Bowman didn’t answer. He merely nodded in a way that suggested that this all made sense to him. ‘I think we should pay Zoe Fisher a visit.’
Evans felt pleased that he had done something right. He wasn’t sure that Bowman liked him or rated him very highly. But then Bowman didn’t seem to like anyone. Praise from his lips was rarer than hen’s teeth.
‘Right,’ Bowman said. ‘We’ll take my car.’
* * *
Zoe Fisher lived three storeys up in a block of unexciting flats overlooking the Oxford ring road. Evans must have driven past them often enough, but he had never noticed them before. He suspected they were fairly recent additions to Oxford’s housing stock.
‘I’ll do the talking,’ Bowman said just before he pressed the bell. Evans nodded. He was relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was make a pig’s ear in front of Bowman. Better to observe and learn how Bowman the Bastard handled a hairdresser.
The door opened almost immediately. Evans was surprised. It was as if she had been expecting them. The woman was, he guessed, in her forties, with tinted orange-brown hair, pursed lips and a face tinged with bitterness.
‘Oh!’ she said. Her disappointment was obvious.
‘Police,’ Bowman said abruptly and he held up his ID in front of her face. ‘Are you Zoe Fisher?’
She studied the ID suspiciously.
‘I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but we really do need to talk to you.’
‘I’m expecting company,’ she said.
‘It won’t take long.’ Bowman pushed his way in past her.
‘Oi!’ she said. ‘I didn’t say you could come in.’
Evans was impressed by her spirit. He could never in his wildest dreams imagine saying ‘Oi!’ to Bowman.
‘Tell me about these.’ Bowman held up the two envelopes, one in each hand like a card trick.
‘Look, what’s this all about?’ Fisher put her hands on her hips.
‘It’s about you answering some questions. When you’ve answered them — and only when you’ve answered them — my colleague and I will depart.’
Fisher would have been only a fraction taller than Bowman in her bare feet, but her precipitous high heels gave her a considerable height advantage. She looked down on him and he stared up at her and for a few moments there was stalemate. Then she crumbled. She waved her hands in a gesture of defeat.
‘What is there to tell? They were delivered to my salon.’
‘When?’
‘I dunno. Haven’t they got postmarks with dates?’
‘When?’ he snapped, holding them up in front of her face. ‘Roughly speaking?’
Fisher opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.
Bowman waited. He didn’t say anything. His face was half-hidden in shadows cast by the several candles which Zoe Fisher had recently lit. He exuded menace. Evans could feel it. He almost shivered.
Zoe Fisher shrugged and gave way. ‘I guess one came about a year ago, maybe. And the other maybe a year before that.’
Even though Fisher’s hands remained firmly attached to her hips, Evans could sense that she was nervous. He wondered why.
Bowman continued his questions. ‘You know who they are from?’
‘How should I? I don’t read other people’s letters.’
‘Not even the one that came the other day?’