‘Bugger!’ Malik looked over at him. ‘I’ve just got to make a quick call,’ Jack explained. He disappeared to a quiet corner and dialled Jane Brooks.
She answered as though expecting his call. ‘Is this to tell me you’re going to cancel?’ she asked.
‘I’m on my knees pleading for understanding,’ he replied.
To his relief she laughed. ‘It’s okay, Jack, but to keep Ghost Squad happy we need to get together soon.’
‘I know, I know. I’m not cancelling, Dr Brooks, I’m right in the middle of something here, something that could break open this case for us.’
‘Good for you,’ she said, and he could hear that she meant it. ‘So will I see you later?’
‘Does that stuff your evening up completely?’
‘Not at all. Why don’t you ring me when you’re finished there and we’ll see if there’s still time to talk. I think it’s important we do, for your job’s sake.’
‘I do too. Thanks for being so flexible.’
‘Bendy Brooks, that’s what they call me,’ she quipped.
Jack smiled. ‘I’ll call as soon as I can.’
‘Good luck, Jack. Hope it turns into something for you.’
As he rang off he saw Malik rising to shake hands with a tall, tired-looking man. Jack moved across to them.
‘Inspector Wallace?’
The man nodded. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you. Today’s been like a loony bin in here. I guess you know a sub-station went down and cut out most of the city?’ ‘We did,’ Jack admitted. ‘I’m Hawksworth, thanks for helping us.’
‘Oh, no trouble, really. I’m pretty keen for you to catch this bastard who’s killing people in my borough.’
A tight grin of agreement ghosted briefly across Jack’s face.
Wallace gestured down the corridor. ‘Come into one of the rooms and we’ll talk through what has to be done and how we can help Panther.’ ‘We need to track down someone inside the Hasidic community,’ Jack explained as the three men settled themselves in an interview room.
Wallace grimaced. ‘There’s little intelligence on that group of people simply because they don’t fit the criteria for serious crime. Any murders around Golf Delta are mainly domestic related, as you’d know, but I have to tell you I’ve never had to deal with a single member of the Jewish community. They all keep pretty much to themselves; there are no troublemakers in that lot! In fact apart from Purim — their major festival — theirs is one of the quietest neighbourhoods you could imagine. Polite, law-abiding people, who create no disturbances. You’re sure the person you want to interview is Hasidic?’ Jack nodded. Wallace frowned. ‘In that case the person you should speak to is Bob Harrison. He’s the duty sergeant in charge of the Stamford Hill Safer Neighbourhood Team. He’s around, I think. He’s very knowledgeable about the Jewish community and their lifestyle. I’ll get him.’
Wallace disappeared for several moments, reappearing with a ruddy-faced, slightly overweight man in uniform he introduced as Bob Harrison.
‘I gather you’re looking for someone in Volvo City,’ Harrison said.
It sounded like a joke, but Jack didn’t get it. He looked back at Bob, confused.
The duty sergeant explained. ‘The locals and some of our boys refer to the Jewish area as Volvo City because almost every car there is a Volvo estate. They buy in bulk, can you believe?’ Jack stared back, even more bemused. Bob barely paused. ‘Yeah, sometimes twenty or thirty vehicles at once. You can imagine how happy the local dealer is. I think the BBC even ran a documentary about it and called it Volvo City.’
Jack glanced at Malik, who was keeping a poker face, and cleared his throat. He wondered if Bob drove a similar model. ‘Thanks for that, Bob. Um, we’re looking for a particular member of the Stamford Hill community. He’s distinctive because he has ginger hair.’
‘Ginger, eh? That’s rare but I’ve seen a few in my time.’
‘I’ve got a local witness who believes he saw this man talking to one of the narrowboat owners down near the Lea Rowing Club and helping a woman onto that boat. The witness noticed him mainly because it seemed unusual for an Hasidic man to be associating with a boatie, and even to be down on the riverbank.’
Bob had been listening carefully. ‘And all you’ve got to go on from this witness is that he has red hair?’
Jack grinned sheepishly. ‘No, I know his name, I even know where he lives. Does the name Schlimey Katz mean anything to you?’
