by David Evans
“When did she say that?”
“This morning when you were in the bathroom.”
“Would make sense, I suppose. Susan’s probably been lucky to hold on to that flat since her dad went into care.”
“I don’t think she told Housing. But yes, especially when she finally gets to start her course. And I think Sammy’s the sort of girl who needs company. I don’t think she handles being on her own too well.”
“It was great you could get her that job interview, Susan,” Strong said.
“She still had to impress, though. Is there any news on her friend, Maria?”
“Not a thing. I wouldn’t say it to Sammy but, it’s not looking too good. In cases like these, if they’d just gone off of their own free will, we’d usually have found them by now.”
“And no sign of that white van?” Souter asked.
“As you saw yourself, Bob, no chance of getting an enhanced image from the CCTV footage that would be good enough to read a number plate.”
“She hasn’t mentioned Maria for a few days though,” Souter said.
“Nor to me,” Alison added.
“Sounds like she’s had an awful lot to put up with in her short life,” Laura said.
“I also think Susan has in her own way.” Souter offered.
By the time Laura brought in her home-made apple crumble and custard, Souter was asking Strong about another subject.
“How are things progressing with your Albanian murder case?”
“We’re getting into all sorts of dark corners.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“But you know I can’t talk about it.”
“And that other murder, Baker. Are you still looking for his brother and his mate?”
“Not a sign of them. They’ve got to be lying low somewhere. We thought Chapman had a cousin he was close to growing up but, so far, we’ve not been able to trace him. Still, they’ll no doubt reappear at some point.”
“I thought Sammy …” Alison began, looking to Souter.
“So how’s your dad these days, Colin,” Souter interrupted. “I haven’t seen him in ages. Still going to Belle Vue regularly?”
“He seems fine,” Strong said. “Although I don’t think he’s as keen on seeing Rovers these days, not since they dropped into the Conference. That and I think standing on a draughty terrace isn’t his idea of entertainment at his age.”
“You know I can’t believe Doncaster are still playing at that run-down ground. But what about Amanda?” Souter followed up.
“We’re trying to get her to select which university open days she wants to go to,” Laura answered. “Before you know it, the deadline for applications will be here.”
“She’s a bright girl, she’ll do well.”
Before the conversation could move on, the phone rang.
Strong jumped up. “That’ll probably be Graham. He usually calls on a Sunday.”
When he returned a few minutes later, Souter thought he had something on his mind.
“I assume that wasn’t our Graham, then?” Laura said. “They’d normally be chatting away for half-an-hour.”
“No, it was a colleague. I might have to go out later tonight.”
“Fresh developments, Col,” Souter asked.
“Hopefully.” Strong got to his feet. “Now, who wants a coffee?”
The telephone call Strong had taken had been from Vince Denholme. Stanislav Mirczack had checked in on the flight from Riga, due into Leeds/Bradford at eight thirty-five that night. Immigration officers would be detaining him on arrival and Denholme, Stainmore and Ormerod would accompany the suspect back to Wood Street for questioning. The promise of a period costume drama on the television for Stainmore and a darts match in the local for Ormerod would have to be forgone.
At eleven o’clock that evening, Strong got his first sight of the big Yugoslav. He watched as Ormerod led him into Interview Room Three. He was six foot three and looked as though he would weigh around twenty stones. And it was all solid. The flippant thought crossed his mind that he would have been upset if he’d had to sit next to him on the flight from Riga. He would have had no chance trying to get his arms up to eat an in-flight meal. He quickly focused on the reason he’d had him brought in, the image of Helena in the boot of the car in Felixstowe did that.
Stainmore and Denholme joined Strong in the corridor outside.
“How was he?” Strong asked.
“Angry,” Denholme responded. “Resentful that we should interrupt his travel plans back to Leeds.”
“Any sign of a car?”
“No sign of a car park ticket in his possession,” Stainmore said.
“Hmm. So are two taxi fares cheaper than leaving your car in the car park for five days, or was he expecting Szymanski to pick him up. He certainly knew Mirczack would be back today, he let it slip when we spoke to him, if you remember, Vince?”
“That’s true,” Denholme confirmed.
“The other thing, guv,” Stainmore said, “he was banging on about his brief. I doubt you’ll get anything from him until he turns up.”
“Okay, well let’s see what he does say.” Strong opened the door and joined Ormerod in the interview room.
“Good evening, Mr Mirczack. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Colin Strong.”
“So you the man in charge, yes?”
Strong sat down across the table from him, next to Ormerod. “As my colleagues have no doubt informed you, I wish to speak to you in connection with a number of serious incidents that have occurred in the past few weeks.”
“I say nothing without my solicitor,” Mirczack responded, in a voice that seemed to come from the soles of his shoes.
“I believe you are the owner of a massage parlour in Leeds that is known as Sweet Sensations. Is that correct?”
“No comment.”
“A man by the name of Stefan Szymanski works for you as parlour manager, does he not?”
“No comment.”
Strong and Ormerod exchanged glances.
