The Silent Suspect Page 9

  Well, it’s time to put your feet up, he said with a grin, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer for himself and pouring me a glass of wine. I took it from him and clinked my glass against his, then put it down on the table.

  I’m working tomorrow, and driving home tonight, I reminded him. But one glass will be okay.

  He held his hands up. You’re right, I’m sorry. What are you doing tomorrow?

  Something for Sasha, I told him. One of her clients is in a bit of a tight spot.

  I stopped short of telling him I’d let myself get tangled up in another police investigation, though. We’d met when he was linked to the first case I’d worked on for the police. I’d become too involved, with Anna ending up getting hurt, and ever since then he bristled at the idea of me being caught up with another investigation.

  I thought they only paid you to interpret for Sasha from Monday to Wednesday? he replied, a slight frown tugging at his eyebrows. I resisted the urge to sigh.

  They do, but this client needs support, and it can’t wait until Monday.

  He nodded. Okay. Just make sure they’re not taking advantage of you.

  I can look after myself, I told him, my signing a bit sharper than usual, and he held up his hands again.

  Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look after you.

  I nodded, and didn’t reply. He’d been doing this a lot recently, and I understood that he meant well, but it was starting to feel claustrophobic. Having been in a controlling relationship before, I was constantly on the alert for signs of manipulation, but Max’s attitude didn’t feel at all like gaslighting, it just felt a little patronising.

  Stepping forward, Max pulled me into a hug. For a very brief moment I resisted, but then let myself relax into it. If he hadn’t asked me to move in, I wouldn’t have an issue right now, I told myself. Sure, some of the things he said irritated me a little, but he meant well, and he cared about me. But if they were irritating me so much I didn’t want to move in with him, the little voice in the back of my mind said, maybe they were bigger issues than I thought? Once again I ignored the voice and smiled up at Max.

  How is your week going?

  He nodded. Pretty good. It’s going to be an intense few weeks until the summer, though. We’ve got a couple of kids doing their SATs, and the revision has already put a lot of pressure on our team.

  Max worked as a teaching assistant at a school in Hull that had a specialist unit for deaf children, and he was passionate about his job. I let him tell me all about his week, trying hard to concentrate on what he was signing, but my mind kept drifting back to the huge elephant in the corner of the room. Once he’d finished, we went through to the living room and sat on the sofa. He shifted round so his back was against the arm of the sofa, and gave me a searching look.

  So, are we going to talk about the other night? He was obviously trying to keep it light-hearted, but the way his eyes roved across my face, trying to read my expression, I could tell he’d been thinking about nothing else.

  Of course we can talk about it, I replied, trying to give him a smile that would make him relax. I think it’s important that we do talk about it. It was a big question, and it’s not something I want to answer without having given it a lot of careful thought.

  He gave me a wry smile. Here was me hoping you wouldn’t have to give it any thought at all, or that you’d already been thinking about it and were just waiting for me to ask.

  I shook my head. You know my history, Max. You know why the idea of living with you, with any partner, is a difficult one for me to process. I need to separate my feelings for you from my fears, and sometimes that’s really hard, even now.

  For a moment, I searched for the right words to explain how I felt. For four years I’d lived with a man who gambled away all of his own money, then started making his way through mine. He gradually took control of my finances, without me even noticing until it was too late, but by then he’d worn down my self-esteem so far that I didn’t have the fight left in me to challenge him. It all came to a head when he went out on a three-day casino bender, locking me in the flat without a phone or any other means to communicate with the outside world. I’d broken a window to get out, in the end, leaving me with a jagged scar on my left forearm.

  Now, as I looked at Max, my other hand was drawn to touch my scar, but I forced myself to resist the impulse. I knew he was sensitive about being compared to my ex, and I understood why, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. It was automatic that my past experiences would play a role in my decision-making in this relationship.

