The Cyclist

by Sullivan Tim

  'George, this is a credible theory,' Campbell said.

  'Credible theorising is, in the main, based on some sort of factual foundation. This is nothing more than water cooler gossip,' Cross replied.

  'You're such a fucking wanker when you want to be,' spat Campbell. Cross flinched as if he was about to be hit. He sometimes did this when under attack. Years before, this would have been the end of the meeting for him. He would've reacted by leaving through the door, which he always sat next to. But he now consoled himself with the fact that such a virulent reaction was because he'd said something near the knuckle.

  'Okay, Johnny, I think you can go,' said Carson.

  'Seriously? This is a joke. Why do you always let him get away with this?’

  'Probably because when this kind of thing happens I generally happen to be in the right,' said Cross, which made Mackenzie laugh out loud. Ottey glared at her. She apologised and looked back at the floor. Ottey was, however, laughing inside. She didn't like Campbell and, truth be told, when he’d insisted on presenting his theory, she let him because part of her knew this might happen and it was better it was dealt with now.

  Campbell left the room.

  'While there is no evidence that the drug dealing community were involved as yet, I think you'll agree, George, that while not pursuing it, we should be open to the possibility if evidence leads us that way,' said Carson. Ottey was thinking that this was an especially long-winded piece of man-management speak from her boss.

  'So we know that Alex started dealing,' Ottey continued, 'but everything seemed to change about eight months ago. An investor became involved in the London project. What's interesting is that Alex was very secretive about it, even on his USB. He didn't tell Kostas, so had he changed his mind about telling him? Like I said before, we've managed to get a name, well part of a name. We think it'll be something like Hellenic Trusts, or Holdings, Financials. So the next line of enquiry is to look into this.'

  'Why?' asked Carson. A perfectly reasonable question, Cross thought, in the circumstances. Ottey hadn't furnished him with much detail, which might have been a mistake.

  'Because Alex had a meeting with someone at this Hellenic corporation, or whatever it is, the night of his murder,' said Cross.

  'Hellenic?' said Carson. 'Wasn't there some kind of Hellenic shipping line back in the day? I'm talking the Onassis era.'

  'I believe there was,' Cross affirmed.

  'Right then. Let's do this!' said Carson, as he strode out of the office with some purpose. What purpose that might be, however, was anyone's guess, and what exactly it was he wanted them to do he hadn't made clear.

  Cross, Ottey and Mackenzie had gone through all the numbers on the "drug" phone and called several numbers of Alex's clients, they presumed. Almost all of them went to voicemail. Those who answered claimed to know nothing when they realised it was the police. Some others were unobtainable. Because Alex felt this phone would never be discovered, he had helpfully entered names against some of the more regular numbers. Danny didn't appear in the list but Tony did. Several times. Much more often than the other regulars and with increased frequency leading up to his death. Ottey called him and arranged to meet.

  Chapter 17

  Franopoulos Fruit and Vegetable wholesalers was located in a large unit on an industrial estate in Easton. As they drove there, Ottey said to Cross, not a little mischievously, 'I'm so glad you had a good evening with Raymond and sorted out your dinner night.'

  Cross was slightly distracted, thinking through his line of questioning with Tony. 'Yes,' was all he offered.

  'How was his talk?' she asked.

  'Wait a minute. How do you know all this?' Cross asked.

  'I spoke with him this morning,' she replied.

  'You called my father? Why?'

  'He called me, as it happens,' she replied.

  'And you spoke to him?' he asked, somewhat absurdly.

  'That's what I tend to do when people I know call me. It seems rude not to unless I'm busy,' she said. He made no reply, which made her immediately regret her flippancy. 'Look, he was really happy that you managed to accommodate the change in date, and he said you were incredibly useful with his talk. He was really pleased. You did a good thing. All is great.' He still made no reply, so she decided to let it be until she figured out exactly why it seemed to upset him. Then she might, only might, discuss it with him.

