Convinced that the Super was going to take Tennison off the case, Otley watched with a gleam of triumph in his eye as she entered the Incident Room, obviously harassed and sweating, with Burkin at her heels.
“Anything on Marlow’s car yet?” she demanded.
Ken Muddyman answered her from the far side of the room. “Not yet, ma’am, but we’ve got you a slot on the Shaw Taylor program!”
“That’s a good idea!” She heard Lillie sniggering behind her but ignored him.
“I was joking, ma’am!”
“I’m not! Laugh away, DI Muddyman, but time’s almost up and Marlow’s lawyer’s with the Super now. Get on to the Press Office…”
Muddyman couldn’t work out if she was kidding or not. Lillie interrupted them.
“Ma’am, Records sent this in, about Moyra Henson. She was picked up for soliciting fifteen years ago. I dunno if it’s of any interest, but she’s been on the dole for four years.”
“You never know. Stick it on the file.”
Otley chipped in, “We’ve got twenty-two statements from the toms, and there’s more of ’em upstairs. Nothing worthwhile yet. Plus her boyfriend and flatmates are waiting to be interviewed. What’s goin’ on, are we gonna charge him?”
It was coming at her too fast; Tennison floundered for a moment.
“I’d better see the girls first. Keep the Super off my back for a while. And I want to see everyone in here when I’m finished.” She looked around the room to see who was there. “Ken, you’d better organize a WPC for the girls…”
Otley perched on the edge of his desk, watching with delight while she tried to cope, and failed.
“There was something else…” Tennison continued. “Oh, the identification. Her name’s Karen Julia Howard.”
“We know,” said Otley.
“Oh… yes, of course you do. Right, I’m off.”
Following her, Ken Muddyman minced from the room, camping it up and blowing Otley a kiss as he went. The hoot of laughter could be heard all the way down the corridor.
The three girls’ vagueness about Karen was infuriating; Tennison terminated the session after half an hour. By that time she knew that Karen had often spent days, even weeks, at her boyfriend’s flat, but the couple had recently had a disagreement and had not seen much of each other since. When Karen had not returned for a couple of nights they presumed she had made it up with him.
On the other hand, Miffy conjectured, Michael obviously didn’t make contact because he thought Karen didn’t want to see him, but eventually he had called round. Discovering that no one had seen Karen, and she wasn’t with her parents or any other friends, Antonia had reported her missing.
The last time the girls had seen Karen she had driven off in her white Mini to Ladbroke Grove for a modeling job. It was a knitwear advert, she had told them. She had taken her large portfolio and her Filofax. Perhaps Karen’s agent would know the name of the firm.
The girls constantly looked at each other as if to confirm every detail. A couple of times they broke into tears; Tennison was patient with them but she kept pushing for the information she needed.
“Was there any mention of a new man in her life?”
They could think of no one. Miffy, her eyes red from crying, believed that Karen had loved Michael more than she pretended, but got fed up because he was a bit possessive.
“So they used to argue about it, did they?”
“Just sometimes. You know, she wanted to let her hair down a bit, but they had been going out together for years…”
“Did she drink a lot?”
“Oh, no! She didn’t drink at all, or smoke. She was a fitness freak, always dieting, and her room at the flat was a no-smoking zone.”
Tennison stubbed out her fifth cigarette of the session, not that she was counting. “What about drugs?”
They shook their heads in unison, Tennison thought a little too eagerly.
“You mean never? Not just a little grass or speed?”
Lady Antonia twisted her hands in her lap. “Karen didn’t like drugs, hated any of us having stuff in the flat. She wouldn’t touch anything like that.”
“Not even coke? Did she use cocaine?”
“No, honestly. We’ve known each other for years, since school, and she got quite uptight about that sort of thing.”
Tennison sighed. “OK, so what about Michael, she was a virgin as well, I suppose?”
Lady Antonia crossed her long legs and fiddled with the top of her boot. “That was her business, I have no idea what she did in private.”
“Now it’s my business, love. Karen was found in a prostitute’s room, and I have to find out how she got there. Come on, what do you take me for? Are you trying to tell me that four girls, living in the same flat, never even mentioned sex?”
Lady Antonia pursed her lips. “I don’t think you have any right to ask us that sort of question.”
Tennison was getting more irritated by the second. “I have every right, as I said before. Anyway, that’s it for now, but I might need to talk to you all again before you leave. This officer will show you the way back to the canteen, go and have some coffee.”
Lady Antonia faced Tennison. “I am going to complain about the way we have been treated, as if we were criminals. And we don’t want to go back to that awful canteen. Please would you call my father, if you need to speak to us we are perfectly willing, but we have been here for… we really… I would like to go home.”
Tennison never took her eyes off the girl’s face. The bravado disappeared fast, and Antonia blinked back the tears. “Please, let us go home. We’ve been here for hours.”
Tennison pursed her lips. “Antonia, isn’t it? Yes? Well, all I can do is apologize for keeping you here for so long. You are free to go at any time, but I need to question Michael Hardy. As you all came together, perhaps you’d like to leave together. I’ll order you a car. Your girlfriend has been brutally murdered, we are just trying to find out how she came to be in that efficiency… OK? And any assistance you can give us, give me, is really appreciated. So have a cup of tea or coffee, anything, just for a while longer…”
She watched the round cheeks flush, and the girl blinked rapidly. Her whole face seemed to be moving, trying to say something, but unable to form the words. Then she burst out, “She was always happy…”
Antonia left the room, and Tennison could hear her sobbing outside in the corridor. She felt dirty, her hands were grubby, and she sniffed her armpits then made a quick exit for the locker room. Next was Karen’s boyfriend, Michael Hardy, and though she was sure he was innocent he had to be checked out, eliminated completely. To do that she was going to have to be tough.
The cold water felt good as she splashed it on her face. She washed her hands, scrubbed them, then stared into the soapy water. The killer had used a wire brush on the victim’s hands, scratched them raw…
Michael, obviously distraught, was sitting with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. His voice was muffled.
“I can’t believe she’s dead, I can’t believe it…”
“You said the reason you hadn’t seen Karen was because you’d had a row, is that right?” Tennison asked him.
“I agreed not to see so much of her-” He stopped, too choked to continue.
“She was murdered, Michael, and we found her in a prostitute’s efficiency apartment. Now, take a look at this photograph and tell me if you’ve ever seen this man, ever seen Karen with him. Come on, Michael, look at the photograph.”
He raised his head and stared at the mug shot of George Marlow. “No, I’ve never seen him.”
“OK, now what I need to know is when you last saw or spoke to Karen.”
He coughed and ran his hands over his ponytail. “I, er, I phoned her, the day before I went to Switzerland. The fifth of January.”