"Do you know where her family are?" the sister asked. "Only, we haven't been able to notify anyone that she's here. Not that she's asked us to."
Tamara shook her head. "As far as we know she doesn't have any family in the UK." That was true, although they really didn't know much about Sasha at all. "How long will you keep her in here for?"
"I'm not sure. The doctors are doing their ward rounds at the moment, but I know they were concerned about the bang to the head she took. The results of the CT scan were positive, so I should imagine she will be discharged this evening but, as I say, you'll have to wait for confirmation of that."
They reached a closed door where a uniformed constable was waiting outside. He acknowledged both Tamara and Cassie. The sister stopped at the door, turning back to them and barring their way momentarily. She must have something on her mind.
"Is something wrong?"
The ward sister hesitated. "I–I don't know if it is my place to say."
"Go on."
She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door as if she could see through it to the bed beyond.
"She was in a bit of a state. I think she may have been living rough, if that information is of any use to you. I'm hoping she is still here when the evening meal comes around."
"Thank you, we'll bear it in mind. Is she allowed to eat anything now?"
"Yes, there's no reason why not."
Tamara looked at Cassie and she nodded. "I'll head down to the cafeteria and see what I can find."
Tamara knocked on the door and entered. Sasha was sitting up in bed, several pillows behind her. Her right arm was in a cast from her hand to just below her elbow. The left side of her face was scratched around the cheek and eye, and steriliser strips sealed a gash on her forehead, level with her temple. The skin around the eyelid was swollen and darkening. Tamara had the briefest glimpse in her mind's eye that Sasha may have already had the black eye before they attempted to speak to her. The discolouration did look several days in the making.
"How are you, Sasha?"
She eyed Tamara warily as she walked to her bedside, her lips eventually forming the briefest of smiles but it faded rapidly.
"Do you speak English?"
She nodded slowly.
"I'm from the police," Tamara said, showing her warrant card. Sasha paid it no attention, turning her face away. "The nurse tells me you are going to be all right. Luckily the car wasn't going fast, hey?"
Sasha sniffed but didn't respond.
"It is important for you to understand that you're not in any trouble with us." She still didn't look up, absently toying with her fingers in her lap. "Sasha," Tamara said, pulling up a chair and sitting alongside the bed trying not to be a threatening presence. Some people were intimidated by the police. "I need to ask you about Aleksandrs Balodis." At the mention of the name, she looked up at her, holding Tamara's eye. "You know Aleksandrs, right?"
She nodded, her lips pursed.
"Do you know where he is?"
She shook her head.
"I need you to tell me when you last saw him. Can you remember when that was?"
Sasha looked away, closing her eyes and putting her head back on the supporting pillows.
"My… head hurts," she all but whispered.
"You took quite a blow to it when you bounced off the car, I understand. It is to be expected."
Sasha looked at her again, her eyes were haunted, sunken. Tamara looked her up and down, seeing the dirt and grime ingrained in her skin, especially noticeable under her fingernails. They were painted red, although the colour was flaking and the ends of the nails were pitted and chipped. Tamara chose a different approach.
"What brought you here to England, Sasha?"
"I came here to work," she said, her mouth clearly so dry she was struggling to speak. Tamara poured her a cup of water from a jug set beside the table and passed it to her. Her lips were cracked. She sipped at the liquid, smiling her thanks as Tamara took the cup and placed it on the cabinet beside the bed.
"What work do you do?"
"I clean," she said, dipping her head as she spoke.
"Who for?"
She shrugged.
"I mean, do you clean for a hotel, a shop or someone's home?"
"Business. Shops…"
Tamara smiled. The door opened and Cassie entered. She smiled at them in turn and passed Tamara a packaged roll. It was a brown roll with a tuna mayonnaise filling.
"Are you hungry?" Tamara asked, holding it aloft. She knew the answer because Sasha's eyes all but lit up at the sight of it. Tamara opened the packaging and passed it to her. Sasha tentatively accepted but once it was in her hands she set about it with gusto. Tamara exchanged a look with Cassie, who hovered on the other side of the bed trying hard not to crowd the woman.
