Watching the Dark (Inspector Banks Mystery) (29 page)

‘Depends what you say, what the lead is. I won’t break any laws, and I won’t turn away from any law- or rule-breaking on DI Quinn’s part. I’ll still do my job.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Banks. ‘I can’t really explain why, but I can’t get the idea out of my mind that Bill Quinn may well have been killed not because of the photos or Corrigan, but because he found out what happened to Rachel Hewitt. And that finding out who killed him might depend on finding out what happened to her. Can you work with that hypothesis?’

‘If you think there’s a definite connection between the time Quinn spent here on that case and what happened subsequently,’ said Joanna, ‘then I’m with you. Let’s find out what it is. But we’re not here to solve the Rachel Hewitt case.’

‘It might not be so easy,’ said Banks. ‘I have a feeling that nobody around here is going to want to open up to us about it. Too much wound licking and mud slinging under the bridge, I’ll bet. We’ll see what we can get from this Toomas Rätsepp tomorrow. If he’s like most cops, it won’t be very much. Then we’ll have a chat with Mihkel’s editor, Erik, see if we can get him to talk a bit. Journalists are pretty simple souls really. They can be very closed mouthed, in my experience, but if they think you can do something for them – i.e., give them an exclusive – then they’ll bend over backwards to help you.’

‘What exactly are you after?’ Joanna asked.

‘Well, ideally I’d like to find Rachel Hewitt alive and well, take her home to her parents, bring her abductor to justice, solve Bill Quinn’s and Mihkel Lepikson’s murders and have their killer put away for life, then world peace would be a nice bonus. But in reality? First I’d settle for finding out who the girl in the photo is and having a good talk with her, see if I can find out who put her up to it. If she did set Quinn up, I very much doubt that it was her own idea. After that, we’ll see where that leads us.’

‘Do you think anyone knows?’

‘I think there’s a good chance that someone does, yes,’ said Banks. ‘It’s more a matter of whether we can get anyone to tell us. If Quinn and Mihkel stayed in touch over the years after they first bonded over Rachel – you know, went fishing together and so on – then I think there’s a chance that Quinn was going to meet Mihkel by the lake and tell him the truth about what happened here, and why. He may have been going to hand the photos over to him.’

‘But Quinn didn’t have the photos on him when he was killed.’

‘That bothered me at first. But remember the mysterious phone call from the pay-as-you-go mobile?’

‘Yes.’

‘What if Mihkel was forced to make that call, to change the time of the meeting or something, or even to arrange it, and what if the different number or something in Mihkel’s voice set off alarm bells, made Quinn suspicious?’

‘But he still went.’

‘Yes. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t on guard, though, cautious. But he clearly wasn’t expecting a crossbow bolt through the heart. He may have left the pictures back in the room until he was sure Mihkel was coming.’

‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ said Joanna. ‘Do you think this Toomas Rätsepp knows?’

‘Why would Rätsepp know? Quinn certainly wouldn’t tell him, and I doubt that anyone else would, either. He might be able to give us some general details about the direction of the investigation, but I wouldn’t expect much more from him. I still think Erik is our best bet, if he’s willing to help.’

‘What makes you think you can solve this after so long, when everyone else has failed?’

‘Because I’m better than them,’ Banks said, smiling. ‘Watch and learn. Seriously, though. A lot’s happened since then. Are you with me?’

Joanna rolled her eyes and laughed. Then she raised her glass and they clinked. ‘I’m with you. Seriously, though,’ she said, leaning forward. ‘I really don’t want us to be working at cross purposes here. I know what you think of me and my job, but we’re both concerned with catching Quinn’s killer, too, right? Are we OK on all this?’

‘We’re OK.’

Chapter 8

Thursday turned out to be another warm day, and by lunchtime Banks and Joanna were ready for a cold drink and some food. They had spent the morning getting the feel of the city in which Rachel Hewitt had disappeared and discussing their strategy for the forthcoming interview. They had been all the way up to Toompea and seen the onion domes of the Russian Orthodox Nevsky Cathedral, walked around the Dome Church, admired the views of the city in various directions from the different viewing points, and wandered the quiet cobbled streets. There were very few shops and cafes up there, and it seemed remote, even from the rest of the Old Town, quiet and peaceful. Not the sort of area for a hen party.

