While Brock and Lowry spoke to them, Kathy noticed Harry Jackson amble over to two men standing in front of the next unit, a Chinese fast-food counter called the Peking Duck. One of the men was Chinese while the other looked like a caricature of an Italian in a gondolier’s striped jersey and red scarf, presumably from Bruno’s Gelati next door. She followed, picking up their conversation.
‘Two weeks to Christmas, and everybody’s going crazy,’ the gondolier was saying, with an expansive Latin sweep of his arms. ‘It’s all very well for Mr Chang here. He can call in half the Chinese population of east London if he needs help, but I have to make do.’ He gestured at a second gondolier, a weary man who looked too old for the part, wiping down the tables outside Bruno’s Gelati. At closer range the Italian seemed even more theatrical, with a florid complexion, his thick black hair, eyebrows and moustache looking fresh from the bottle.
He caught sight of Kathy moving to Jackson’s side. ‘Who’s your new friend then, Harry?’ he asked mischievously. ‘New security officer? Bit of an improvement on your usual crew.’
‘Not quite, Bruno.’ Jackson introduced Kathy to Bruno Verdi and Mr Chang. ‘There’s a bit of a fuss about a missing girl, worked at Snow White’s. They’ve brought in the heavy mob. Sergeant Kolla here is from Serious Crime Branch, Scotland Yard.’
The gondolier appeared surprised, his bushy eyebrows rising.
Mr Chang said anxiously, ‘They must be real worried. I heard the girls mention that someone had been missing from work today.’
‘Worse than that. They found her this morning, murdered.’
Now both men looked shocked.
‘Murdered!’ Chang shook his head in horror. ‘That’s terrible.’
‘There’s been no positive ID on the body yet, Mr Jackson,’ Kathy warned.
‘Worse still,’ Jackson charged on. ‘They reckon she may have been killed here.’
Verdi seemed suddenly immobilised, the colour fading from his face. He swallowed before finding his voice. ‘What was her name?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Vlasich, Kerri Vlasich,’Kathy said, ‘and she’s still officially only a missing person. I’ve got a photograph…’ She went to open her shoulder bag, but stopped at a sudden movement in front of her. Bruno Verdi had slumped back onto a chair, so abruptly that at first she thought he had fallen. He sat rigid, eyes wide but unseeing, his face startlingly white now against the artificial jet black of his hair.
‘All right, Bruno?’ Harry Jackson looked at him curiously.
Verdi suddenly blinked and shook his head, inhaling deeply. ‘Sure
… sure…’ he mumbled, shaking his head. ‘It’s okay… it’s nothing. I been on my feet all day, that’s all. I’m okay.’
Mr Chang looked concerned. ‘He has blood pressure. I’ll get you a drink of water, Bruno.’
‘Did you know this girl, Mr Verdi?’ Kathy asked.
‘Girl?’ He blinked at her, looking puzzled, as if he’d forgotten who Kathy was.
‘Kerri Vlasich.’ She showed him the photograph.
He stared at the picture for some time, then said simply, ‘I recognise her, yes.’
‘When was the last time you saw her?’
Mr Chang hurried back with a plastic cup, which Verdi took and put to his mouth.
‘I couldn’t say,’ he said at last. ‘They come and go, these girls. Come and go.’
Later, as they left the food court, Jackson filled them in on some of the characters.
‘Bruno Verdi is one of our more colourful tenants, and he has a bit of clout, too. He’s the chairman of the Silvermeadow Small Traders’ Association. Very vocal on security and the like. He’ll be useful in helping us organise things, if it comes to large-scale interviews, talking to staff and so on.’
‘I’ve no doubt it’ll come to that, Harry,’ said Brock.
They were walking around the coral shores of the lagoon that surrounded the volcano.
‘What are the centre’s opening hours?’
‘Normally ten till ten for the general public. Management office nine till five, six days, but Ms Seager’s there longer than that. The building shuts down during the night from eleven till six. During those hours the perimeter’s secured and an outside contractor comes on call with dog patrols of the outdoor site. Otherwise our security centre is manned all the time.’
‘Okay, well I don’t think we can do much more tonight. We’ll be back tomorrow morning at nine. Maybe you could arrange access for us to unit one-eight-four, so we can start to get things organised. We shall certainly be wanting to go round the shops interviewing staff, and we’ll need to organise a search of the centre too.’
‘A search, chief?’
He looked worried. Kathy noticed that he had lapsed into the slang of the force, addressing Brock as if he were his senior officer.
‘Is that a problem?’ Brock asked.
‘Not for me, chief, but it’s a big job. This is a huge place. How close do you want to look?’
‘We need to find where the girl was assaulted and undressed, and we need to find her belongings, her clothes and the frog bag.’
‘If-’ Jackson began to object, but Brock lifted a hand to interrupt.
‘Okay, I take your point about her possibly being assaulted somewhere else and brought in here only for disposal, but we need to check anyway.’
‘Sure. Well, you’ll need plans of this place for a start. I’ll get them organised, shall I?’
‘That would be very helpful.’
As she watched them shake hands, Kathy thought that Harry Jackson seemed on a bit of a high. Maybe, she thought, he misses the grubby world outside after all.
Towards midnight, Kathy drove home the long way, orbiting London on the M25 round to Junction 25, a Diana King tape playing softly. Too late now to meet up with her airline pilot, who was probably packing his boxer shorts for another trip to LA or KL in the morning. Nicole had thought they might have had a perfect relationship, since he would be away most of the time circling the globe, while she would be equally absent poking about in London’s garbage. Ah, Kathy thought, but what about the one weekend in six when they did manage to touch base together? Might they be like the gelati man, unable to handle the shock of reality, discovering that the gloss is only microns thick?
4
K athy returned to the Hornchurch Street station first thing the following morning, and found PC Miriam Sangster in the canteen, eating a meal after coming off night shift. The building seemed less bleak in the wan morning sunlight, and the emergency seemed to be over, gas supplies resumed to the kitchens and the reassuring smell of deep-fat frying heavy in the air.
Sangster struck Kathy as a brisk, intelligent woman, a wary, sceptical set to her eyes.
‘They switched me to nights,’ she said, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. ‘Still getting used to it.’
‘I hate that shift,’ Kathy said, spreading butter on toast. ‘Did you hear about the Vlasich girl?’
‘Yes, people were talking about it. Gavin… DS Lowry’s working with you, isn’t he?’
‘Mm. But you were on your own for some of the time when you saw Mrs Vlasich, weren’t you? I thought I’d better go over it with you.’
‘Is there a problem?’ Sangster asked carefully. ‘About what I did? I wrote a fairly full report.’
Kathy sensed the other woman’s caution, just as she had with Lowry, in talking to an outsider. ‘No, no. No problem,’ she reassured her. ‘I’ve seen the report. I just wondered how you felt yourself about the business with the father.’
Sangster shook her head. ‘It was hard to tell without seeing him or the girl. There was a lot of fear on the mother’s side, as if she’d played it out so many times in her imagination, losing Kerri to the father, that when it actually happened she kept swinging from disbelief to absolute certainty. But the company he works for in Hamburg did confirm that he was abroad in Poland, not the UK, working for them on some pipeline project.’