‘Wealthy people make me sick,’ Hunt said, and to Bliss the flat statement came across as bitter. ‘Walking around with their noses in the air, thinking they’re so much better than those of us who actually do the work.’
Bliss eyed him in the rear-view mirror. ‘They’re not all like that, John. Just like us cops are not all racist thugs in need of defunding. I’ve met a good many wealthy people who are thoroughly decent, in the same way that I’ve met many people living in poverty who are complete arseholes.’
Hunt stared out of the window and made no comment. Bliss had never been able to work the man out. His colleague seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about everyone and everything. A man with a permanent grudge and an attitude bordering on the paranoid. He could be good fun during after-shift drinks, and although he seldom did more than he was asked, he did at least have a diligent approach to his job. You didn’t have to be liked to be respected. Bliss knew something about that himself, which is why he’d always make room for John Hunt.
After dropping their two colleagues off at HQ to wade through the adverts and agencies in search of Croatian girls, Bliss and Chandler headed out to Serpentine Lake. Before leaving Mayors Walk, Bliss had called Marta Lsenko’s number. She was free, but despite the inclement weather had insisted on meeting outdoors. When Bliss parked up, they spotted Lsenko sitting on a nearby bench. Daylight was fading rapidly around them, and lights began to spring into life as the evening approached.
The three walked while they talked, a fine drizzle settling over them. The young woman wore a full-length grey coat, with a teal scarf wrapped around her neck and pulled up tight against her throat. Both Bliss and Chandler had the top buttons of their jackets fastened, hands thrust deep into pockets. Little clouds of breath preceded them along the paved pathway.
Initially, Lsenko was dismissive; not aggressively so, but she wasn’t one for small talk and simply couldn’t think of who they might mean when they mentioned Sara. The girl came across as brusque even when she didn’t mean to be. Chandler urged her to think longer and harder, reminding her that it could be important.
‘If she and Haweeo became close, she must have been an approachable sort. You remember Haweeo, Marta?’
‘Of course. How could I not?’ Lsenko seemed affronted by the question. ‘She call herself Primrose. You spend time like that with a person, you never forget their name or their face.’
‘I can only imagine. Look, we think Primrose gave her card to our murder victim. If that’s the case, she must have thought the girl needed it more than she did herself. We’re hoping that this Sara might know the circumstances, that Primrose might have told her about it before she left the city.’
‘Primrose gave away her card?’ Lsenko’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and awe, as if a priceless treasure had been spurned.
‘We don’t know that for sure. Lilit Petrosian opted to be repatriated. But although for that reason alone she’s the most likely of all of you to have given her card to another girl, we don’t see how she was ever in a position to do so while she was still here in the city. Lilit was driven from our station to London without ever mixing with anyone other than yourselves and us. The card ended up in Cambridge in the clothing of a girl from Peterborough. That’s why we’re focussing on Primrose and her friend, Sara.’
They all came to a halt when Lsenko stopped walking. She stood for a moment looking at the ground, scuffed at the same spot with her boot heel.
‘You know us, Marta,’ Bliss said softly, sensing the young woman’s hesitation. ‘We’re not looking to hurt anyone – other than those who deserve it. If you know something, anything at all, please tell us. If this Sara is an illegal, I promise you her information will go no further than us. All we want is a conversation.’
The moment Lsenko looked up again, Bliss knew she had something to tell them. She gave a long sigh before speaking. ‘I do know this girl. Sara. I also know Primrose from other than container.’
‘You two met up after you were separated?’
A nod. ‘I know Sara. Sara know Primrose. We had coffee at Costa in Queensgate by escalator.’
‘Okay,’ Chandler said, giving her a wide smile. ‘That’s good. It’s nice that you were still in each other’s lives. Do you know why Primrose left, and why she gave the card away?’
Bliss could tell the young woman was still uncertain. ‘Marta, I think you know how important this is. I promise you none of it will splash back on you or your friend Sara, and we are not going to chase down Primrose. I hope you believe me.’
‘I do. Yes, of course. You and Penny.’
‘In that case, please, tell us what you know.’
‘I worry what you will think of me.’
Lsenko’s pale features trembled from more than the cold and fine rain. Bliss took a half step closer, shaking his head. ‘You need never concern yourself with that. Penny and I know what you had to live through. We don’t judge you, Marta. You fought to stay alive, so you earned the right to choose how you live that life.’
Before he even finished speaking, her face crumpled and tears began streaming down both cheeks. She pawed them away carelessly. ‘I want to be more than I am. But I want the things I never had before. Back home. What I do is not easy for me as a woman, but is easier for me as a person. You understand?’
Bliss didn’t quite, but he nodded anyway.
‘Sara… she do
