Authors: Robert Bryndza
‘
H
e looks
like he’s going a bit nuts in there,’ said Moss when they were back in the observation suite. They looked at the four screens. Simon was in the middle of a rant about “that bitch policewoman” having no right to deny him access to his daughter.
‘Perhaps they all need to sweat it out for a bit,’ said Peterson.
‘Yes, but remember we’ve only got them for twenty-four hours. If we can’t charge them, then we have to let them go.’
‘If only we could re-arrest Kucerov for the murder of Nadia Greco,’ said Moss.
‘We don’t have any new evidence. And our time wouldn’t be used effectively trying. We need to get him on this link with the money from Simon and Giles,’ said Erika. ‘And Linda is the link to Andrea and Igor.’
On the next screen, Linda was now sitting with her head on the table of the interview room, absent-mindedly tracing circles on the scratched tabletop.
On the screen below, Igor sat back, legs splayed, resting his head against the wall. Giles remained impassive too, sitting in his chair and looking around, almost as if a waiter had forgotten his order.
‘Let’s take a few minutes,’ said Erika. She grabbed her cigarettes and made her way outside.
When she came out onto the steps of the front entrance, Diana Douglas-Brown was just lighting up a cigarette. She stood at the bottom of the steps, and wore a long, black fur coat. Her hair was immaculately blow-dried and feathered around her exhausted face.
Erika was about to turn and go back inside when Diana noticed her.
‘DCI Foster, what’s happening?’
‘We’re conducting our interviews,’ said Erika, with an air of finality.
She went to go back indoors but Diana said, ‘Please, would you give this to Linda?’ She reached into the folds of her coat and held out a tiny stuffed cat on a key ring. It was black with soft brown eyes and a tiny piece of faded pink material for a tongue.
‘I’m afraid I can’t, I’m sorry,’ said Erika.
‘Please . . . you don’t understand, Linda needs familiarity.’ Diana took a drag on her cigarette. ‘When I gave birth to her, she was starved of oxygen. She has emotional problems. She can’t cope with the world!’ The last part was almost shouted.
‘Our Duty Sergeant can have a doctor here within minutes, but Linda is fine, I promise you. We just want to ask her some questions.’
Diana burst into tears. She bowed her head and her hair fell forward, covering her face. She brought the tiny stuffed cat to her face and sobbed. Erika turned and went back into the reception area.
‘
I
t checks out
,’ said Crane, meeting her when she arrived back in the incident room. ‘I have a passenger manifest saying Igor Kucerov left the country on December 31st from London Luton Airport on a flight to Romania. He flew back on January 15th.’
‘Shit!’ said Erika. All eyes turned to her. ‘What if he did something in-between? Have you got CCTV evidence of him walking through that departure gate?’ she added.
‘Boss, this is information from Passport and Immigration.’
‘I know, but we’ve got stuff here from the CPS and court records which have been altered. It shows Igor Kucerov was given some special treatment during a trial! Someone has been in and altered official records . . . Could he have come back on a bus, a car or a coach, and then gone back and . . .’
Crane scratched his head. ‘It’s feasible, boss, I suppose.’
‘Let’s stop supposing and find out. I want pictures from passport control, CCTV when he arrived in Romania; a digital footprint confirming that Igor Kucerov left the country on December 31st and came back on January the 15th.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘And remember, the clock is ticking,’ said Erika, looking at her watch. ‘We’ve got nineteen hours.’
Erika came back outside and met Peterson and Moss in the corridor. She told them that Igor Kucerov could have been out of the country when Andrea vanished.
‘So this means that he didn’t kill Andrea, or Ivy. We can’t pin him directly to their murders,’ said Moss.
Erika shook her head.
‘What about the other girls? Tatiana Ivanova, Mirka Bratova and Karolina Todorova? We have the dates when they were discovered. Can we find out where he was?’ asked Peterson.
