“Don’t bother with that stuff when you’re talking to me, Siddy,” said Derry. “I wasn’t born yesterday and neither were you. You know damn well who it was, don’t you?”
The barman looked belligerently into Derry’s eyes for several long seconds before dropping his gaze.
“I said, you know who it was, don’t you? And you’d better tell us, or I’ll get you closed down.”
“Could have been some of the Khans’ lot,” he muttered, looking at his feet.
“Could have been? Do you know them by sight?”
“I know some of them. I think there’s a lot of ’em.”
“How many came here?”
“I might not have seen . . .”
“There were three of them,” the burly man shouted across.
“Thank you.” Derry nodded at him. He turned back to the barman. “Three of them, Siddy. Did you recognise any of them?”
“Not personally. Like I said, they looked like they was from the Khans. Dressed in that way.”
“Who else was in here?”
Siddy shrugged.
“A few people. Some punters sitting over by the door. They didn’t see nuffin’. And the guy over there and his buddies, watching the snooker.”
“What’s happened to the buddies?”
“They had to go. He said he’d stay and tell you what he knows.”
“I see. Did you try to persuade any of the others to stay?”
Siddy shrugged again.
“You know how it is. They don’t want to get mixed up in any trouble. And no-one wants to cross the Khans.”
“Did they all have guns?”
“No. Just the one. He fired it up at the ceiling.” Siddy pointed upwards at the cracks in the plaster.
“How many times did he fire?”
“I don’t know. A few times.”
“Did you find any bullets?”
“Haven’t looked for them.”
“And you’re sure he just fired at the ceiling? He didn’t injure the man they took away with them?”
“I can’t say whether they injured him. They didn’t shoot him. Not in here, anyway.”
“Did anyone try to help him?”
“You’ve got to be joking! What would you have done?”
“How long did you leave it before you dialled 999?”
“About five minutes. I wanted to make sure they weren’t coming back. I didn’t want no-one to get hurt,” said Siddy guilelessly.
“Thank you for your help,” said Derry abruptly. “We’re going to have to ask you to stick around for a while yet. I’m going to talk to the gentleman over there for a minute, but I’ll come back to you.”
“Be my guest. Can I interest you in a little drink while you’re working?” Siddy narrowed his eyes. “Or another packet of mints, maybe?”
Derry turned quickly away from him, but not, he knew, before the policeman standing next to him had got the barman’s drift. The policeman gave the detective a curious look.
“Make sure we get his prints, will you?” Derry said to him curtly. “Probably have them on file already, I shouldn’t wonder, but best to be on the safe side.”
He joined the other policeman and the snooker enthusiast.
“Thank you for waiting, sir,” he said. “Very good of you. You’ll understand that we shall need the names and addresses of your friends?”
“I’ve already got them,” said the second policeman. “Mobile numbers and e-mails, anyway.”
“Let’s hope those work. Otherwise we’ll have to trouble you again,” said Derry to the man, affably enough. “I’m sorry to ask you this again, as you’ve already given a statement, but could you tell me exactly what you saw?”
“Not much, to be honest with you. We was having a drink and watching the match. We got down when we were told to and didn’t get up again until they’d gone.”
“By ‘they’ you mean the men with the gun?”
“Yes.”
“You said there were three of them. Are you sure of that?”
“I was sitting opposite the kitchen door. I was watching the match, but I heard a noise and turned to see them come in. There could have been more than three of them, but I don’t think so.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“No. I only work around the corner, but I don’t come in here often. Didn’t live round ’ere until recently.”
“But you do now?”
“It’s temporary. Me and me wife, we’ve split up. There’s a flat over the office that isn’t being used. I’m staying there for now. Mates came over to cheer me up and watch the match. That’s why they had to go: they had trains to catch.”
“I’m sure they did,” said Derry, looking at his watch. The snooker match was over now, but only just.
“Can you describe the men?”
“All looked much the same to me. Tall, athletic, white shirts. I’d say they were foreign, but that’s not done these days, is it? Could’ve been English, but ‘of foreign extraction’? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say?”
“Might be. It depends. Did you get a clear view of any of their faces? Enough to build up a picture for us, perhaps?”
The snooker enthusiast hesitated before shaking his head.
“No, I don’t think so. They all looked much of a muchness to me. Besides, I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at the little guy. I’d certainly know him again if I saw him.”
Chapter 23
The service in the restaurant continued to be slow, but now that Derry had gone Tim and Patti no longer noticed. They drank the bottle of wine very slowly, and gradually each of them relaxed. Tim told Patti about the day he’d just spent studying so-called honour murders and she gave him a few details about the new forensic techniques that had been discussed at the conference she’d attended.
“You don’t look dressed for a conference,” Tim ventured. “Especially a scientific conference.”
She laughed.
“Do you imagine that scientists dress differently from other people?”
“Most of the scientists I’ve known have been wedded to their jobs and too earnest to care much about their appearance. The result can be quite grim.”
Her laugh was more forced now.
“We don’t all dress grimly. At least, I hope not.”
