‘Let’s go,’ said Janine.
They followed Shap, but were careful to leave enough of a gap so that whoever answered the door wouldn’t realise they were all together.
Shap pressed the buzzer for the intercom at the side of the front door.
‘Yes?’ A woman’s voice answered.
‘I’ve got an appointment,’ Shap answered, ‘it’s Mickey.’
The buzzer blared and Shap pushed the door open. Janine and Richard moved forward quickly, following him in. Behind them a clutch of junior officers, briefed to make sure no one left the building.
The blonde woman in the hall tried to bolt, darting for the stairs, but Richard caught her arm. ‘There’s nowhere to go,’ he told her. ‘Let’s just sit down and have a talk.’
While others searched the place, Janine and Richard went into a downstairs room which obviously served as a waiting area. The room was overheated and stuffy. It smelt of cigarette smoke, industrial strength perfume and gloss paint from the central heating radiator. A disconcerted client was escorted out to talk to Shap in the kitchen.
Janine introduced herself and Richard and they showed the woman their police ID cards.
‘Can I have your name?’ Richard asked her.
She hesitated a moment then seemed to resign herself to the situation. ‘Marta Potocki.’ Her English was heavily accented. She wore a flimsy blouse, a lacy black bra visible beneath it, a tight red mini-skirt. She was barefoot, hands and toe nails painted fire-engine red.
‘Are you Polish?’ Janine asked.
She nodded.
‘Marta, did you know Rosa Milicz?’
The woman closed her eyes for a moment, she swallowed and gave a jerky nod. ‘And you know Rosa has been killed?’ Janine said gently.
Marta nodded, biting her cheeks and compressing her lips.
‘I’m sorry’ Janine told her. She waited a moment. ‘We’re investigating her murder. Do you know anything about Rosa’s death?’
Marta shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Did Rosa live here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Please can you show us her room.’
They followed Marta up the stairs and into a small, sparsely furnished room at the back. There were two small twin beds, shabby curtains, a white particleboard wardrobe and a mock beech vanity unit with a mottled mirror. Janine realised the girls slept here but would entertain clients in one of the other larger and presumably more comfortably furnished bedrooms.
Nothing to suggest that the murder had happened here, no blood splashes or missing carpets. But Rosa had been strangled – she might have been killed in one place, leaving little evidence behind, then moved somewhere else for the messy mutilation. They would have this place examined anyway.
