The Body in the Boot: The first 'Mac' Maguire mystery (11 page)

Once again the aroma assailed Mac as they entered the shop. Mr. Meszaros and his uncle were standing behind the counter just where they’d left them.

‘Hello again,’ Tommy said cheerfully. ‘Mr. Molnar your nephew said you remembered something?’

‘Yes, yes. Still got some marbles maybe?’ he said addressing his nephew. ‘Anyway his name, I remembered that he never told me his family name but I remembered his first name,’ he said triumphantly.

‘We know that already,’ Tommy said. ‘In fact your friend Mr. Andreou has given us documents with Matyas’ full name on.’

The old man gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

‘Matyas? That’s what the Greek knew him as but I thought we were talking about Sandor?’

‘Sandor?’ Tommy took out the likeness again and gave it to the old man. ‘You knew this man as Sandor?’

‘Yes because that was his name.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Mac asked.

‘The first time he came into the shop he was looking at all the cans over there on the shelves and he was talking on his phone which was quite loud. I could hear every word, he was talking about a football game the day before between MTK and Honved, a local derby as you say it, and the man he was speaking to called him Sandor. When he’d finished his call I apologised for listening but I asked him about the game and that’s how we got started talking about football. I told him my favourite uncle was called Sandor and that was what I called him every time we met.’

‘What did you make of Spiros calling his tenant Matyas while he knew him as Sandor?’

‘I asked Sandor about that once and he said that his first name was Matyas but he didn’t like the name and so all his friends called him Sandor which he took for his middle name. That’s why he said he liked me calling him Sandor, because we were friends.’

Very plausible it all sounded too, Mac thought. He was obviously playing up to the old man by implying he was his friend while Spiros was not.

‘Is there anything else you’ve remembered?’ Tommy asked.

The old man shook his head.

‘Just the name but I thought it might be important.’

He looked a little crestfallen.

‘Thank you Mr. Molnar, I think you may very well be right, in fact I think it might be the most important thing we’ve found out today.’

The old man’s face beamed as Mac said the words.

He turned to his nephew and said, ‘See Bela, if you have any marbles they’re going to be from my side of the family. An old man but such marbles I’ve still got.’

‘That was very nice of you,’ Tommy said as they made their way out onto the street.

‘I meant every word,’ Mac said seriously.

Once they’d seated themselves in the car Mac pulled out the rental agreement again.

‘Have another look at that name.’

Tommy did.

‘Matyas Toth-Kiss. What am I supposed to be seeing?’

Tommy looked again.

‘Oh God, the initials. Why didn’t we see that right away?’

‘Yes MTK, bit of a coincidence him having exactly the same initials as his favourite football club, isn’t it?’  

Mac started riffling through the other documents as Tommy drove them back to the station.

‘Looking for anything in particular?’ Tommy asked.

‘Yes, sometimes landlords photocopy passports as proof of identity but I can’t see anything like that in here. Perhaps they didn’t bother as he was from the EU. ’

Mac continued reading through the documents.

‘They’ve made a note of his passport number though, that may prove useful, and here’s his address in Hungary.’

Mac went silent and appeared deep in thought. He looked at the clock on the dashboard, it was three forty five.

‘Tommy can you drive me back to the shop again?’

‘Again? What for?’

‘I have one more question to ask.’

The bell rang as they opened the door and Mr. Meszaros looked up in some surprise.

‘I’m sorry but I have one more question,’ Mac said.

‘I’ll go get my uncle,’ Mr. Meszaros replied.

‘No, the question is for you. You worked at a university in Budapest and I was just wondering if you’d heard anything about how young people could get fake passports or identification papers so they could travel abroad?’

Mr. Meszaros looked a little uncomfortable.

‘I never knew anything for certain but there were lots of rumours.’

‘Rumours?’

‘Perhaps more than rumours. For instance a few years ago there was a student in my university who was desperate to get to England once he’d graduated. He wanted to learn English so he could get a better job at home but his dream was to work in the US in Silicon Valley. Only problem was he wasn’t Hungarian, he was from Ukraine and, as it’s outside the EU you need a visa, a sponsor and so on, even then you might get refused. So he decided to cut some corners.’

‘He got a fake passport?’ Tommy suggested.

‘No he got a real one but he used a false identity to get it. He simply went to a graveyard and picked the name of someone who died very young who would be around his age. He then got a copy of the birth certificate and applied for a passport in that name. So now he has a Hungarian passport he can travel to England with no problems. With a passport he can work here, open a bank account, get a mortgage, anything.’

‘All too simple isn’t it?’ Mac replied. ‘So in your opinion it wouldn’t be too hard for someone in Hungary to get false documents.’

