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  “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.

  A girl was leaning over the banisters as Anna looked up the wide, old-fashioned staircase. The hall was dusty, and a large table bore mail stacked in rows for the tenants. Mounds of flyers were heaped beneath it, along with old free newspapers and circulars.

  Katia turned out to be a very attractive dark-haired girl dressed in a black woolen skirt and sweater. She ushered Anna into the studio room, which was spacious, containing two beds, a large wardrobe, and a small kitchen alcove. It was untidy, with clothes strewn around, and on a table were dirty mugs and food cartons.

  Katia was impatient and had her mobile phone out, ready to show Anna.

  “Did Estelle use your phone?”

  “Yes. Only when she needed it, but it is my phone, I pay for it. I can prove it. I got the last bill two days ago. You want it?”

  Anna said that she would like to see it. She then sat on an old floral-covered easy chair and opened her briefcase to show Katia the photograph of Estelle. The other girl recognized her and was distressed when told she had been murdered.

  “I need to know everything you can tell me about her,” Anna said.

  Katia picked up a box of tissues and wiped her eyes, then sat by the table, getting over the shock. Estelle had been living with her for a while but couldn’t find work until Katia told her about Mrs. Henderson.

  “I tell Mrs. Henderson that I go back to Poland, but I just didn’t want to work for her anymore. Pay was not good, and I did not like her, and she made me do cleaning and ironing as well as looking after the children. So I suggested Estelle work for her, as she needed money. She owed me rent and kept on borrowing from me. I work two jobs now, one in the café, and then I work nights in a club. I earn three times the money.”

  Bit by bit, Anna learned that Estelle had not registered to work in the UK and had come to England via France eighteen months ago. She had met Katia at the Polish embassy, and they became friends. At first she had slept on Katia’s floor, as there was another girl sharing the studio, but when she left, Estelle moved in. She had then taken over Katia’s job with Mrs. Henderson.

  “When she didn’t come back here, didn’t you feel concerned?”

  “No, I think she live in with Mrs. Henderson, and my boyfriend was here, so it was okay.”

  “But she used your mobile phone?”

  “Yes, sometimes, but I ask for it back because I need it.”

  “Did Estelle have a boyfriend?”

  “No. I don’t think she have one. She was doing house-cleaning for a while, but not much money.”

  “Did she have any friends that I could talk to?”

  “No. She didn’t know nobody, and I work early in mornings, so I didn’t see much of her, and she lived in at Mrs. Henderson’s.”

  “But that was only on weekends.”

  “Look, I tell you everything. I got someone else living with me now. I don’t know nothing else about her.”

  “What about family?”

  Katia shrugged and said that Estelle maybe had someone she knew in Manchester, but who it was, she didn’t know. She got up and opened one of the wardrobes, taking out a large cheap canvas suitcase. “I got this, all her things inside, but she don’t come back for it. I don’t want it, I need the space.”

  Anna sighed and tried to think of a way of getting more information out of Katia, but the girl was becoming impatient to leave for work.

  “Did you notice anything else missing?” Anna asked.

  “No. There was a backpack—is that what you call it? A small thing, and an overnight bag. They not here; she maybe took them with her.”

  By the time Anna left Katia’s studio with the suitcase, it was nine-thirty. She decided she would go home and check the suitcase in at the station the following morning.

  Anna showered and made herself a sandwich before she opened the suitcase. She laid it on her bed, and as she removed each item, she noted it down: two pairs of shoes, two skirts, sweaters, and T-shirts with some underwear. There was nothing else, no passport or notebooks or makeup. The clothes were all worn but clean and well pressed. Anna knew about the haversack or backpack but not the overnight bag. Could that have meant Estelle was leaving London to visit the person Katia said she knew in Manchester?

  She had hoped that the itemized bill for the mobile might be of use, especially if there had been one to Manchester. However, Katia had given her the names of all the calls, and these also included ones made by Estelle to her, and she said there were no other numbers l
isted for which she didn’t know the recipient. Estelle had given the phone back to Katia a month ago. Frustrated and tired, Anna repacked the suitcase and went to bed.

