaret ever mention knowing someone who did that?”
Emerald shook her head at Anna. “No, she fucking didn’t. She was usually half-cut when I saw her. If you ask me, you lot are like the blind following the blind.” She snorted a laugh.
Eric was in his office when they called and he confirmed that he had never seen Margaret get in or out of a white Transit van, nor did she ever mention that she knew anyone selling blinds. They returned to the incident room just as Mike got the message that John Smiley was in reception asking if he could leave his van in their car park. Mike asked Anna to join him for the interview as Barolli was told to go down and show Mr. Smiley where he could park and to have a good look over his van.
John Smiley was tall and well built, with a slight comb-over. He was dressed in green overalls with a Swell Blinds logo embroidered on the pocket and printed on the back of his overalls. He was quite a good-looking man, with dark eyebrows and dark brown eyes, though his teeth were slightly stained with tobacco.
He came into the interview room smiling, confident. When he sat down, he apologized for not having informed the DVLA about his change of address.
“I kept on meaning to get it sent in, but at first we didn’t have a permanent address in Manchester, and we rented a flat. Then we moved from that place to another before we found our house.”
Mike opened a file and made a note. “Have you now registered the vehicle?” he asked.
“I’m going to do it first thing in the morning. I’ve got the form with me.”
“So you own the van, Mr. Smiley?”
“Yes, I do. The firm supplied me with one when I first started working for them, then they traded it in for this one and I bought it from them. I got it for a good price. I was glad that I did, ’cause when the firm moved, a couple of guys who didn’t have their own transport got made redundant.”
“Have there been other drivers using your van?”
“No way, never. I keep it in very good condition — even the kids aren’t allowed to mess it up. To be honest, I thought when the company moved from London to Manchester, they’d suggest trading it in for a new one, but they were economizing, cutting back on a lot of expenses.”
“I am going to show you two photographs, and I’d be grateful if you could tell us if it is your van caught on the CCTV camera.” Mike slid the pictures across the desk.
Smiley looked carefully at both of the photographs and then nodded. “Yes. You can even see my license plate, so it’s definitely my van.”
“Can you tell us why you were at the London Gateway service station on both these occasions?”
Smiley took out a small, well-thumbed diary and glanced at the photographs in front of him before flicking through the pages. “Yes, I’d been delivering to a Mrs. Freeman in Kensington. She wanted the blinds measured for a conservatory.”
Mike made a note, then gestured to the second photograph. Again, Smiley looked through his diary after reading out the date on the photograph.
“Yes, that was delivering four sets of floor-to-ceiling oak blinds to a Mr. Leatherhime, big house in Cobham. My firm will have all the receipts of payments and delivery dates. These are just for me personally.” He closed his diary.
“So take me through how you stopped off at the London Gateway Services on both occasions.” Mike leaned back in his chair.
“Well, it’s a fair old way from Manchester to London, and I usually try to get there and back as fast as possible. I want to be with my kids and put them to bed, or at least say good night to them, if possible. My wife gives me a packed lunch, and I eat on the way, and then I stop off at the London Gateway on the way back and use their toilets, because to be honest, I don’t like to ask customers if I can use theirs. So I have a bathroom break, usually order a coffee to take out, and keep going.”