“Do you own a car, Mr Mirczack?”
“No comment.”
“Has your solicitor been called?”
Mirczack smirked. “No comment.”
Strong stood up, exasperated. “Escort Mr Mirczack back to the cells, DC Ormerod.”
When he walked into the CID Room, Stainmore and Denholme looked up. “Any joy, guv?” Stainmore asked.
Strong shook his head. “No commenting everything. Even when I asked about his solicitor. I’m assuming he has been contacted?”
“Yes.”
“Which delightful overpaid, obstructive arse-wipe are we looking forward to doing battle with then?”
Stainmore chuckled. “Our old friend Peter Atherton, if you remember. Legal advisor to the stars.”
“Great,” Strong sighed. “When’s he likely to waft in on a cloud of expensive aftershave?”
“Tomorrow morning. Apparently, he’s in London today.”
“Right, I’m off back home for a decent night’s sleep. You need to do the same.” Strong turned and left.
59
Monday
Despite the previous late night, Strong was at his desk early the following morning catching up with paperwork. He’d spoken to Flynn regarding events surrounding the detention of Mirczack. Halliday was on his way to sit in on the interview once Atherton turned up and had the opportunity to be briefed by his client.
Ryan knocked on his door and he beckoned him in.
“Got some initial results from the basement room in Luxor Grove. They’re checking the DNA database for matches from the ground floor but they have a match with Helena from samples in the basement. Also, fibres from her jacket she was wearing when she was found were discovered on the mattress. Nothing on the ground floor.”
Strong leaned back in his chair. “So Helena was definitely in that basement room, and probably on the day she disappeared.” He rose and walked to the window. The morning sun was showing the town
hall off to its best advantage. Another fine September day beckoned.
He turned and rested his backside against the window sill. “Has that smarmy sod, Atherton arrived yet?”
“Not heard, guv.”
He pushed himself away and strode towards the door. “Right, let’s catch up with the troops.”
At the door, Halliday appeared.
“Ah, Frank, good timing. We’re just about to have a little review of where we are before we face Mirczack.”
In the CID Room, the main players were assembled. Stainmore and Ormerod were studying their respective computer screens, Denholme was drinking a coffee and sifting through paperwork whilst Darby and Atkinson were discussing the weekend’s football results.
“Okay everybody,” Strong said, “this could be an important day today. For those of you who don’t know, this is DCI Frank Halliday from Leeds. Frank has been investigating Chris Baker’s murder. Now, as it appears this murder is linked with that of Helena Cryanovic, it makes sense we work together on this.”
Strong walked over and stood in front of the whiteboard. “As you all know, we will be interviewing this man shortly, Stanislav Mirczack.” He pointed to the Yugoslav’s picture. “Once his brief deigns to turn up. He was detained last night at Leeds/Bradford on his return from Riga in Latvia. We know he owns three massage parlours in and around Leeds, including Sweet Sensations where we found seven Eastern European girls working for him and living in two properties which his company, Balkan Investments, own.” He went on to explain where investigations were in relation to Szymanski, who was still in custody, and the latest forensic evidence surrounding Helena and also events on Saturday resulting in the arrest of Robert Baker for his involvement in the theft of the stolen cars.
Stainmore answered the phone which interrupted Strong’s recount. “Atherton is here, guv,” she announced.
Strong checked his watch. “Right, we’ll give him time to talk to Mirczack and aim to start the interview at nine-thirty. Frank will obviously be in there with me. And Kelly,” he turned to Stainmore, “I’d like you in there too. You spent a lot of time with the girls, especially Lyudmyla. You might spot something if he starts talking. We’ll be video recording the interview so the rest of you can observe.”
Atherton greeted Strong, holding out a freshly manicured hand. “Congratulations, Chief Inspector.”
“It’s acting DCI, Mr Atherton,” he replied, shaking hands.
Atherton shook his head, “A mere formality, Mr Strong, I’m sure.” He turned to the Leeds detective. “Mr Halliday, an unexpected pleasure.”
Again the offered hand. As Halliday shook it, Strong thought he noticed the Masonic grip.
“And this is DS Stainmore.” Strong gestured towards his colleague. “I believe you’ve met before.”
“DS Stainmore, a very pleasant surprise.” Atherton offered her his hand as well.
She shook it reluctantly, not impressed by his smooth manner.
All this time, Mirczack was sitting impassively at the interview table. The others joined him as Strong placed fresh cassettes in the tape machine before making the statutory announcement of those present, date and time. Strong also informed them that the interview was being recorded on video.
“First of all Mr Mirczack, I’d just like to establish that you are the owner of the establishment known as Sweet Sensations located in Chapeltown,” Strong began.
“I have an interest, yes.”
“You also, as I understand it, have an interest in a company known as Balkan Investments.”
“Yes.”
“You will also be aware of the people working at Sweet Sensations.”
Mirczack waved a hand. “The day-to-day management is handled by the manager.”
“And that would be Stefan Szymanski?”
“It would.”
“But you would be aware of the women who work there?”
“I have seen them, yes.”