  The next morning, Anna dragged the case into the station, and there were plenty of jokes about her filling up the property locker, as every item she had brought in had to be recorded in the exhibits book and bagged. She made out her report of the meeting with Katia and added the notes to the incident board. Then she sat at her desk, listed the Polish embassy, the Walton Street address, and the Earl’s Court studio. She was wondering why Estelle had bought from a charity shop in New Malden, a good distance from where she’d worked and lived. She had also tried to pay with a fifty-pound note, and this would have been after she left the employment of Mrs. Henderson. Anna tapped her teeth with her Biro, flicking through all her notes, sensing that something didn’t add up. She put in a call to Katia. There was no reply for such a long time that Anna was about to give up when Katia answered, the clatter of crockery and the hiss of a coffee machine audible in the background.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Katia, it’s DI Anna Travis. I just wanted to ask you if you knew anyone living in New Malden?”

  “New Malden?” Katia repeated slowly.

  “Yes. We know Estelle bought something from a charity shop there, and it’s quite a way from Earl’s Court.”

  “I have never been to this New Malden,” Katia growled.

  “Do you know anyone living there?”

  “No. I do not know where it is.”

  “It’s not far from Kingston, Wimbledon, Raynes Park—”

  “No. I don’t know any of these places.”

  Anna sighed and thanked Katia, who yawned as she hung up. It was catching; Anna yawned as she closed her notebook. She next rang Mrs. Henderson, apologizing for any inconvenience and saying she wondered if there had been any calls made by Estelle on her boss’s landline. Mrs. Henderson said that she doubted it, as she made a point of asking anyone employed at the house not to use the private phone. She did agree, however, to check her phone bill.

  “Could you keep a particular lookout for any calls to New Malden or Manchester?” Anna asked. She doubted that Mrs. Henderson would get back to her, but at least she felt she had covered everything possible in trying to ascertain Estelle’s whereabouts before she was murdered.

  She decided to go to the property locker to retrieve the English books found in Estelle’s rucksack, in the hope that they might reveal whether Estelle was going to any particular evening classes to study English. However, none of the books had any college listed. It was yet another dead end.

  Shortly after lunch, Barbara took a call from a man by the name of Mikhail Petrovich. He asked to speak to Anna Travis.

  “Did he say what it’s about?” Anna asked.

  “No. Just wanted to speak to you.”

  “Put him through, please.” Anna picked up her desk phone. “Anna Travis speaking. How can I help you, Mr. Petrovich?”

  “It’s about Estelle. I knew her, and I’ve been told she’s dead. I am very sorry and I want to help you.”

  Anna switched on the tape to record the call. The man did seem to be genuinely distressed. He said he was a waiter working at a small hotel on Kingston Hill in Surrey. Anna became tense listening to him as he explained that he knew Estelle because she lived with his girlfriend in Earl’s Court.

  “Your girlfriend is Katia Rieika?”

  “Yes. Estelle used to live in her place, that is how I know her.”

  “Mr. Petrovich, I would really like to talk to you in person. Can I come and see you?”

  Anna arranged to meet him at the hotel, but in the car park, as he didn’t want the management to think he was in any kind of trouble.

  Barolli looked over as Anna grabbed her briefcase. “Where you off to?” he asked.

  “Kingston Hill. Got someone who says he knew Estelle.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “No, it shouldn’t take long.”

  • • •

  Mikhail Petrovich was a handsome young man with slicked-back black hair. He was waiting in the small car park as Anna drew up in her Mini and wound down the window to announce herself. He got in to sit beside her.

  “I thought you would maybe come in a police car,” he said.

  “No, this is my own vehicle.”

  “Very nice. I like this make of car, but I would have it convertible.”

  “Do you mind if I tape this conversation?”

  “No, I don’t mind, just so long as Katia doesn’t know about me calling you, because she is very jealous. That’s why she kicked out Estelle, because she knew I found her attractive. Like I said, I was quite fond of her.”

  Mikail told Anna that he had been with Katia when she received Anna’s call that morning. He had not started his shift until noon, so he went into the café to help Katia open up. He said she didn’t know Kingston or any of the other places, but he did, as he lived at the hotel he worked in. He stayed with Katia on his days off. Petrovich was an undermanager and very proud of it. He had worked in England for seven years and had been dating Katia for almost eighteen months. He had met Estelle when she began renting the studio, and he had felt sorry for her.

