Mills and I shared a glance, and I shook my head slightly. “Not yet,” he answered. “Let's see what he does first.”
We all watched as he hovered on the pavement for a while longer, then walked towards the door and pushed himself through into the restaurant.
“Fry, get in there,” I said. “Grab a table. See what he does.”
“On it,” she replied. We watched her as she walked across the road and made a little show of standing and checking the restaurant’s menu before walking inside.
“Think she’ll be okay in there?” Harris murmured.
“She’ll be fine. Anyway, if any of us went in there, it might be a bit of a tip-off. They know you and me,” Mills told her.
“Not me,” I supplied.
“They’ll know you’re on the case.” Harris pushed her hair back from her face. “Besides, I’d wager that most of the criminals in the city make a point of acquainting themselves with your likeness.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked.
She frowned. “Not sure. Does it feel like one?”
“A little.”
“Then it is. You’re welcome.”
Mills’s phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the text that came through.
“Fry,” he said, picking it up. “She said Eljas is sitting alone, eating.”
“Ask her who else is in there,” Harris said, nudging his shoulder. Mills shook her off and started typing. We sat and waited patiently, staring at his screen until she replied.
“Nobody at the reserved table,” Mills read aloud. “Recognise a few of the faces. No big players.”
“Not until later then,” Harris said thoughtfully. “But we know they’re using it if nothing else.”
“It’ll be a long stakeout,” I said with a sigh. “If we’re here until the evening.”
“You can’t rush these things,” Harris said. She was more used to this than we were. Mills and I had done the odd stakeout from time to time, waiting to see who turned up to a location, waiting for the killer to return to the scene, but this sort of work took more patience than we had. And killers were usually quicker than drug dealers, in and out, body left behind, and bob’s your uncle. They rarely made a meal out of it.
Mills replied to Fry. “I’ve told her to keep an eye on Eljas for now. I wonder what he’s doing there.” He put his phone back down.
“Perhaps he knew more about Julia’s workplace than he let on,” I suggested.
“You think he’s involved?” Harris asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mills replied, scratching his head. “The only reason we knew about him was that the boys in the restaurant mentioned him. Other than the one time I met him, we’ve heard nothing more.”
“Deliberate?” Harris asked.
“I suppose we’ll find out.” I turned to the window again. “Didn’t the boys in there make it clear that they’re no fan of him?” I asked Mills.
“They did,” he murmured, standing beside me. “So, I wonder how well this will all go down.”
“If he does work for them,” Harris said. “They might not be above using him as a scapegoat.”
“No,” I said. “But that doesn’t fit the profile. The killer was someone new to Julia, someone her family didn’t know.”
“What about the other girl? Hana Miyara?” she asked.
“Could be something there,” I admitted. “But we’d need to talk to him for that, and I’m not busting into the restaurant to arrest him. That won’t do any of us any favours, tipping them off to our presence like that.”
“So, we wait for him to leave?”
“Tell Fry to stay close. When he leaves, she leaves. She can follow him down the street for a bit, put some distance between them and the restaurant, then pull him in.”
“You’ll take him back to the station?” Harris asked.
“We will. I’ll make sure some more officers come and give you a hand here.”
“I’ve got my team,” she said. “I’ll call up before you leave.”
I nodded, returning my attention to the window.
“What I don’t get,” Mills mused after a moment of quiet, “is how Julia even fits into all of this. Did she know about the drug gang? Did she work for them?”
“She knew something, or at least knew enough that she took good care of them,” I said, thinking about her notebook and all the notes she made about the Saturday boys.
“What about the killer?” Harris wondered. “Is he one of them? Did he realise that Julia maybe knew too much?”
I sighed, stretching my arms painfully. “It’s the best theory we have right now,” I said.
We all settled back down, one of us by the window watching, one of us by the board, staring at the faces as though something new would just leap out, and the third sitting, resting. We rotated around without speaking much, only really snapping to life when someone walked towards the restaurant, waiting for the next text from Fry.
“She’s been quiet for a while,” Mills said, worryingly staring at his blank phone.
“Nobody spends an entire meal staring at their phone,” Harris said helpfully.
Mills hummed and just continued to stare at his phone as though he could will it into delivering some news. I wasn’t sure what he was more worried about, the fact that we had no update or the fact that Fry was the one not updating us.
We didn’t have to worry for long. Mills’s phone buzzed again, and he had it in his hand in a flash. He read whatever was written there and frowned.
“What is it?” I asked.
He looked up at me and read. “Pentti and waiters arguing. Settling bill. Orders?”
“They recognised him?” Harris asked.
“Must have gone badly,” Mills muttered, already replying. He spoke aloud as he texted. “Leave after Pentti and pursue the end of the street. We’ll meet you there.”
As he texted her, Harris got her phone out and rang up her team. Another text came, and Mills nodded.
“She’s on it.”
“Let’s get moving. Tamara, you alright?” I checked, my hand pausing over my coat. She waved her hand through the air.
