‘Here?’
‘A detective inspector, no less . . .’
‘Is that my fault?’ sneered Max, his face distorting with sudden petulance.
Ostrowsky glanced at Tymon, who gripped Max by the shoulders to position him for the blow, which the businessman landed just above the midriff. Max doubled up in pain, and sank towards the floor to avoid further blows, but Tymon pulled him upright in case additional sanctions were required.
‘Your stupidity pains me, little brother,’ said Ostrowsky softly, examining then massaging his left hand. One of the knuckles was skinned. ‘Now look what you made me do.’ From his trouser pocket he drew out a knuckleduster and slid it carefully over his fingers.
‘No more, Grzegorz,’ pleaded Max. ‘I’m your brother.’
‘I sometimes wonder.’
‘It’s not my fault the van was stolen.’
‘But it’s your fault it was reported,’ spat Ostrowsky. ‘It’s your fault the police have my name.’
‘They would have found out, wouldn’t they?’ pleaded Max. ‘What choice did I have?’
Ostrowsky was incredulous. ‘What choice? Have you seen the news? Someone used my van to dump a body.
My
van. And what do you do? Come to me so I can fix the problem, or speak to strangers?’
‘Would I have reported it missing if I’d known there was a body inside?’ retorted Max sourly.
‘Perhaps you did it to distance yourself. To point to the thief as the killer.’
‘No, brother . . .’
‘Perhaps the problems you had with women in Warsaw are coming back?’
‘No. That is past.’
‘Are you sure,
braciszek
?’
‘I wouldn’t lie.’
‘Yet still you seek out whores.’ Max lowered his head in shame. Ostrowsky considered him with an implacable expression before softening. He gestured to the giant and Tymon let him go. The shabbily dressed workman sank to one knee, rubbing his stomach and emitting short moans of pain.
‘But you’re right,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘I must take the blame. I have been indulgent. Left you to fend for yourself knowing you would not manage. All this freedom and money in a new country. I should have seen.’
He returned to the bar, took another draught of vodka. ‘I hope you understand that I am strict with you now because I love you, Max. You’re the only family I have. I should have paid more attention. But now, because of you, I’ve told a lie to the British police about your whereabouts. And they knew I was lying, I think. But this policeman, this Inspector Brook, said nothing. He kept his ammunition in the chamber, not sure if my lie was relevant, while I . . .’ he took an exasperated breath, ‘while I exposed myself in that lie. And I do not want to be exposed to the police in a foreign country.’
‘I need a drink,’ whined Max.
‘A drink?’ said Ostrowsky. ‘Did you not hear me? The police found a dead body in my van.’ Max stared at his feet again. ‘Who was it?’ Max shook his head, unwilling to look his elder brother in the eye. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Why would I, brother?’
Ostrowsky snorted in disgust. ‘Because it’s your van!’
‘Don’t the police know who it was?’
‘If they do, they’re not saying,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘This Inspector Brook was on the news. He must have known this morning that my van contained a body. But he said nothing. He observed me to see if I gave myself away. He’s clever, this one. He watched and waited for me to show guilt. Lucky for me I am ignorant, because my brother prefers speaking to strangers ahead of his own blood. And lucky for me this policeman could see that when he watched, I think. And he has other suspects so he didn’t challenge my lie.’ He drained his glass and refilled it. ‘But he will.’
‘That’s good then, isn’t it?’ said Max. ‘These bastards who stole the van . . . they must’ve killed the girl.’
‘Girl?’ snapped Ostrowsky. ‘I didn’t mention it was a girl, did I?’
‘No, I . . .’ blustered Max.
‘Tymon?’ The big man shook his head.
‘I saw it on the news, brother,’ nodded Max. ‘Like you. They think it was some Irish girl.’
‘Yet you feign ignorance when I ask about a body.’
‘No, Grzegorz,’ said Max hastily. ‘I don’t understand everything on the news. My English . . . But they showed a picture of a missing girl. Some student.’
Ostrowsky lit another cigarette and considered Max. ‘Then you also saw pictures of who the police suspect stole my van.’
Max lowered his head. ‘It was Jake, the new barman.’
Ostrowsky became tight-lipped, nodding at his brother. ‘That’s right,
braciszek
.’ He gestured towards one of the large flat screens suspended on the wall. ‘They’re looking for Jake Tanner. And
his
little brother. And because Jake works for me, they’ll be back here with a second reason to interrogate me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Max managed to stand. ‘It’s not my fault.’
