“He won’t be coming with us,” Lizzie said. “He’s not a rugby fan — well, nor am I, but our boys play.”
Anna then met her two sons. Ollie was dark-haired and angelic-looking, and the other, Oscar, looked like Ken, with thick blond hair and blue eyes. They were scruffy and loud, and no sooner had Anna been introduced than they piled into Lizzie’s old Range Rover to get to the match.
Lizzie was an appalling driver, constantly turning around to tell the boys to behave. She was very funny, saying she had been up early to peel the potatoes and prepare the vegetables, but she knew when she got back, she’d still have to take over the cooking.
“Ken said you are a detective,” she went on.
“Yes.”
“The boys will be pestering you later for some grisly details. They are at the age when anything dead fascinates them.”
“Do you work?”
“Good God, no, they take up all my time. I used to be a costume designer, mostly for TV commercials, and I might go back to it when they’re a bit older, but right now I like to take them to school and pick them up — you know, be at home for them.”
“What does your husband do?”
“Ian? He’s got his own IT company, makes a fortune, and we just like to spend it for him.” Lizzie laughed.
Anna had not spent a morning like this ever. She found she liked Lizzie, and she also liked the two boys who, although boisterous, were also well spoken. Their excitement was contagious. The game was rough, and Ken was cheered on by his nephews as they stood on the sidelines; even Anna joined in cheering and shouting encouragement to his team, although she was not sure of the rules.
By the time the game was over and they had returned to the house, the two women were chatting and laughing together like old friends.
Lunch was as Lizzie had expected, in need of her attention, as Ian had not put in the roast potatoes. Anna helped in the kitchen, setting the table, and, under instructions, made the big jug of gravy. By the time lunch was ready to be served, Ken had arrived, showered and sporting a bruise over one eye. He played around with the boys and then helped Ian carve and serve the big roast chicken.
They all ate in the kitchen. Anna said little, enjoying the robust fooling around and the meal, which was delicious. There was apple pie and ice cream to follow. Finally, when Ian asked who would have coffee, Ken said with regret that it was time he left, as he would have to return to the prison. This took a lot longer than he intended, as he had to give both his nephews a ride around the block on the back of his motorbike. It was obviously a regular event, as they produced their own helmets. The boys were tremendously excited; Anna could see that they adored their uncle.
She was unsure whether to leave at the same time as Ken, but he said that he would love a cup of coffee at her flat, if that was okay. Anna realized that apart from that once, at no time had Lizzie or Ian mentioned her work. It felt as if it all belonged to another world. Lizzie had asked how long she had known Ken, but before Anna had been able to answer, one of the boys had dropped a hot plate. She liked the way Lizzie said it was just an accident and not to worry, but she made him clean up the floor all the same.
Anna got back to her flat at the same time Ken arrived on his motorbike. She brewed up coffee as he perched on one of the stools in her kitchen. “So that’s my sister,” he said.
“I really liked her. In fact, your whole family is lovely.”
“Wait till you meet my brother, Robin, the one in Australia. He’s a real ladykiller and raking in the money selling properties. My mum says he’s got all the best features from both of them, as my dad used to be a handsome man when he was young.”
“What work did your father do?”
“He was a quantity surveyor, but he always hated it; it was a job to pay for our education and keep Mum happy. Now that he’s retired, I think he’s happier than he ever was. Loves just pottering around.” Ken accepted a freshly ground cup of black coffee and asked about Anna’s family. She told him and realized how empty it sounded: both parents dead, no close relatives, herself an only child.
The time flew past, and it was almost six when Ken said he really would have to be on his way. He put on a big studded leather jacket and carried his helmet and his rugby kit in a small leather holdall.
“Maybe we could do this again?” he suggested as she walked him to the front door.
“Yes, I would like that very much. I sometimes don’t have the weekends off, though, it depends on the workload,” Anna said, conscious that this had never bothered her before.
“Well, I’ll call you. I doubt you’d want to come all the way back to Leeds. Do you think you’ll be seeing Welsh again?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
They looked at each other, slightly embarrassed, and then he tipped her chin up and kissed her lips. “I’ve wanted to do that all afternoon.”
She couldn’t think what to say, and the next moment he’d gone. She went outside to the balcony to watch his bike roaring off; all she could think was that she hoped he would call again soon. They had not discussed if either of them was involved with someone. In fact, it had been a totally relaxed weekend. And for her, it was almost unheard of not to have studied the case file or even spent a moment thinking about the investigation.
On Monday morning, back at the incident room, Mike asked Anna to work on the blue-blanket case files. Reading through the statements, pathology, and forensic reports, she could see there was little to go on, but she decided to focus on the small lizard tattoo. They had numerous pictures of it, and it didn’t look to be professional; it was rather blurred and dark in color, almost navy blue. They had no details of where the victim had lived, so it could have been done at any one of thousands of tattoo parlors, that is, if it had been inked in the UK. Even though the photographs had been shown on television and in the newspapers, nobody had come forward to identify the tattoo.
Anna decided to pay a visit to the tattoo parlor nearest the station in Hounslow. She had to wait while the tattooist finished working on a customer before she was able to sit with him and ask if he could give her any indication whether the little lizard was a popular design.
Ron of Ron’s Tattoos had so many studs in his nose, his lips, and his ears that it was hard for her to concentrate. His forearms and even his hands were covered in tattoos, and he had bitten fingernails, but he was very pleasant and brought numerous books to sift through to see if the design was one that had been printed up. They found a few that looked close to the photograph, but they were either larger or more snakelike.
“It’s very dark ink.” Ron pondered, looking at the photo.
“That’s what I thought. Do customers usually ask for it to be a certain color?”
“Yes. I would have thought it’d be better more greenish, but that would be just my personal choice.”
He turned the photograph this way and that; then he got an Anglepoise lamp out to have an even better and closer look. “It’s not very good,” he told Anna. “I wouldn’t say it’s exactly an amateur’s work, but you wouldn’t get a pro satisfied. It’s also upside down.”
Anna peered closer; she hadn’t really thought about it, but when he pointed to one of the books with a lizard-type design, the animal had its feet down. On their victim’s hip, it was facing up.
“Unless he fancied looking at it himself, or it was a dead one,” Ron joked.
“It was actually on a woman, a murder victim.”
“Bloody hell! Well, it’s unusual for a woman, but then it takes all sorts. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been asked to ink on some women’s bodies.” He suddenly leaned back and wagged his finger. “You know what it could be? And I couldn’t tell from the photographs, I’d have to see it on the skin to be sure, but... it could be something that was inked over another tattoo. To get them lasered off is quite painful, and we do quite a lot of covering up — you know, the guys get a girlfriend’s name done, then they get ditched, so they want it changed.”