The interview with Max Oobik terminated at 12.19. Every challenge from both McEwan and Patsy Lowe had been met with a stony
‘No comment.’ He wasn’t interested in their belief that Kaija Luik was his sister. Nor that he’d killed Johnny Holman to rid
her of his attentions. Nor that he’d wrapped Holman’s body in dustbin liners, disposed of it at sea and returned to clean
up the caravan. At the end of the interview, advised that a full account of what had really happened might work to his benefit
in court, he’d simply shrugged.
‘No comment,’ he’d muttered, getting to his feet.
Faraday had borrowed an office up on the first floor. The interview team gathered for a debrief, joined by Ellis and Yates,
who were preparing for their first session with Lou Sadler. By now she’d been closeted with Benny Stanton for the best part
of two hours.
Faraday knew that he had to go for a custody extension on both suspects, an extra twelve hours that might enable him to feed
in new material unearthed by the Outside Enquiries teams. In Oobik’s case this would give him the late afternoon and the evening
for as many as two extra sessions. Sadler, on the other hand, was more problematic. Her thirty-six hours would run out at
eight o’clock in the morning. Interviews rarely stretched beyond eleven o’clock at night, at which point Sadler would be permitted
eight hours’ sleep. Effectively, Faraday would be left with a tight last-chance three-hour window if the first two interviews
hit a brick wall.
He went round the room, wondering what two sessions with Oobik had won them.
McEwan was the most optimistic. He’d been within touching distance of Oobik. He’d been watching the man very carefully. He’d
seen what everyone else had seen: that Oobik was proud, angry and full of attitude. But he’d also sensed something else: that
loyalty to Kaija probably came before loyalty to anyone else, even Lou Sadler, and that this hairline crack in his defences
might be worth further exploration.
Faraday wanted to know whether McEwan accepted the suggestion that Luik was probably Oobik’s sister.
‘Absolutely, boss. It makes perfect sense.’
‘Good. Everyone else happy with that?’
Heads nodded around the room. Pressing Sadler on this small detail would be a priority, but in the meantime Luik’s photo and
assumed new surname had gone to the Estonian police tagged urgent. Maybe, fingers crossed, she was already on file. Maybe
not.
Faraday moved on to Outside Enquiries. Early reports from the house-to-house team combing the handful of properties around
Newtown Creek had been disappointing. No one remembered any night-time activity on or off the water over the past week, nor
had the Harbour Master logged anything out of the ordinary. This of course didn’t rule out the transfer of a body from some
other location but it certainly began to narrow the options.
Bev Yates had a question about this first interview with Sadler. Did Faraday and Whatmore want Sadler hit from the off?
‘With what, Bev?’
‘With the girl’s real name? And whether or not she really owns a RIB?’
‘Absolutely. We’ve got to nail this stuff down. Otherwise the Outside Enquiries guys are running round in circles.’
The interview with Sadler started at 12.41. Faraday was back in the monitoring room, with Suttle once again beside him. A
text from Gabrielle on Faraday’s mobile had gone unanswered.
Benny Stanton took his MO into the interview room. He wanted ice cubes in the glass of water for his client plus an understanding
that any hint of oppressive questioning would jeopardise his client’s absolute preparedness to cooperate to the fullest. Ms
Sadler, he said, would have happily attended any police station of their choice for an extended interview. The fact that they’d
insisted on arresting her was, in his view, both aggressive and unnecessary.
Faraday’s heart fell. He’d met this kind of tactic before. It often came with out-of-area briefs, especially from London.
They stamped hard on the nearest throat and did their best to intimidate the opposition from the off. Neither Bev Yates nor
Dawn Ellis was easily cowed, but Faraday knew that Stanton had already laid down an important marker. The next couple of hours,
as he remarked to Suttle, were going to be far from easy.
Bev Yates took the lead. He wanted to know whether Kaija Luik was the girl’s real name.
‘No.’ Sadler’s voice was low. Yates asked her to speak up. ‘I said no.’
‘So what was her real name?’
Stanton objected at once. He said that Yates’ choice of tense was a
gross supposition. This girl was alive and kicking unless anyone had the evidence to prove otherwise.