Harrison shook his head. ‘No.’
Jack felt disappointment wash over him. ‘He’s big — you know, wide-shouldered, with scary eyebrows apparently.’ The childish description was incongruous coming from Jack.
But Bob looked suddenly interested. ‘Scary eyebrows? Okay, hang on, I may know who you’re talking about now. I’ve never known his name but he lives in Oldhill Street, right? Off the common and a few minutes’ walk from Lingwood Road.’
Jack’s demeanour changed instantly. ‘That’s it. That’s where I’ve just come from. He’s not home.’
Bob continued. ‘If I’m not mistaken I reckon he works for a charity known as the Lubavitch Foundation at Stamford Hill. It’s just up from the salt beef bar.’
‘Who runs it?’ Jack asked.
‘The local rabbi,’ Wallace chimed in, ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Bob?’
The duty sergeant nodded. ‘That’s my understanding. The charity provides crèche facilities, helps with vocational training, financial advice, that sort of thing. It’s all just for the Hasidic community.’
Jack looked between them. ‘And what does Katz do for this charity?’
Bob scratched his head. ‘I’m not sure, but there’s pressure from the rabbis in all the Hasidic schools for the younger men to do some work for charities that affect their community. You know how our kids go on gap years and head off to Africa or Camp America or whatever?’ Jack nodded. ‘Well the Jewish kids stay home and look after their own. I imagine this Katz fellow is doing his bit … still continuing with some voluntary work for the charity. Anyway, I’ll take you and DC Khan down there if you like. He’s a bit of an odd character in a community of slightly odd people, but if you know them as I do they’re just …’ he searched for the right words ‘… let’s say slightly removed from the rest of us. But they’re very polite, decent folk.’
‘Let’s go,’ Jack said.
Moshe Gluck stared at Schlimey. He had attended Shul and they were now sitting hunched into their coats and fur hats on a bench in Stamford Park. Their breath came out in billows of steam.
‘They’re onto you, then,’ Gluck said.
Katz nodded glumly. ‘Namzul rang and said to get out and right enough I knew the police had come around to my place. Next door confirmed it. I just don’t know how.’
‘I do,’ Gluck said. ‘It was Rubin Goldman’s boy who saw you.’
‘What?’
‘Down at the riverbank, apparently, when you were loading the Chinese woman onto the boat.’
‘It was dark by then, no one around. There were no rowers. The clubhouse was all locked up. So was the café. There were no dog walkers or joggers. I tell you, Moshe, I saw no one or I wouldn’t have moved her then.’
‘You may not have seen anyone, Schlimey, but the area was not deserted,’ Gluck continued. ‘The Goldman boy was inside the clubhouse. He shouldn’t have been there in the dark, of course, but it seems he was and has described you to the police.’ Gluck shrugged. ‘Rubin was always a stickler for the rules. He’s a good citizen, Schlimey, we can’t blame him. At least he has taken the precaution to warn me of the police interest. He knows you do some things for me and has put two and two together.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘A misunderstanding. Goldman knows I’m a businessman. But that’s irrelevant now. We have bigger problems than Goldman to worry about.’
‘What do I do now?’
‘Leave London for a while. Go to New York. Leave immediately.’ He reached into
his pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper. ‘Here,’ he said, giving it to Katz. ‘Details of your flight. It doesn’t leave until nearly midnight. You have plenty of time.’
‘For what?’
‘One more job — and then I think we can all wash our hands of this dirty business.’
Schlimey nodded. ‘Namzul?’
‘No,’ Gluck smirked. ‘He’s nothing. I’ll tell him to disappear as well. He is small fry but he could bring us down. I agree we want him gone and silent. I can count on him for that. But I suspect he’s more trouble to us dead.’
‘Who, then?’
‘Here.’ This time Gluck held out an envelope. ‘That’s the name and the address. Has to happen this evening. There’s a car waiting for you. The address where I’ve had it left is on there as well. Keys are inside with plenty of money to see you through for a while. Make the delivery, get on that plane and disappear. You grabbed your passport, of course?’
‘Of course.’