‘There are only loose forensics for the first three girls, and for the times when they vanished. Besides, I came out publicly and linked those three murders with Andrea and Ivy. And I believe they are linked. Unless it’s a copycat? Jesus, this is just so complicated,’ said Erika, rubbing her face. She saw a look pass between Moss and Peterson. ‘What is it? Spit it out.’
‘Simon Douglas-Brown’s solicitor is really kicking off. He’s been trying to phone the Assistant Commissioner,’ explained Moss.
‘He’s trying to phone Oakley?’
‘Yes. And it wasn’t through the switchboard; he has Oakley’s direct line.’
‘Did he get through?’
‘No, not yet. Oakley is away on a mini-break.’
‘He’s on a mini-break. Marsh is wining and dining his wife on a painting holiday . . . Who the hell is in charge around here?’
‘Well, boss. Technically, you are,’ explained Peterson.
‘Good point. Okay, well, let’s have a crack at Giles Osborne,’ said Erika, determinedly.
G
iles Osborne sat
in the interview room with an embittered face, as Erika and Peterson filed in with Giles Osborne’s solicitor, another grey man in a good suit, called Phillip Saunders.
After Erika had read out the formalities for the tape, she put the same questions to Giles, asking about the forty-six thousand pounds he had received from Simon Douglas-Brown and why he had then transferred it to Mercury Investments, owned by Igor Kucerov.
Giles leaned towards his solicitor, his mouth close to the man’s ear, murmuring.
‘My client would need to appraise his accounts fully, to answer on this matter,’ said the solicitor.
‘Here’s the bank statements,’ said Erika, pushing them across the table. ‘You can clearly see the money coming into one account, and going out to the other. How much more do you need to appraise? Mercury Investments is a landscape gardening company. Yakka Events have very little in the way of gardens.’
Giles tapped his finger to his lips, pausing. Finally, he said, ‘I believe that the money was used to source a rare tree from New Zealand.’
‘What?’ said Peterson.
‘I wanted it to be the centrepiece of my courtyard, the tree. I forget its name,’ said Giles, smoothly. ‘I can, in due course, produce an invoice with proof of this. You are aware that Mr Kucerov owns a landscape gardening business?’
‘Yes,’ said Erika.
‘Then, mystery solved. That is why I transferred forty-six thousand pounds to his account.’
‘He trims hedges and mows lawns, albeit on a large scale,’ said Erika.
‘And Simon Douglas-Brown has no knowledge of this deal?’ added Peterson.
‘And why would he? He was a sleeping partner. We agreed he would buy a certain amount of shares, making him a part owner in Yakka Events. I believe he now owns 13.8%, to be precise. But, as you can see, I can’t access that information because you dragged me out of bed first thing in the morning and confiscated my devices.’ Giles smiled at Erika sarcastically.
‘How were you introduced to Igor Kucerov?’ asked Erika.
‘Through Andrea,’ he said.
‘And you are aware that Andrea was involved in a sexual relationship with Kucerov?’
‘At the time, no. You’ve since shown me photographs, of course.’
‘Do you know how Andrea met Igor Kucerov?’
‘I think she said something about, um, a friend – Barbora something . . .’
‘Kardosova, Barbora Kardosova?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘And did you know that Barbora Kardosova was involved in a relationship with Igor Kucerov?’
Giles looked baffled and shook his head.
‘My client has answered your questions in relation to the forty-six thousand pound investment; I don’t see why he has to answer questions about the friend of his fiancée’s private relationships,’ said the solicitor.
Erika and Peterson stared at Giles across the table.
‘That’s all for now,’ said Erika.
‘And my client can leave?’ asked the solicitor.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Erika and Peterson stood up.
‘And what now?’ asked the solicitor.
‘We’ll be back,’ said Erika.
T
hey filed
out into the corridor and back to the observation suite.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Erika, eyeing Moss and Peterson.
‘Do you think the rare tree bullshit will fly in court, if we got there?’ asked Moss, who had been watching everything on the screens.
‘We’ve seen his office, full of pretentious touches. It fits with what he’s saying,’ sighed Peterson.