‘So it’s
my
fault, is that what you’re saying?’
‘No, brother. It’s Jake’s fault. He stole the van. He must have killed that girl.’
‘Yes, he must. But here’s my confusion, brother – why steal
my
van to put her body in? Explain that to me. Then I’ll have something to tell this Inspector Brook when he comes back to ask me.’
Max shook his head. He looked around for a seat and slumped on to it. ‘I need a drink,’ he repeated. Ostrowsky sanctioned it with a lift of his eyes and a moment later Tymon handed Max a large shot of vodka. He downed it in one before rummaging for cigarettes. Ostrowsky threw over his own pack, hitting him in the chest, and Max grabbed them up and lit one.
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know.’ Max exhaled blue-brown toxins with a sigh of relief. ‘All I know is the van was outside my flat last night and this morning it was gone.’
‘I’ll ask again. Why would Jake steal
my
van?’ said Ostrowsky. ‘Did I not treat him fairly? Tell me.’
‘Why the fuck are you asking me?’ demanded Max. ‘Why don’t you ask
him
?’
Ostrowsky took a sharp breath, then considered for a moment, examining his hand. ‘I intend to.’ He stood up again and extinguished his untended cigarette. ‘You’ve hurt my knuckle, Max. But for the sake of our father – God rest him – I was glad to endure the discomfort. Normally I would ask Tymon to inflict the damage on those who have angered me, but I thought of our father and our long-departed mother . . .’ he crossed himself and kissed his fingers, holding them against a small crucifix beneath his shirt, ‘and I took the burden upon myself so that you wouldn’t feel the weight of Tymon’s greater strength.’ There was silence as Ostrowsky considered his younger brother, profound disappointment weighing heavily on him. He threw the knuckleduster to Tymon, who caught it with glee. ‘But now . . .’
Tymon slid the duster as far along his podgy knuckles as he could manage and moved towards Max, flexing his neck.
‘Wait!’ shouted Max.
Tymon froze at the tiniest hand movement from his boss.
Max took another pull on the cigarette and tried to speak calmly but glanced nervously at the eager Tymon. ‘There was a problem. With Jake’s kid brother.’
Ostrowsky’s brow furrowed. ‘Jake’s brother?’ He waved an arm at the TV to recall the name.
‘Nick,’ said Max.
‘Nick,’ nodded Ostrowsky. He whirled a forefinger close to his temple. ‘The
idiota
?’ Max confirmed with a blink of the eyes. ‘What problem?’
‘The cleaner,’ continued Max. ‘The one from Warsaw. The one who doesn’t turn up for work.’
Ostrowsky glanced at Tymon. ‘Kassia. What about her?’
‘I don’t think she’s sick, brother,’ said Max. ‘She was upset because of Nick.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘When Jake was stocking the bar, Nick used to sit in the storeroom in the basement. Remember? Jake gave him comics to read. He couldn’t leave him home alone.’
‘What of it?’
‘Well, Nick . . . he used to do things when Kassia was around. Try to, at least.’
‘Things?’ demanded Ostrowsky.
Max hesitated. ‘He touched himself in front of her.’
‘He touched himself? What did Kassia do?’
‘At first she laughed, but it got worse. He starts taking his dick out and asking her to touch it.’
‘And?’
‘And she say no to the
struntz
,’ said Max, indignant.
‘Did you know about this?’ Tymon shook his head.
‘Got so Kassia was scared to go in there,’ said Max, warming to his theme. ‘He touches her breasts, tries to kiss her . . .’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘She told me,’ said Max, unable to meet his brother’s eyes.
Ostrowsky lit another cigarette and contemplated Max. ‘What did you do?’
‘I tell him to stop,’ said Max. ‘Then I tell Jake that Nick can’t come to Bar Polski no more.’
‘And
that’s
why this Kassia hasn’t been to work?’ Ostrowsky looked doubtfully across at Tymon. ‘You’re sure, little brother? Maybe she got homesick and went back to Poland.’
‘I only know what happened with Nick. I walked into the storeroom last week to pick up that cable for the new house and she was crying.’
‘Why didn’t the girl come to me? Why didn’t you?’
Max spread his arms wide. ‘I should. But the kid’s a fucking baby and starts crying when you tell him off.’
