Rachel had teased her more than once about her habit of having her subordinates drive. Status, that’s what it’s all about, you do realise? That and control. At least, as far as I know, you don’t sit in the back, like someone lording it with a chauffeur behind the wheel. In fact, when there were papers to read through, files to check on the laptop, emails to reply to, that was exactly what she did. Not wishing to wind Rachel up further, Hadley kept that to herself.
Today she was sitting up alongside Alice as they made their way around the roundabout on St Paul’s Road, Alice’s driving totally in character: neat, precise, careful. Not one to take unnecessary risks.
Glancing at her again, Hadley was struck by an image, a flicker of memory, one of those films from the sixties she and Rachel luxuriated in once in a while – or had, before Hadley’s promotion to detective chief inspector cut their leisure time by half. Glistening black-and-white, 35-millimetre prints at the BFI Southbank or the recently refurbished Regent Street cinema, a cocktail in the bar beforehand, supper afterwards. Rachel, a film buff since her university days. Bergman, Bresson, Godard. Kieslowski and Kaurismaki. And Alice, Hadley thought, was almost a dead ringer for Jean Seberg in À Bout de Souffle: the wide eyes, the dark eyebrows and off-blonde elfin-cut hair. Alice wearing black as usual, black jumper, black trousers, black shoes. Glancing now at the GPS, two more turns before drawing up outside the Wilton estate.
The young woman who came to the door was a little over five foot tall and, Hadley thought, of African parentage. Nigerian possibly? Introductions made, warrant cards shown, they were ushered inside.
Katherine Elder was standing by the partly open door out on to the balcony. Even wearing a shapeless top and ill-fitting jeans, no discernible make-up, hair tied back from her face, there was no escaping the fact, Hadley thought, that she was beautiful.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see us,’ Hadley said.
Katherine nodded and gestured for them to sit. ‘Would you like some tea or anything? Coffee?’
‘Thank you,’ Hadley said. ‘Tea would be nice.’
‘There’s jasmine, I think, otherwise it’s just builder’s.’
‘Builder’s would be fine.’
‘I’ll stick the kettle on,’ Abike said, ‘then leave you to it.’
Katherine smiled her thanks.
Hadley offered up a few positive comments about the flat, asked about the area, Dalston not really being a part of London with which she was familiar. Katherine answered in a desultory way, fiddling with the ribbon tying back her hair until it came undone and fell to her shoulders.
‘Anthony Winter,’ Hadley said, once the tea had been poured and Abike had made her goodbyes, ‘it must have been a shock when you heard what had happened?’
‘Yes. Yes, it was.’
‘And you worked for him, as his model, for how long?’
‘Not all that long really. Six months or so, a little more.’
‘Even so, working closely as I suppose you have to, you must have got to know one another well?’
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so.’ Tugging at the hair now, the ends, grasping and releasing.
‘Katherine?’
‘I don’t … Yes, we did.’ Tears started to run, soundlessly, down her face.
Alice offered her a tissue.
‘I’m sorry,’ Hadley said, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘It’s all right, I … It was just a surprise, you know? You never think …’ She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, crumpled the tissue in her hand. ‘Anthony, he was always … he was just there, you know?’ She gestured with her hands, indicating something solid, a statue, a person.
‘A presence,’ Hadley suggested.
Katherine nodded. Sniffed. Fiddled some more with her hair.
‘So you and Anthony … I just want to be clear,’ Hadley said. ‘You were working for him until very recently, is that correct?’
‘Well, no. No, not really. Not very recently, no. The last time, the last time I posed for him, that would have been over a month ago now.’
‘And you’d stopped because …?’
‘The paintings Anthony was doing, the ones I was modelling for, they were more or less finished. As far as I was concerned, anyway. He’d carry on working on them, of course, till he was satisfied. I think that’s what he always did, the way he worked. There wasn’t anything else for me to do.’
‘And did you see much of him after that? After you stopped working together?’
Katherine shook her head. ‘He was busy getting everything ready for this new show.’
‘And – I simply want to be clear here – you didn’t see him at all during that time, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Not really. Just the once …’
‘So you did see him?’
‘Yes, once. He asked me if I’d like to see the paintings before they were packed up ready to go to the gallery.’
‘And when was this?’
‘Last week. The beginning of last week. Monday.’ She tugged at a stray hair. ‘Yes, that’s when it was, Monday.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. Because at first, when he asked, I didn’t think I’d go. I didn’t want to.’
‘Why was that?’
Katherine fidgeted in her seat. ‘There’d been a … I don’t know what you’d call it … a misunderstanding.’
‘Between Anthony and yourself?’
‘Yes. And I didn’t think … I didn’t think I was going to be seeing him again, so when he phoned and said did I want to come to the studio, I just didn’t know …’
‘This misunderstanding, it was professional? To do with the work?’
Katherine looked away. ‘No. No, not really.’
‘Personal, then?’
‘Yes, but … but I don’t want to talk about it. Okay? I just don’t.’
‘All right, let’s put that to one side for now.’
‘It doesn’t have anything to do … anything to do with what happened.’
Hadley raised an appeasing hand. ‘Fine. As I say, it’s nothing we need to pursue. For now, at least.’
The sounds of two dogs barking, one high, one low, rose up from below; a woman’s voice then, clear and commanding, and the barking stopped.
Alice shifted position a little, claiming Katherine’s attention. ‘When you saw the paintings, on the Monday I think you said it was, what did you think?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must have thought something, surely? Now they were finished.’
