‘Where is Maria’s room?’ I asked.
‘First at the top of the stairs,’ the girl replied. I left Dagmara sitting with her and jerked my hand at Boyd, telling him to follow me.
The door at the top of the stairs didn’t have a lock so I pressed down the lever of the handle, pushed the door open and stepped in. Boyd was behind me and we both saw the chaos in the room.
‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘Someone’s beaten us to it.’
I walked around the piles of clothes and broken furniture.
‘I wonder if they found whatever they were looking for?’
I moved some clothes with a shoe and then I kicked the bedspread to one side, but it wasn’t hiding anything except more clothes. There was a framed print on the wall of a Parisian scene advertising some fancy drink and a mass of perfume bottles and creams on the top of a cabinet. I wondered if this was the place where she brought her punters. Was this squalid room in a dingy house a brothel where Maria had dreamt of a normal life? A life cut short. Anger built up as I gathered my thoughts. ‘That fucking Anna has a lot to answer for.’
‘I’ll call CSI,’ Boyd said.
Back downstairs Dagmara was sitting by the side of the girl whose cheeks were scarred with tears. She looked young and I wondered where she was from and whether she had dreams like Maria.
‘Has anyone been here?’
She shrugged.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Zuzanna.’
I raised my voice. ‘Somebody has been through her room. You must have seen something. Or heard something?’
She started crying and I turned to Dagmara. ‘We need to find Anna urgently.’
Dagmara seemed reluctant to leave the girl.
‘The CSI team will be here soon,’ Boyd said.
‘And we’ll get officers to come and take a statement too,’ I added.
We left the girl sitting on the sofa, sobbing. Boyd drove as I dictated instructions for Anna’s address. Then I found my mobile and called Queen Street. Woods was eating something, I was certain, judging by the mumbling acknowledgments, as I dictated instructions for him and Lawson to take a statement from Zuzanna.
Boyd found the address easily enough and we sat for a moment looking at Anna’s house. The curtains open, the small front garden neat and tidy.
The front doorbell rang out and I pushed open the letterbox and shouted, but there was no movement. The gate to the rear garden had been left unlocked since our visit the day before and through the window of the back door I could see the pots and pans piled on the draining board. I tapped on one of the glass panes in the door a couple of times and then, with my back to the door, smashed the bottom pane with my elbow.
I didn’t have time to think about not breaking the law.
‘Get back to the car, Dagmara,’ I said.
Dagmara nodded meekly, combining a look of surprise and fear. After she closed the gate behind her I turned to Boyd who gave me a resigned you’ve-got-me-in-the-shit-again look.
‘You know the drill, Boyd,’ I said. ‘You go check the phone. Check out any messages. Then see if you can find any diaries, family calendars. Anything that might tell us where she could be.’
In the kitchen I opened the cupboards at random in the kitchen. Once I’d finished I found a laptop in a room at the rear of the house. As it booted up I flicked through some of the paperbacks on a small bookcase. I hadn’t expected Anna to enjoy chick lit. There were contact names, addresses, phone numbers, files, and folders related to work with Amnesty. I made an executive decision, closed the laptop and tucked it under my arm.
We left the house and I pulled the door behind us. After we dropped Dagmara at Howick Street I caught a glimpse of her in the side mirror watching the car drive away, her arms folded tightly.
* * *
By early evening I was back in my office, having watched Dr Paddy MacVeigh humming along to the sound of a Mozart violin concerto. It was good to see a man happy in his work. I needed to know one thing from Paddy and after he’d prised open Maria’s jaw he gave me a grim look.
Boyd had spent the afternoon telephoning names in Anna’s address book and her laptop. I didn’t know what Dagmara was doing but I guessed she wasn’t sitting in her bed-sit at Howick Street twiddling her thumbs.
I was stretching one arm over my shoulder, trying to massage away a tired, dull ache when Boyd stood at the door.
‘What did you do about Anna’s house?’
‘The usual. I told Operational Support there was a suspected gas leak.’
‘But there wasn’t—’
‘Boyd. We’ve got a murder investigation. The door’ll be fixed today.’
He gave me a stern head-masterly look. ‘Anything from the post mortem?’
‘She had her tongue cut out.’
Boyd flinched and loosened his tie as he sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Nobody in her address book has heard from Anna recently. I should have the telephone records tomorrow.’
‘Let’s hope she turns up.’
‘Inspector Hobbs was around the office earlier.’
I raised one eyebrow, knowing that Boyd had more to tell me.
‘He kept saying things like – it must be a very heavy workload and how is John Marco? I told him we were doing just fine.’
A dull worry entered my mind about Hobbs. There was always an ulterior motive to everything he did. He must be up to something I concluded.
Chapter 29
‘Good morning, John.’
When Dave Hobbs was this polite I knew something was up.
I walked past the photocopier towards my office.
‘The Superintendent wants to see you.’
It had the desired effect and I stopped.
‘Seriously, check your messages,’ he said with a grin.
I dipped into my jacket pocket and cursed when I discovered that my mobile was dead. I sat down heavily in my office chair and rummaged through the various drawers of my desk until I found a charger. I was kneeling by a socket when the phone on my desk rang.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ Cornock said.