“Sorry, I’ve put my foot in it again. I meant to compliment you on your dress and I’ve ended up insulting you! Typical of me, as you know.”
She ignored his last sentence but responded brightly.
“I’m happy to accept the compliment! And I’m not going to say ‘What, this old thing?’ about my dress, because it wouldn’t be true. I hadn’t understood the conference would finish at lunchtime today. When I realised I had a few spare hours, I went shopping. I thought it was time I had some new clothes. And Derry said he had a surprise for me when he asked me to come to dinner.”
“Oh, so you bought the dress for Derry!” Tim was flirting now, but he couldn’t stop himself. He’d always enjoyed this kind of banter with women. He reflected with a pang that it had been missing from his life recently.
Patti picked up his teasing tone and instantly became more serious.
“No, I didn’t buy it for Derry, but I didn’t buy it for you, either. I thought I’d be meeting someone new and decided to make a bit of an effort.”
“Derry still carries a torch for you. Did you know?”
“Now that is a back-handed compliment. Derry carries a torch for anything with a face and two legs, a far as I can see.”
Tim smiled. Although, as Derry had already pointed out to him, he had no right to care about Patti’s affections, he was glad that she’d got his friend’s measure.
“I guess you’re right, though it’s disloyal of me to say so.”
“Yo
u aren’t asking me to respect that kind of Boys’ Own loyalty? It’s just an excuse for condoning bad behaviour!”
They’d nearly finished their main courses. There was still a drain of wine left in the bottle.
“Would you like a dessert?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll wait for you if you want one.”
“No, let’s just finish the wine and go. If we order anything else, we’ll be here until midnight!”
“You don’t need to walk me back to my hotel. It’ll be quite safe walking up Tottenham Court Road. Or I can get a cab.”
“It’s a nice evening and not far out of my way to walk. I can catch the Tube to Waterloo easily after I’ve left you. Besides, I promised Derry!”
“Derry again! If that’s your reason, I’ll certainly get a cab.”
“It’s not really my reason. I’d like to walk and carry on talking for a while. If you’re not too tired, that is.”
“All right, if you let me pay my share of the bill. This is meant to be Derry’s treat, but I see no prospect of his picking up the tab now. And it’s probably not fair to let him.”
“I agree it’s not fair to let him,” said Tim, with a pang. A rough calculation told him the bill would certainly be north of £150, perhaps more, given the bottle of wine Derry had chosen. “But I don’t think you should pay, either. You were promised a treat and it’s churlish to let you pay for it. Especially as it didn’t turn out how you expected!”
“Don’t fish for compliments, Tim! But if you insist, I’m not going to press the point. So, thank you.”
“My pleasure. Did you bring a coat?”
“No, but I’d like to visit the Ladies. I think you have to go into that cubby-hole over there to pay. I’ll meet you outside.”
Patti was right. The restaurant didn’t have facilities for allowing customers to pay at the table. Instead, they were accompanied by their waiter to a boxed-off alcove in one corner, where an ample, jovial woman totted up the damage. Tim had to wait for a few minutes for his waiter to appear. He saw Patti walk past the tables to the door and thought to himself that he only had a 50:50 chance she would be still be there when he’d finished. He was surprised by how sad this made him feel.
Including the automatically-charged twelve and a half per cent tip, Tim had to part with even more money than he’d anticipated. Shaking off the sting – he had enjoyed the evening, after all – he hurried to the open door and saw that Patti was standing under the street lamp outside. The light was shining on her hair, drawing out threads of auburn. He remembered that she’d looked just like this on a previous occasion, five – or was it six? – years ago, when they’d spent the day on a long, leisurely walk together and she’d returned to her flat briefly for a shower before meeting him again for dinner.
She smiled at him as he emerged and just for that moment it took all his self-control not to remind her of that shared experience. He wondered if she had thought of it, too. She may have done, because the smile faded rapidly and her next comment was quite brusque.
“We’d better step on it now. I don’t know how late the trains to Surbiton run.”
Tim looked at his watch. It was ten-thirty: later than he’d expected, but he was confident there’d be trains for at least another hour. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea, however.
“I think we’ve got time to walk, but we’ll take a cab if you like.”
She hesitated, as if trying to gauge his meaning. Finally, she shrugged.
“You decide. I shall get back all right either way.”
“Let’s walk, then.”
He allowed her to make a start, then fell in beside her, matching her pace. They continued to the end of the street like this, chatting desultorily, until they reached Tottenham Court Road. They were about to cross it, and Patti had stepped off the pavement, when a cyclist came hurtling out of the dusk. Quickly Tim grabbed Patti’s arm and hauled her back on to the pavement.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes,” she said, rubbing her arm ruefully, “just a bit shaken. And you didn’t have to pinch so hard!”
“Sorry,” said Tim, stroking her arm lightly with the back of his hand. “Are you ready to cross now?”
She nodded and he took hold of her elbow. Gently, she released it, but then slid her arm through his. She didn’t disengage herself when they reached the other side of the road.