‘I suppose I was … I was surprised.’
‘What by?’
Katherine thought before answering. ‘They looked so … I don’t know, I don’t know if it makes sense, but they looked so, well, real.’
‘Lifelike, you mean?’
‘No, more than that. They looked raw, somehow. Real but sort of magnified. I can’t really explain.’ She gave another pull at her hair. ‘And they were different. That was the thing. Different.’
‘Different how?’
‘Things had been added, changed. Made more dramatic, I suppose.’
‘How did you feel about that?’
Katherine looked at the floor.
Alice waited, giving her time. ‘Katherine?’
‘I didn’t like it. What he’d done. I mean, I know they’re his paintings, it’s his work, only …’ She looked, again, to be on the brink of tears.
‘Only what?’ Alice persisted quietly. ‘What didn’t you like?’
‘He’d made them more … more ugly. Nasty. Like there’s one where my arms are up above my head, right? When I was posing, most of the time we used some soft cloth, scarves, to keep my arms steady. It was only right at the end, the last couple of days, Anthony said to use the chains and things and then never as tight as in the painting. Look at it now and it’s as if I’m being held prisoner. As if it’s hurting.’
‘And you weren’t?’
‘What?’
‘Hurting?’
‘No. No, of course not.’
‘So he changed it later?’
‘Yes.’
‘Without telling you?’
‘Yes, of course. I mean, they’re his paintings, I understand that. His work. He can do what he wants. But like I said, it’s hard to explain.’
‘It made you uncomfortable? What he’d done?’
‘Yes. Like that one where it looks as if I’m bleeding … you know, from here … as if maybe I’m on my period …’
She covered her face with her hands. Hadley and Alice exchanged glances and Alice went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water which she offered to Katherine along with another tissue.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Hadley said once Katherine had recovered. ‘I realise this is distressing. We won’t keep you much longer. There are just a couple more things.’
Katherine sniffed, wiped her eyes.
‘The incident at the gallery involving your father, you know about that?’
Katherine nodded. ‘It was all over Twitter, everywhere.’
‘You weren’t there yourself, though?’
‘The private view? No.’
‘And your father, did you know he was going to be there?’
‘God, no. And if I had, I’d have begged him to stay away. I don’t know what he was doing. What he was thinking of.’
‘And were you surprised? At how he’d behaved?’
Katherine hesitated. ‘Not really, no.’
‘He has a temper then?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’
‘Where you’re concerned especially?’
‘Maybe.’ A shrug. ‘Probably.’
‘My father would have been the same,’ Alice said. ‘Just seeing me naked, that would have been enough. But anything more … more graphic … I don’t know what he might have done.’
The sounds of an ambulance, going at full tilt, penetrated the room. Faded away.
‘I just wonder,’ Hadley said, ‘before we go, if you have any idea, any idea at all, who might have wanted to harm Anthony in this way?’
‘No, no, I don’t.’
‘Enemies of any kind? Anyone he might have mentioned.’
‘No. But I thought …’
‘Go on.’
‘I thought whoever did this, it was someone who just, I don’t know, broke in, I suppose. A burglar, perhaps. Not something deliberate, someone he knew.’
‘At the moment, the inquiry’s still quite open. We have to consider any possibility. Which is why I asked my question.’
Katherine pushed her hair away from her face, thought some more before answering. ‘I don’t know of any what you might call enemies, no. I mean, Anthony never went out of his way to make himself liked. Quite the opposite, sometimes, as far as I could tell. But enemies …’ She shook her head. ‘There was a lot of anger over him changing galleries, I know that. From whoever had represented him before. But that isn’t the kind of thing people get killed over, is it?’
‘Possibly not.’ With a quick smile, Hadley got to her feet, Alice following suit. ‘Thank you for agreeing to talk to us, thank you for your time. Because of your presence in the studio, we will need to take your fingerprints. Just for the process of elimination.’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘If you could pop into the station at Shacklewell Lane later today? Or we could give you a lift down there now if you’d like?’
‘I’ve got to go that way anyway, it’s fine.’
‘Good. I’ll make sure they’re expecting you.’
‘And if there’s a mobile number on which we can contact you? Should we need to again?’
‘Of course.’
Alice noted it down and at the door first Hadley and then Alice shook Katherine’s hand. ‘I’m sorry it’s all been so upsetting,’ Hadley said.
Katherine smiled weakly in return.
Neither Hadley nor Alice spoke till they were out on the street.
‘Did you notice?’ Alice said. ‘When we were shaking hands?’
‘The scars on her wrists, you mean?’
‘Yes. Self-harm, you think?’
‘Most likely. Unless it was something more serious.’
‘Hospitals, we could check, couldn’t we?’
Hadley nodded. They were back at the car. A woman in full burqa went slowly past on the opposite side of the street, an orange Sainsbury’s bag in each hand.
‘You think it could be relevant?’ Alice asked. ‘To do with Winter somehow?’
‘A stretch, perhaps, but yes, possibly. A misunderstanding between them, is that what she called it?’
‘Yes. And personal, she said that too. Didn’t want to go there.’
‘Maybe she’ll have to, we’ll see.’
They got into the car, Alice switching on the engine, checking the rear-view mirror, indicating.
‘You did well in there,’ Hadley said. ‘Handled it very well indeed.’
‘Thank you.’
Looking over her shoulder before pulling out into the traffic, Alice held the position for longer than was strictly necessary in order to hide her smile.