Beale leaned into the speaker beside the glass-panelled entrance to the block. ‘I can see your front door from here, Ms Morley. If you open it, I’ll give you a number to call. Ask for a description of Detective Inspector Beale and check it against the person you see.’
‘I can’t, I’m naked.’
‘I’m happy to wait while you put something on.’
There was the sound of a man speaking in the background and Jen raised her voice to answer him. ‘No, it’s just some yobs mucking around. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She dropped into a whisper again. ‘Look, do me a favour and fuck off,’ she snapped. ‘I’m busy, OK. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
Beale placed a hand over the intercom and nodded to Khan. ‘Check the window,’ he whispered, nodding towards a lighted, curtained pane to the right. He lowered his hand again. ‘We only need five minutes, Ms Morley. I appreciate it’s late at night but it
‘There’s a half-clothed Jap with her,’ the other man breathed. ‘He’s tapping his watch and hanging on to his wallet for dear life.’
‘Five minutes, Ms Morley,’ Beale said again. ‘That’s all we need.’
‘Jesus!’ she said angrily. ‘OK, wait there.’ The handset at her end rattled furiously onto its rest.
They watched her emerge from her door and shut it carefully behind her, before clutching her robe about her middle and making her way across the communal hall. From twenty yards away, she had a willowy elegance that fleetingly reminded both men of someone they knew; close to, the impression faded. There was nothing elegant about the bloodshot eyes, the smudged make-up or the swollen bottom lip that suggested someone had been chewing on it.
She opened the door a couple of feet and inserted herself in the opening to prevent them entering. ‘You’d better have something more than that if you’re expecting to come in,’ she hissed when Beale tried to introduce himself and show his card. ‘A search warrant at least.’
Beale wondered how often she’d been served with a warrant and made a mental note to check the records. ‘We just want to ask you some questions, Ms Morley. We understand you were engaged to a man called Charles Acland until a few months ago? Is that correct?’
‘What if I was? What’s he been saying about me?’ She touched the sleeve of her gown to the end of her nose. ‘It’ll be lies whatever it is.’
It wasn’t the answer Beale had been expecting. As a delaying tactic, he took out his notebook and flicked through it. ‘You remind me of someone,’ he said in a conversational tone. ‘Have we met before?’
‘Uma Thurman,’ she retorted impatiently, as if it should have been obvious. ‘Everyone thinks I’m Uma Thurman.’
Beale nodded, wondering if she realized how rough she looked. ‘I can see the resemblance now.’
‘Whatever. Just get a move on. I’m freezing to death here.’ She rubbed her arms to prove the point. ‘Charlie always lies. I could have had him done for rape . . .
Beale nodded again, as if he had this information already. ‘When did that happen?’
‘The last time I saw him . . . before he went to Iraq. Then he tried to strangle me in the hospital after he came back.’ Her hand strayed to her neck. ‘I bet he hasn’t told you
‘No.’
‘Did he tell you about the rape?’
Beale shook his head.
‘There you are, then. You can’t believe anything he says. If you want my opinion, his brain’s more damaged than his face. Ask his psychiatrist if you don’t believe me. He knows what happened. He was there when Charlie tried to kill me.’
Jen looked on the point of answering, then changed her mind. ‘I can’t remember. I left as fast as I could in case Charlie had another go.’ She was becoming restless. ‘Look, it’s water under the bridge. I haven’t seen Charlie for months and that’s the way I want it to stay. Are we done now?’
‘Not quite, Ms Morley. It’s the time when you were together that we’re interested in. How often did Charlie come here?’
‘Whenever he could. He was crazy about me.’
‘Every weekend?’
‘Sure . . . when he wasn’t driving his tank over Salisbury Plain . . . or going to bloody Oman on manoeuvres.’
‘Over what time period? When did you first get together?’
She glanced over her shoulder, as if she could hear something from her flat. ‘Most of last year. We met at the beginning and split just before he went Iraq.’
Beale checked his notebook. ‘Do you remember if he was in London the weekends of the 9th/10th or 23rd/24th of September?’
‘Is this a joke? I don’t even remember what I was doing last week.’
Both policemen could believe that. ‘Have you any way of checking?’ Beale asked.
‘No.’ She frowned at him. ‘What’s this about? What’s Charlie done?’
When Beale hesitated, DC Khan stepped in. ‘Do you mind telling us what caused the split?’ he asked. ‘Was