‘So what
is
her real name?’ Yates sounded weary already.
‘Oobik.’ Sadler was laughing.
‘And her first name?’
‘Maarika.’
‘And does she have a family relationship to Max Oobik?’
‘Yes. She’s his sister.’
‘So why didn’t you tell us that to begin with?’
‘No one asked me.’
‘That’s not true, Ms Sadler. Detective Sergeant Suttle asked you on …’ there was a shuffle of paper ‘… Wednesday of
last week.’
‘Did he? I must have been distracted at the time.’
‘How come?’
‘Your Detective Sergeant arrived at an awkward moment. I was otherwise engaged.’
‘She means she was shagging.’ It was Stanton. ‘She’s a bit shy that way, our Lou.’
‘So why did you let D/S Suttle in?’
‘I thought he was someone else.’
‘Would that have made a difference?’
‘Yes.’
‘Need I ask why?’
‘Ask whatever you like.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because I was expecting an important parcel.’
‘I see.’
Faraday shut his eyes. Yates had lost his thread. This was turning into a nightmare.
‘But why didn’t you clarify the girl’s name later?’
‘I’ve been too busy. No one asked.’
‘And the address you gave for her? The address in Darcy Road?’
‘That was different.’
‘In what way?’
‘Some of my girls are sensitive. They get easily upset. Maarika was one of those girls. In that situation you don’t want them
put under any kind of pressure.’
‘So you lied about her address? When you knew she was living somewhere else? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Exactly. And I’d probably do it again under similar circumstances. In fact I’m sure I would. I’m like a mother to some of
them. Certainly to Maarika.’
‘But she’s got a brother, hasn’t she? Or that’s what you’ve just told us.’
‘Max is a man. I’m not. That can be important to a woman.’
‘Fine, Ms Sadler. I understand that. So tell me something else. Where does she live in Estonia?’
‘I haven’t the faintest.’
‘You don’t know where her home is? When you’re telling me you’re like a mother to her? You expect me to believe that?’
‘I do. Because it’s true. And if you can spare the time, I’ll tell you why.’
Faraday nodded. This was getting better. Yates had revived, dragged himself off the ropes, started delivering the odd counterpunch.
Sadler was a fluent liar, without either shame or fear, and had doubtless spent the last couple of hours rehearsing this little
exchange. She’d yet to drop a single stitch, but these were still early days.
Ellis had taken over. She wanted to know about Sadler’s interest in water sports. Did she by any chance own a RIB?
‘Yes.’
‘Where is it?’
Sadler named a marina in Cowes and a berth number on one of the inner pontoons where the inflatable was moored. She said it
was a Ballistic 6.5 with an Evinrude Etec 250 outboard.
Suttle was writing down the details. When he’d finished, he phoned the Outside Enquiries D/S and passed on the information.
He wanted a couple of guys out there sharpish. Above all he wanted to know about CCTV.
Yates saved him the trouble.
‘Does it have CCTV? This marina?’
‘Of course. That’s one of the reasons I chose it. For the money those people charge, you expect decent security. Eighteen
grand’s worth of outboard? There are bad people everywhere, my love. Even here.’
‘And a GPS system? You’ve got one of those on the RIB?’
‘Yep. Max gave it to me for Christmas. It’s a Lowrance, state of the art. Beautiful little thing.’
Suttle made another note. The latest GPS kit, as long as it was switched on, kept a record of the last outing. If Sadler had
taken the RIB anywhere over the previous week or so, then the details might be easily accessed.
Faraday was looking sombre. From this kind of information, freely volunteered, you could only draw one inference: the RIB
hadn’t left the marina for at least ten days.
Ellis appeared to have reached the same conclusion. Her questions about the boat had come to an end. Now she invited Sadler
to account
for her movements since Saturday night. She was to take her time, share everything.
‘Of course.’ There was amusement in her voice again. ‘My pleasure.’
On Saturday night, she said, she’d been over in Southampton helping out a friend at a fund-raiser. She’d taken the last RedJet
back to Cowes and been home by quarter past midnight.
‘Was anyone else at your flat that night?’
‘Max was there. He has a key.’