  “She had no immediate family, except an uncle who she wanted to meet up with, as she had never known him. She had little money and hated working for Mrs. Henderson, as she was so rude to her.”

  “Did she contact this uncle?”

  “I don’t know, but in secret we met, and she was upset because she said she didn’t have good clothes, so I took her to the charity shop in New Malden, also two more in Wimbledon, to buy things. They have nice secondhand clothes, expensive things going real cheap. I wait for her outside, have a cigarette.”

  “Did you pay for the things?”

  “Yes, I give her some money.”

  “Was it a fifty-pound note?”

  “Yes. I got my wages and give her fifty quid. The lady not want that big note, so I bought cigarettes to get change. Estelle keep the rest.”

  Anna swiveled around to have a better look at him. “That’s a lot of money, and yet you say she was just a friend?”

  “Yes, I say that, and I mean that. We didn’t do sex, she was not that type of girl—she was proper and innocent and I liked her. She was desperate, and all I wanted was to help her, but without Katia knowing, or she would go ballistic, very jealous. Nothing happened between me and Estelle, but I will be honest, I hoped when she came back, we would get to know each other better.” Anna showed him the photograph, and he nodded. “Yes, that is Estelle.”

  He turned away to stare out the window before he brought himself to ask what had happened to her. Anna gave him only a few details, adding that perhaps Estelle was intending to go to Manchester. She also asked if Estelle was the type of girl who would thumb a lift.

  “Maybe. You see, I couldn’t give her any more cash, and Katia had kicked her out of the studio because she owed rent, so she had no money for a ticket.”

  “Would she have had sex for money?”

  He sucked in his breath and his face tightened. “No. I tell you, she was a good girl, but with trouble—no job, no money, and that is why I tried to help her.”

  “She was here illegally, wasn’t she?”

  He hesitated, then admitted that she was not registered to work in the UK, but she wanted to make an application and hoped that her uncle would help her. He looked at his watch. “I have to go back to work.”

  Anna asked when was the last time he had seen Estelle, and he recalled that it was the same day she had bought the new jacket for her trip to Manchester.

  “So she was definitely going to travel from London to Manchester?”

  “Yes. Her uncle was the only person she believed could get her the correct papers. Did she get there? Was she killed in Manchester?”

  “No, she never made it there.”

  He turned to look at Anna. His dark eyes were filled with tears
, and he clenched his hands. “Money. I was saving for a car, so I did not give her any more when she needed it. Now she’s dead, and I will have to live with that. I really liked her.”

  Anna watched him walking back to the hotel reception, his head bent. He took out a handkerchief, and she knew he was crying. She was about to drive away when Mrs. Henderson rang. She did have a call registered from her landline to Manchester, and four further ones to mobile numbers she did not recognize. At last the day was beginning to be a productive one. Anna fed the numbers back to the incident room and asked for the call to Manchester to be a priority. This would begin to pinpoint whether or not Estelle was heading there on the day she died—or was on her way back.

  By the time Anna returned to the station, they had located Andre Dubcek. He was devastated to be told that his niece had been murdered, as he had expected her to contact him when she arrived in Manchester. He agreed to come down to London but couldn’t do so for a couple of days, as he had a business to run. Barolli had spoken to him and didn’t think they would gain much from interviewing him, as he had never met Estelle. He had asked a lot of questions about when it had happened and how she had been killed, and he appeared to be greatly shocked.

  The fact that he had not contacted them after either the newspaper reports or the television crime shows was simply because he had no idea what she looked like; in fact, he said he had been surprised when she contacted him. Andre was married to a local girl from Chorlton, had three children, and ran a small bakery. He told them that Estelle was twenty-two years old.

  It felt to everyone that they had made a breakthrough simply by being able to identify their victim. But it still left one more to go, and they were no closer to producing a suspect. Estelle’s photograph now had her name beneath it, alongside the pictures of Margaret Potts and Jane Doe.

  Anna left the station at seven, satisfied that she had had a productive day, if not one that helped solve the women’s murders. She was in the car park when Langton drove in and did his usual erratic parking job. She waited by her Mini as he headed toward her.

  “You’ve got some developments today?” he said.

  Anna explained quickly how she had been able to identify Estelle and that they had contacted a relative.