Diary of a War Crime

by Simon McCleave

‘But what if it doesn’t?’ Pupin asked with a concerned expression.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What if it doesn’t die down? What if those women police officers continue to stick their noses into our business and try to find him? Then what?’

  Tankovic smiled. ‘Do not worry yourself, my friend. I have the officers’ names, and it won’t be long before I know where they live. And if they continue to buzz around us like irritating flies, they will be persuaded to go away or they will be swatted.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Ruth sat back at her desk and finished her coffee. It was still early, and CID was its usual hive of chatter and movement as officers prepared to assemble for the morning briefing. Gaughran went over and pulled down a blind to cut out some of the sunlight.

  Lucy approached holding some papers. ‘I’ve got something.’

  ‘That’s nice. Well, don’t give it to me,’ Ruth quipped.

  Lucy groaned. ‘Very funny.’ She then put down the envelopes that she had taken from the house they had visited in Summer Gardens. ‘One of these was handwritten to Oliver Stankovic. I didn’t see it until I got home last night.’

  ‘What’s inside?’ Ruth asked, wondering why Lucy hadn’t mentioned it before now.

  Lucy pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘It’s a newspaper article from a Serbian newspaper called Politika. I can’t read it, but we can get it translated.’

  ‘Do we know anything about Politika?’

  ‘It’s the oldest paper in the Balkan region and published out of Belgrade. Right-wing politics and fiercely loyal to Serbians. Just before the war started, it was under the control of Slobodan Milosevic.’

  ‘Which would make it Simo Petrovic’s paper of choice. How does that help us?’ Ruth asked, wondering where Lucy was going with this.

  ‘We think that Oliver Stankovic might be Petrovic’s new identity don’t we?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Whoever addressed and sent the article was in contact with Petrovic and knew he had changed his name.’

  ‘But that doesn’t help us, does it?’

  Lucy turned over the envelope and showed Ruth the postage mark. ‘It was posted in Cobham, Surrey. I’ve checked, and it’s a small post office.’

  ‘And you expect them to remember one person?’

  ‘No, but if Petrovic has gone into hiding, he would have to go somewhere he has friends.’

  ‘Which could be Cobham,’ Ruth said, not sounding particularly enthused.

  ‘It’s all we’ve got. Has to be worth checking out.’ Lucy turned and went back to her desk.

  Ruth wasn’t sure.

  Clicking open her phone, she saw that she had a missed call from Dan at 4am.

  Bloody hell! He’s such a knob.

  The time of the call told her that Dan had been off his head somewhere and, in a fit of self-pity or rage, had decided to ring her. It seemed strange that she didn’t miss him. In fact, it was a relief to wake up and not worry about whether he’d managed to get home. And it was a relief not to have to usher him to bed from the sofa at 8am, or go home to a house that smelled of weed. Even the horrible, nagging feeling that he was cheating on her had dissipated.

  Just as she went to close the phone, a text arrived. It was from Shiori. I’ve spoken to Claire. She’s very keen to meet as soon as possible. Let’s talk later X

  Ruth couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement. She tried to persuade herself that it was because Shiori was her new, slightly exotic friend and they got on like a house on fire. If she was honest, she also knew that she was very attracted to her. It wasn’t a new feeling. She’d had a few dalliances with women over the years. However, she had put them down to youthful high spirits, alcohol, drugs and experimentation. Yet there was a nagging feeling that, if anything, her attraction to women was growing stronger and more prevalent as the years went on.

  ‘Right everybody, if we can settle down,’ Brooks boomed as he went into the centre of the room. His voice jolted Ruth out of her train of thought. He looked around the room for her and Lucy. ‘Lucy, Ruth, now that we’ve closed down some of the lines of enquiry, where are we at with the murder of Hamzar Mujic?’

  Ruth looked over at Lucy and gave a knowing nod. They had agreed to run a routine robbery case on the surface to keep Brooks, and anyone else who took an interest, quiet. They would then pursue their own clandestine investigation into Simo Petrovic.

  ‘Still waiting for the forensics to come back, guv,’ Lucy said.