Max, she said, was already in bed. She’d joined him. Next thing she knew it was four in the morning and she had Maarika on
the phone.
‘The girl was out of her head.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She sounded terrified.’
‘Why?’
‘She said she’d had a lot of hassle from a man.’
‘A punter?’
‘Must have been. She wouldn’t say.’
‘What happened? What had he done?’
‘He’d come round and thumped her. Beaten her up. It happens sometimes. Not often, not with my class of girls, but it happens.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I asked his name, obviously.’
‘And?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me. All she’d say was she wanted out.’
‘You couldn’t check her bookings? Whatever records you keep?’
‘Not at four in the morning. And in any case, he might not be in the system.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘We went round there.’
‘We?’
‘Me and Max. This guy might have come back. He might be waiting outside. We’d no idea.’
‘And what did you find when you got there?’
‘Just Maarika. She was in a terrible state – shaking, trembling, crying her eyes out. He’d done a good job on her, whoever
this animal was. She just wanted out, and I must say I didn’t blame her.’
‘And Max?’
‘Max tried talking her down. He sat beside her, put his arm round her. He wanted a name, obviously. No kidding, he’d have
killed the guy.’
‘And did he get a name?’
‘No. She was just sat on the edge of the bed there, head in her
hands. Get me out, she kept saying. Just please get me out. I want to go home. I want to get out.’
Faraday glanced at Suttle. This was bullshit. Stanton must be pissing himself.
Yates took over. He wanted to talk about Johnny Holman.
‘You know this guy?’
‘Yes. Not well but … yes.’ She frowned.‘What’s Holman got to do with any of this?’
‘Just answer the question, please.’ He paused. ‘How did you get to know him in the first place?’
‘He got in touch a while back. He was a client. He wanted to buy company.’
‘And?’
‘I recommended Maarika. Or Kaija as she called herself.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she was new at that time – she’d just joined us. And because Johnny fancied the look of her on the website.’
He bought a couple of sessions, she said, and tried her out. He liked what he’d paid for and became a regular client. Johnny
was happy, Maarika was £110 a session better off, Sadler was making a decent commission. Result all round.
‘Then what?’
‘Then it got messy.’
‘What does messy mean?’
‘I think Johnny started laying stuff on her, personal stuff, stuff about his marriage, about his life in general. This is
more common than you might think, and Maarika never told me everything, but I think they must have started seeing each other,
you know, socially.’
‘So what was in it for her? For Maarika?’
‘Good question. To be honest, I don’t know. Some of these girls can be really vulnerable, and I think that was the case with
Maarika. She was round to my place a couple of times, floods of tears. Holman was a manipulator. He knew which strings to
pull. God knows why, but she’d fallen in love with him just a little bit. Maybe not love, maybe more pity. D’you know what
I mean? Either way, it was in her interests to get rid of the guy. Which is exactly what I told her to do. Forget him. Blank
him. Don’t answer his calls. Even if he offers to pay again, tell him to fuck off.’
‘And she didn’t?’
‘Obviously not. Like I say, I don’t know the details.’
‘But he was another nightmare punter?’
‘Yeah … in his own way … yeah, definitely.’
‘But not the guy on Saturday night?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t
think
so?
Might
he have been the guy on Saturday night? The guy that beat her up?’
‘I doubt it. Holman’s an arsehole but he doesn’t get heavy.’
‘And what about her brother? Max? What did he think?’
‘About what?’
‘About Johnny?’
For the first time Faraday sensed a whisper of caution in Sadler’s voice, the tiniest bump in the road, a couple of cobblestones,
no more.
‘Max didn’t like Holman, didn’t like the stuff he was laying on his kid sister. You can understand that, can’t you?’
‘You’re telling me Holman abused her?’
‘Not physically, no, not as far as I know. But psychologically, that’s exactly what he was doing. And that kind of abuse,
believe me, can be evil. Maybe that’s what Max saw happening.’
‘So why didn’t Max do something about it?’
‘I’ve no idea. The boy’s a puppy. He might try and look like Marlon Brando, but underneath he’s like Maarika, really sensitive,
really soft.’
Faraday threw a glance at Suttle. More bullshit.