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A futon sofa is crammed in beside a tiny kitchenette with a kettle. Jen and Hal fit onto the futon together.
Hal shows her the card in the evidence bag. She looks at it closely and hands it back. ‘Yeah, that’s mine,’ she says. ‘I made that.’
‘Is Sadie your real name?’
‘No! Come on. I have work names. Poppy, Sadie, whatever I fancy. So long as it’s not the same as the name that’s going to be on my degree certificate.’
‘You’re a student?’
She nods. ‘At the uni.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Physics.’
‘Impressive.’
She smiles. ‘Yeah, I’m a clever girl. I just don’t have any money. Uni’s expensive if your parents don’t pay for everything, and mine can’t.’
‘What’s your real name?’
She hesitates. ‘Martha Hayward. I know, don’t you just dream of having a massage from her?’ She laughs at herself. Jen warms to her.
Hal shows her a photograph of Tom Booth on his iPad, a picture that Nicole provided. It shows Tom’s head and shoulders. He’s outdoors, facing the camera and smiling. Jen’s impression of him from the photograph is that he’s one of those men who isn’t going to win any prizes for most handsome but is attractive because he has a lovely smile. He looks just the way Nicole describes him.
Martha studies the photograph and shakes her head.
‘I’ve never had him as a client,’ she says.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’d remember him. He’s got a nice smile.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’ Jen asks.
‘Two months. Very part time. I can make more on a couple of shifts here than I could working minimum wage for a month.’
‘Are you sure you’d remember if you met him?’
‘I don’t see that many guys.’
‘Where do you think he got your card?’
‘That’s the puzzling thing. I’ve never distributed them, so I’ve got no idea. I had a few made but then I didn’t need them because business has been good. The rest are in my dorm room.’
‘You didn’t bring any here?’
‘No. I have to be Poppy here, because the owner’s wife’s called Sadie, would you believe it, so they’re no good to me.’
‘Right,’ Hal says. ‘Who are your room-mates?’
‘I share a flat with three girls.’
‘Does anyone else have access to your room? Do you have a boyfriend?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. Too complicated.’ She shrugs. ‘But I did have a stalker for a while. That was strange. I thought someone broke into my room once while it was happening.’
‘Did they take anything?’