‘And you think Jake stole the van to get back at you,’ nodded Ostrowsky.
‘Nick must’ve told him some story about me and Kassia accusing him of bad things.’
‘Where was I?’
‘You were at the warehouse, I think.’ Max shrugged. ‘From that moment, Jake’s had it in for me. That’s why he stole the van. Hey, maybe it’s Kassia’s body in the van.’ He nodded. ‘Yes. Maybe he kills her to shut her up. And puts her in the van to . . .’ He jiggled his hand for the right word.
‘Implicate you,’ said Ostrowsky. He drained his glass. ‘And I’m just hearing about this when the police are involved.’
Max looked at the floor. ‘I should have spoken sooner. But what do we do with snitches in our country, brother?’ He picked up his glass and Tymon refilled it at Ostrowsky’s behest.
‘You should
not
have reported the van missing,’ said Ostrowsky sternly. ‘Always come to me. I deal with problems. Now you’re connected to the van. I could have said it was stolen from the warehouse not your street.’
‘But the insurance—’
‘Fuck the insurance,’ shouted Ostrowsky. ‘Are we poor?’
Max downed his vodka. ‘You’re right, Grzegorz. I’m sorry.’
Ostrowsky eyed his brother. ‘Very well.’
‘What happens now?’
‘Now?’ Ostrowsky looked over to Tymon. ‘Kassia was not official?’
Tymon shook his head. ‘Only the English workers are official.’
‘Good. Now she doesn’t exist. Did Ashley know her?’ Tymon nodded.
‘Then get rid of him.’
Tymon seemed unsure for a moment and pulled a stiffened hand across his throat in enquiry.
Ostrowsky smiled for the first time. ‘We’re not in Hong Kong now, my old friend. No. Get him out of the bar and off the payroll, quietly. Pay him off – cash. Two thousand. Then offer him a job in the warehouse at higher pay but self-employed. Nothing on our records.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Tymon.
‘One more thing,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘You have an address for this Kassia?’
‘Yes, boss,’ said Tymon.
Ostrowsky looked over at Max. ‘Go and see what her situation is.’
‘Is that a good idea, Grzegorz?’ said Max. ‘The police might be there.’
‘Let me worry about the police.’ He looked his dishevelled brother up and down. ‘You go home and get cleaned up. Respectable. The police will want to talk to us.’
‘What about Nick and Jake?’ asked Max.
‘Leave them to me,’ said Ostrowsky, with a long glance at Tymon. The big man acknowledged it with a dip of his eyes. ‘Now go, little brother.’ Max turned to leave. ‘And Max!’ The shambling figure returned a red-rimmed gaze. ‘No more whores.’
‘Find Jake and his brother and bring them to me before the police get to them,’ Ostrowsky said to Tymon once Max had gone. ‘Check the payroll database. Jake’s home address is probably compromised, but maybe his work record will tell you something. One more thing. Max is lying. I don’t know what he’s been up to, but keep your eyes and ears open.’
Tymon nodded, then hurried down the back stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. Ostrowsky poured another glass of vodka and flicked on one of the wall-mounted televisions. He scrolled away from the muted football match looking for a local news station. He stopped abruptly when he saw Brook’s face on the screen and turned up the volume. Brook was sitting impassively next to a small man in a uniform. The small man was speaking and seemed very pleased with himself. The inspector looked bored. It was a repeat of the earlier broadcast but Ostrowsky watched it anyway.
‘Yes, the fingerprint was sent to EMSOU, which is the East Midlands Special Operations Unit, opened to provide the best-value forensic support for forces in Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Lincolnshire, at a saving of millions of pounds, I might add.’ Brook coughed diplomatically and Charlton returned to the relevant topic. ‘The suspect has a history with us so we had a result back within three hours. The men we’re looking for are Jake Tanner . . .’
Ostrowsky glared at the mugshot of his former employee, a smile breaking out across his face. He held the glass up towards the screen. ‘See you soon, Jake.’
Nineteen
‘I’ve edited all the sequences together, starting at the Cock Pitt, where they left the park,’ said DC Cooper out of the darkness of the incident room. ‘There.’ He stood to point to the two figures frozen on the whiteboard screen. ‘This is a few minutes after they ran across the footbridge.’
‘That’s our timeline,’ agreed Morton, glancing at the digital display.