They found Clazz, back down in the Old Town, opposite a large restaurant Banks had seen mentioned in his guidebook called Old Hansa, a cream-fronted building with lots of wooden benches on its covered patio, which seemed to contain almost as much shrubbery as it did customers. The waitresses were dressed in medieval-themed costumes, and Banks could imagine evening sing-alongs with everyone waving tankards of foaming ale in the air.

But Clazz was much less ostentatious. A man sitting at one of the outside tables waved them over and introduced himself.

‘How did you know it was us?’ Banks asked, when they had sat down.

‘Two foreigners looking lost? It does not take much detective skill to work that out, Hr Banks.’

‘Please, call me Alan. This is Inspector Joanna Passero.’

Joanna smiled and shook Rätsepp’s hand. ‘Joanna,’ she said.

Banks noticed that he held on to it for a few seconds longer than necessary. Joanna clearly noticed it, too, but she said nothing.

‘And I am Toomas. Do you enjoy our lovely weather?’ Rätsepp went on. ‘We often have good weather at this time of year. You are very lucky you come now.’ His English wasn’t quite as good as Merike’s, but then he wasn’t a translator. It was far better than Banks’s non-existent Estonian.

‘It makes a pleasant change,’ said Banks.

Rätsepp was in his late fifties, overweight, with a head of thinning grey hair, wary, hooded eyes and bushy grey eyebrows, rather like a pair of horns above his eyes. Banks decided he must cultivate them that way deliberately, thinking they were sexy or something, because he couldn’t fail to see them every time he looked in a mirror. He reminded Banks of the actor who had called Michael Caine ‘Eenglish’ with a sneer in his voice in
Funeral in Berlin
. Oscar Homolka. He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up, showing hairy forearms and throat. A grey sports jacket hung over the back of his chair. There were sweat stains under his arms, and the buttons were tight around his middle.

The waiter wandered over and handed out menus.

‘I would recommend the steak,’ Rätsepp said, ‘but of course, it is entirely up to you. Perhaps you are vegetarian, yes?’

They ordered steak and A. Le Coq beer for Banks and Rätsepp, and a Diet Coke for Joanna. She had told Banks she felt a little the worse for wear this morning, so he guessed she was laying off the wine for a while.

‘I understand you retired recently,’ Banks said as they waited for their drinks. ‘How is that working out?’

‘Excellent, excellent,’ said Rätsepp. ‘It is something I wish I have done many years ago.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

He rubbed the thumb and fingers of one hand together. ‘I must work to earn money.’

Their drinks arrived, and Rätsepp proposed an Estonian toast. ‘
Teie terviseks
!’

They sipped their drinks and chatted about police work and for a while, then when their lunch arrived, Rätsepp indicated he was ready to talk.

‘It is terrible shame about Hr Quinn,’ he said after his first mouthful of very rare steak. A drop of blood hung at the side of his fleshy mouth like a teardrop. Fortunately, he used his serviette a lot while he ate. ‘He was good man. Very good man. What happen?’

‘That’s what we’re hoping to find out.’ Banks didn’t want to get on to the subject of Quinn’s transgressions so early in the conversation, though he hoped that at some point Rätsepp might be able to help him with the photographs, if he felt he could trust him enough to show him them. If, on the other hand, he got the impression that Rätsepp was in any way involved with what had happened to Quinn or Mihkel Lepikson, he certainly didn’t want to give too much away. But he would reserve judgement for the moment. He was half-surprised, and very pleased, that Joanna didn’t jump in with some comment about Quinn’s murder. She must be learning; she must have listened to him after their set-to the previous evening. ‘I’m afraid we’re all still a bit at sea about it all.’

‘At sea?’

‘Sorry. Confused.’