“And these women are … accommodated in two properties owned by Balkan Investments?”
“If you say so. I have no input into the letting of these properties.”
“Mr Mirczack, do you honestly expect us to believe that you had no idea who lives in these properties, especially when we know they also worked for you at another of your businesses?”
“That is why I employ a manager.”
Atherton stirred. “Mr Strong, my client has made it clear he may have interests in businesses, but would not expect to be involved in some of the more mundane matters that might entail.”
Strong’s eyes never left Mirczack. “Those ‘mundane matters’, as your solicitor puts it, include the employment of women we suspect of being illegally trafficked into this country.”
“I am shocked that my manager would allow such a thing.”
A slight hand movement from Strong was picked up by Halliday.
He took up the questioning. “Can you account for your movements on the night of Wednesday 7th September between the hours of ten pm and three am the following morning?”
Mirczack furrowed his brows. “A Wednesday, nearly two weeks ago? I was probably at home.”
“Probably?”
“I think I was, yes.”
“And can anyone corroborate that?”
“Excuse me?”
“Was anyone else with you?”
Mirczack smirked. “Not that night, I think not.”
Strong joined in. “How about Thursday 1st September between six pm and eight am the following morning?”
Mirczack shrugged and looked to his lawyer. “I can’t remember.”
“It isn’t that long ago.”
“Thursday? I think I may have had a business meeting in Leeds. I would have to check.”
Strong opened one of the files they had brought with them and produced a photograph of Helena. “Have you seen this girl before? Photograph identified as P1.”
Mirczack took hold of it and studied it for a few seconds. “She’s very pretty girl. Is she one of these women who work at Sweet Sensations and have rented property from me?”
Strong smiled sardonically. “Look again please, Mr Mirczack. Are you sure you haven’t met this girl?”
“Oh, wait. Is she one of the receptionists?”
“Do we take it that you do recognise her?”
“Yes, I seem to remember her there.”
“Hardly surprising since you were heard rowing with her and your ‘manager’ in one of the rooms at Sensations on Tuesday the 30th of August.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Or what it was about?”
Mirczack shook his head. “No.”
“We have a witness who says you were shouting at both of them in a room at the parlour.”
“It can’t have been important, I can’t remember.”
Atherton interrupted again. “My client has told you he doesn’t remember, Mr Strong.”
“Did you ever visit her at home?”
“Home? How could I? I don’t know where she lives.”
“You were never taken there by your … manager, Mr Szymanski?”
“No.”
“Your memory must be failing Mr Mirczack, because we have another witness who saw you there.”
“She must be mistaken.”
Strong let the silence stretch for a few moments. “I didn’t say it was a woman,” he said, before glancing at Stainmore.
“Do you own a car Mr Mirczack?” she asked.
Mirczack leaned towards Atherton and whispered into his ear.
“My client would like a comfort break, gentlemen … and lady.” Atherton said. “And I would like a few words alone with him too.”
Strong sighed, made the announcement to suspend the interview, gathered up his files and walked out.
Back in the CID Room, Strong began to pace. “He’s going to pass all responsibility on to Szymanski,” he said, to no-one in particular.
“Could see that coming,” Halliday chipped in. �
�Apart from statements from Szymanski and the women, there’s nothing substantial to tie him in. He’ll even try and side-step anything to do with employing those girls.”
“We could do with finding his car.” Strong looked round the room, before settling on Ryan. “Jim, what kind of car did you say Mirczack drove?”
“Dark blue Mercedes 300SE, guv.”
“I might be wrong but I think he wanted time to think on that question, Kelly. My guess is that he’s got that garaged somewhere and won’t want us to find it. Probably because there’ll be some forensic evidence … I don’t know. Jim, see if you can track down the details. It may be registered in his name, or Balkan Investments or any other company he’s involved with.” He turned to Denholme. “Vince, can you help with that?”
“Sure.”
Darby entered, a broad grin on his face.
“What’s with you?” Ormerod asked. “Just got your leg over?”
“You may mock,” he said, “but I’ve just arrested three likely lads from the Warwick Estate in Knottingley, caught in the act of trying to remove plant from a building site in Wrenthorpe.” He pretended to lick a finger and mimicked marking a figure one on a board. “Chalk one up to me,” he said.
“You realise it’ll cost you a round of drinks tonight,” Ormerod said.
Darby ignored him, adjusted the crotch of his trousers and sat down at his desk.
“Right,” Strong said, “we’ll give them ten more minutes and back in for round two. I’m off for a pee.”
In the toilet, Strong’s mobile rang. Souter.
He checked there was nobody else in the place before he answered. “It’ll have to be quick, mate, I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”
“You’re in the bog, then?” Souter quipped.
“Seriously, I’ve got to go back to an interview as soon as.”
“Okay. Are you still trying to trace Chapman’s cousin?”
The question took him by surprise. “Well, yes. I still need to speak to Baker and Chapman. They’ll have information we need to find out who killed Chris Baker. Bob, do you know where they might be?”
“Maybe.”