They let her finish eating, handing her another cup of water, before starting further conversation. She looked more relaxed now.
"Sasha, we need to know about your relationship with Aleksandrs. Do you feel like you can tell us now?"
Sasha took a deep breath and nodded. "Where is he?"
Tamara caught Cassie looking at her but kept her eyes on Sasha.
"When did you last see him?"
She was thoughtful, concentrating hard. Perhaps she was trying to find the right words because, so far, English words didn't appear to come quickly or easily. It was possible she was translating in her head before speaking. "The last week. Monday… maybe Tuesday. I cannot remember exact."
"Okay. And what is he to you?"
Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at Cassie and then shook her head. "I don't understand."
"You and Aleksandrs… you are lovers?"
She shook her head slowly, her expression pensive. "We… are friends. Where is he? Where is Aleksandrs?"
"I'm afraid I have…" Tamara wasn't sure if she would understand. "I am sorry. Aleksandrs is dead."
Her mouth fell open and she stared at Tamara, then glanced at Cassie, her eyes seeking confirmation. Cassie nodded.
"Yes, it is true. His body was found on Sunday."
"His body was found on the beach," Tamara said. "I am sorry."
It was hard to tell, what with the emotion and trauma of the day, but Sasha's eyes glistened as if she was about to cry. She blinked away the tears.
"Is that why you were at the hotel? You were looking for Aleksandrs?"
She nodded, suddenly looking fearful. "Am I… in trouble?"
"Why would you be in trouble?"
She looked furtively around the room. "Because I work… here in the UK."
Tamara thought about it. Depending on when she arrived in the UK, she may need to apply for a work visa, but those waters were muddied with EU nationals at this time and Tamara couldn't be certain of her status. A situation which was probably quite common at the moment.
"You don't need to worry about that right now," Tamara said, ensuring they had eye contact when she said it. Sasha didn't appear convinced but there was little Tamara could do to assuage those particular fears. Perhaps she had been working illegally or not declaring her earnings rather than being here illegally. It wasn't really her concern. Unless the friendship she had with Balodis was one of coercion and control. This was a growing problem in recent years with migrants seeking a new life in a foreign country and unscrupulous criminals promising one thing and delivering something altogether very different. "Is that what Aleksandrs did for you? Help you to find work?"
She held Tamara's eye, nodding slowly. She was scared and therefore very unlikely to offer any more information than the bare minimum. She needed to trust them in order to open up. The fact she was talking to two female detectives didn't appear to be helping.
"You will probably be discharged from here this evening, Sasha." Her eyes widened and Tamara reached out, placing her palm on the back of her left hand now lying beside her on the bed. "Do you have anywhere to stay?"
She shook her head.
"Where have you been s
taying these past few nights?"
Sasha sniffed hard. Then she shrugged. Tamara looked over at Cassie.
"Maybe we could give Mary a call?"
Cassie smiled. "Yes, I can do that."
Mary Bloom ran a local charity with a presence all along the north-west coast of Norfolk helping homeless people or those seeking refuge from domestic violence. Tamara smiled, Sasha returned it.
"We'll make sure you have somewhere safe to stay—"
"My… things… my belongings?" Sasha said.
Tamara looked around, pointing to the far side of the room where her clothes, as well as a small backpack she had with her in Hunstanton, were in a plastic bag on the floor beneath a plastic visitor's chair.
"They are over there, don't worry." Sasha strained to see but the bed was at such an angle she couldn't. Cassie crossed the room and picked them up, bringing them to the bed. She held them out and Sasha slowly reached out and once her fingers curled around the back, she snatched it and brought it close to her chest, holding on as if they were the most precious things to her in the world. Cassie held up her hands in surrender, apologetically. Sasha held Cassie's gaze for a moment before her expression softened but she still held the bag tightly to her chest.
"You don't have to worry, Sasha. Mary is a lovely lady. She will take good care of you."
