As she moved the cookbook out of the way, he shut the fan off and walked out onto the balcony. There, he found a collection of very thirsty-looking plants and eight bonsai trees of various species. Beneath these stood a toolbox. He opened it to see gardening implements as well as the wire and small scissor-like shears that were used to shape and prune the bonsais.
Inside again, he noted that a large, unsealed cardboard box standing in front of a credenza and beneath a flat-screen television held various personal items that had ostensibly come from the detective’s desk in Empress State Building. Among the items were a pristine coffee mug with Hooray George! and It’s a boy! round its middle circumference, a cheese knife, a pair of scissors, a small collection of envelopes banded together, a calendar, two boxes of Earl Grey tea, and several framed photographs. These appeared to be of her immediate family—mother, father, and two young girls—as well as the family dogs. One of the photos depicted the family at Christmas, the other seemed taken on holiday in a sunny clime. The parents were white; the sisters were Black.
While Havers went through the papers on the table, he turned to the bedroom. It was furnished only with a king-size bed, a chest of drawers with a mirror above, two bedside tables, two matching lamps. There was also a bookcase on one side of the room, opposite a clothes cupboard. It held biographies—Winnie Mandela, Mary Prince, Efurunoye Tinubu, and Harriet Tubman among them—as well as novels by women whose names he did not recognise: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Leila Aboulela, Ama Ata Aidoo. There was nothing inside the drawer of one of the bedside tables. In the other, there was little enough: a packet of tissues, a container of silicone earplugs of the type swimmers often wear, an eye mask used for sleeping, lip balm, and a tube of lotion meant to be applied to one’s feet. In addition to the lamp, the table’s surface held only a mobile phone charger. On top of the chest of drawers, on a small, vintage tray featuring the Guinness toucan, five gold bangles rested along with a set of keys on a ring with a scowling Tweetie Bird, and what he assumed were the victim’s wedding and engagement rings. This last seemed verified by the initials engraved inside the band: RC and TB, separated by an engraved heart. Inside the chest of drawers, jerseys were neatly folded along with underclothes, nightwear, and copious amounts of costume jewellery.
A canvas shoulder bag hung from a hook on the back of the bedroom door, but, upended onto the bed, it offered no joy. A purse held forty-five pounds in notes, various coins were contained in a leather pouch, and a purpose-made hacker-proof holder accordioned out to display a cashpoint card, two credit cards, an Oyster card, a driving licence, and a card indicating her wish to have her organs donated should she die unexpectedly. He was returning all this to the shoulder bag when Havers appeared at the bedroom door, saying, “Sir, here’s something odd.”
He saw that she looked perplexed. When he said, “What is it,” she replied, “It was with everything else that was under the cookbook. How’d Teo Bontempi end up with it, d’you reckon?”
She handed him a business card. He read it, felt a jolt of surprise, said, “I haven’t the least idea,” and slid the card into his pocket, saying, “I’ll look into it. Let’s get Nkata over here as soon as he can manage it. We need chapter and verse about Teo Bontempi’s life, both here and where she was working. That means whoever’s been seen here coming or going, whatever’s been heard, and whoever’s been caught on CCTV ringing the front buzzer to get into the building. And we’ll need to view the CCTV film from the nearby neighbourhood as well. Everything from the day and the night she was attacked. People, cars, number plates—ANPR footage if there’s a camera nearby. Have we got her mobile?”
“Her ex—or soon-to-be ex—told me he left it on her bedside table the last time he saw her. It wasn’t there?”
“It wasn’t. Are you certain about the husband?”
“What he said about the mobile?” she asked, and when he nodded, “I’ve got it in my notes. S’pose he could be lying.”
“Track it down. SOCO might have bagged it. Do we have a list of what else they’ve taken?”
“They’re sending it along. I reckon they’ve taken anything and everything that she could’ve been whacked with and delivered it to forensics.”
“Make sure we have that list.” They left the bedroom and Lynley followed her back to the sitting room. He said, “Laptop?” and she said, “I expect it’s in that credenza-whatever-thing under the television if she’s got one. I haven’t got over there yet.”