‘Yes, but where is the tree?’ asked Erika. ‘The money was paid over a year ago.’
‘Maybe they’re waiting for it to grow,’ remarked Moss, darkly.
There was a knock on the door of the observation suite. It was Woolf.
‘Boss, I’ve got Marsh on the phone. He’s demanding to talk to you. He’s in his car on his way back to London.’
‘Does he say where he is?’
‘Still in Devon,’ said Woolf.
‘Tell him you can’t find me.’
‘Boss, he knows you’re interviewing them all.’
‘Use your brain, Woolf. Make something up. I’ll face the consequences; just get us more time.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Woolf. When he’d gone, they looked back at the screens.
‘Let’s see what Igor has to say about this,’ said Erika. ‘And then let’s bring Linda into the mix.’
‘
H
e wanted
me to find a tree for his office,’ said Igor, sitting back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. Erika noticed he had yellow patches under his arms, and that the interview room was now starting to smell of stale sweat.
‘And you can do that, in your capacity as a landscape gardener?’ asked Erika.
‘This is London; most people want crazy stuff in their gardens, and with the Internet it’s easy.’
‘Why is the company in your wife’s name?’
‘It just is.’
‘And who introduced you to Giles?’ asked Peterson, even though they knew the answer.
‘Andrea, of course.’ Igor grinned.
‘And does your wife know about Andrea?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Did she know about your relationship with Barbora Kardosova?’
‘My wife is a good woman!’
‘What does that mean? She knows when to keep her mouth shut? Looks the other way? Does she know you are involved in the trafficking of young Eastern European girls to London? That you pick them up at Victoria Coach Station?’ asked Erika.
‘My client doesn’t have to answer these questions. This is mere speculation. You have no evidence,’ interrupted the solicitor.
‘We have a recorded interview with Barbora Kardosova where she states all of this, and that you murdered Nadia Greco.’
‘And where is this witness?’ asked the solicitor.
‘She committed suicide shortly after the interview,’ said Erika, watching Igor. ‘She was so scared of speaking the truth about you, that she killed herself.’
‘I hardly call that a credible witness, a suicidal woman. And this wasn’t a sworn deposition,’ said the solicitor.
Igor sat back in his chair, smug and confident.
Igor’s solicitor continued. ‘Whilst you have been flitting between interview rooms, I took the opportunity to review the trial documents in question. What you claim is nothing more than that: a claim. Great swathes of the trial records have been redacted. From a legal standpoint, they don’t exist. You realise that very soon you are going to have to charge my client? Time is ticking, Miss Foster.’
‘It’s DCI Foster,’ said Erika, trying to hide her frustration. She added that she was suspending the interview, and after reading out the time stamp for the tape, she and Peterson left.
E
rika
, Moss, and Peterson were about to file into interview room three to speak to Linda, when the solicitor reminded them that legally their suspects were due a meal break. An hour later, and it was late afternoon. The day seemed to be vanishing.
‘Linda, do you know why we’ve arrested you?’ asked Erika.
Linda sat back in her chair, cool and collected. ‘You think I have information. You think that I knew someone who killed Andrea? You think I killed Andrea, or perhaps you think I shot JR? Or President Kennedy.’
‘This isn’t funny, Linda. This is Igor Kucerov; he’s also been using the name George Mitchell. Andrea was involved in a sexual relationship with him before and while she was with Giles,’ said Erika, pushing his photo across the table.
Linda stared at the photos laid out in front of her, regarding the explicit ones impassively.
‘We know he took this photo of you and Andrea,’ Erika added.
‘You don’t know that,’ Linda sniffed, her eyes darting between the officers. ‘How can you know that?’
‘Because we’ve arrested Igor Kucerov on suspicion of Andrea’s murder, and the murders of Tatiana Ivanova, Mirka Bratova, Karolina Todorova and Ivy Norris. Right now he’s in being interviewed in the next room,’ said Erika.