  The unit was modern, basically a delivery bay for a few lorries, and a warehouse. A lorry was delivering pallets of Spanish oranges, all packed in slatted boxes with straw. The scent was amazing. Like someone had lit a dozen scented candles to get rid of the underlying smell of rot. The place was clean. Indeed, a man in a Franopoulos sweatshirt was brushing up all the debris from the floor as they arrived. Inevitably, a small percentage of the products perished in transit, Tony went to great lengths explaining to them as they sat in his small office, looking down on the bay. There were several monitors showing CCTV cameras covering all angles of the interior and exterior. They recycled as much as they could, he said, and almost on cue a pickup truck with a trailer attached pulled up. A young, tattooed man with long hair, plaited beard and combat fatigues strolled in.

  'That's Billy come to get swill for his pigs. He's one of those organic, rare-breed pig types.' He picked up Ottey's slightly disdainful expression and laughed. 'Don't be fooled by his appearance; that boy is loaded. Organic, free-range – his pigs are just the best. He supplies to all the top restaurants, Michelin-starred and everything. He even supplies two three-starred restaurants in London. He used to go as far as Scotland, but then he told the chefs they should be using local produce and stopped supplying them. Same with London; that's why he only supplies two. He’s got a blog, has about thirty thousand followers or something. Does butchery courses, everything. The man's an undercover entrepreneur!'

  'It's great you recycle in that way,’ said Ottey.

  'Put it this way – I'll never be out of pork. Just as well I'm not Jewish.' He said this, Ottey thought, as if he hoped it might cause a little offence. 'What did you eat the other night?' he asked Cross, who was completely at a loss as to what he was talking about. 'At the Adelphi; I saw you there – recognised you from the gym.'

  'I had the lamb kleftiko, with rice and salad,' Cross replied.

  'The lamb comes from Billy's father, their pork from Billy and the chickens from his uncle. All top quality.'

  'You seem to be very knowledgeable about where they source their produce,' Cross observed.

  'I saw a gap in the market years ago, before organic really took off. These guys didn't have a clue about distribution, so I stepped in and helped. I'm like a meat agent, if you like. But they don't really need me any more – with the internet everything's changed. Still, I have a great address book.'

  They sat down. He offered them fruit from a bowl on his desk, which they declined. He was a very confident man, but they'd met his like before. Beneath their veneer of charm and openness lurked an often quite malevolent threat. All would be well until you crossed them, then all bets were off. He was balding but took no pains to disguise this. The top of his head shone with a well-maintained tan. His hair was greased back at the sides, curly but not long, and jet black. He'd had work done on his teeth, Cross noticed. He was wearing an expensive pinstripe suit, the type that said "I'm a businessman", and a crisp white shirt, open at the collar to reveal a delicate gold chain round his neck. He wore cufflinks. This man paid a lot of attention to his look. His suit was tailored in such a way that it tapered in an exaggerated fashion at the waist, emphasising his broad shoulders and well-packed torso.

  'So you said on the phone you wanted to talk about Alex,' he said.

  'Yes, that's correct,' Ottey replied.

  'It's tragic. Definitely murder?' he asked.

  'Without question,' replied Ottey, who knew that her partner had now gone into silent observation mode. Something she'd hated when they first worked together. She felt she was doing al
l the heavy lifting in situations like this. But then he'd come out with something so fundamental to whatever case they were working on, that she realised it was part of his process. Which she'd then come to think of as "their" process. It made it a lot easier for her. Working with him was obviously not easy. He never indulged in what she called "banter-interviewing", where the police would act as some sort of double act. Not so much good cop, bad cop, but just two cops thinking out loud about the absurd story that had just been trotted out for their benefit and pulling it apart ironically. She'd had a great rapport with her last partner and absolutely none with Cross. Cross had no understanding of rapport and so couldn't indulge. It drove her nuts at times. The worst thing was that he didn't know he was doing it. It was also a skill that she prided herself on, and now it was something she never had the opportunity to utilise. She had an inkling that Alice might be quite good at it, and she had resolved to put it to the test at some point.