‘Use it only to get to Tel Aviv. Once there, you know what to do to get new papers issued. It might be a while before I see you again. You’ve been reliable, Schlimey. Telephone me once you’ve reached safety … and Schlimey, lay low. Dye your hair.’
The ginger-haired man nodded, took the envelope.
‘Now, go. Waste no time. The delivery must happen and once done all traces to us should be gone.’
The men stood, embraced and then parted, walking in separate directions.
Sarah stared at Claudia. ‘Moshe Gluck? What does he do?’
Claudia shrugged, clearly unhappy to have revealed a client’s name. ‘I don’t know. I think he has an office above Milo’s. All of us girls use the café and that’s often where I meet him.’
‘Milo’s?’ Sarah sounded startled. ‘That’s the café that the receipt found in the van belongs to, I reckon.’
Andy looked understandably puzzled and Claudia appeared nonplussed.
Claudia’s expression turned dark. ‘Moshe is no killer.’
‘I’m not suggesting he is, although he could be involved. Have you ever seen a red-headed Jewish man with him?’
Claudia nodded. ‘Once or twice. He’s noticeable only because of his hair. He has bushy eyebrows and a manner I don’t care for.’
‘Have you ever —?’
‘No!’
Sarah straightened. ‘I was going to ask if you’d ever spoken to him.’
‘I’ve had no reason to.’
‘So he hasn’t been with any of the girls from around Amhurst Park?’
‘I can’t say … not to my knowledge, no.’
‘And Moshe Gluck?’
‘Once a week maybe. He likes me. Prefers only me.’
‘Are you always available for him?’
She nodded. ‘I try to be. We usually share a meal at Milo’s, some conversation.’ She shrugged. ‘He is no trouble. He is gentle and generous. Pays me twice whatever I ask. He’s also a family man. It wouldn’t be good for you to —’
‘Claudia, lives are at stake here. Perhaps even Aniela’s. I’m not interested in the fact that Mr Gluck makes use of your services — that’s his and your business. But he is a link to these deaths. More importantly, he might be able to help us find this ginger-haired man.’
Sarah’s phone rang. Glancing at the screen she noted it was the DCI. ‘Have to take this, excuse me.Sir, it’s Sarah,’ she answered.
‘It’s Jack. Katz is not at home, nowhere we can easily find him either. Have you had any luck?’
‘Possibly, sir.’ She explained about Aniela. ‘It could be coincidence.’
‘It may not.’
‘That’s how I’m viewing it, sir. I want to follow through. I have another name too. A Mr Moshe Gluck. He’s quite close to one of the prostitutes up at Amhurst and he seems to have an office above Milo’s. I believe that’s the kosher café on the main parade there that forensics turned up the receipt from. All the girls use it, as do a lot of local Jewish people. Mr Gluck likes to hold meetings in the café. We have a witness who has seen them together.’
Jack sounded eager. ‘Yes, I’ve heard Katz does some work for Gluck. Who gave you this info?’
‘A Claudia Maric, sir, she’s one of the regulars who works the area.’ Sarah looked over at Claudia. ‘She’s been very helpful and I think the café could be a key link.’
‘It doesn’t seem to get us closer to the killer though, does it? My gut tells me that Schlimey Katz is one of the mules who gets paid to do his bidding. What about Gluck?’
‘According to Ms Maric he’s a businessman and family man. I know it’s not conclusive, sir, but her instincts suggest that he’s a long way from being a killer.’
‘A middle man perhaps. This is all just getting more and more complex. It feels as though we’re chasing a group, not a single perpetrator.’ Sarah had already begun thinking along these lines, but she remained silent. ‘Right, keep me informed. Good work, Sarah. Tell your friend from Vice I owe him a beer. I presume you’re wrapping up soon?’
‘I am, yes, sir.’
‘Good, then I’ll see you tomorrow. I have an appointment with the therapist tonight but I’ll be in first thing. Call me if you need to. Thanks again, Sarah.’
Sarah returned her attention to Claudia. ‘One final thing. Have you ever seen Moshe Gluck or the red-haired man called Schlimey Katz speaking with someone they referred to as a doctor or as having a connection with a hospital?’