Sasha nodded but said nothing, holding her bag closer still.
"You are safe here," Tamara said. "I promise."
The two detectives stepped out of the room. The constable smiled as they passed and neither Tamara or Cassie spoke until they were a few metres away from the room and wouldn't be overheard.
"What do you make of her?" Cassie asked.
Tamara cocked her head. "Frightened."
"Yes, I thought so too. What of? Us?"
"Or who might be the better question? It could be us… or someone else."
"If it's Balodis, she has nothing to fear—"
"Unless he doesn't work alone," Tamara said.
Cassie stopped and turned to face her. They were alone at the entrance to the ward.
"Do you buy it that she is working as a cleaner?"
Tamara didn't believe that, not at all. "No. Maybe Colin Peters had a point."
"Sex work?"
"It might explain her reluctance to talk. And the bruising, if she's being forced."
"Yeah, I saw that too." Cassie sighed. "She wouldn't be the first young woman to be lured to the UK on the pretence of becoming a cleaner or an au pair."
"If that's the case though, why would she come back to her abuser?"
Cassie shrugged. "He had her passport for starters. And if she's been properly groomed… or if she thinks she had nowhere else to go or anyone else to turn to, then she might come back to the man she's most familiar with. Maybe Balodis is low in the hierarchy and she thought she could get around him somehow?"
"Perhaps. The passport is the first thing they take off these girls so they can't leave."
"Hey, wild thought," Cassie said, "what if Balodis was looking to get her out of it?"
Tamara smiled. "Star-crossed lovers meet in extreme circumstances… that sort of thing?"
Cassie snorted. "Well, if you put it like that it does sound a bit Hollywood. It would explain a lot though, to be fair. It's more likely she met him to try and get her passport back and was willing to kill him to do so. Accident or by design, I couldn't say. Ah, ignore me, I'm just thinking out loud."
Tamara had to accept both theories were plausible scenarios. "If we can get her settled into Mary's, maybe she'll open up a bit more tomorrow."
"Are you sure you want to go the touchy-feely way? We could sit her down in an interview room and apply a little pressure. It might garner faster results."
Tamara shook her head. She disagreed. "That girl in there, and let's face it that's pretty much what she is, a girl, is traumatised. By what, I don't know but she's scared of us, of whatever she's into and who knows what else? We've no reason at this point to believe she's done anything wrong, so what do we threaten her with? Take it slowly, earn her trust and she'll more than likely open up. Okay?"
"You're the boss, Boss," Cassie said with a wink. "It was just a thought. Of course, if she killed him then she's more than likely to do a runner at the first opportunity. You know that, right?"
"If she does, she won't get far. We'll keep a uniform beside her here until she's discharged and then keep a car outside the refuge. Changing the subject, what's going on with you and Eric?" Tamara asked as she tapped the exit button to unlock the doors to the ward and allow them out.
"What do you mean?"
"I've got eyes. Don't think I haven't noticed the two of you have been as thick as thieves recently."
Cassie waved the question away. "Don't go there, I beg of you. Besides, it's more interesting to ask what's going on between our fledgling detective constable and Eric.”
"Kerry? Whatever do you mean?"
Cassie raised her eyebrows. They reached the lift and she pressed the call button alongside the doors, turning to face Tamara.
"Better get those eyes checked, Boss."
Chapter Twenty-One
Tom turned the key in the lock, easing the door open in the hope of not drawing the dog's attention. Saffy would be asleep by now, at least she should be, and the excited barking of her Jack Russell always woke her. Unless it was three o'clock in the morning and the dog wanted to be let out, then it was always him who woke. As it happened, he needn't have worried, poking his head into the living room from the hall he saw Russell lying in front of the wood burner, a gentle flame licking the ends of a freshly placed log within it, on his back, feet in the air, tongue hanging out of his mouth to one side. Alice looked up from where she sat on the sofa snuggled underneath a tartan throw, feet up, watching the television with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hand. She barely acknowledged his arrival.