  I understand that, Paige, I do. But at some point I feel like we need to move past that. You need to move on and remember that I’m completely different from him. To me it seems like the logical next step in our relationship. He sat forward, his knee touching mine. I love you, Paige. I want to wake up next to you every morning, and go to sleep next to you every night. I don’t want to take away any of your independence, I just want to spend my life with you.

  I love you too, I replied. I just need a bit of time to decide what I want.

  Max took a deep breath, and I could tell that he was trying not to get cross. Maybe it was something he’d been thinking about for months, but I hadn’t. Whenever thoughts about our future drifted into my mind, I’d deliberately pushed them away again. Now that strategy was coming back to bite me, but I didn’t think I was being unfair by asking for a few days to make my decision.

  It’s a big commitment, I reminded him, and neither of us should go into it without thinking carefully about it first. That’s all I’m asking for. I looked down at my hands for a moment while I thought. Can I give you an answer by Saturday? I asked.

  Max nodded, and I tried not to let the sadness in his eyes get to me. Part of me wanted to say yes and agree to whatever he wanted, just to please him, but that was the part of me that had acquiesced to everything with my ex and got me into such a difficult situation. I wasn’t going back there, and if that meant being selfish and always putting myself before Max, so be it.

  We settled down on the sofa, and I put my feet up on the coffee table, dislodging a couple of papers. Picking them up, I noticed my name on one of them, so I had a closer look.

  What’s this? I asked him. I had a pretty good idea what it was, but I needed to make sure.

  Oh, I got it from the leisure centre, Max replied, taking the papers off me.

  You applied for a joint membership?

  I haven’t applied yet, I just got the form.

  I paused. And you filled the form in. Without asking me.

  Max sat up a bit, realising I wasn’t happy. I thought it would be nice, if you moved in. It would be something for us to do together.

  My head swam with all of the potential responses. Are you serious?

  What? he asked, looking hurt.

  Have I ever expressed any interest in going to the gym? I asked him slowly, trying not to get angry.

  Well, no, but I thought it would be good for us to try and share each other’s interests, he began, but I held up a hand and shook my head.

  Are you trying to tell me something? That you don’t think I’m fit enough, that my body isn’t good enough? I snapped.

  He rolled his eyes, which was probably the worst thing he could have done at that point. No, Paige, of course not. I thought it would be a bit of fun. Just forget about it.

  I sat back on the sofa, my arms folded and my stomach churning. Had he really thought that I would appreciate a gesture like that? Going to the gym was not my idea of fun, but if I ever did decide I wanted to work out it would be me making that decision, not whoever I was in a relationship with. How could he have thought I would be happy about it? Didn’t he know me at all?

  I didn’t bring it up again but there was tension between us for the rest of the evening. I was meeting Sasha at the office the following morning, so I didn’t stay over, and as I got in my car Max watched me from the doorway, his face blank. I knew he was deep in thought
, but perhaps I didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

  Six hours before the fire

  The gym was quiet, but Nadia could still feel eyes on her as she crossed the floor towards the door marked ‘Private’. Feeling her resolve start to trickle away, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open without knocking. Inside, there was a short corridor with a door to either side and one at the end. The office was quite easy to find, and she found the man she was looking for sitting at a desk with three computer monitors.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his smile charming, but she wasn’t fooled. She knew about his reputation, and would have to be on her guard. Even if he accepted her offer, she was prepared to find herself in a dangerous situation.

  ‘I’m Nadia Nowak,’ she replied, willing herself to hold his gaze. This statement earned her a raised eyebrow, and she knew she had caught his interest.

  ‘And what can I do for you, Nadia Nowak?’ he asked, his voice silky. He enunciated clearly, and she was relieved that she’d be able to understand him. Hearing aids weren’t much use against mumblers.

  She came into the office and perched herself on the edge of his desk, so she was looking down at him. This position had the added benefit that she could see his face clearly in order to lip-read as he spoke.

  ‘I’ve come here to talk to you, to see if we can renegotiate the arrangement.’ She’d practised what she was going to say in the hope that it would make her sound more confident than she felt, but her voice still shook slightly.