‘No, not hard at all.’

‘Thanks very much,’ Mac said as he made for the door. He stopped after a few feet and turned. ‘By the way what happened to the Ukrainian, do you know?’

‘He’s still here and doing very well. He has his own IT company and I’ve heard he now employs well over seventy people.’

‘Good, looks like the UK got the best of that deal then,’ Mac said with a smile.

Tommy waited until Mac had gotten himself back in the passenger seat before asking, ‘Now before I start the car are you sure you won’t need to go back again for anything else?’

‘Wasn’t it a question worth asking?’

Tommy started the car.

‘Certainly was. I’ve heard of that passport scam before. Wasn’t it in an old film or something?’ Tommy asked as he drove off.

‘Yes but a book first, The Day of the Jackal. Even here in the UK, where they say they check for this type of scam, I’d bet you’d still get away with it more often than not. Anyway that wasn’t the central point.’

‘What was the central point?’

‘That someone doesn’t have to have criminal intentions to use a false passport, they might just be cutting corners like our Ukrainian friend. So far our man is coming out as squeaky clean, so squeaky clean I’m beginning to wonder if he even is our man.’

‘But if he wasn’t from Hungary why did he have MTK tattooed on his arm?’

‘Perhaps he’d lived in Budapest for a few years and was a genuine fan and perhaps he felt the tattoo made him that little more Hungarian or both, who knows? Anyway if he was using a fake passport we’ll know soon enough when we get Martin to run this passport number by the Hungarian authorities and get them to check their death records.’

They were the last to get back to the incident room. Mary yawned and it set off a chain reaction of yawns in the team. They all looked like they were ready for bed.

Dan went to the white board and addressed the team.

‘Okay so what have we found out since lunchtime? Martin?’

‘Nothing yet,’ Martin replied without moving his eyes from the screen.

‘Keep trying. Mary?’

‘As you suggested I got back in contact with the police artist and he’s supplied us with another portrait.’

She handed the new likeness out to the team.

‘That moustache bothered me if I’m honest,’ Dan explained. ‘Made me wonder if the reason he’d grown it was so he could shave it off if he had to.’

Mac looked at the new likeness. Without the moustache Sandor, or whoever he was, looked even more ordinary and unthuggish.

‘Adil and Buddy?’ Dan prompted.

Buddy spoke for them both.

‘We’ve taken both versions of the portrait to Immigration at the airport as you suggested. They said they’d let us know if they found anything.’

‘Okay Mac and Tommy?’

Tommy nodded for Mac to speak.

‘We questioned the owner of an East European food shop in the town. Fortunately the owner of the shop knew our man, he even knew where he lived, and through that we found more information. We know that our man lived in Luton for nearly two years and left to go back to Hungary around two years ago. He had a passport in the name of Matyas Toth-Kiss but we suspect that it may be a false identity and that his real name is Sandor something. He worked as a taxi driver for six months and then at the University for nearly a year as some sort of technical assistant. Tommy’s going to interview the owner of the taxi firm later this evening and I’m seeing someone who knew our man when he worked at the university. He’s also very knowledgeable about football, that’s it really.’

The team all looked blankly at Mac.

‘And you found this out in just over two hours?’ Dan exclaimed.

Mac and Tommy nodded. Dan looked impressed.

‘Why do you think he’s using a false passport?’ Adil asked.

‘The initials of the name on the passport are the same as his favourite football team plus, when he was on the phone, the owner of the food shop heard someone call him Sandor,’ Tommy explained.

‘So is it likely our man may be a criminal if he’s using a false passport?’ Dan asked.

‘That’s not necessarily the case,’ Mac replied. ‘Apparently students from outside the EU have been known to apply for false passports while studying in an EU country, saves them having to jump through hoops with visas and so on.’

‘Mac, Tommy, great work! Really gives us something to go on. What’s in the envelope by the way?’

‘Sorry nearly forgetting,’ Mac replied. ‘These are copies of the documents relating to our man’s rental of a flat. They’ve recorded the passport number and there might be other information in here, I haven’t gone through it all yet.’

‘Even better, can you pass those over to Martin?’

Dan turned and raised his voice slightly.

‘Martin can you go through these and follow up on anything you find? See if you can contact the Hungarian authorities and get a copy of the passport photo too.’

Mac took the envelope over to Martin who gratefully received it. He quickly scanned through the documents.

‘Some proper data to go on at last, thanks Mac.’

‘Okay, it’s been a long day let’s all go home and get some rest,’ Dan advised. ‘That includes you too Martin unless there’s something earth shattering in that envelope. Everyone back here at seven thirty tomorrow and we’ll see where we are.’