‘Sorry sir. The battery—’
‘Get over here now.’
I fiddled with my tie as I walked over to Cornock’s office where he waved me to a chair. He had his usual white shirt but his standard dark-blue tie had red stars littered all over it.
‘Good morning,’ Cornock said.
‘Sir.’
‘There’s been another burglary. It looks as though Jason Brown has been busy again.’
‘What are the details?’
‘An empty house on Rodium Crescent. The occupiers were out for dinner. Obviously, the burglar knew when to strike.’
‘Is it the same MO?’
Cornock flicked through some of the papers on his desk.
‘I’m going to assign Inspector Hobbs to lead the investigation of these burglaries.’
Now I could see why Hobbs was so polite.
‘You’ve got a complex multiple murder inquiry and I don’t want you distracted. So you’ll need to cooperate with Inspector Hobbs. And you’ll need to give him a full briefing.’
It made sense, of course. I could concentrate on the murders while another team investigated the burglary cases but I groaned at the prospect of having to work with Dave Hobbs. Cornock must have sensed my discomfort.
‘John, I want you to work with Dave Hobbs.’
* * *
I scrolled down the messages on my mobile as it charged – there were two texts from Trish and yet another from my mother, all asking me to call. And I still had to deal with Dave Hobbs. I knew that any briefing with Hobbs would test my patience. He would screw up his piggy eyes, scratch his jaw and ask awkward questions that implied I was an idiot. Boyd would have to be present, just in case.
I dialled Dagmara’s number but her standard message clicked on. Boyd stood by the door to my office as I finished the call.
He closed the door b
ehind him and sat down. His tie was knotted carefully, a serious look in his eyes, the sort that made me realise I might be calling him ‘sir’ one day.
‘We broke into her house last night, sir.’
‘There was a smell of gas…’
He raised his eyebrows, stretched them really. ‘If Anna complains—’
‘She won’t.’
‘You can’t be certain and then she could make life very awkward. For us all.’
‘Maybe Dagmara had a key.’
‘You broke the glass and entered illegally.’
‘It was a fucking emergency, Boyd. I had reason to believe that her life was in danger and I had to do something. And the lives of others. We’d only just pulled the body of Maria from the Bay, for Christ’s sake.’
Boyd didn’t reply immediately. He slid one hand over another, and avoided eye contact.
‘We could be charged with misconduct in a public office,’ he said.
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘I did a study on that offence when I was at university,’ he said, talking about me as though I was a subject in a test. ‘Did you know the maximum penalty was life imprisonment?’
I sat back in my chair, realising it was the sort of offence that only someone with a law degree would mention. I continued.
‘We’ve got someone loose on the streets of Cardiff amputating tongues. And if it’s Lech Bal–fucking-inski, I want the bastard stopped.’
He gave me a sullen stare.
‘We’ve got work to do. Did uniform call at Anna’s house last night as we asked?’
‘Twice, and nothing. Place in darkness all night.’
‘Damn. Have you tried her mobile?’
‘Three times this morning already.’
‘Any luck from her telephone records?’ He hesitated, probably still thinking about the possibility of imprisonment for the misconduct offence and worrying about his pension and his mortgage.
‘Nothing. We’ve spoken to her parents. They live in Nottingham. She hardly speaks to them. Telephones a couple of times a month. Anna’s an only child and there was no mention of a boyfriend or any other close friends.’
‘Anything from the house?’
‘A whole pile of books and paperwork on her work with Amnesty.’
‘Any contacts in her computer? Email addresses?’
‘Forensics are working on the hard drive.’
I heard a rap on the door, which opened before I could say anything. Woods stepped in, reminding me about the briefing that was already late. Boyd and I left the office and stood in the Incident Room in front of the board, now with Maria’s face pinned in one corner.
I paced the room, my mind a jumble.
‘We’ll need to go through her flat and find out where she was working,’ I said to Woods and Lawson. ‘Somebody must know. Talk to someone in the Vice Department. There must be intelligence on the houses where these girls work.’
I stopped pacing the floor for a moment.
‘And then Frankie Prince and someone in the Four Seasons should know about her. It’s time we had another visit to the club.’
* * *
I spent the rest of the day coordinating the house-to-house enquiries that the uniforms were undertaking in the flats and townhouses near the barrage. Two civilians from the Public Relations department sat behind desks in a Mobile Incident Room, handing out leaflets with broad, reassuring smiles.
I walked out over to the edge of the barrage, from where Maria’s body had been dragged out of the water. I looked back towards the apartment blocks and the new cars parked neatly on driveways. If Maria’s body had been dumped, then her killers had the audacity to bring her down to Penarth in full view of the surrounding households. I wondered if Anna had any idea what she was involved with. It was different somehow with Dagmara. She was more practical, more down-to-earth, realised the dangers but was still involved. But Anna just thought she was irrefutable. And she might just get herself killed because of it.
I could taste the salt on my lips after each gust of wind. I pulled up my jacket lapels and thought about a cigarette. It would be the third of the morning, or was it the second? I decided that I had to stop counting. I really needed to stop altogether. But it was only five a day.