‘Ah. I do not really see how an old case will help you, or what it has to do with Hr Quinn’s death,’ Rätsepp said. ‘It was long time ago, and Hr Quinn had only minor role.’

‘I understand he was over here for about a week?’

‘That is correct.’

‘How soon after Rachel Hewitt’s disappearance?’

‘Perhaps two days.’

‘That’s very quick, isn’t it?’

‘There is no real measure for such things.’ Rätsepp paused and ate more steak. ‘I think the girl’s parents demand he come,’ he went on. ‘They call local police in England and ask them to do something. I think the parents are, how do you say, very pushy? It is quite understandable, of course. We do our best, but what can I say? This is beautiful nineteen-year-old girl, young woman, and she is missing forty-eight hours. I know it is very confusing and upsetting for her parents, to be so far away, in foreign country. They do not understand our country. They want someone to communicate what is happening before they come here themselves. Difficult time for everyone.’

‘What did DI Quinn actually do in the investigations?’

‘Nothing very much. What can he do? He is not involved here. He is not Estonian. He attends meetings, of course, so he can go back and tell his bosses what we are doing. But that is all.’

‘He didn’t do any searching, any questioning, any investigating?’

‘No. Observing only.’

Banks wasn’t sure he believed Rätsepp, but he moved on, nonetheless. What reason could he have to lie? ‘Were there any leads at all?’

‘Sadly, no. We check the hospitals, airport, railway station, buses, ferries. We check other hotels. We speak with staff at Meriton to ask if she go back there and go out again. We visit many bars and clubs popular with young tourists. Ask everywhere. Nothing. It is like the girl disappear into air.’

‘What about since then? Any nibbles? Any traces?’

‘For two months we investigate. More. Sometimes now we send out her description again. Nothing. I am sure you also get many mistaken sights, which is all that we have had. From St Petersburg to Prague, and in the south, Odessa and Tirana. Her parents encourage many of these mistakes. We have also work with an artist on what Rachel look like now. It is not so very big change in six years, perhaps, but it helps.’

‘What about CCTV?’

‘What is that?’

‘Closed-circuit television. Cameras. In the streets, in bars. We have them all over England.’

‘Ah. Yes. We have here, too. But then not so many, of course. We examine all we can find, but nothing show us where Rachel is gone.’ He paused. ‘As I am sure you know, many camera images are not so good.’

‘True enough,’ said Banks. ‘Most CCTV’s crap, no arguing with that.’ He gazed around at the other diners. Many were obviously tourists, given away by their cameras or bulging dayglo bags. He heard some people speaking German, and some Italian. There were also quite a few of young professionals, and he took most of them for locals, who perhaps worked in the Old Town or had come in from the suburbs to have lunch with friends during the spell of fine weather. ‘This is very good steak,’ he said.

‘I am glad you approve. And the charming lady?’

Joanna, the ‘charming lady’, smiled sweetly at him and said, in her best Morningside accent. ‘Absolutely delicious, Toomas. One of the tastiest I have ever eaten.’

Rätsepp beamed at her. ‘In what capacity exactly are you here?’ he asked, his forehead wrinkling into a slight and, so Banks thought, definitely choreographed frown.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Joanna. ‘I don’t understand the question.’

‘I apologise for my bad English. You work for Professional Standards, am I not right?’ he went on. ‘But Inspector Quinn’s murder is matter for Homicide, no?’

‘I can see there are no flies on you, Toomas,’ Joanna said, waving her fork at him and smiling to take the sting out of her tone.

He checked his arms. ‘Flies? I do not understand.’

‘She means you’re very quick to grasp a situation,’ Banks said. ‘It’s just a saying.’

‘Ah, another of your charming English idioms. I see. It is one I do not know. I will remember. She is here to keep an eye on you, Alan, you lucky man? Have you been naughty boy?’

‘It’s nothing like that,’ said Banks. ‘Inspector Passero is training for her transfer to Homicide and Major Crimes. Her boss thought working on this case with me would help.’

‘So you are her teacher?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You must be very good to be trusted with such lovely pupil.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I hear things about you.’