  Ruth looked up at him and said, ‘We’ve run the prints, but we didn’t get a match.’

  ‘There was some valuable jewellery taken from Hamzar Mujic’s flat, guv. Looks like robbery was the motive after all,’ Lucy explained.

  It was a blatant lie. There was no jewellery missing from Mujic’s flat, but they needed to create a smokescreen to hide what they were up to.

  ‘Robbery’s a bit of a handbrake turn from KGB hitmen isn’t it, ladies?’ said Gaughran, shaking his head sarcastically.

  Ruth watched as Lucy put on a forced smile and gave Gaughran the finger.

  ‘Not helpful, Tim ... What about the daughter?’ Brooks asked.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘She didn’t know anything.’

  Ruth looked up and shrugged. ‘The door was forced open. The neighbour heard shouting and a struggle. Jewellery was taken from his flat. The fentanyl is a bit of a weird one, but we’re pretty sure that some kind of robbery was the motive rather than anything more sinister than that.’

  Brooks nodded and couldn’t hide the fact that he looked visibly relieved that Ruth and Lucy were now towing the line. ‘Good. Talk to robbery and see if we’ve got any local burglaries with a similar MO.’

  Lucy looked over at Ruth and smiled – job done.

  A few minutes later the briefing was over, and the CID officers went back to their desks or headed out.

  Ruth looked up from her desk and saw Lucy approaching. ‘Get your coat.’

  ‘Why? Where are we going?’ Ruth asked.

  Lucy headed for the door. ‘Cobham.’

  CHAPTER 17

  Having navigated the Wandsworth one-way system, Lucy and Ruth soon found themselves on an open stretch of the A3, heading south out of London towards Cobham in Surrey. As far as Ruth was concerned, Surrey had always been a very affluent county, home to bankers and stockbrokers. When she was younger, people would mock its inhabitants by pronouncing the county Sorry, mimicking their cut-glass English accents.

  Having taken the turning towards the village of Cobham, they drove along a road that was lined with a series of huge mansions.

  ‘Like bloody Beverly Hills down here, isn’t it?’ Lucy said.

  ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a house like one of these. I think Cliff Richard lives over there.’

  Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Please don’t tell me you like Cliff Richard too?’

  ‘Not really. My Mum did though, especially around that whole Wired for Sound and Devil Woman time.’

  Lucy pointed to a sign that said St George’s Estate. ‘Yeah, well more importantly, Ringo Starr and John Lennon both had houses up there. I think Ringo is still there.’

  Ruth chuckled. ‘It really is Beverly Hills!’

  A moment later they arrived in the middle of Cobham village, which was just as twee and middle class as Ruth had expected it to be. They parked up outside the post office and got out.

  They walked inside and headed over to the counter where a middle-aged woman was busy sorting out some packages.

  Ruth got out her warrant card. ‘DC Hunter and DC Henry. I wonder if you could help us with our enquiries. We are looking for someone and we wondered if you had seen him in here?’

  Lucy showed her the photograph of Petrovic. The woman picked up her glasses from the counter and put them on. ‘Sorry, I can’t see much without these.’ She peered at the image. ‘Erm ... no, sorry. I don’t recognise that man. Jack?’

  An older man came over, looked at the photo
graph, and shook his head. ‘No. I’ve never seen him in here.’

  Ruth looked at Lucy – back to square one.

  They spent the next ten minutes going from shop to shop but no one in the village had seen anyone who looked remotely like Petrovic.

  Getting back into the car, Ruth and Lucy sat for a moment. Ruth was feeling annoyed. She had already flagged up that coming to Cobham was a waste of time with only the postmark to go on.

  ‘We’re never going to find him, are we?’ Lucy said despondently.

  ‘I really don’t know, Lucy,’ Ruth answered, unable to hide her frustration.

  ‘It’s the only lead we had,’ Lucy snapped.

  Ruth tutted. ‘I’m well aware of that. But it’s a two hour round trip for nothing.’

  Before Lucy could say anything else, Ruth’s phone rang.

  It was DC Hassan. ‘Syed?’

  ‘Ruth. One of the people you were looking for. Safet Dudic?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Got an address for him from the electoral register. He lives in Stoneleigh. 35 Hatton Close.’

