All class, Timmy Kerrigan, thought Annie.
‘Don’t tell Marcel, please,’ Florence said, touching Annie’s arm. ‘It was nothing, really. They’re good customers, and he’ll think I want him to bar them. He’d never forgive me.’
‘Forgive you?’ Annie said.
‘You know what I mean. If it seemed like I was complaining and trying to make something out of it. He wouldn’t tolerate behaviour like theirs, but he’d blame me. It was no big deal. It happens.’
‘Not so often in a restaurant like Le Coq d’Or, I shouldn’t think,’ said Annie.
‘You’d be surprised. Just because they’re posh doesn’t mean they’re not nasty. Plenty of regulars seem to think they’ve got “coqs d’or” themselves.’ Annie stared at her, mouth open for a couple of seconds, then they both burst out laughing.
When they’d quietened down, Florence said, ‘I’ve got to go now. I still have a few things to do before we open. But there’s one more thing that might interest you.’
Annie’s mobile started to vibrate but she ignored it for the moment. ‘What’s that?’
‘The creepy one. He looked as if he’d been in a fight. He had a cut over one eye and bruising on his cheek.’
‘Ah,’ said Annie. ‘At least we know there’s some justice in the world, then.’
Zelda had expected Keane to have changed his name along with his profession, especially as he was still wanted by the police for the attempted murder of Alan Banks, so she was hardly surprised by what Faye Butler told her. ‘Perhaps we could have a private chat somewhere?’ she said. ‘The cafe? I promise I won’t keep you long.’
‘All right. You’ve got me curious now. Fifteen minutes.’
They headed up the stairs to the cafe and found a secluded corner table. Zelda fetched them two coffees and sat down opposite Faye.
‘What I’d really like,’ Zelda said, ‘is to find this man, whatever name he’s going under.’
‘What’s he done?’
‘What makes you think he’s done anything?’
‘Well, the NCA is asking after him, for a start. And if he had a reason to change his name... I mean, why would someone do that if they didn’t have something to hide?’
‘Did you feel he had something to hide when you were with him?’
‘He could be very secretive. I never felt I really got to know him. It’s like there was always another layer. That was one of the problems, I suppose. I didn’t feel I knew the real Hugh Foley. If there was one.’
‘We don’t know that he has done anything yet,’ Zelda said. ‘We just know that he was friendly with one or two criminals we had under surveillance.’ She lay the picture on the table and tapped it. ‘What do you remember about this other man in the photo with the two of you?’
‘I don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember his name, if I ever did know it. They went off to a table for a private chat for a few minutes. I was talking to some friends from work at the bar. After that, we left and did some window-shopping. It was near Christmas. Then we went back.’
‘Back where?’
‘Hugh’s hotel.’
‘Hotel?’
‘Yes. He travelled a lot in his line of work, so when he was here he usually stayed in a hotel. If we wanted to spend time together... you know... that’s where we’d go. I was sharing a flat with two other girls, so it could be a bit awkward going to my place.’
‘Do you know where he actually lived?’
Faye frowned. ‘Not really. I mean, it never came up. I remember he once told me he was from Portsmouth, but he didn’t live there. I think he might have lived on the continent somewhere. At least, that was the impression I got from the places he talked about.’
‘The same hotel every time?’
‘Yes. He said once you’ve found a good thing why change it.’
‘Must have been expensive.’
Faye shrugged. ‘Money never seemed to be a problem with Hugh.’
Zelda realised that she was living in a hotel at the moment, and money wasn’t a great problem for her, either, though at least a part of her expenses were covered by the NCA. ‘What was it called?’
‘I can’t remember. It was a small place, one of those boutique hotels with a foreign name. Quite nice, really. A city in Eastern Europe. Budapest? Bucharest? No. Belgrade. That’s what it was called. The Belgrade.’
‘Whereabouts is it?’
‘Fitzrovia.’
Zelda knew the area. She had stayed at a Holiday Inn there once.
Faye blew on her coffee. ‘What’s this all about? Can’t you give me just an inkling?’
She was an attractive woman, and Zelda could see how she would appeal to men. She was taller than Zelda remembered, and she now wore her blonde hair cut short, emphasising her heart-shaped face and big blue eyes. She had a sweet smile, when she chose to flash it. Not too sophisticated, but quick, bright and charming, certainly a good enough companion to show off at a business dinner with the boss. Her figure looked good, too, under the work clothes. Zelda imagined she would scrub up well. The problem was that Zelda couldn’t yet decide whether Faye was as crooked as Keane/Foley or merely an innocent bystander. On first impressions, she was inclined towards the latter view, but she was keeping her options open.
‘What does he do?’ she asked.
‘He’s in art and antiques, a buyer for a number of swanky galleries. New York. Paris. Milan. Berlin. That sort of thing. He specialises in eastern and southern European artefacts and paintings. The Balkans, Greece, the ex-Soviet republics. Religious icons, that sort of thing. That’s why he travels such a lot.’
It was a good cover, Zelda thought. ‘Is that how you met?’
‘Yes. Here. In the shop. He wanted to order a book on Bulgarian antiquities. It was out of print, and I said I’d do my best to locate a copy for him. Then... well, one thing led to another. He was quite charming, and very attractive. I suppose I was flattered. He asked me out for a drink. Then dinner. Then... Look, your English is wonderful, but I think I can hear a trace of an accent in the way you talk. Are you from Eastern Europe or somewhere like that?’
‘Somewhere like that,’ said Zelda.
‘Only I met quite a few of them when I was with Hugh. You know, Serbs, Croatians, Bosnians.’
‘I’m from Moldova.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Between Ukraine and Romania. A long way from the Balkans. Far enough, anyway. Did you ever meet a man called Petar Tadić?’
‘Petar? From Croatia? Yes. We had drinks with him a few times. He wasn’t too bad. Quite gallant, really. Nicer than his brother.’
Zelda felt herself tense up. Petar Tadić had been far from gallant when she had met him. ‘His brother Goran?’
Faye hesitated. ‘Yes. I think that was his name. He gave me the creeps.’
‘What do you mean?’
Faye shrugged. ‘You know. He was good-looking enough and all that, but he sort of leered at you. Undressed you with his eyes. Made suggestive comments. He’d lean over and whisper behind his hand in Hugh’s ear, eyeing me all the while. That sort of thing. Hugh didn’t like him, either. I could tell. He just had to do business with him, so he put up with him.’
Zelda nodded. If only that had been all Goran Tadić had done to her: leer and whisper crude comments. ‘So when Hugh met the man in the Italian restaurant the evening that photograph was taken, you didn’t take part in the discussions?’
‘No. I was never involved in any business talks. To be honest, I could hardly imagine anything more boring. Could you? That was one of the things...’ She let the thought trail off.
‘What were you going to say?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’