Six detectives watched as the film restarted and the two male figures emerged from the shadows of Bass’s Recreation Ground, moving away from the river towards the Intu Centre. Then a different piece of film showed them stepping smartly along Traffic Street in the direction of Marks & Spencer, bordering the shopping precinct.
The younger, shorter man walked as though he hadn’t a care in the world, but the older man – Jake Tanner – seemed to be on constant alert, glancing around anxiously, chivvying his brother along when he slowed to look in shop windows. At one point he seemed to grab his brother briefly. They appeared to be having an argument about something before they resumed their journey. Finally, a third camera showed them crossing the London Road roundabout before heading up Bradshaw Way in the direction of their block of flats.
‘That’s it,’ said Cooper, flicking on the overhead lights.
‘They went straight home after torching the van,’ said Morton.
‘What about later?’ said Brook.
‘Later?’ asked Cooper.
‘It’s likely they flew the nest not long after they got home.’
‘And you think they went back through town,’ said Cooper.
‘No idea,’ said Noble. ‘But we need to be sure.’
‘Be a bit stupid getting themselves on film again,’ said DC Smee.
‘I doubt it was an issue by then,’ said Noble. ‘Jake knew he’d dropped his lighter when Inspector Gadget tackled him . . .’
‘And that we’d be all over them when we matched his prints,’ nodded Smee. ‘World’s Dumbest Criminals.’
‘Who aren’t yet in custody,’ pointed out Noble.
‘Transport?’ asked Brook.
‘None of the taxi local firms picked them up,’ replied Morton. ‘And no residents with nicked cars either, far as we can tell from door-to-door.’
‘So they left on foot,’ said Cooper. ‘With luggage?’
‘They panicked and grabbed what they could carry,’ said Read.
‘We don’t know that,’ said Brook. ‘They may have had a plan and a destination in mind, but if they did panic, being on foot makes them desperate and dangerous.’ He looked over at Cooper.
‘They don’t have any family in Derby, or anywhere else for that matter,’ replied Cooper. ‘Their mother died of a drug overdose eight years ago. Father unknown . . .’
‘He may be unknown to us, Dave,’ said Brook.
‘But not to them,’ agreed Cooper, making a note. ‘I’m still checking for friends, but they don’t seem to have any. They were pretty tight.’
‘Then check again,’ said Brook. ‘Use Jake’s work history. And coordinate a more thorough canvass of Milton Flats with uniform, make sure every resident is spoken to. All floors.’ He turned to Read and Smee. ‘Chances are they’re still in Derby, but alert security at the bus and rail stations. You know the drill.’
‘What about East Midlands Airport?’ asked Smee, gesturing Read to his feet.
‘The Tanners don’t have passports,’ said Morton. ‘Not legal ones, anyway.’
‘I’m guessing a pair of dodgy passports would be out of their price range,’ said Noble.
‘Agreed,’ said Brook. ‘Flag it up for the airport, but stick to bus and rail for now and gather any relevant film.’
‘Bus station first,’ suggested Noble. ‘It’s closer to their price bracket and they’re more likely to have a skeleton service through the night. Check with National Express and Megabus for bookings out of town.’
‘Night buses near the flat?’ enquired Read.
‘That won’t get them out of Derby, but check anyway,’ said Noble.
‘What about hitching a ride?’ suggested Morton. ‘I know they’ve got luggage, but . . .’
‘Circulate to Traffic, Rob,’ said Brook. ‘But they’ve had the best part of a day’s start. If they’ve got as far as the motorway, they’re gone. As for the rest of us, we concentrate on the area around the flats. I want uniform going house-to-house within a mile radius of their block. Dave, if they’re still in Derby, we need to know anywhere local they might go or anyone who is prepared to hide them. Check Jake’s known associates from Sudbury prison. And bump up patrol cars in the area. I want outbuildings checked, empty properties and derelicts top of the list.’
‘Let’s hope they haven’t got the stones for a home invasion,’ said Cooper.
‘They’re too small-time for that,’ said Morton.
‘A girl is dead,’ said Brook. ‘How is that small-time?’
‘A fiver says the black rats pick them up thumbing on the M
1
,’ said Smee.
‘Then make sure they’ve got all the details,’ said Noble, nodding at the door. Smee and Read departed, grabbing a radio each from the rack.
Brook looked to Cooper. ‘Any more background, Dave?’