One of the waterbuses bobbed up and down as it approached Penarth and drew up against the side of the quay. A handful of people jumped out and I counted six passengers going back to Cardiff. I wondered if Michal or Leon or Maria had ever taken the journey over the Bay. In the distance, I could see the tall masts of the yachts in the marina.
When I reached the Mobile Incident Room a crowd had gathered around a television crew and I heard the reporter saying that the Wales Police Service was no further forward in their investigation of the Polish murders. The cameraman panned around the Bay before making certain he included images of the nearby homes.
At lunchtime I sat with Boyd in a café, reading the menu, trying to decide whether I wanted a panini, a ciabatta or a baguette. I looked over at Boyd; he seemed to be slighter: perhaps the diet was working.
‘How’s Mandy?’ I asked.
‘Anxious.’
A waitress arrived at our table and she gave us a surprised look when we didn’t take up her suggestion of a side order of fries.
‘And what’s made matters worse is that her sister just announced that she’s pregnant.’
‘Mandy must have been pleased.’
‘Pleased? She was angry, with me and with her sister. I don’t get it.’
The waitress returned with two cappuccinos. Boyd continued with the family saga, as he stirred sugar into his coffee.
‘You know how it is. Mothers and mothers-in-law. They all want to be in charge.’
I nodded, remembering guiltily that I still had to call my mother.
‘Things will work out,’ I said.
‘Now Mandy’s started talking about IVF through a private clinic if it doesn’t work this month.’
‘Isn’t that expensive?’
Boyd rolled his eyes and stirred the coffee again.
‘That’s not going to stop Mandy. You can get it on the NHS but you have to wait a minimum of two years.’
The waitress arrived with the paninis that had criss-cross scorch marks on them, and a pile of salad in one corner. Boyd pushed some peppers around his plate.
‘How’s your family, boss?’
‘There’s a big party next weekend.’
‘Sounds like fun.’
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Fun wasn’t the right word to describe Uncle Gino’s party.
I was chewing on a mouthful of panini when I thought I recognised a figure in a shop doorway on the opposite side of the street. I stopped eating and leant forward, but the man turned and stepped into the shop. I finished my lunch while casting the occasional glance over the road.
We crossed the road and a figure suddenly came out of the shop entrance and stood in front of me.
‘I thought it was you,’ I said, facing Kamil. He was wearing a dark jacket that he’d pulled up tight around his ears.
‘It no good. Have you found who killed Maria?’
‘And how do you know Maria?’
‘I know friends and she was nice girl. Do you know where she work?’
I wasn’t certain if it was a question or a statement.
‘I can help,’ he continued. ‘I need to know where she work so I can help you with Polish people. I have lots of contacts.’
‘It’s too early in the investigation yet and we’ve got lots of work to do. And in fact that’s where we’re going now,’ I said, moving past him.
‘I have lots of Polish people tell me they know things. Polish people trust me and I can help.’
‘We can’t tell you where Maria worked.’
‘But I can help. And I have very good contacts with Polish people. Ask Father Podolak.’
‘Kamil, go home, go to work and leave us to ours.’
* * *
&nb
sp; I got back to the station, realising that I had made no progress with Maria’s death. I heaped two teaspoons of instant coffee into a mug and dribbled milk from a carton, until the liquid became a beige colour. Back at my desk I slurped the coffee and grimaced; there must be easier way to get a caffeine burst.
I logged onto my emails and found the formal request from Dave Hobbs for a briefing. It had all the right jargon, and looked important enough but instead I hit the delete key. If he asked, I’d play dumb.
I read the message from Paddy and tried to remember how to store the attached document when Alvine Dix walked into my office holding a sheaf of papers. I left the email from the pathologist until later.
‘Do you fancy a coffee, Alvine?’
She looked at the mug on my desk and turned up her nose.
‘That looks disgusting. Have you seen the p.m. report?’
‘No. I… Has it been sent?’
‘Paddy emailed it earlier. Are you sure you haven’t had it?’
An inquisitive look now.
‘You’re useless with computers aren’t you? So much for the modern man.’
‘What do you want, Alvine?’
‘I thought I would give you the benefit of my vast experience in helping you solve four murders. As you seem to have no idea where to look for the culprit.’
‘Get to the point.’
She put the papers on my desk with a brief flurry.
‘Well, if you haven’t read it.’ She gave the monitor of my computer a brief quizzical glance. ‘Then you won’t know what Paddy says about her.’
My irritation was rising. I had Anna, Dagmara and now Alvine trying to be clever. I picked up the report and began reading, waiting for her to find the right moment to share her profound wisdom with me. I’d reached the top of the second page when Alvine cleared her throat.
‘It’s at the bottom of page three,’ she said. ‘The lungs were full of seawater.’
I carried on reading, assuming there was more to come.
‘And?’
‘Come on, Marco, don’t be stupid. She was alive when she went into the water.’
Then the realisation hit me.
‘So she drowned outside the barrage.’
‘Top of the class. Water inside is nice and fresh. So she must have been taken out into the Bristol Channel.’
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