  'Such a nice family. I feel for them, I really do,' said Tony, looking at the floor.

  'Have you been their supplier for a long time?' she went on.

  'No, not at all. About two years. Philippos never really took to me. Thought I was too dear. Didn't buy into organic. Quite old fashioned. Not to be too critical but he was never as interested in quality as the boys. Even he'd admit, though, that their business has done really well since our partnership,' he said.

  'Partnership?' Ottey remarked.

  'Wrong choice of word. What I meant was working together.'

  'So how did you meet Alex?'

  'I have to say it doesn't reflect that well on me. I met him at the gym. Stalked him if you like. I knew immediately who he was, but he only appeared there about three years ago. I'm afraid I'm all out when it comes to business. Nothing annoys me more than when someone turns me down. Like his father. So it was unfinished business, kind of. It's a good concern, that restaurant, especially since they extended.'

  'When was that?' Cross asked.

  'About a year after the boys took over from their dad. They wanted to realise the full potential of the place, but I think they may have moved a little too quickly. They ran into a bit of trouble financially. They were quite stretched at the bank,' he said.

  'You seem remarkably well-informed about their business.'

  'I make everyone's business my business. A bad habit, my wife tells me,' he said. 'So I got to know Alex; we started to train together and gradually talk about business. I was a guest at his restaurant a couple of times, for his birthday, a cousin's wedding. The food was good but it could have been so much better with better ingredients.'

  'And you were the perfect supplier?'

  'Of course. Kostas was like his father at first: cautious, "stuck in the mud". Thought the prices were a rip-off. I persuaded them to try it for a few months, but Kostas was worried about losing the suppliers they had by leaving them for someone else, even for a short time. So nothing happened – we trained. But Alex, he was very competitive. He didn't like it that the restaurant was, in his words, second best. But really Alex didn't like being told he couldn't have something. He always wanted to try something new. Be the best. So he eventually persuaded his brother. With us supplying, their business was up by five percent after six months. The extra cost of the supplies cost fifteen percent more than before, but supplies only accounted for, I don't know, maybe forty percent of their outgoings. Do the math. The extra cost was more than covered by the additional profit even then. Now the business is up ten percent from then. Even Philippos gives me a smile now.'

  'That's impressive,' said Ottey.

  'Yes, but like I said, the friendship was made initially under false pretences. Do you think friendship ever gets beyond that? I don't know. Do I feel guilty? Come to think of it, no. It was a win-win. And now he's gone,' he said sadly.

  'Why did he call you from his drug dealing phone?' Cross asked.

  'I beg your pardon?' he asked.

  'I heard him okay,' said Ottey, who had started feeling a little nauseous from the cloud of aftershave that wafted off Franopoulos, together with his overpowering charm.

  'He only called you from a phone he used for his drug dealing. You know about the drug dealing?' Cross said.

  'I did,' he said.

  'Is that how he got to know you? You were a customer?'

  'No. Absolutely not.'

  'I don't believe you,' said Ottey.

  'I don't use drugs. I never have. I've worked hard to be in the shape I'm in,' he said. The two detectives said nothing, but looked sceptical. 'Really? You don’t believe me? Okay, no problem. Easily sorted.' He got up and grabbed a paper cup from the water dispenser in the corner of the room and disappeared. Ottey looked at Cross.

  'You don't think...' she said, without finishing the sentence. Five minutes later Franopoulos reappeared with the paper cup, which had been covered with cling film, and put it on the table.

  'There. You can test it to your hearts' content,' he said triumphantly. It was a cup of fresh urine. They said nothing. Then Cross looked up.

  'That doesn't prove a thing. You could've got someone else to urinate in that,' he said.

  'Fine,' said Tony, getting up and going over to the water dispenser.

  'Really, there's no need. Mr Franopoulos, please,' said Ottey.

  'You sure?'

  'Totally.'

  He sat back down.

  'There are several calls on Alex's second phone to you up until his death. If it wasn't drugs, then what was that about?'