Claudia’s eyes widened as though in recognition, but she immediately shook her head. ‘Moshe never included me in any conversations. I was never introduced to any of his colleagues or associates. We never discussed his home life or his business. I don’t even know what he does for a living, although I can tell you he always has plenty of cash on him.’
Sarah had seen Claudia’s initial flare of interest. The woman knew more than she was telling, but she wasn’t going to reveal it tonight. Sarah imagined the prostitute would go home and think things over. Tomorrow, Sarah promised herself. By tomorrow, Claudia would talk. ‘Okay, Claudia, you’ve been extremely helpful.’
‘What happens now?’ she asked.
Sarah looked at Andy to take over.
‘I’ll see what I can do for you, Claudia.’
‘I meant about Aniela?’ the prostitute said, glaring.
Andy nodded. ‘Of course. I need a full description from you and I’ll put that out tonight and see if anyone across the police force has heard or seen anything.’
‘Do they care? She’s here illegally — one more hooker, one more gutter.’
Andy fixed her with a stare. ‘We’re all human, Claudia. And many of us have children — daughters — myself included. None of us are going to let a young girl fall into the wrong hands if we can prevent it, no matter what her status, colour, nationality — all right?’
She had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just not used to anyone bothering about us.’
Andy was already dictating closing details for the interview into the recording equipment, but Sarah watched as Claudia reached for a pen and notebook and began scribbling. As Andy turned off the recording, Claudia pushed the book towards him. ‘That’s the address she was going to. You have to promise me that in return for my help that you’ll look into that address.’
‘I’ll do that for you, Claudia, I promise,’ Sarah said, digging out a card from her pocket. ‘Here, this is where you can reach me. If you think of anything else at all, call me. What number can I reach you on?’
Claudia scowled slightly but gave Sarah the number. ‘It’s a mobile,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘And for obvious reasons I can’t always answer it.’
Sarah nodded, vaguely embarrassed by the woman’s comment. ‘I’ll be in touch. Andy, I’ll head off now. Thanks for everything. Claudia, thank you as well. I’m sure … well, I hope Aniela is safe and I’ll do my best for you regarding that. I also hope things work out for you.’ She didn’t really know what else to say. ‘I’ll make sure
my report reflects how helpful you’ve been to our operation.’
Claudia looked at her sadly. ‘Doesn’t change anything much. But I have a little girl and nothing but her safety matters to me.’ She suddenly rocked forward, hugging herself and frowning. ‘If I’m deported what will happen to my child?’
This news shocked Sarah. ‘Who looks after her?’
‘I do, of course. She’s at a friend’s right now.’
Before Sarah could react, Andy put his hand up. ‘I’m onto it. I’ll get Claudia home myself if I have to. And don’t worry, I won’t be sending you anywhere at the moment, Claudia. We’ll work something out, although I can’t say the same for your colleagues. You carry on, Sarah. We’ll finish things up here.’
Sarah was pleased to escape Claudia’s grim existence. She suddenly felt that her fairly lonely life that took much of its joy from her work in the police force seemed altogether sparkly by comparison. She couldn’t wait to get home to her cat at Strawberry Fields and close the door on the outside world.
23.
Kate had made good time back into London and had even managed to battle through the local supermarket at record speed. She was planning lamb chops that she’d dunk into a spicy marinade she would quickly crush up with the mortar and pestle, and then just as Geoff arrived she’d throw them under the grill. With them she’d serve a sweet-potato mash given some zing with spring onions fried lightly in butter and chilli. A peppery rocket salad with pine nuts, beetroot and feta would round off the meal. It sounded colourful and scrumptious to her and would come together really fast once the sweet potato had its chance to cook and that would take about fifteen minutes. Who could ask for more on a working night? She’d grabbed a breezy New Zealand sauvignon blanc to go with dinner and, rather than stressing over dessert, she’d remembered a bottle of sticky wine she had in the fridge that she would serve with some dark chocolate, figs and whatever else she could lay her hands on that could come conveniently out of a box or packet. She couldn’t drink much tonight because tomorrow would be an early morning and a big day. Nevertheless she smiled as she kicked open the door, lugging in her shopping — suddenly she was really looking forward to seeing Geoff and having some male company.
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