‘My father was Italian, and my mother is Maltese. Do please call me Otto.’
‘Well, I’m happy to know you, Otto, although I’m not at all sure why you wanted to meet me.’
‘Bob tells me you are a dancer.’
‘Yes.’
He glanced around and, his face thoughtful, he spoke in a hushed tone. ‘And you had a friend who went missing and was sadly found washed up on the beach.’
She sighed deeply and leant forward. ‘Anya, yes, I was terribly upset to hear what had happened to her, but she wasn’t a friend really. I only spoke to her once.’
‘Would you mind telling me about that?’
‘We lived in the same house, although I think she was only there for a night or two. I heard her crying and went to see what was wrong. At first, she didn’t want to say but then told me she’d been forced to come here.’
‘Anything else?’
‘She just seemed very frightened.’
‘Did she mention any names?’
Because Otto had spoken even more quietly, she lowered her voice. ‘Names?’
‘Of whom she may have been scared.’
Riva shook her head. ‘No. And the next thing I knew she was gone.’
‘That same day?’ he said, frowning.
‘Yes. When I came back later her room was empty, and all her things were gone.’
‘And why did you look into her room again?’
‘I promised her I would. I said we’d have tea together.’
‘I’m wondering—’
But then the waiter arrived bearing a cake stand. He was accompanied by a second waiter who placed a silverpot of tea on the table, plus milk and sugar. He poured their tea and then left.
‘This looks very British,’ she said as she added milk and sugar to hers and noticed he took neither.
‘Yes. And you are French of course,’ he said in a conversational tone.
‘I am. These cakes look delicious. Mind if I help myself?’
‘Not at all.’
She chose a slice of sponge cake, an eclair, and what looked like a chocolate biscuit. ‘I’ve just remembered something. Before I met her, I think I saw Anya with someone at the club I work in.’
‘Who was that?’
‘It may have been a man called Stanley Lucas. Could he be involved?’
Otto shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But,’ he continued in a whisper as she ate the sponge cake. ‘I’m wondering if you might assist me. I want to find out what is happening to these girls.’
‘Girls!’ she said, swallowing rapidly and almost choking. She held up a hand and coughed a couple of times before she hissed, ‘You mean Anya is not the only one?’
‘Several foreign artistes have disappeared, some never found, but three others have turned up dead. Anya was the latest. The other two were a French and a Hungarian girl.’