‘I’ve been on to the Flowerpot,’ he said. ‘Jake left shortly after Caitlin disappeared. He was a relief barman and gave references from pubs and bars all over town . . .’
‘Doesn’t seem to hold down a job for very long,’ observed Morton. ‘Is he trouble?’
‘The opposite, apparently,’ answered Cooper. ‘The Flowerpot manager said it was a case of him not being able to work full time, presumably because of his brother. He said Jake was polite and good at his job and left on amicable terms.’
‘Did they know he had a criminal record?’
‘He didn’t declare it.’
‘How sure are we that the Jane Doe is Caitlin Kinnear?’ asked Morton.
‘Jane Doe?’ echoed Brook, turning to him.
‘Are you American, Rob?’ enquired Noble, before Brook could ask the question.
‘We’re sure of nothing until we get an ID,’ said Brook, looking sideways at him. ‘But Caitlin disappeared after a night at the Flowerpot and Tanner served her.’
‘There’s something else,’ said Cooper. ‘Jake applied for another job while he was at the Flowerpot; the manager said he got a request for references.’
‘Where?’
Cooper rummaged around for a piece of paper. ‘Some address in Pride Park.’
‘Did he get it?’
‘Unknown,’ replied Cooper.
‘Is it a pub?’ asked Noble.
‘No, strangely,’ said Cooper. ‘Some outfit called Warsaw Import and Export. They supply Polish minimarts.’
Brook and Noble looked at each other. ‘Know any Polish bar owners, John?’
‘The coincidences are starting to stack up. It’s a company fronted by a Grzegorz Ostrowsky,’ explained Noble. ‘He owns Bar Polski, which is opening in Friargate. I’m running him past Interpol and the Polish police because he also owns the burned-out van, though it was his brother Max who used it for work.’
‘What kind of work?’ asked Morton.
‘He’s an electrician,’ said Noble. ‘SOCO found a bag of tools in the van, some workman’s boots and gloves – nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve emailed an inventory.’
‘Interesting,’ said Cooper, staring at his monitor.
‘What?’
‘I’ve just noticed that Jake was working the bar at the Cream when we closed it down nine years ago. One of his first bar jobs and one of his longest spells of employment.’
‘The Cream?’ said Brook.
‘It’s a hundred yards from Tanner’s tower block,’ explained Noble. ‘On the roundabout.’
‘Why is that significant?’ asked Brook.
‘Well, it’s been empty since it closed and Jake was working the night it shut down,’ said Cooper. ‘It’s derelict.’
‘Might be a good spot to lay low,’ said Morton.
‘And if he had responsibilities, he may even have a set of keys by default,’ said Brook, nodding. ‘Divert some bodies from the Milton tower block to check doors and windows and look for any signs of recent occupation or ingress.’
Morton propelled his wheeled chair to a desk to pick up a phone, exchanging a smile with Noble.
Ingress?
‘You haven’t mentioned the Smithfield, Dave,’ said Brook.
‘Just about to,’ replied Cooper. ‘How did you know?’
‘Whoever dumped the van along that track would need local knowledge.’
‘You’re right, Jake did a four-month stint there five years ago,’ said Cooper. ‘Quite long by his standards.’
‘His brother was probably still in school.’
‘He works pretty hard for a criminal,’ observed Noble.
‘Another myth laid to rest,’ remarked Brook.
‘Hasn’t kept him out of mischief,’ added Morton, wheeling his chair back to the throng. ‘Uniform are still knocking on doors at the flats. They’re taking a peek at the Cream as we speak.’
Brook checked his watch when he saw Morton yawn. Twenty minutes to midnight. The other three detectives yawned in sequence. ‘Long day.’ Nobody argued. ‘What time’s the PM tomorrow, John?’
‘Nine,’ answered Noble.
Brook nodded. ‘Go get some rest, everybody. We’ve done all we can tonight. Let’s pick up tomorrow when we may have a name for our victim.’
Morton stood, but Cooper didn’t move. ‘I’ve still got film to check,’ he said. ‘See if the Tanner brothers bolted back through town.’
‘I think it’ll keep,’ said Brook. ‘If they went through town, they’re likely heading for the bus station, and Read and Smee should pick up their trail from there.’
Cooper logged off and rose to leave. ‘Okay, but I’m checking the rest of the film from home.’ Feeling the need to explain, he added, ‘Those two scumbags killed a girl and God knows what else beforehand.’
