Lynda Plante - Blind Fury

“You’ve certainly changed your opinion of her,” Anna said softly.

“Yeah, it’s called telling the truth.” Smiley pushed his chair back slightly to rest his elbows on his knees. “You have no idea what I went through; you get into a situation, and then it goes out of control. I never wanted to marry her, I’d already finished with her. She came on like the Virgin Queen with me, wouldn’t let me screw her, although I knew most of the lads had given her one — and for money — but she wouldn’t let me near her, and it pissed me off, so I finished with her.”

Anna wasn’t sure why Langton appeared disinclined to press for details on their victims; instead, he leaned back in his chair, nodding.

After a moment, encouraged, Smiley continued. “You know, I had to put up with a lot of snide remarks from the lads about marrying her, and I just had to take it, understand?”

Langton nodded again, still not saying anything.

“So I got into the situation, right? I also had to take on her halfwit of a mother. She was senile, and I had to shell out money for her. Sonja wanted her to move in with us, but I drew the line there. I wasn’t having that, and I kept on making excuses. By this time I was in civvies and I got the job with Swell Blinds, worked my arse off for Arnold Rodgers, and then the old lady died, so that was one weight off me.”

Langton nodded as if he understood where Smiley was coming from. Anna, like Smiley’s lawyer, was baffled by the rambling history of Smiley’s marriage and why he was being allowed to continue. Both sat back, listening, while Langton appeared to be even more interested, giving Smiley his full attention.

“You have kids?” Smiley asked.

“Yes,” Langton said.

“Then, maybe you can understand. First came my boy, Stefan, then two years later, my daughter, Marta. I love those kids, I loved them from the moment they were born. And Sonja was a good mother — I’m not saying she wasn’t — and we was living in Kilburn in a rented house, and I was workin’ my way up the ladder with Swell Blinds. You see, somewhere in my head, I’d reckoned I’d be able to walk away from her one day, leave her, but when the kids came along, there was no way out. No way was I going to leave them.”

“And she must still have threatened you?” Langton said it as if he were on Smiley’s side.

“Right. She’d never actually put it into words, just hints, know what I mean? If I went out for a pint with my old mates, she’d gimme a hard time; she was on my back like a leech, sucking the blood out of me. You have no idea what it was like to live with someone who monitored every move I made, who kept me short with pocket money. I had to tell her where I’d been, and I couldn’t stand it. I hated her.”

“Why didn’t you kill her?”

Smiley smiled. “Don’t think I never thought about it, but with two young children, I was trapped — understand me?”

“So she was virtually blackmailing you, is that right?”

“Yes, but like I said, she never came out with it. It was just always there, in the background.”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite understand. What was always there?”

“That she’d lied for me over Chrissie O’Keefe, given me the alibi.”

“Did you ever admit to Sonja that—”

Smiley interrupted Langton. “I told her it was an accident. Truth was, I was no longer interested in Sonja. I started to see Chrissie, but she went and did the same thing to me, coming on to me, getting me all excited, and then pushing me off her. It got me so mad! I knew both of them were a right pair of slags who gave it up for all me mates, but with me, they wanted a commitment, know what I mean?”

“Why do you think that was?”

“Most of the other blokes were already married. I was younger and single, that’s what I put it down to.”

“You were a catch, then?”

Smiley nodded. “Yeah, yeah — that’s right.”

“But you punished Chrissie, didn’t you?”

“Too right I did. Served her right, but I’ve paid the price. I had Sonja squeezing me and always the threat that she’d tell the cops if I didn’t do the right thing. Sometimes it felt like I was on a leash. All that was missing was the fucking dog collar.”

“But you found ways of cheating on her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. That was some comfort, know what I mean?”

“I bet it was.”

“She got uglier and fatter. I never touched her after my daughter was born, and it worked for me — you know, that she was eatin’ for England.” He laughed. “It meant she didn’t get out of the house that much, and then we moved to Manchester, and I sometimes had to do the long hauls back and forth to London, and she couldn’t put her friggin’ clock on me just so long as I got home every night.”

“Let’s go back to when you lived in Kilburn, John.”

Listening to Smiley’s accounts of his marital life or lack of it, Anna began to understand what Langton was doing. By now Smiley seemed to feel as if he were talking to a friend. He never acknowledged Anna but kept his focus on Langton, unaware that the DCS was slowly drawing him out. He had even unwittingly admitted to killing Chrissie O’Keefe.

Because Gregson was not privy to the details of O’Keefe’s murder, he could not understand how Langton had trapped his client. He made copious notes, but every time he began to speak, Smiley shut him up with a sharp dig of his elbow. In the end, Gregson burst out, “Mr. Smiley, I really feel that we should ask for a moment in private to discuss the fact that we have not had any disclosure regarding this Chrissie O’Keefe.”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna listen to you. You’re too young to understand,” Smiley said rudely.

Langton gestured to Anna to open the file on Margaret Potts. She passed him the photographs. He selected one and placed it in front of Smiley. “You have admitted that you knew Margaret Potts, but can you elaborate on where you first met her?”

Smiley tapped the photograph. “I said before — King’s Cross station in a café. I used to have breakfast there, and she was a regular.”

“How long ago was this?”

Smiley puffed out his cheeks. “Be a good few years ago, maybe seven. I was still living in Kilburn, I remember that.” He repeated how Margaret had suggested he sell blinds to Emerald Turk.

Langton doodled on his notepad. “Yes, we know about you being in Emerald Turk’s flat, we know you were paying money to Margaret, but when did she start to really nudge you for more cash? It must have felt like you’d got hooked by another Sonja, right?”

“Right.”

“So what did she threaten? To tell your wife about your relationship?”

“Yeah, but that didn’t worry me, because we moved to Manchester.”

“But you have stated that you did have calls from her when you lived there. Your wife has also verified that she received a number of put-down callers.”

“Right. Yeah, sorry, I forgot, but like I said, I changed my number when we bought the house up there.”

Langton flicked through his notebook, muttering, “Hang on, John... I’m having trouble matching dates. You have admitted knowing Margaret Potts for around seven years...”

“Off and on, yeah.”

“It was about five years ago you fixed up the blinds in Emerald Turk’s flat, correct?”

“Yeah, give or take.”

“Help me out with this, John. You have also said that after that time you didn’t keep in touch with her, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“So the phone calls you received from her in Manchester would have started around about four years ago.”

“Yes.”

“So she did keep in touch with you, but she wasn’t making threats about calling Sonja, was she? She had something a lot bigger to hold over you, didn’t she?”