“I’m an old hand at these, boys, and I won’t be Billy-no-mates for long. Good luck,” she added, giving us a thumbs-up as we made our way to the door.
“Thanks, Harris,” I called.
She smiled back, and Mills and I jogged down the stairs into the old café and out the back door to where his car was parked. Apparently, it was less eye-catching than mine, which I believed was due to the general muddy state of my car and the fact that we’d passed three just like Mills’s on our way here.
“Drive down, meet her at the corner,” I said, patting his shoulder. “I’ll follow on this side of the street in case he runs for it.”
“You in any condition to be chasing after him?” he asked.
“Not really, but nor am I in any condition to be driving,” I replied.
“Fair point,” Mills said, turning to his car.
I walked down towards the street, lurking in the space between two buildings as the restaurant door opened again and Eljas Pentti burst from the building, yanking his coat on with a fury, his face red. Fry slipped out a few moments later, causally searching through her back when he turned to glance at her. He spun on his heel and started off down the street, Fry casually strolling after him with all the lazy pacing of someone just out for lunch.
I matched her pace on the other side of the street, and she glanced over once to acknowledge me before turning her eyes back to the pavement. Good girl.
Pentti slowed his pace the further he got from the restaurant, and halfway down the street, he stopped abruptly and lifted his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes and bowing his head slightly. Fry slowed and turned to a shop window, studying the mannequins until he started walking again. She looked over at me with a confused face, and I shrugged back, checking over my own shoulder to make sure that nobody from the restaurant had followed him. All was clea
r, and the three of us made it down to the end of the street where Mills stood, leaning against his car. Pentti slowed to a stop.
“Sergeant Mills?” he asked.
“Mr Pentti,” he nodded. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind coming with us?”
“Us?” Eljas Pentti turned around as Fry caught up to him and I crossed the street. He turned back to Mills. “What’s this about? Is it Julia?”
“It's about the restaurant you were just in,” Mills said, calmly opening the back door. “This is an invitation, Mr Pentti, but we will take you into the station one way or another.”
Eljas went a bit pale and turned to look at myself and Fry, frowning at her face until recognition hit him. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly and nodded.
“Alright,” he said, slouching towards the door and climbing into the back seat.
Mills shut the door, the lock clicking, and walked back to the driver’s seat. Fry made a slight face and began to walk to the other side. I stopped her before she could get into the back and pushed her towards the passenger seat with a nod. She raised an eyebrow.
“You were in hospital last night,” she reminded me.
“I know. But call me old fashioned,” I said, opening the door for her. She shot me a quick, if exasperated, smile and climbed in beside Mills, leaving me to hop into the back with a confused and mildly irate looking Eljas.
“We haven’t met,” I said, closing the door behind me.
“Eljas Pentti,” he introduced himself resignedly.
“Detective Chief Inspector Thatcher,” I replied. “This is Detective Constable Fry.”
Eljas’s eyes swung forward to look at her in the rear-view mirror. “You were in the restaurant,” he said.
Fry only nodded, her eyes straight forward as Mills pulled away from the kerb.
“How was the food?” he asked her.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Not my cup of tea, personally.”
“Too much butter,” Eljas muttered.
Fry nodded. “A little too much.”
“So, on top of everything else with that place, there’s too much butter in the food,” Mills muttered, shaking his head, making Fry laugh.
Eljas frowned, looking very confused. “What exactly have I done?”
“We’ll discuss that once we’re at the station,” I told him in a stern voice that left no room for argument. He nodded and dropped his gaze down to his lap, fiddling with a ring on his middle finger for the remainder of the drive.
Twenty-Two
Thatcher
Eljas Pentti sat silently in the interview room, a cup of water between his hands. Standing on the other side of the glass, I studied him as Sharp, and I waited for Mills to get back with the files we had put together. He was a tall man and well built, a gardener, Mills had said, for the golf club. He looked like one, his arms big, his hands like coal shovels, skin tanned despite the weather from so much time outdoors. A nature lover, just like Julia was, and Hana Miyara. Someone who might know good walking routes, someone handsome and charming enough to lure women out there. But was the sort of man who’d follow a girl from a restaurant into a park and murder her there? I wasn’t sure. He sat quietly, just staring at his water or the ring on his finger. He’d asked for nothing, no phone call, no lawyer, not that he needed one. We hadn’t arrested him for anything.
Yet.
“He’s the boyfriend?” Sharp asked, peering at him through the glass beside me.
“Ex-boyfriend,” I corrected her.
“And you picked him up at the restaurant.”
I nodded.
Sharp hummed, fingers tapping the desk we stood against. “That restaurant is the only thing linking any of this. Julia, Hana. Harris is still there?”
“Keeping an eye on the place, yes. Her team should be there by now, and she’ll be in touch if there are any updates.”
“It’s her territory more than yours,” Sharp said. “Do you think he’s our killer?”
I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. “Yes and no. On paper, he fits. A jealous ex-boyfriend lashes out at her. Sees Hana Miyara there and goes after her too. But it doesn’t quite add up, in truth, ma’am. Either he’s very much involved, or he’s not at all involved.”
