Watching the Dark (Inspector Banks Mystery) (42 page)

By this time, the waitress had snapped out of her trance and made a run for the back exit, which proved no problem. Nobody tried to stop her. The shooter wasn’t interested. It would appear that once he had completed the deed he set out to do, he sat down on the bench where Corrigan had been sitting and simply waited for the police to come.

It didn’t take long. The manager had heard the shots and phoned 999. The customers had all dashed outside before anyone could stop them, and most of them had gone home by the time the police arrived, about ten minutes later.

When Annie and Winsome met Ken Blackstone there the following morning, the pub was still taped off as a crime scene, and the CSIs were still busy, but there was no sign of Corrigan. His body had been removed from the back-bar office, though his blood had spread in great stains across the floor like a map of the world, and the CSIs would have the time of their lives deciphering the spray patterns that had spurted over the nicotine-stained walls. Curly was in Leeds General Infirmary.

‘It’s Killingbeck’s patch, of course,’ explained Blackstone, ‘but they know we have an interest, and of course, we know you have an interest. Besides, I’d say this counts as Homicide and Major Crimes, if anything does. Nice to see you again Annie, Winsome.’

‘Yeah,’ said Annie. ‘We must stop meeting like this. People will talk.’

‘Not Warren Corrigan, it seems.’

‘The other bloke?’

‘Curly? Aka Gareth Underwood. Last I heard, they had some hope for him.’

They stood and surveyed the scene of carnage for a while, before the CSIs shooed them away, after which they took a table in the main bar.

‘Drink?’ Blackstone offered. ‘Manager says to help ourselves.’

‘It’s a bit early for me,’ said Annie.

Winsome agreed.

‘Suit yourself,’ said Blackstone. ‘The sun must be over the yardarm somewhere. I’ll have a small brandy, Nick. Get one for yourself as well, then come and join us.’

The man did as Blackstone said. When he came back, he sat down opposite Annie.

‘This is Nick Gwillam,’ said Blackstone. ‘Trading Standards, Illegal Money Lending Unit.’

‘Where’s your boss?’ asked Gwillam.

‘Tallinn,’ said Annie.

‘Lucky for some.’

‘So what’s the story?’ Annie asked Blackstone.

‘Not long ago, a young girl called Florica Belascu topped herself here in Leeds. She’d borrowed money from Corrigan, or one of his minions, and it had come time to collect. Naturally, she couldn’t pay, and she had a small drug habit to support. Corrigan suggested she try going on the game, make a bit of money from kerb-crawlers. He wasn’t into that line of business himself, he said, but he thought he could fix her up with someone who’d take good care of her. She refused. Seemed she hadn’t sunk so low that she’d sell herself on the street. A couple of days later, the minion and one of his underlings came back and raped her, gave her a bit of a slapping around and left. Reliable witnesses bear that out. Next morning, she was found hanging from an old wall fixture in the bathroom. CSIs had little doubt she did it herself, despite the rape and beating. Either way, the finger points at Corrigan.’

‘Who was the minion? Curly?’

‘No. Curly’s mostly for show. Like a guard dog. It was a scumbag called Ryan Currer. We’ve already got him banged up for an assault on another estate.’

‘Who found the body? How did you find out about all this? Surely the girl didn’t tell you?’

‘Florica was too scared to talk, but her girlfriend wasn’t. She had no debts, and she hated what Corrigan was doing. Florica was a lezzie, but she wasn’t out of the closet. They lived together, but kept it low key. Tatyana, the girlfriend, was the smarter of the two. She’d managed to keep herself hidden during their visits. They didn’t know about her. She’d tried to help Florica with the money, but she didn’t earn enough herself, even though her employment was legitimate. She’d witnessed a lot of what had happened, though not the rapes and beating. She’d been at work then, cleaning offices in the city centre. We checked. She found Florica afterwards, which is how we know she was still alive when she went to bed that night. Florica didn’t want the police involved, and she refused to go to hospital. Tatyana patched her up. In the morning, Tatyana found her hanging in the bathroom.’

