by Tim Sullivan
'Good. Well, I'm glad we sorted that out,' said Raymond.
'In point of fact I sorted it out, but there we are. I have to go.' He ended the call without a "goodbye" or giving his father a chance to say the same. Raymond was fine with that. He was just relieved that the Thursday night issue had been resolved. He knew from experience that these seemingly small things could become irretrievably catastrophic with his son.
For Cross this call had also been useful. Talking to his father had reminded him of things never being thrown out, and how he'd found Alex's old mobile phones in a drawer when he first came to the flat. He went into the bedroom and opened the drawer in the wardrobe. He lifted the phones out, and as he did so a small USB flash drive fell out of the tangle. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. He then pulled the drawer out and looked into the back of it. There was nothing else there except for a bunch of keys, a fitness heart rate belt and some sunglasses. He was about to put the phones back in the drawer when instinct told him to take them with him.
It didn't take long for him to find the documents he was looking for on the flash drive. There was an entire folder marked "Adelphi London". He was about to open it when Ottey walked in with that expression he now read as being extremely irritated. He thought he would head it off at the pass.
'I couldn't find you,' he said.
'Yeah, that tends to happen when you don't bother to look,' Ottey replied. 'Where have you been?'
'Back to the flat.'
'Why?'
'Because we’ve found no electronic footprint of the London project anywhere. It has to be somewhere. Debbie talked about an investor, a designer and a location. I think I've found it,' he said, looking at the screen. Ottey pulled up a chair next to him, sat down and leant over to look at the screen. Cross froze. Completely. His hands hovered over the keyboard as he stared fixedly at the screen.
'Well, go on,' she said. She hadn't noticed his sudden paralysis. When she did, she said, 'Sorry', got back up and put the chair back on the other side of the desk. 'I'll go and get my laptop.' She'd forgotten about Cross' personal space issues. She quietly chided herself for this as she crossed the open area to her desk. They had solved the problem of her wanting to look at the same screen as him and his not being able to deal with the proximity a few months earlier. A tech guy from IT had suggested that Cross shared his screen with her virtually – so he controlled the mouse and the desktop but she could see his desktop on her computer. This was normally used by computer technicians to solve people's computer problems, often on a completely different continent, but here it was just as effective across a desk.
In the folder they came across designs from a London-based architect, planning permission applications and licensing applications. Alex was a long way down the road with this. The one thing that wasn't in evidence was the line of credit. There was a business plan, which had obviously been sent out, and there was correspondence with a bank, which seemed to be offering finance. Initially it was a complete package, but Alex had said he couldn't afford it and would find finance elsewhere. In the end he had come up with a plan that was part bank finance and part investment. But as to who and where that investment was coming from, Cross couldn't find any information.
'So who is the investor?' said Ottey.
'That could well be a key question. We should dig a little bit deeper. Get Sean in tech to have a look at this drive and make sure there aren't any hidden caches or files.'
He told Ottey about his meeting with Kostas, who thought that his brother's spending habits had changed a lot of late. Cross was also fairly sure of another thing.
'What?' asked Ottey.
'I think Kostas knew about London. I think he knew it was still ongoing.'
'Do you think he was happy about that?'
'Alex bought them both the cars,' Cross said.
'Where did he get that kind of cash?' she asked.
'He got them on finance, but paid all the instalments as well as the deposits. What does that say about his mindset? He was optimistic. He thought this was just the beginning of something big for the two of them. There are plans here for rolling out to Manchester, Edinburgh, Leeds. These are big ambitions,' he added.
'Really?' said Ottey. She hadn't seen them, as he was such an irritatingly fast reader that he'd scrolled through the files at the speed of sound and she'd obviously missed it. 'Do you think Kostas was involved?' she asked.
'They were really close. They fought a lot but I believe that's the case with many siblings, particularly close ones. One city is missing from that list.'
'Bristol,' she said.
