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Giles leaned towards his solicitor, his mouth close to the man’s ear, murmuring.

‘My client would need to appraise his accounts fully, to answer on this matter,’ said the solicitor.

‘Here’s the bank statements,’ said Erika, pushing them across the table. ‘You can clearly see the money coming into one account, and going out to the other. How much more do you need to appraise? Mercury Investments is a landscape gardening company. Yakka Events have very little in the way of gardens.’

Giles tapped his finger to his lips, pausing. Finally, he said, ‘I believe that the money was used to source a rare tree from New Zealand.’

‘What?’ said Peterson.

‘I wanted it to be the centrepiece of my courtyard, the tree. I forget its name,’ said Giles, smoothly. ‘I can, in due course, produce an invoice with proof of this. You are aware that Mr Kucerov owns a landscape gardening business?’

‘Yes,’ said Erika.

‘Then, mystery solved. That is why I transferred forty-six thousand pounds to his account.’

‘He trims hedges and mows lawns, albeit on a large scale,’ said Erika.

‘And Simon Douglas-Brown has no knowledge of this deal?’ added Peterson.

‘And why would he? He was a sleeping partner. We agreed he would buy a certain amount of shares, making him a part owner in Yakka Events. I believe he now owns 13.8%, to be precise. But, as you can see, I can’t access that information because you dragged me out of bed first thing in the morning and confiscated my devices.’ Giles smiled at Erika sarcastically.

‘How were you introduced to Igor Kucerov?’ asked Erika.

‘Through Andrea,’ he said.

‘And you are aware that Andrea was involved in a sexual relationship with Kucerov?’

‘At the time, no. You’ve since shown me photographs, of course.’

‘Do you know how Andrea met Igor Kucerov?’

‘I think she said something about, um, a friend – Barbora something . . .’

‘Kardosova, Barbora Kardosova?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘And did you know that Barbora Kardosova was involved in a relationship with Igor Kucerov?’

Giles looked baffled and shook his head.

‘My client has answered your questions in relation to the forty-six thousand pound investment; I don’t see why he has to answer questions about the friend of his fiancée’s private relationships,’ said the solicitor.

Erika and Peterson stared at Giles across the table.

‘That’s all for now,’ said Erika.

‘And my client can leave?’ asked the solicitor.

‘I didn’t say that.’ Erika and Peterson stood up.

‘And what now?’ asked the solicitor.

‘We’ll be back,’ said Erika.

They filed out into the corridor and back to the observation suite.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Erika, eyeing Moss and Peterson.

‘Do you think the rare tree bullshit will fly in court, if we got there?’ asked Moss, who had been watching everything on the screens.

‘We’ve seen his office, full of pretentious touches. It fits with what he’s saying,’ sighed Peterson.

‘Yes, but where is the tree?’ asked Erika. ‘The money was paid over a year ago.’

‘Maybe they’re waiting for it to grow,’ remarked Moss, darkly.

There was a knock on the door of the observation suite. It was Woolf.

‘Boss, I’ve got Marsh on the phone. He’s demanding to talk to you. He’s in his car on his way back to London.’

‘Does he say where he is?’

‘Still in Devon,’ said Woolf.

‘Tell him you can’t find me.’

‘Boss, he knows you’re interviewing them all.’

‘Use your brain, Woolf. Make something up. I’ll face the consequences; just get us more time.’

‘Yes, boss,’ said Woolf. When he’d gone, they looked back at the screens.

‘Let’s see what Igor has to say about this,’ said Erika. ‘And then let’s bring Linda into the mix.’

66

‘He wanted me to find a tree for his office,’ said Igor, sitting back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. Erika noticed he had yellow patches under his arms, and that the interview room was now starting to smell of stale sweat.

‘And you can do that, in your capacity as a landscape gardener?’ asked Erika.

‘This is London; most people want crazy stuff in their gardens, and with the Internet it’s easy.’

‘Why is the company in your wife’s name?’

‘It just is.’

‘And who introduced you to Giles?’ asked Peterson, even though they knew the answer.

‘Andrea, of course.’ Igor grinned.

‘And does your wife know about Andrea?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Did she know about your relationship with Barbora Kardosova?’

‘My wife is a good woman!’

‘What does that mean? She knows when to keep her mouth shut? Looks the other way? Does she know you are involved in the trafficking of young Eastern European girls to London? That you pick them up at Victoria Coach Station?’ asked Erika.

‘My client doesn’t have to answer these questions. This is mere speculation. You have no evidence,’ interrupted the solicitor.

‘We have a recorded interview with Barbora Kardosova where she states all of this, and that you murdered Nadia Greco.’

‘And where is this witness?’ asked the solicitor.

‘She committed suicide shortly after the interview,’ said Erika, watching Igor. ‘She was so scared of speaking the truth about you, that she killed herself.’

‘I hardly call that a credible witness, a suicidal woman. And this wasn’t a sworn deposition,’ said the solicitor.

Igor sat back in his chair, smug and confident.

Igor’s solicitor continued. ‘Whilst you have been flitting between interview rooms, I took the opportunity to review the trial documents in question. What you claim is nothing more than that: a claim. Great swathes of the trial records have been redacted. From a legal standpoint, they don’t exist. You realise that very soon you are going to have to charge my client? Time is ticking, Miss Foster.’

‘It’s DCI Foster,’ said Erika, trying to hide her frustration. She added that she was suspending the interview, and after reading out the time stamp for the tape, she and Peterson left.

67

Erika, Moss, and Peterson were about to file into interview room three to speak to Linda, when the solicitor reminded them that legally their suspects were due a meal break. An hour later, and it was late afternoon. The day seemed to be vanishing.

‘Linda, do you know why we’ve arrested you?’ asked Erika.

Linda sat back in her chair, cool and collected. ‘You think I have information. You think that I knew someone who killed Andrea? You think I killed Andrea, or perhaps you think I shot JR? Or President Kennedy.’

‘This isn’t funny, Linda. This is Igor Kucerov; he’s also been using the name George Mitchell. Andrea was involved in a sexual relationship with him before and while she was with Giles,’ said Erika, pushing his photo across the table.

Linda stared at the photos laid out in front of her, regarding the explicit ones impassively.

‘We know he took this photo of you and Andrea,’ Erika added.

‘You don’t know that,’ Linda sniffed, her eyes darting between the officers. ‘How can you know that?’

‘Because we’ve arrested Igor Kucerov on suspicion of Andrea’s murder, and the murders of Tatiana Ivanova, Mirka Bratova, Karolina Todorova and Ivy Norris. Right now he’s in being interviewed in the next room,’ said Erika.

‘You’re lying, and I don’t talk to liars. Do I have to talk to these liars?’ asked Linda, looking to her solicitor.

‘Do you have evidence that this photo of my client was taken by the man you state?’ asked the solicitor.