  ‘Thanks Syed.’ Even though Hassan spent a lot of time with Gaughran, Ruth knew his heart was actually in the right place.

  ‘What’s that?’ Lucy asked, still sounding irritated from their little tiff.

  ‘We’ve got an address for Safet Dudic ... Where’s Stoneleigh?’

  ‘About fifteen minutes from here,’ Lucy said brightly. ‘And you said this was a wasted journey.’

  Ruth rolled her eyes.

  AS THEY PARKED IN THE leafy suburban close, Ruth looked at the detached houses, well-tended gardens, and new cars on the driveways. Stoneleigh was a different world to the streets of SE19 where she and Lucy spent most of their time.

  ‘Nice place,’ she remarked as they got out of the car.

  ‘That’s Surrey for you, if you can afford it,’ Lucy said, and then gestured to the house that had been identified. ‘This is it.’

  They walked up to the front door and knocked. A few seconds later, a smiling middle-aged woman with a tea towel draped over her shoulder answered.

  Ruth and Lucy showed her their warrant cards and identified themselves.

  ‘We’re looking for Safet Dudic? We understand that he lives here?’ Ruth asked.

  The woman nodded but her face fell. ‘Yes, he does. What’s he done now?’ She spoke with the trace of an accent.

  Ruth and Lucy looked at each other with a frown. Not the reaction they were expecting.

  I don’t think we’ve got the right Safet Dudic.

  ‘As far as we know, he hasn’t done anything. We just wanted to talk to him as part of an ongoing investigation,’ Lucy explained.

  ‘Sorry, please come in,’ the woman said, ushering them into the hallway. ‘Safet? Safet? Can you come down here please?’

  There were an awkward few seconds before a sixteen-year-old boy with jet black spiky hair came very gingerly down the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw Ruth and Lucy standing in the hallway.

  ‘Safet Dudic?’ Lucy asked, and then looked at the woman. ‘Erm, we were expecting someone a lot older.’

  ‘He looks young for his age, but he has just turned sixteen,’ the woman said while glaring at her son.

  ‘Our investigation centres on events back in Bosnia, possibly four or five years ago,’ Ruth explained, trying to be as vague as possible. ‘I think we might have got the wrong Safet Dudic.’

  The woman shook her head. ‘Oh, you must be talking about my father. Sorry. Of course, they have the same name. He came to live with us four years ago when he moved over here.’

  Ruth looked at Lucy – That makes more sense.

  ‘Does he still live here?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes. We have an annexe. I’ll take you through. Sorry, my son has been in trouble with the police a couple of times. My father is seventy and he goes nowhere,’ the woman explained with a nervous laugh as she took Ruth and Lucy through a hallway and showed them into the annexe.

  ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry. Easy mistake to make. How long have you been in the UK, Mrs ....?’ Ruth asked giving her a kind smile.

  ‘Tatiana ... I came here to study and met my husband at University. That was about twenty years ago. We got married and stayed. My father was very happy in Bosnia until the war and ...’ she said and began to look a little choked. ‘Sorry ...’

  ‘It’s fine. We realise it’s a very emotive subject,’ Lucy said.

  Tatiana gestured for them to go into a living room. ‘Dad? Dad? There are some people here to speak to you.’

  A few moments later, a small man with a grey moustache and cardigan shuffled in and looked at them. ‘Visitors? I don’t know anyone.’

  Tatiana looked at Ruth and Lucy and said under her breath, ‘He gets a bit confused ... Dad, these two ladies are police officers. They just want to ask you a couple of questions. Is that okay?’

  Safet nodded, gestured to the sofa and smiled. ‘Of course, of course. I’m not in trouble, am I?’

  He looked at them with a twinkle in his eye and then lowered himself carefully into a large armchair opposite the sofa. Tatiana gave them a little wave as she left them to it.

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that, Mr Dudic,’ Ruth laughed, as she and Lucy sat down on the sofa.

  ‘We’re looking into the death of a man called Hamzar Mujic,’ said Lucy.

  Safet frowned in disbelief. ‘Hamzar is dead?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Did you know him?’ Ruth asked gently.