Sharp pursed her lips. “I spoke to Lena,” she said. “She told me that she’s looked over Hana Miyara and that it’s not our killer. Not from before.”
I shook my head. “A small mercy, I suppose. But they knew his name, used it.”
“You think he knows the name?” She asked with a nod to the glass. “Knows the case?”
I shrugged. “In so much detail? Hard to say.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you with this one,” Sharp said. Then she turned to look at me properly. “You alright for this? How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” I admitted, “but sitting around doing nothing will send me stir crazy.”
She nodded understandingly. “Well, take it easy. If anyone else had been whacked with a pipe, you’d have sent them home by now.”
I chuckled. “I know. I know I shouldn’t have gone,” I added since it was just the two of us. “It’s just this case, the memories.” I shook my head. “I let them get the better of me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with going over old theories, Thatcher, turning over old stones. It’s just the way you went about it that pisses me off. You’re important to this division. And you are my friend,” she added. “And I’ve not many of those hanging around.”
“You and me both,” I said.
Sharp chuckled quietly, and Mills walked into the room, a bundle of files in his arms.
“Ready?” he asked. I nodded, touching Sharp briefly on the shoulder as I walked past her and followed Mills into the interview room.
Eljas looked up as we walked in, a strand of too-long hair falling over his eyes. He pushed it back, then wiped his hands on his trousers as we took a seat opposite him. Mills turned on the recording device, giving it our names and the date, then sat back and looked at Eljas.
“Thank you for coming in today, Mr Pentti.”
We’d not given him all that much of a choice, but he had walked in rather than being dragged in handcuffs. He shrugged a big shoulder.
“You went into L’agneau earlier,” Mills said. “The restaurant where Julia Brook, your old girlfriend, used to work.”
“I did,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and repeated himself, clearer this time. “I did.”
“Why?” I asked simply.
Eljas looked at me, studying me for a moment. He sighed, eyes falling to the table. “I miss her,” he said.
“You went to the restaurant because you miss her?” I asked.
He nodded. “I thought, maybe if I went there, I might feel her, I guess. I dunno, it sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” I quickly reassured him. “In fact, lots of people do that when they lose a loved one.” Hell, some of us renovated buildings just to feel them around us again.
“You weren’t there for long,” Mills said, the statement a question.
Eljas shook his head. “No. They never liked me much in there anyway, so I left pretty quickly.”
“They didn’t realise you were there at first?”
“It was Sabine who served me,” he said. “She never had a problem with me. I think she felt sorry for me. It was only when Antoine realised I was there that things went weird.”
“Weird how?” I asked.
“He said I shouldn’t be there, that I wasn’t welcome. I said, why, that makes no sense. I knew Julia too, knew her better than they did for that matter, but that just seemed to piss him off even more. Sabine stepped in then, tried to calm things down. I just left some money on the table and left.”
“Antoine really isn’t a fan of yours,” Mills noted.
Eljas chuckled humourlessly. “No. I think he liked her, truth be told, sergeant. And I was always in the way, even after we brok
e up. He never wanted me there, but I don’t understand today,” he shook his head. “I just wanted to remember her a bit, but he acted like I’d killed her myself.” His voice broke on a sob, and he looked down, picked up his cup, and took some careful sips.
“Have you been back there before?” Mills asked. “To the restaurant that is?”
Eljas shook his head. “Last time I was there would have been last year. Just to drop off Julia’s coat. She left it in my car, she was always doing that,” he added with a smile. “I think she did it on purpose so that I’d come to see her.”
I frowned and leant forward wonderingly. “She did it regularly?”
He nodded. “I’d drop it by after work usually. She’d still have a little longer of a shift, especially if there was a big table in, but she liked seeing me for a bit.”
“The table in the corner?” I asked. “The booth?”
Eljas looked confused but nodded, and I sat back. She made sure he came in at some point then and left her coat behind so that he’d walk in. She’d gone to see him a few weeks ago, too, when she was anxious. He was safe for her. Someone to see, someone to come in and settle her nerves. She hadn’t liked working those parties, hadn’t liked the men in the corner, so she made an excuse for Eljas to be there, even for a second. A quick glance at Mills told me he was thinking the same thing.
“What did you make of them?” Mills asked conversationally. “The men at the reserved table. You said before you thought they were off, that you didn’t like Julia working there.”
“Robert De Niro,” I supplied. Eljas cracked a small smile at that and nodded.
“Well dressed,” he said. “But they weren’t posh, you know? They would sit and lounge and eat and talk, watching everybody else. Always quiet, though. They were never leery or noisy.”
Not wanting to be overheard.
“Why?” Eljas asked. “Are they, you know, important?”
“We believe so. Did she ever talk about them?” Mills asked.
“Julia? Not really, no. But I could tell she didn’t like working there with them, not that late anyway. Sometimes I’d offer to pick her up so that she could leave straight away.”
Vicious Cycle (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 9) Page 18