  'Just business calls.'

  'Then why didn't he use his regular phone?'

  'He did and I called him on it.' He got his smartphone out and scrolled through it. There were calls from Alex, and when Cross looked closely he could see that both of Alex's phones were listed.

  'But you don't appear in his call records for the other phone?' said Cross.

  'You're looking for the wrong name. Try Fanny,' he said. Ottey looked at him quizzically. 'People call me Franny. One day Alex misspelled it when he put it in his phone. Thought it was hysterical and it stayed that way.’ He then pointed to his desk, where another two phones lay. 'I have three phones and I'm not a drug dealer. One for business and one for the family.'

  'And the third?' Cross asked.

  'That's personal,' he replied. Now Ottey liked him even less.

  'What do you know about Hellenic?' she asked. This annoyed Cross, firstly because, in his opinion, it was far too soon in this interview and, secondly, because they didn't even know its full title yet.

  'I don't know. What is it?' he said.

  'Well, we're not entirely sure, but Alex seemed to be having dealings with them... or it,' she said, thus proving Cross' point, he thought. It made them look like they weren't leading the investigation – it was leading them.

  'Why didn't you pay for your meal the other night?' Cross asked.

  'That's a private matter,' Tony replied, smiling.

  'This is a murder investigation; such niceties neither count for anything nor do they interest us,' said Cross. Tony breathed in and held his breath as if deciding whether to go on.

  'Alex owed me some money. Like I said, we'd become quite close. In the circumstances I let it go. It was just a few thousand,' he said.

  'That would've been very generous of you, were it not for the exorbitant rate of interest you charged him. The truth is, you'd been paid back the original amount plus interest, months ago. It's hardly as if you were genuinely writing off a debt,' said Cross, a little distastefully. Tony didn't answer.

  'I think we're done here,' said Ottey. She normally left it up to Cross to end these meetings, but her instinct said he'd had enough as well. They got up and walked towards the door.

  'Haven't you forgotten something?' said Tony. Ottey turned to see him holding out the cup of piss towards her. Cross, anticipating what was coming, hadn't bothered to stop.

  As they walked to the car, a Luton and a transit van pulled in. They were light blue, decked out
in Franopoulos livery, which consisted of a large picture of the Acropolis against a beautiful clear sky with various crates of produce in the foreground. They got into the car, and as they drove off Cross noticed Tony appearing in the bay and watching them leave. In his experience, when people did this it was often because they felt they hadn't seen the last of the police and were working out their next plan of action.

  'Nasty piece of work,' Ottey observed. 'He could easily be wrapped up in all of this.'

  'And just as easily not,' Cross replied.

  Chapter 18

  Carson saw them walk back into the unit from his office and came into the open area.

  'Something's come up in the door-to-door. Alice will tell you,' he said as he walked over to her desk. She looked up.

  'Yes?' she said, as she hadn't heard him. She had headphones on. Cross had been meaning to tell Ottey to ask her to stop wearing them at work. Ottey had miraculously sensed this one day and pre-empted him by telling him that Alice was actually listening to a suspect interview on another case, which Carson thought was educational for her.

  'You spoke with uniform,' Carson explained.

  'Oh yes, sorry, a couple of residents saw a van matching the one on CCTV at the far end of the garages – possibly at the one where the body was discovered – at around two twenty one morning two weeks ago.'

  'Date?' Ottey asked.

  ‘Ninth,' Mackenzie replied.

  'The morning of the trip to Tenerife,' said Ottey.

  'Why are we only hearing this now?' asked Cross.

  'There's more,' Carson said.

  'One of the witnesses was just returning home, so just saw the van parked. The other was having a smoke and watched for a while,' Mackenzie said.

  'Number sixty-two?' Cross asked. Mackenzie checked her notes.

  'Yes. How did you know?' she asked.

  'Her girlfriend works lates. She waits up for her. Their curtains are closed till late afternoon – her girlfriend is a non-smoker,' Cross said. 'Continue.'