'Exactly. They weren't going to insult their father. They were just going to leave the Adelphi as it was.'
'Why fix it if it ain't broke?'
'Indeed.'
She noticed Cross' supermarket bag filled with mobile phones and charging cables. 'Are those his?'
'They are.’ He got up and walked to the door. 'Alice, I have something for you.'
Ottey had observed over time that in the same way Cross didn't like being shouted at – it caused him real alarm and distress – he didn't inflict it on others. He would always place himself in a position where he could easily be heard. Mackenzie came into the room. He indicated the mobile phones on his desk.
'I need you to go through those and see if there's any recent activity,' he said.
'But those are his old phones. Wouldn't he have used his current one?'
'Quite possibly, but we don't actually have his phone. So there's no way we can check, and his phone records haven't, as yet, unearthed any unusual activity.'
Ottey stepped in. 'Look, we know he was supplying performance-enhancing drugs, but we have no evidence of how he did it. He had to communicate with his customers. He didn't use his personal phone as far as we can tell, for obvious reasons, but he had to have used a phone. We haven't found another, so it makes sense to look at these. Old phones with burner SIM cards. It's worth checking,' she said.
'Of course it is. I'm an idiot,' Mackenzie said.
'I wouldn't go that far,' said Cross, 'but you are still learning.'
Ottey looked at him after Alice left. 'She wasn't actually suggesting she was an idiot.'
'I know that,' Cross replied. 'I'm not an idiot either.'
Chapter 15
A couple of quiet days followed. Mackenzie was dispatched to Alex's funeral. It was in a Greek Orthodox Church. She was surprised at how close to a Christian service it was. That was down to her own ignorance though, she thought, somewhat shamefaced. This was the second funeral she'd been to in her first six months with the unit. She didn't like funerals at the best of times, but this was a new experience for her. Witnessing a scene of such profound, personal grief that had nothing to do with her felt like an intrusion.
The police had nothing to gain, in terms of furthering the case, from attending, otherwise Ottey and Cross would have gone. She was told to go, as the family often got comfort from the presence of the police when cases were still open. She was about to ask Carson how they would glean any comfort from her, bearing in mind they'd never set eyes on her before, when she realised that the alternative was just to do more menial and meaningless tasks in the office. So she went.
It was a well-turned-out affair. Kostas spoke movingly about his brother. He said they might as well have been twins – they thought in such a similar way. That running a business together had been a blessing. Not that they had always agreed, and anyway, as anyone who knew them also knew, the real boss was their mother Helena. Going to work would now be a daily reminder of his loss. But he was trying to look on the positive side. That this grief would fade and, in the end, that daily reminder would become a blessing. Ajjay Patel also spoke on behalf of the cycling club, who were all there as a group. No mention of the drugs or the falling out. Just a tribute to how great a cyclist he was. How he made them all raise the bar and be better. She thought, perhaps uncharitably, how Patel managed to string together such a number o
f sporting clichés so seamlessly. But he was a chemist, not a public speaker, she reminded herself.
It was just as well she'd paid attention, because when she got back she was interrogated by Cross as to what she'd gleaned from being there. She described it in as much detail as she could. She couldn't answer as to whether Jean and Andy were there. She thought not. As the family stood by the church door thanking people as they left, receiving their sympathies and inviting them back to the restaurant, Debbie stood to one side. No-one deviated from the line afterwards to greet or comfort her. Except for Ajjay and the cyclists, no-one there seemed to know who she was, which Mackenzie thought was a bit strange. There was a big kerfuffle getting Alex's father, she assumed, out of his wheelchair and into the funeral car.
'Are you sure it was the father?' asked Cross.
'Yes,' she replied.
'How could you tell?'
'He was at the mother's side. It just made sense,' she said.
'But he doesn't use a wheelchair,' said Cross.
'Well all I can tell you is, he did today.'
