He did as asked. The bread had a hint of vinegar, but he swallowed it and thanked her.
‘No need to speak. You bow your head, so.’
So he bowed his head.
Halliwell received his portion in the approved way, in silence.
‘That is good,’ Olena said. ‘Now we talk in my living room.’
The room was small, with only two chairs at either side of an old-fashioned fireplace, the mantelpiece crowded with black and white photos in metal frames. In an alcove to one side was a patriarchal crucifix with the extra crosspiece. On a shelf below, a silver-plated vase held some wax flowers.
‘You sit,’ Olena said, gesturing to the chairs. ‘Both.’
She was pouring something from a jug into three wineglasses. There was no arguing with this lady. If she offered you a chair, you sat; and if she said drink, you drank.
‘Is called kvas,’ she said as she handed the glasses to her guests. It looked dark and bubbly. ‘After chorni khlib, you have thirst so you drink this. Made from black bread and sugar. All Ukrainians drink kvas.’
‘Children as well?’ Halliwell asked.
She nodded. ‘No alcohol.’
‘Good health, then,’ Diamond said, trying not to catch Halliwell’s eye. The drink reminded him of cold Ovaltine and he didn’t care much for it. ‘We came to ask you about a young Ukrainian woman who we think travelled to Bath about twenty years ago and was murdered there. We don’t know her name. She would have been about twenty and it’s likely she came to London first.’
‘Murdered? Why?’
‘She must have met bad people, here, or in Bath.’
‘With God’s help I try to stop girls from meeting such people,’ Olena said. ‘I would not know.’
‘But you may remember a girl who was going to Bath and wasn’t heard of again. It would be unusual, wouldn’t it, in about 1990, for a Ukrainian girl to be heading for Bath?’
‘Or 1991,’ Halliwell added, ‘when your country gained independence.’
‘Regained,’ Olena said with a look that put him to the bottom of the class. ‘No, I cannot help. I remember nobody like this.’
‘It was a time when people gained the freedom to travel,’ Diamond said, unwilling to give up. ‘Were you already living here?’
‘I am here before then,’ she said. ‘The church helped me to find work here and at home, so I give back. Many who came were young women. In Ukraine so many without job are women. I cannot begin to describe.’
‘Can you remember the names of those you helped?’
‘Many. Not all. Some we lost to evil men who take them to be Scots.’
Diamond was mystified.
Halliwell said, ‘I think you mean escorts.’
‘Yes. Scots.’
‘And do you keep any sort of record of where they are now?’ Diamond asked.
‘Record. What is that?’
‘Name? Address?’
‘Some write to me still.’
‘Even from 1991?’
‘A few.’
‘We’d like to hear of anyone you’re still in touch with from that time in case they remember this woman.’
She took down one of the photo frames. ‘This is Viktoriya. She arrive here 1991 to be waitress. The men who offer this job are lying. Soon they force her to sell her body. You understand?’
‘What happened? Did she go missing?’
‘No. Still here, with family now, married to Englishman, living in Barnes, thank the blessed Lord Jesus.’
‘She escaped from that life?’
‘By his mercy.’
‘Barnes isn’t far from here,’ Diamond said.
‘Yes. Sometimes she come to see me.’
He glanced at Halliwell. This was promising. ‘Where exactly in Barnes?’
Olena gasped in horror and wagged her finger from side to side. ‘You stay away. She will be frightened.’
‘Why? You said she’s given up the bad old life.’
‘That is what she tell me.’ But uncertainty remained, even in Olena, who wanted to believe the best.
‘All we want is to speak to her.’
‘You are secret police.’
‘Detectives in plain clothes. Not the same thing at all. Not in this country, I promise you.’
She was tight-lipped.
‘We talk to witnesses all the time,’ Diamond said. ‘We can do this without scaring her. In fact, only one of us needs to chat to her.’ He smiled in a reassuring way intended to underline his credentials as Mr Nice.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
He broadened the argument. ‘For the sake of the murdered girl and her family. She has a God-given right to be treated properly as well.’
This worked better. They could see the conflict in Olena’s eyes. Where did her Christian duty lie? She sighed, a deep heart felt sigh. ‘You wait here. I get my address book.’
Now that they were alone, Mr Nice took the opportunity to pour what was left of his kvas into a potted plant.
‘Are you thinking of dividing forces?’ Halliwell said. ‘I don’t mind going to Barnes if you’d do the booze artist.’
‘Sod that. I’m in charge.’ When it suits me, he thought.
‘What I’m thinking, guv, is that you could handle another chorni khlib welcome, but could you handle the kvas as well?’
‘Ah.’ He was wavering. Halliwell had a point.
‘You get the straight vodkas, but as I’m the driver…’
‘You’re a devious bastard, Keith.’
Olena returned and handed them a piece of paper with a Barnes address.
Before they split up, Diamond felt in his pocket. For once, he was carrying the phone Paloma had given him. ‘Just as well to keep in touch,’ he told Halliwell. ‘Do you have my number?’
‘It’s in the memory.’
He blinked. ‘Is it? Then it’s better than my memory. When did I give it to you?’
‘Ingeborg did. She made a note of it last year when she was showing you how to work the thing. She passed it round the office.’
‘That woman! Bloody nerve.’
‘What’s the point of having a phone if you aren’t reachable?’
‘I have an old-fashioned liking for privacy.’
‘Is that why it isn’t switched on?’
‘Isn’t it?’ He fingered the controls in a clumsy way and Halliwell pressed the correct one. They agreed to meet at the car at 6 p.m. unless they’d been in contact before.
A taxi delivered Diamond to Addison Road and the Crimea, an old-style Victorian pub with a field gun as its sign. To most Brits, the Crimea was a war rather than a place. Inside, blue and green tiles and varnished woodwork made it dark. Some kind of plaintive music from a stringed instrument was being piped through the room. A balalaika, Diamond decided from no expert knowledge.
He approached the two men on bar stools, the only customers he could see. They looked about his age and were speaking in a foreign language. He waited for a pause.
‘Excuse me. I’m looking for Andriy.’
‘In what connection, my friend?’ If this was a Ukrainian, he had a better command of English than Olena.
‘I was told if I bought him a drink he might help me find someone.’
‘That’s always possible.’ The speaker had a grey baseball cap pulled well down on his forehead, making his pale blue eyes seem a long way off.
‘You know him?’ Diamond said.
A nod. ‘Two double vodkas would be nice.’
As if by arrangement, a bar girl appeared from nowhere.
‘You heard that?’ Diamond asked her.
She was already filling a glass. ‘And for you, sir?’
He pointed to one of the beer handles. ‘That’ll do. A half.’ He didn’t trust himself drinking vodkas. He paid and turned back to the drinkers. ‘Which of you is Andriy?’
After some hesitation the second man raised a finger and said nothing. His hunched, comfortable position on the bar counter spoke of many hours of practice. A fine head of black curls sagged between broad shoulders.
‘He’s your man,’ his companion said. ‘Knows everyone.’