‘We can have a chat,’ she said. ‘We probably need someone to replace Josh.’
‘That cunt,’ Don said his face darkening with anger.
‘I’ve been thinking about him a lot,’ said Mika, taking a seat at the table. ‘He didn’t tell us about the police visiting Soteria and talking to his boss. Now all of a sudden he’s out. I don’t like it.’
‘You thinking that he’s talking to the police?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. We need to keep an eye on him. I want you to follow him.’
‘Follow him. Mika, how am I supposed to do that?’
‘You’ve shared locations with each other in the past. You shared yours with me when you came to Manchester.’
Don sighed and took out his phone.
‘Well?’ Mika asked as the motion sensor lights in the garden turned on. She smiled when she saw what was in her husband’s hand. A fan heater and a file. She opened the door.
‘You all right, Elliot?’ asked Don.
‘Not bad,’ Elliot replied as he handed the heater to his wife. ‘Don’t stay out here too long – its freezing.’
‘We won’t be much longer. Is that the case you were telling me about?’ Mika asked, pointing at the file in her husband’s hand.
‘Yeah. One to keep your eye on. I’ll see you inside.’
‘Thank you so much, darling.’ Mika closed the door behind him.
‘We could get your other half to join us.’
‘Oh, no. He doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. So, how did you get on?’
Don held up his phone, showing a map on his screen. A red pin had been placed on Cannon Street. ‘Looks like he went back to the office.’
‘Keep an eye on him and, if you can, follow him.’
‘Mika, I’ve got work. Clients. I can’t just take time off.’
Mika picked up a paring knife from the table and ran it along Don’s cheek. ‘I don’t want to hear excuses. You need to think about the bigger picture.’
‘You’re right. Sorry, I wasn’t … I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, just do it and if it turns out that Josh is talking to the police, then you know what to do.’
Don smiled. ‘I’ll bring you his scalp.’
35
Laurence Durant was angry. The police arrived the moment he’d placed his duffle bag and the cat carrier into the back seat of an Uber. He’d stood, stony faced at the custody desk whilst the sergeant recorded that his property consisted of keys, passport, wallet, phone, cash total of £150, insulin, syringes, cigarettes, lighter and a duffle bag containing clothing. The only words that he’d spoken after he’d been booked in, and the body search was completed were ‘where are my kittens?’The arresting officer had confirmed that his neighbour had agreed to look after the kittens until he returned.
Henley sat alone in interview room four at Lewisham police station watching the CCTV footage of Laurence Durant’s car in Lordship Lane. It was times like this – when they had to book and interview a suspect – that she couldn’t understand why the SCU was still housed in a run-down building in Greenwich and not the largest police station in Europe. Her ringing phone pulled her away from the screen. It was Anthony.
‘Are you good to talk?’ he asked.
‘I’m good for the time being.’ She checked the clock on the monitor to her left. ‘Just waiting for Ramouter to bring in Durant for interview.’
‘I’ve got news for you. Some of which will help you in your interview but the rest of it, well, it’s going to give more questions than answers.’
‘I hate it when you sound so ominous,’ Henley replied. She putthe phone in the crook of her neck and opened her notebook. ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’