"Evening," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Ssshhh…" she said, waving a hand in the air and pointing at the television screen. Then she beckoned him to join her. "Come on, you'll miss the good bit."
"I'll just look in on Saffy first."
The dog moved ever so slightly, keeping a watchful eye on him to see if he would head towards the kitchen. If so, he was likely to spring into action. He didn't. Tom took off his coat and hung it up. Climbing the stairs, he took off his tie, throwing it into their bedroom as he passed, heading for Saffy's room and avoiding the creaky floorboards en route. Carefully opening the door to her room, the interior bathed in the soft blue of her night light.
Saffy lay horizontally in her bed, her head all but hanging off the edge of the bed. How she slept in that position he didn't know. He crept over to her, cupping the back of her head with one hand he took the weight and slipping his other hand under her body he gently rotated her into a better position. She stirred, mumbled and then her eyes opened, focussing on him. He stroked her cheek and whispered that he loved her and her eyes closed. She'd never fully woken. Santa Paws, her favourite teddy bear this week, lay on the floor beside her bed and he tucked the cuddly toy under her left arm. Drawing the duvet up over her, he kissed her forehead and backed out of the room.
His mobile rang while he crossed the landing and he hurried down the stairs as he answered the call. It was Kerry Palmer.
"Hi, sir—"
"Tom," he said, correcting her.
"Right, yes, of course. Tom."
"What's up, Kerry, I thought you were done for the day?"
Kerry Palmer left ops at six o'clock. He didn't mind. They were still waiting on technical services coming back with their review of Moy's laptop.
Frustration was growing at their lack of leads. Billy's world bordered significant criminality but he wasn't a player. Everything they knew about him pointed to an awkward, slightly odd man who existed on the periphery of society. His links to criminality seemed to follow the same path. The bank accounts, both personal and business, showed various inexplic
able cash injections, but none of them were for the amounts one might expect to be the result of selling a large cannabis crop. A back-of-the-fag-packet calculation of how much could be garnered from the set up on Billy's property ranged from anywhere between one hundred and two hundred thousand pounds worth. The amounts Billy was depositing were low four-figure sums.
Tom spent the previous couple of hours before he, too, went home reviewing the pathology and forensic reports on Billy Moy and his residence once again. The killer appeared to have left no trace evidence on Billy himself or the murder weapon. There were numerous sets of fingerprints found within the house but very few were considered fresh. Those relating to Danny Tice and his girlfriend were found exactly where Danny said they would be, nowhere near to the body. Tice could have wiped them clean but, if he had, why wouldn't he do the rest of the areas he touched as well. His prints in particular were found in multiple locations, so it wasn't a case of his missing one or two. Besides, Tice was many things but Tom had a feeling that he wasn't the killer. He had no motive. Billy Moy could consistently provide for him, and to an addict that provision was almost priceless.
"Yes, I'm sorry to call so late," Kerry said. Tom checked his watch, it had just gone half eight.
"That's okay, what's on your mind?"
"I've had a nudge from the guy in tech services who's been helping us with Billy's laptop. I wanted him to call me as soon as he had something."
"And?" Tom asked, poking his head around the door at the bottom of the stairs and gesturing to the mobile. Alice smiled and carried on with the film she was engrossed in.
"Good and bad. He says they've been able to recover some of the files from the hard drive. A selection of images, but the history is unrecoverable which is a bummer. He's sending them across on an encrypted zip file for me—"
"Kerry, that can wait until the morning. We've been at it non-stop since Saturday, you even longer. Take a break. You'll be no good to anyone if you're half asleep tomorrow."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Spend some time with your other half."
"Yes, I will," Kerry said, sounding distracted. "Come to mention it," she took the mouthpiece away from her, her speech muffled, "Yes, I'll be right there. Just hang on a second, darling." She returned to Tom. "Sorry about that, he's looking for something in the kitchen."
To Die For: A chilling British detective crime thriller (The Hidden Norfolk Murder Mystery Series Book 9) Page 18