“So you’re going home tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. I’ve been away long enough. I have quite a large team to look after now. What about you?”
“I’m staying here a bit longer. Then I’m probably going to India, to interview the cousin of the girl I was telling you about.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“Has to be, I think, though on the face of it he’s co-operating.”
“You’ll be going home first?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve promised Katrin. Besides, I haven’t quite finished the bloody malaria tablets yet. I shall be glad when they’re done with. They’ve made me feel quite strange.”
“Nauseous, you mean?”
“Mainly that. And a bit light in the head on occasions.” Tim decided not to tell Patti about the strange episode in Ilford or the apocalyptic behaviour of his computer earlier that day. Nevertheless, she looked grave.
“You need to be careful. If it’s Lariam you’re taking, that stuff can really mess with your head.”
“Not sure what the pills are made of. I don’t recognise that name. But I suppose they’re supplied under some kind of branding. I’m nearly through the course now, so I should be ok, but thanks for your concern.”
They’d passed the larger shops now and were heading for the darker end of the road, nearer to the tube station, with its banks and bars and convenience stores. Tim was grateful to be embraced by the urban twilight. His head was beginning to spin and his stomach churned again. His mouth filled with saliva.
“You can leave me here,” said Patti as they drew level with the narrow entrance to a cul-de-sac. “I’ll be fine now. You can catch the tube from . . .” she turned to look at him. “Tim! Are you all right?”
He managed a sickly grin.
“Yes, of course I’m all right. And I’ll walk you to the door. It’s not far out of my way.”
“Ok,” said Patti abstractedly. She wasn’t convinced that Tim was fit to go back to Surbiton by himself, but she was the last person to be able to help him. If she accompanied him to his sister’s house, she’d have Freya’s curiosity to contend with; if she offered him a bed on her sofa, Katrin would never believe it had been an act of innocent compassion.
Tim took her arm, but she felt that he’d done it more to maintain his balance than support her. The entrance to her hotel, a small bed-and-breakfast establishment, was at the centre of a curved Regency terrace. As they mounted the steps, Tim staggered like a drunk.
“You’re going to have to come in for a few minutes,” Patti said. “Whatever it is you’ve been suffering from has clearly come back. I’ll make you some coffee, see if that helps.”
“I’ve got to catch the last train,” Tim murmured indistinctly. Patti guessed rather than heard what he was saying.
“If you don’t feel better in a few minutes, you’re going to have to go back to Freya’s in a taxi.”
“It’ll cost . . .”
“It doesn’t matter how much it costs. I’ll pay for it myself if necessary.”
Tim was leaning heavily on her now. Patti was quite strong, but it was still a hard burden for her to bear. She pushed open the glass-panelled door and half-dragged Tim inside.
The daytime receptionist had completed her shift and been replaced by a night porter, a stoutly-built Jamaican who could have doubled as a bouncer. He’d been sitting behind the counter reading the Evening Standard, but he got to his feet as Patti and Tim stumbled i
nelegantly into the foyer. She met his eye.
“Good evening, Ma’am. You ok there?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks, but my friend’s . . . he’s a little bit unwell.”
“I can see that,” said the porter with distaste. “He’s not going to puke, is he, because . . .”
“No, he’s just . . .”
At that moment, Tim wrenched himself from Patti’s grasp and made a desperate dash back to the door. His legs buckled under him and he collapsed on the carpet, vomiting copiously on the dirt trapper mat that had been laid across the entrance.
The porter pushed open the hinged gate of the reception area and came bustling out.
“Will you get him out of here, please? Now! We don’t want no drunks.”
Tim groaned and wiped his mouth with his hand. He remained in a kneeling position.
“He isn’t drunk,” said Patti. “He’s had a reaction to some medication he’s taking. Please let him stay. I’ll take him up to my room and he won’t bother you again. I’ll pay for the damage,” she added.
The porter cast a critical eye over the dirt trapper.
“You’re lucky it was only the mat. I might be able to throw that away, put another one down.” He looked at her quizzically.
“I’m quite happy to pay for it.”
The porter considered again.
“I guess that’ll be all right. I’ll get rid of this, we’ll say no more about it.” He looked at her again, obviously expecting her to take the hint.
Belatedly Patti divined that he was asking her for a tip. She fumbled in her handbag and extracted a £20 note. She held it out. The porter took it.
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
“So he can stay?”
“He can stay. But no noise tonight and no mess left in the room tomorrow. Understood? Otherwise he’ll have to leave now. And you’ll pay for the mat.”
“Of course. Thank you. Tim, you’re going to have to get up now. Can you stand?”
Tim nodded, grimacing as he rose slowly to his feet by clinging shakily to the door lintel. Patti put her arm round his waist and guided him to the lift. They moved slowly, Tim shuffling like an old man.
Most of the hotel’s guests had apparently already turned in for the night, so the lift was waiting for them, its doors already open. Patti hauled Tim inside and pressed the button.
Rooted in Dishonour Page 10