The team were shuffling towards the door when Dan called Mac’s name.

‘Just got something to give you before you go,’ Dan said as he produced a warrant card with Mac’s photo on.

Mac was nearly speechless.

‘How did you do that? Are you even allowed to do that?’

‘Absolutely you’re a civilian employee now, acting as a consultant to Bedfordshire Police. I got the photo from a friend of mine in the Met, it’s from your last warrant card. I didn’t know your first name was Dennis though.’

‘Always was, my family call me Denny.’

‘How did you end up being called Mac then?’

‘It’s a long story. Thanks, Dan, really thank you.’

For some reason, that even Mac couldn’t fully understand, the card really meant something to him.

‘I just need to know where to pay your salary into.’

‘It’s called COPS, Dan.’

‘The Care of Police Survivors charity, that’s fine with me. You’ve done really great so far, just make sure you don’t take on too much.’

Martin had stayed behind.

‘Just thought I’d check something before I went. I had a quick look at the tenancy documents and this is the address in Budapest where Matyas said he lived.’

Mac and Dan had a look at Martin’s screen, it showed a large Lidl supermarket.

‘You’re sure that’s the address?’ Dan asked.

‘Yes, I checked it twice. There’s a large car park on one side of the supermarket and a green space on the other. The nearest residential properties are quite a way off and have numbers that are nowhere near the one Matyas gave.’

‘Okay, so at least we know he’s not been honest about the information he gave to your kebab shop owner. Home now Martin,’ Dan ordered.

As he drove back to Letchworth Mac felt quite buoyant. He took the first chance he could to pull over and ring Tim. They arranged to meet at six in the Magnets. Before he set off again he glanced again at Dimitrios Andreou’s address. All he needed was the number, he knew the road he lived in well. Back in Letchworth Mac drove past the school where Dimitrios worked. It was a large private school for girls and it had a really good reputation.

Mac pulled up outside a house that was just a stone’s throw from the school. The house would have been a very big one except it had now been split up into flats. Mac rang the bell for number four. He could hear someone pounding down the stairs just before the door opened to reveal an exceptionally good looking young man with a huge smile on his face. The smile dropped the second he saw Mac.

‘Sorry I was expecting someone else. Oh, you must be the policeman my Dad spoke to earlier, come in.’

Mac struggled up the stairs, his back was starting to play up a bit. Dimitrios showed him into a minimally but beautifully furnished room.

‘Please sit down Mr…?’

Mac got out his brand new warrant card and showed it to Dimitrios.

‘So how can I help you Mr. Maguire?’

‘I believe you knew this man?’

Mac produced the likeness and gave it to the young man.

‘Sure, that’s Matyas, he used to live above the kebab shop.’

‘Tell me what you can about him.’

‘He was a quiet guy, okay to have a drink with, or so I thought. He certainly knew his football and he’d talk about it whether I wanted to or not.’

‘What did he do at the University?’

‘He worked in one of the research biomed labs, setting up equipment and helping out. He told me they even let him supervise some of the smaller experiments.’

‘Biomed? Is that medical research?’

‘Absolutely. Matyas had a biomedical degree and from what I heard he certainly knew his stuff.’

Mac felt like he was just beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

‘Do you know the name of anyone he worked for?’

Dimitrios had to think for a moment.

‘There was a professor he worked with, what was her name? It was the same as the football manager…yes, Professor Ferguson.’

From his expression Mac could see that the name had brought back some troubling memories.

‘Is there anything else you can tell me about Matyas?’

Dimitrios shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘There is something, isn’t there?’ Mac prompted.

‘It was the way he sometimes used to talk about women when he’d had more than a few drinks. He called them ‘kurvak’ which at first I took as referring to their shapes but he said it with such disdain that eventually I went and looked it up. In Hungarian it means ‘whores’ which is not so nice. I eventually figured out that he actually disliked women for some reason. He was a really nice guy generally but when he’d had a few…’

‘What do you mean by dislike? Was he a misogynist or do you mean he was gay?’

Dimitrios pulled a face.

‘Well, he absolutely wasn’t gay if that’s what you mean. We generally get on really well with women even if we don’t like them in that way.’

The penny dropped with Mac as to why such an obviously good looking young man might get a job teaching packs of teenaged girls.

Dimitrios continued, ‘Yes, describing Matyas as a misogynist might be just about right but it only ever surfaced when he was pretty drunk. I don’t know, I found it puzzling and not a little scary to be honest. On the one hand he had a need of women, for instance he talked sometimes about using prostitutes.’