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Chapter 103

Tai-youngLee left the room, turned around and walked straight back in. She repeated the things she’d done the first four times, but this time, instead of reaching into her back pocket for Poe’s phone, she rooted through the laptop bag pocket until she found it.

She pulled it out then said, ‘Damn it!’

‘What?’ Poe said.

She held up one of her fingers. ‘This polish has lasted me all week and the one night I have a date, I chip a bloody nail on Tilly’s keys.’

Poe waited. He didn’t understand why a cop would want painted nails, but he was wise enough not to say anything.

‘Sorry,’ Lee said. ‘Where were we?’

‘You were about to call the police.’

She mimed tapping a few buttons then pressed it to her ear. Put it down and shrugged. ‘I can’t see how that made a difference,’ she said.

‘It didn’t,’ Poe said. ‘But at least we tried.’

They moved into the kitchen and Poe made a pot of tea.

‘Sorry, Tilly,’ he said. ‘It seems Elcid wasn’t a modern man. There are no fruit teas here.’

Bradshaw held up her bottle of water. ‘I’m good, Poe.’

‘Milk and sugar, ma’am?’

Lee didn’t answer. She was still scowling at her chipped fingernail.

‘Ma’am?’ Poe said again.

‘Do you have any idea what it’s like trying to juggle being a copanda good Korean daughter, Poe?’

‘Hard?’

‘Impossible. My dad wants me to get a real job, like a doctoror an accountant, and my mum wants me to get married and look pretty all day. And tonight was the night I’d finally agreed to meet her friend’s son. She even chose this shade of polish herself. Said it was colourful but didn’t make me look like a commonmaechunbu.’

‘I’m not familiar …’

‘A streetwalker, Poe. A prostitute. Mum has very strong views on which colours are acceptable.’ She held out her hands. Her nails were a subtle shade of pink. The chipped nail stood out like the last leaf on the tree. ‘And now I’ll have to redo them,’ Lee continued. ‘If I don’t, Mum will get upset. It means I need an hour more than I’d thought tonight. Thanks a bunch, Poe.’

Poe caught his breath. Bradshaw noticed.

‘What is it?’ she said, standing up.

‘Show me that photograph of Estelle’s hands again, Tilly,’ he urged. ‘The one that’s been bothering me.’

Bradshaw unlocked her tablet and swiped through the defence disclosures until she found the one she was looking for. She passed the tablet to Poe.

Estelle’s fingers were pale and long, like a classical pianist’s. Her nails were blood-clot red. He did the pinch-out thing and checked each one individually.

He breathed out in relief.

He spun the tablet round so Lee and Bradshaw could see the screen.

‘What are we looking at, Poe?’ Lee asked.

‘Estelle’s nails. The polish is perfect.’

‘So?’

‘You chipped a nail getting your phone out of a laptop bag. Do these really look like the nails of someone who’s just changed a flat tyre?’