‘We don’t know that,’ said Morton.
‘We know she’s dead, Rob,’ said Cooper striding to join him at the door. ‘And you didn’t see her.’
Brook’s voice halted their exit. ‘Dave.’ He hesitated, not sure what to say, knowing only that he had to speak. ‘I don’t sleep well most nights. You’re a young man. Take my advice and train yourself
not
to imagine what’s happened to a victim unless absolutely necessary.’ There was silence for a moment and he began to wish he’d said nothing. He dredged up an exit line for them. ‘And good work today.’
The pair retreated, sombre. Brook looked across at Noble. ‘That went well.’
Noble smiled. ‘They’re not used to the new you.’
‘The new me?’
‘More relaxed, more confident now you’re out of the doghouse with Charlton. You even remember Cooper’s name.’
Brook grunted his amusement. ‘It won’t last.’
‘I dare say. And as we’re discussing the new you, isn’t it time you stopped asking people if they’re American?’
‘I thought that was you.’
‘Just wanted to show you how daft it sounds.’
‘There are some things I can’t let slide,’ said Brook, after a moment’s thought. He glanced to the door. ‘As for Cooper, I had no idea I inspired such a work ethic.’
‘That’s because you’re not career-minded like the rest of us.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning Jane’s promotion has opened a vacancy for DS.’
‘That’s very cynical.’ Brook reached out to flick on the kettle. ‘I miss Jane. Whatever happened to positive discrimination?’
‘There’s plenty of female CID in the division.’
‘But they’re not on my team,’ said Brook. ‘And I want them. They’ve got skills male CID can’t offer.’
‘You mean to help with the tea,’ suggested Noble, looking away.
Brook’s face tightened. ‘I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.’
‘You’re getting very difficult to provoke these days,’ grinned Noble. ‘It’s unnerving.’
‘It’s the new me,’ retorted Brook, pouring hot water into a mug.
‘Thought we were going home to get some rest.’
‘I don’t sleep, remember,’ said Brook, picking up the phone.
Noble pulled out his cigarettes, and walked to the door, pausing to compose his next utterance. ‘I wasn’t being cynical, by the way. Cooper’s in your squad and on the shortlist for DS.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘It means don’t be surprised when detectives on your team start working harder,’ said Noble. ‘It’s because they know you’ll notice and help them be better at their job.’
Brook looked up from Ostrowsky’s business card. ‘Isn’t that what a DI is supposed to do?’
‘Try telling that to Frank Ford.’
Brook’s brow furrowed. ‘I thought Ford was popular with his people.’
‘He’s popular with DCs who want to coast,’ replied Noble. ‘You don’t get it, do you? It’s no accident that Jane made DI and I’m favourite to be next. Did you think it was coincidence? Why do you think clock-punchers like Ford and Hendrickson hate you? And DI Greatorex before them.’
‘Because I’m not local,’ offered Brook. With a smile, he added, ‘And because I’m mentally unstable.’
‘With respect, that’s BS!’ said Noble. ‘It’s because you embarrass them with the quality of your work – that’s why all the ambitious DCs want to work with you and why they’re prepared to put in the hours. They know they’re more likely to get promoted.’
In the silence that followed, Brook stared into his tea, unsure how to respond. By the time his confusion had cleared and he looked up to offer a comment, Noble had slipped out for a cigarette. Brook returned his gaze to the card with Ostrowsky’s Pride Park contact details. In his head he composed a message for the answering machine, but his call was answered on the first ring.
‘Warsaw Import and Export.’
Brook hesitated. ‘Mr Ostrowsky?’
‘Inspector Brook,’ said the businessman smoothly.
‘You’re working late.’
‘I’m waiting for a shipment,’ said Ostrowsky. ‘When you work for yourself, that’s what you do. But you, you’re a public servant with your snout in the trough. You should be at home with your family, enjoying my taxes.’ Brook detected an edge in his voice, as if Ostrowsky knew he wasn’t a family man. ‘That’s why I didn’t ring as soon as I saw the news bulletin.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was gathering the documents for the van when I saw your press conference. I wish I’d known how serious this was this morning. You see, Jake Tanner was recently employed by Bar Polski to stock the place before we open for business.’
Brook smiled.
Tell me something I already know to gain my confidence
. ‘We know.’