Wendy was staggered by her innocent beauty. ‘It’s a shame that you’re covered,’ she said.
‘It is for my husband. At home, among my sisters and female friends, I would be wearing jeans and a blouse, but out in the street, I must do what I must.’
‘Because you want to?’
‘It is my religion.’
Gwen, who preferred to go around in as little clothing as possible in summer, didn’t understand, but she did like the woman.
‘The recording, have you seen it, Gwen?’ Wendy asked.
‘Hania lives across from the fire escape. It’s distant, but it’s clear enough. With enhancing, it can be proved.’
‘The rifle?’ Wendy asked.
‘He took it with him,’ Hania said.
The baby started to cry; Wendy instinctively lifted it from the mother and rocked it in her arms.
‘Thank you,’ Hania said. ‘Some people wouldn’t do that, not around here.’ She took her phone and showed the video.
Wendy, distracted by the baby, looked at the video the best she could. It wasn’t the best quality, but it would suffice.
‘I’ve passed it on to Bridget,’ Gwen said.
‘She’s busy, out at Rees’s house, checking his laptop.’
Wendy handed the baby back to Hania and phoned her DCI. A breakthrough at the last minute from the most unexpected of sources.
Hania’s details were taken. She said she would give evidence at a trial if her husband permitted it.
To Gwen, the woman’s attitude was perplexing, but Wendy, more worldly, understood that sometimes you don’t always agree, but it does not diminish the respect of one for the other.
Chapter 29
Gareth Rees sat in the interview room. Jacob Jameson was at his side. The mood in Homicide was more ebullient than on the previous encounter with the murderer and his lawyer.
Isaac went through the formalities, advised Rees of his rights, his recourse after the interview had concluded. Jameson looked bored; Rees adopted an air of disinterest.
‘My client wishes to be out of this police station today,’ Jameson said.
Isaac took no notice of the lawyer, only focussed on Rees.
‘We’ve checked where you live,’ Isaac said. ‘DI Hill found it.’
‘So,’ the one-word reply from Rees.
‘We’ve found out more about you.’
‘Where is this leading?’ Jameson said. He had been updated to an extent as to developments. Isaac could see that he was playing for time, attempting to defuse and confuse the police. Isaac had no intention of letting him succeed.
‘Mr Rees,’ Isaac continued, his gaze focussed on Rees, ‘we know by your own admission that you visited Mary Wilton’s brothel and that you spoke to your wife, gave her some money.’
‘I told you that.’
‘You did not tell us that you had a relationship with Amanda Upton.’
‘Whoever she is, I didn’t.’
Isaac pushed a folder over to Jameson. ‘Your client has failed to tell the truth. You’ll find a report from Forensics. The analysis of the hairs found on the bed in the front bedroom of the house proves that they belong to Amanda Upton and Gareth Rees.’
Jameson opened the folder, read the front page and pushed it over to his client.
‘Maybe I didn’t know her name,’ Rees said. ‘It could just be a coincidence. I live on my own, but sometimes I appreciate the company.’
‘There are no hairs from other women in the bedroom,’ Larry said. ‘It’s proof positive that you knew the first woman murdered.’
‘My client will not comment,’ Jameson said. The previously confident look on his face had gone.
‘There was also a laptop in another bedroom,’ Isaac said.
‘That was private property,’ Rees said.
‘It’s evidence now. Apart from the normal, websites for guns and porn, it appears that you had an interesting sideline.’
‘Such as?’
‘What do you mean?’ Jameson asked. ‘Why haven’t I received this advice?’
Isaac was not in the mood to discuss semantics or police procedure; he was focussed on breaking Rees.
‘Mr Rees, your activities overseas, the reason you were court-martialled out of the military. Was it a military action that went wrong, or were you black-market trading, selling weapons, stealing them, giving away secrets?’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Jameson said. Isaac was sure he was speaking for effect, not sure about his position. The man’s hold on the situation in the interview room was shaky.
‘Amanda Upton’s fingerprints were on the laptop as well,’ Larry said. ‘The claim that she could have just been a rented woman for an evening doesn’t hold up.’
‘Very well. I knew Amanda.’
‘How?’
‘A club somewhere. If she was related to the brothel owner, I didn’t know that.’
‘Did you ever visit her place in Marylebone?’
‘No. She would never let me go there.’
‘And you were aware that she was selling herself?’
‘She never made a secret of it, not to me.’
‘Were the two of you close?’
‘We got on, but it wasn’t love. Not for me, anyway.’
‘For her?’
‘It’s probable. She was a moral woman, didn’t always like herself for what she did.’
‘You were her manager; you set up the clients, which yet again points to places and people you met in the military. We’re still trying to get a record of your court-martial.’
‘Okay, I looked after her interests. I knew a few people around the world, high-flyers.’
‘Men who used you for your expertise in killing; Amanda for her body. It seems that you and she were destined for each other, a match made in heaven,’ Isaac said.
Rees leaned over to Jameson, whispered in his ear.
‘My client advises you that enquiries about actions committed out of England will run into serious problems.’
‘The Official Secrets Act,’ Isaac said. ‘We’ve been there before, and whether Mr Rees has conducted actions for the British government or not, it doesn’t obviate him from murder in this country.’
‘Mr Rees, we have obtained a