  Safet was clearly upset by the news and nodded. ‘Yes, yes. Of course. Of course, I did. We grew up together in the same village, the same school. I’m sorry to hear that ... Was he ill?’

  ‘No ... We believe that Hamzar may have been murdered,’ Lucy said gently.

  Safet’s face drained of colour. ‘Murdered? No, that cannot be right. He was an old man. Who would want to murder him?’ he asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘That’s why we wanted to speak to you,’ Ruth explained.

  ‘Me? How would I know?’

  Ruth watched as his eyes roamed the room and his brain worked overtime trying to comprehend the news.

  ‘You said you and Hamzar were friends,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Yes. But I had not seen him for nearly two years. My health has been poor. We spoke on the telephone maybe six months ago, but not since then.’

  Is he trying to distance himself from Hamzar for some reason?

  Something about Safet’s manner didn’t sit right with Ruth. He had rapidly gone from being upset to highly anxious.

  ‘You really don’t have any idea about who might have wanted to harm him?’ Ruth asked.

  Safet’s face was pale, and the muscles around his eyes began to twitch. ‘No. The man didn’t have an enemy in the world.’

  Ruth looked over at Lucy. Something was wrong. They allowed Safet to compose himself a little.

  ‘We’re here today because we found your name in Hamzar’s diary, along with his own name and two others,’ Ruth explained.

  ‘You don’t think I had something to do with his death?’ Safet mumbled anxiously.

  ‘No, nothing like that. There was another man on the list. Mersad Advic?’ Lucy said.

  Safet nodded his head. ‘Yes, Mersad. Like Hamzar, we all grew up together. But I haven’t seen him since I arrived in England.’

  Is what he’s telling us the truth? He seems to be hiding something.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this Mr Dudic ...’ Ruth said, ‘... but I’m afraid Mersad is also dead. We’re treating his death as suspicious.’

  Safet inhaled deeply. He looked visibly shaken. ‘Oh, this is terrible.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Ruth looked over at Lucy – they were both thinking the same thing. Safet was utterly terrified, rather than sad or shocked. They were very different emotions and hard to hide.

  ‘Is everything okay, Mr Dudic?’ Ruth asked.

  He shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in the
chair. ‘No, no. You have told me that two very old friends of mine have been killed. It is so horrible.’

  Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just shock? But he was definitely hiding something from them.

  ‘The last name on the list was a woman, Katerina Selimovic?’ Lucy said. ‘Do you know her?’

  Safet nodded and asked in a virtual whisper, ‘Please ... tell me she is okay?’

  ‘As far as we know. Is she someone you know?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes. I have known Katerina just as long as the others.’

  ‘And have you seen her recently?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Yes. Maybe a month ago,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Do you have an address for her?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes. She lives in London. Mortlake.’

  There was another name on the same page of that diary. Do you recognise the name Simo Petrovic?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Yes. Of course,’ Safet said with almost no reaction.

  He didn’t even flinch. He knew we were going to ask him about Petrovic.

  ‘Why do you know that name?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘I think that you know what kind of man he was. But I have no desire to talk about that,’ he said dismissively.

  ‘Would it surprise you if we told you that Hamzar was convinced he saw Simo Petrovic in London three weeks ago?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘What? That’s ridiculous!’ Safet snorted.

  ‘Why is that ridiculous?’ Lucy asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Simo Petrovic killed himself like the coward he was. He is buried in Bosnia. How can he be walking around London?’

  I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or if he knew that Hamzar believed he had seen Petrovic.

  ‘Hamzar made no mention of this to you?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘No. Of course not. I would have told him that he was mad.’

  Ruth leaned forward and looked at Safet. ‘Mr Dudic, before we go, I really want you to think if there is anything you want to tell us.’

  ‘No. I have told you everything.’

  ‘Anything you tell us is in the strictest confidence. And if you felt you were in any danger ...’ Lucy said.

  ‘Danger? This is ridiculous,’ Safet said without making eye contact. He pushed himself up out of his armchair. ‘Now, I am feeling very tired ... My daughter will give you Katerina’s address.’