‘You’re lying, and I don’t talk to liars. Do I have to talk to these liars?’ asked Linda, looking to her solicitor.
‘Do you have evidence that this photo of my client was taken by the man you state?’ asked the solicitor.
Erika ignored him. ‘Do you remember a girl called Barbora; she was friend of Andrea’s?’
‘Yes.’
‘She accompanied your family on a couple of summer holidays?’
‘She was sweet; perhaps a little too sweet – and eager. Even so, too good for Andrea, and surprise, surprise, Andrea chased her away.’
‘How did she chase her away?’
‘Oh, the usual. At first she thought Barbora was the bee’s knees, then her excitement cooled and she made the girl feel like the poor relative. When she joined us on our last holiday, Barbora had lost a lot of weight; she was emaciated. Andrea thought it was the height of fashion. That was probably enough to excommunicate the poor girl.’
‘Did Andrea say where Barbora went?’
‘She just said she moved away. Why?’ asked Linda, narrowing her eyes.
Erika explained Barbora’s connection to Igor, and that she had been sexually involved with Igor at the same time as Andrea.
‘May I remind you that this information has been redacted,’ said the solicitor.
‘The fact that Barbora was in a sexual relationship with Igor Kucerov and that she went into the witness protection scheme and committed suicide is not redacted,’ said Erika. She noticed that Linda was shaking, her eyes filling with tears which spilled down her cheeks.
‘How did she do it?’ asked Linda.
‘She hung herself. She was terrified. So now do you see how important it is that we find out the truth about Igor Kucerov? He is linked directly to Andrea.’
Linda wiped away her tears. ‘I met him a couple of times, at a club in Kensington and a pub in Chiswick. As I’ve said before, Andrea got loads of male attention; she was always stringing them along. Andrea used men like tampons: she was happy to have them up her for short time, but then she flushed them away.’
There was a silence. The solicitor couldn’t hide his distaste. Erika opened a folder, took the note she’d received, and placed it in front of Linda.
‘What can you tell me about this?’ asked Erika, watching Linda’s face.
‘It’s the same note you showed me before. When you came by the florist.’ She looked up at Erika. ‘It was sent to you?’
‘Yes. You can see that as well as being personal to me, it taunts the police about the death of Andrea, and the other murder victims.’
‘And why are you showing me?’ asked Linda, icily.
‘Linda, we’ve seen your record. You’ve made it quite a habit, sending threatening mail. You’ve previously sent letters to Giles Osborne, and others. Teachers, a doctor, Andrea’s friends. You even sent letters to Barbora. She spoke of it in her interview, which we have on record.’
‘Again, DCI Foster, this is all circumstantial,’ said the solicitor. ‘You are crudely attempting to connect the dots, and trying to trick my client into talking. She won’t.’
‘Well, she can talk, or her silence can be just as damning. Linda, it’s you, your father, Giles, Barbora, Igor. You are all connected. We have your laptop and the hard drive is being searched. We’ve seized computers from your father and Giles. It’s only a matter of time before we link it all together. Talk to me, Linda; I can help you.’
‘No. I won’t,’ said Linda, sitting back in her chair. She picked some fluff from her jumper, and then regarded the officers. She now seemed in full control of her emotions. Erika could barely hide her frustration.
‘You like cats?’ asked Peterson.
‘Oh dear, we are desperate, aren’t we?’ Linda smiled, flirtatiously. ‘Mr Lloyd should I go ahead and answer that? I wouldn’t want to implicate myself in a cat scandal too.’
The solicitor rolled his eyes and nodded.
‘Yes, DI Peterson, I like cats.’
‘Do you have a cat?’
‘Not right now,’ she said, stiffly.
‘Do you have any other
relevant
questions?’ asked Mr Lloyd.
‘No. That’s all for now,’ said Erika, trying to save face. When they came back outside into the corridor, Woolf was waiting.
‘What?’ she snapped.
‘It’s Marsh.’
‘Not now. I’ll call him back.’
‘He’s here, in his office, and he wants to speak to you.’