‘She talked to me, Tatyana did,’ said Gwillam. ‘Me and Bill.’

‘Is this connected with Bill Quinn’s death?’

‘Don’t think so. Can’t be a hundred per cent certain, but I don’t think so. This is a family matter. A matter of honour, of vengeance. The man who walked in here last night and did us all a favour is called Vasile Belascu. He’s the girl’s father. He said he shot Corrigan in revenge for his daughter’s death. They believe in vendettas where he comes from, apparently.’

‘How did he know what happened and where to find him?’

Gwillam winked. ‘A little bird told him.’

‘You’re sailing a bit close to wind, aren’t you?’ Annie said. ‘You, too, Ken.’

‘We contacted the girl’s father in Romania,’ Blackstone said. ‘We told him his daughter had committed suicide, and we wanted him to come and identify the body. We had no idea what he would do.’

‘So who told him about Corrigan?’

‘Same person told us, I should think,’ said Gwillam. ‘We didn’t tell her not to tell anyone else. But we might never know. She’s gone back to Odessa now, it seems.’

‘Christ,’ said Annie. ‘This just gets better and better. I think I will have that drink, after all.’

‘You’d better tell me who it was,’ said Banks. ‘Who told you to seduce Bill Quinn and drug his wine?’

‘It does not matter,’ said Larisa. ‘The man who instructed me was not the man who wanted it done.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I heard him on the telephone.’

‘Who was it, anyway?’

‘The club manager at the time. I do not remember his name. Marko or something.’

‘Where was this?’

‘I was working in a nightclub. Not doing anything wrong, you know, just a waitress, coat check girl, sometimes hanging out and talking with the customers. Downstairs was a big noisy bar and a dance floor with spinning balls of light and strobe shows, but upstairs was just a quiet bar where people could relax and have a drink.’

‘Where was this club? What was it called?’

‘Here in Tallinn. On a small street off Vana-Posti. It had no—’

‘With just a sign outside showing a man in a top hat and tails helping a lady into a coach?’

‘That is right.’ She seemed surprised. ‘You have seen it? It is still there?’

‘I’ve seen it,’ said Banks. It was the place just around the corner from St Patrick’s, where Rachel Hewitt had possibly been spotted going the wrong way by the Australian barman. ‘It may have changed quite a bit since your day. It’s a sort of exclusive sex club now, or at least that was the impression I got. What sort of club was it back then?’

‘Just a nightclub, for dancing, parties. Mostly young people. It was very good class. More expensive, perhaps, than Hollywood and Venus, more popular with Estonians than with tourists. As I said, it has no name. We just called it The Club.’

‘How does Bill Quinn come into this?’

‘It was just fun, really. A joke. I was given his picture and the name of the hotel where he was staying, told to seduce him, to pretend we were making love. We never did. It just looks like it. But we never did have sex. He was asleep by then. It was all really very funny. Someone took photographs. I got two thousand kroons. That was that.’

‘You didn’t know who ordered it?’ Joanna Passero asked.

‘No.’

‘You didn’t know why you were doing it?’

‘No.’

‘Weren’t you just a little bit curious?’

‘Two thousand kroon was a lot of money.’

Joanna looked at Banks and shook her head as if to say a promising lead had turned to dust right in their grasp. Banks wasn’t too sure.

‘Were you taking drugs then?’ he asked.

Larisa hung her head. ‘Yes. My life was a mess. I was only eighteen. I had run away from home. I drink too much. But soon after, maybe one, two month, I left, left Tallinn, went home to Tartu, became sober. When I was well again, I enrolled in the university. After three years I met Alexei, and here we are. I left that life behind me, Hr Banks. Now I am only twenty-four, and I sometimes feel I have lived a whole lifetime. I am sorry if I cannot help you more. I have done nothing wrong.’