That had interested Cross, which was why he was sat at a table in the Adelphi a couple of days after the funeral, having booked a table for dinner. For one. Kostas came over to the table with several small plates of meze as Cross was looking at the menu. Cross looked a little surprised.
'I didn't order those,' he said.
'I know. It’s on the house,' replied Kostas.
'Oh, no. I can't do that. I have to pay for my meal,' Cross remonstrated.
'This is from my mother. It is a gift in return for your kindness,' said Kostas.
'Even so, I'm afraid I can't accept it,' Cross insisted.
'You want to argue with my mother? Because I know better,' said Kostas, putting some hot pitta breads covered with a bright red gingham cloth on the table, then looking in the direction of the back of the restaurant, where his mother sat in her usual place, knitting. Cross followed his look and the old woman nodded a stern acknowledgment at him.
'Perhaps you're right,' said Cross.
'Oh, I know I'm right,' replied Kostas.
'Very well, but I shall have to pay for the rest of the meal and I'll need a receipt,' said Cross.
'Of course,' said Kostas as he glided away and in one smooth movement greeted a couple of new customers and led them to their table. Meze was always a safe bet for Cross, funnily enough, as it was traditionally served on separate plates, which suited him perfectly. He had also spoken to Kostas on his arrival at the restaurant about his need for his food to be on separate plates and Kostas had taken it completely in his stride, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Cross had anticipated that this would be Kostas' reaction. Had he thought otherwise he most certainly wouldn't have risked going there at all.
He surveyed the restaurant as he ate the meze. It was, as usual, completely full, with lots of families. One celebrating a birthday, for which Kostas paraded through the restaurant with a pudding adorned with a large lit sparkler and the plate decorated with a personalised greeting in chocolate sauce. The entire restaurant broke into a chorus of "Happy Birthday", as the delighted young woman feigned surprise. Cross thought she was pretending to be surprised, because as far as he could tell, from his limited visits to restaurants, it was de rigueur for such a cake to be delivered at the end of a birthday meal. And despite her pretence and protestations that her friends really shouldn't have, he suspected she might well have been disappointed if they hadn’t. To round it off, Kostas provided each of them with a shot of ouzo. Ottey had told Cross that people often told restaurants that it was someone's birthday, when it wasn't, just to get the attention and maybe free shots.
There was also a group of fairly heavy-set men at one table. They were Mediterranean looking, in all likelihood Greek, all muscled and toned. Cross recognised one of them as Danny's client from the gym, Tony.
The main course arrived. Cross surprised himself by how much of the meze he'd managed to get through. Kostas took away the plates with a look of proprietorial pride. As soon as Cross had booked, Kostas had told the staff that he alone would prepare his meal and serve the table. No-one else was to be involved. Cross' main course was on four plates: one with the lamb kebabs off the skewer and not touching, the rice on another and the salad on a separate one. Kostas had even gone as far as to put the lemon quarters on another plate. Cross was amazed at the tenderness of the meat. Kostas explained to him that it was his mother's marinade that did it. The meat was all organic, sourced from a local farm which they had visited, and was then marinated for twenty-four hours. The farmer was now a regular, when time allowed, and had attended Alex's funeral.
Tony and his group left. What interested Cross was the fact that no bill was asked for, produced or paid. They waved to the staff and left. Tony did up the button on his jacket as he walked, in that way that men do when they’re trying to exude authority and control. Like he felt all eyes were on him. They weren't, except maybe for Kostas and his staff. And Cross.
Kostas joined Cross for some mint tea after he'd finished his meal. Again Cross protested that he hadn't ordered any tea. Kostas said Cross was doing him a favour by sharing a pot with him as it was his break and he was parched.
'How's the investigation going, detective?' the chef asked.
'We've reached a slight plateau at the moment. It often happens,' said Cross. Kostas was obviously disappointed.
'Do you think it will change any time soon?' he asked.
'I would've thought so. It doesn't strike me as particularly complex. Having said that, of course, the most simple-seeming cases are often the most complex,' he said.
'Do you think it had anything to do with the drugs?' Kostas asked.
'I'm not sure. I think he got most of those online. Well, except for one. I need to find the source of that one. But there weren't any third parties involved, we don't think.'
‘Which one?’ asked Kostas.
‘Testosterone,’ said Cross. He thought there was the smallest reaction at this from Kostas, which confirmed for him that he was on the right track.
'Is that a good or a bad thing?' Kostas asked.
'Neither,' said Cross. Kostas expected him to explain a little further, but he didn't. 'Where's your father this evening?'
'Upstairs.'
'Does he not work in the evenings?'
'Silly bugger's broken his ankle. Fell in the shower and couldn't stop himself with his busted arm,' Kostas explained.
'He is in the wars,' said Cross.
'We had to take him in a wheelchair to the funeral. My mother was very angry,' said Kostas.
'Yes, I heard. I'd like to see all of your father's medicines.'
'What? Why?'
'I need to see them. Will you ask your mother, as I assume it will depend on her?' Cross said.
Kostas didn't argue any further, but walked back to his mother to explain Cross' request. It didn't appear to go down too well in the first instance. There was much shouting and remonstrating in Greek. Finally she got up and stomped off upstairs, giving Cross an irritated look on her way. Kostas came over.
'Please. Follow me,' he said.
'Thank you,' said Cross, who got up from the table and went upstairs with Kostas. The apartment was absolutely spotless. The furniture was dark mahogany with a fair amount of kitsch Greek ornaments and pictures. There was a sofa with a plastic cover over the top of it and plastic covers on the adjacent matching chairs. The old man was in his vest and shorts and was being shouted at by his wife, who was trying to get him into a dressing gown. He looked up as soon as Kostas and Cross walked in and yelled something in Greek.
'Could we go to the bathroom, please, or wherever he keeps his medicines?' Cross asked.
Kostas spoke to his mother in Greek. She replied and he turned back to Cross. 'This way.'
They went into the bathroom. Kostas opened a mirrored cabinet over the sink. In it were various mouthwashes, toothpastes, spare soaps and on the top shelf a lot
of bottles and packets. Cross examined them, finally settling on one. He looked at the label. 'Mr Patel's pharmacy,' he remarked.
'Alex's mate from the cycling. Good man. Always brings my parents' prescriptions with him when he comes to eat. Saves them going to him,' said Kostas. Cross walked out with the pills back into the living room. He held them up in front of Kostas' father.
'For your osteoporosis,' he said.
'Yes,' replied the father.
'Kostas, you said your father was suffering breaks in his bones more and more often recently.'
'He is.'
'Can you remember when it started?'
'Last year some time,' Kostas replied.
'And how long have you been suffering from it, Mr Paphides?' Cross asked.
'Five, six years,' he replied.
'And no real problems until these last few months?'
'No,' said Paphides.
'When Alex persuaded you to let him start taking them instead of you,' said Cross.
'What?' said Kostas. Helena, the mother, looked like she was trying to take this in. The father didn’t answer immediately.
'It was my idea, not his,' said the father finally. 'He was working, training so hard for this race. I thought it would help.'
Suddenly his wife launched into him, slapping his face and shouting in English.
'You stupid, stupid man! What did you do that for? What good can come out of something like that?' she screamed. Kostas grabbed hold of her and stopped her.
'No, Mama, no! You'll hurt him! Leave him alone!' She started sobbing into her son's chest. The father slumped back into his chair. Kostas turned to Cross.
'This hasn't got anything to do with...' he said
'No, it's just another line of enquiry we can eliminate,' Cross replied.
'Did Ajjay know?' asked Kostas.
'Only after we told him. I think if he knew about the increased frequency of your father's fractures he'd have put two and two together. But he wasn't responsible. That lies very much with your father and Alex.'