Except drug a man and set him up for blackmail, Banks thought. But he said nothing. He couldn’t see any point in trying to ruin a young woman’s life over a misguided act committed six years ago, no matter what its consequences had been. ‘You said the man who actually instructed you and paid you was not the man who ordered it done, that you overheard a telephone conversation.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know who he was talking to?’

‘No, but it was someone who was . . . I do not know how to say this. His boss? Someone who told him what to do?’

‘Do you have any idea who that might be?’

‘No. I only know the club manager who tell me. Perhaps other people employ him.’

‘Why did you leave the club, Larisa?’

Larisa paused and picked at a fingernail, as if struggling to find an answer. ‘I had a friend there, a friend called Juliya. She was from Belarus. She was a very beautiful girl, very funny, clever, and very nice. She was good to me. She made me laugh when I felt bad. She showed me how to live in that world. We shared a flat together.’

‘Did something happen to her?’ Banks asked.

‘She ran away.’

Banks and Joanna looked at one another. Banks also noticed Merike’s eyes open a little wider. ‘Ran away?’ Banks echoed.

‘Yes. Just like that. One day she was there, then she was gone. All her clothes and belongings – not that she had much – gone. Not a word of goodbye, not a note to say where she has gone. Nothing.’

‘But she took all her things?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you think happened to her?’

‘I think she went back to Belarus. She had a boyfriend who came to the club a lot. He was very rich and handsome. What do you call it, like a playboy? He always had good drugs, the best clothes, a fast car, and women were drawn to him. He was charming, but I think underneath he was dangerous. Young, rich and wild. For him there were no boundaries, no rules. There were many rumours about him. I do not know if they were all true. Juliya did not go into details. Wild orgies. Kinky sex. Every drug you can imagine. He had friends in St Petersburg, people said, criminal friends. Russian Mafia.’

‘And this was Juliya’s boyfriend?’ Joanna said.

Larisa gave her a sad smile. ‘We were living in a very strange world back then. Very unreal. It all feels like a dream, sometimes like a nightmare. At first he excited her, but soon I think she became frightened of him.’

‘So you think Juliya left to get away from this boyfriend?’ Banks asked.

‘Perhaps. I just knew that was the end for me after she had gone. I was alone. I had to get away, too.’

‘Why? Because of Juliya?’

‘Because he was turning towards me. I always thought I was safe. He liked blondes. But I realised soon that he was not so particular as I thought. When he turned his attention to me at The Club, asking me to go away with him for weekends in St Petersburg or Helsinki, that was the end. I disappeared quickly, too.’

‘Just like Juliya?’ Banks said.

‘Yes. But I went first to Tartu,’ Larisa said. ‘I think Juliya went home to Minsk. I have never heard from her again until I got married. She must have seen something in the newspaper because she sent a postcard with congratulations to Alexei’s studio. It was from Athens.’

‘What about the man? Weren’t you worried he’d try to find you?’

‘No. A man like him has no attention span. Someone else would come along. A new toy. He would forget what I look like in a few days.’

‘Do you remember his name?’ asked Banks.

‘Yes, of course. It is Joosep Rebane.’

‘That’s an Estonian name,’ Merike said.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Larisa. ‘He is Estonian. Not all the bad people here are Russian you know.’

‘Do you know where he is now?’ Banks asked.

‘I have no idea. I turned my back on that life. He is not a man who seeks to have his picture in the newspapers, or his name, I think. Then he was just rich and spoiled, but now I suspect he is in the criminal underworld, trafficking drugs, girls, perhaps in St Petersburg. Maybe even in Tallinn. But he keeps out of sight. And perhaps he behaves differently from when he was younger.’

‘Do you think he could have been the one who ordered the club manager to get you to set up Bill Quinn?’

‘I do not know. Perhaps. But why?’

‘I have a few ideas about that,’ said Banks. ‘When did all this happen?’

‘It was six years ago. Summer.’

‘Around the time the English girl disappeared?’

‘I think so. I do not remember. I really . . . I did not hear much news.’

‘You never linked the events in your mind? The English girl disappearing. You being asked to seduce an English detective?’