  He stretched out, looking at her legs appreciatively, clasping his hands across his taut stomach.

  ‘Renegotiate? That sounds interesting. I might be willing to hear your proposal.’

  She swallowed, and looked down at the floor before realising her mistake. The moment she dropped her gaze, he knew how nervous she was. When she looked up again, his grin was that of a wolf looking at a lamb.

  ‘Before we begin our, ah, negotiations,’ he said, enunciating the word very carefully, ‘I have a question. Does Lukas know you’re here?’

  ‘No. But if he’s not willing to do what needs to be done for the good of his family, I am.’

  He laughed, throwing his head back so she got a glimpse of his smooth neck. How she wished she had the strength to reach out and throttle him, but she knew if she even tried to lay a finger on him he’d overpower her in seconds. Muscles rippled beneath his well-tailored shirt, his outfit a little over the top for a seedy boxing gym in the middle of Scunthorpe. A treacherous part of her mind said that if she felt this was her only option, at least he had a great body.

  ‘Well,’ he said, standing up and approaching the desk. ‘I’m always interested in a bit of, what was it? Negotiation.’ He placed one of his feet between hers, forcing her legs apart slightly, and tilted his pelvis forwards, pinning her to the desk. He put his weight on his left hand while his right traced a line from her jawline, down to her shoulder, around the curve of her breast and down to her waist. She recoiled a little from his touch, which made him laugh, and his hand slipped lower, gripping one of her buttocks.

  ‘Did you really think that this would work?’ he asked her quietly, looking her in the eyes, his wolfish grin still there. ‘You’re lucky that I’m not really in the mood right now, or I might have taken full advantage of your attempts to screw me over, pun very much intended. Why don’t you trot along home like the good little wifey you are, and tell Lukas that I want my money, and there’s nothing that will make me reduce the figure.’ On the last word, he ran his hand back up her side again, making her squirm uncomfortably.

  ‘Fine,’ she replied, pushing him away from her. As she went to leave, he grabbed her wrist.

  ‘What would Lukas think if he found out about this?’

  The blush that crept up her face answered for her, and she didn’t like the expression that appeared on his face.

  ‘Oh, well now. I bet he’d be interested to know how his wife tries to meddle in his business affairs, wouldn’t he?’

  She pulled away from him and hurried out of the office, anger and fear spurring her on. If he told Lukas … No, she didn’t want to think about that. She’d hoped she could make things better, but it was possible she had just made them a lot worse.

  Chapter 12

  Friday 19th April

  Sasha’s office was busy when I arrived the following morning. She normally spent Fridays at Lincoln School for the Deaf, but she’d rearranged things in order to devote more time to helping Lukas, whether he wanted that help or not.

  Sasha was already sitting at her desk with her emails open, and she gave me a wave as soon as she saw me.

  Morning. We’ve got a busy day today. Do you mind calling the police station to see if we can arrange to speak to Lukas?

  Part of my job sometimes involved making calls for Sasha, when it was something that might take too long over email. The job was interesting, so I was happy to be part-interpreter, part-PA. Every day felt very busy, but the pressure of Lukas’s situation presumably added to Sasha’s workload.

  Do you think he’ll be willing to see you? I asked.

  I don’t know, but this time I’ve got some information I need to talk to him about.

  I raised my eyebrows in question.

  I’ve found out who he owes money to, she told me. If he can tell us a bit more about this friend of his, it might explain what’s gone on.

  Once I’d made the call, Sasha told me a bit more of what she’d found out.

  The man’s called Roy Chapman, and he owns a gym near to where Lukas lives. It’s called Worx, she told me, spelling it out on her fingers. The business appears to be above board, on the surface at least, but there have been rumours for quite a while about Chapman being dodgy.

  Dodgy in what way? I asked.

  Drugs, maybe prostitution, but the one I’ve heard the most about is his extortionate loans. He preys on vulnerable people, and lends them money at rates they’ll never be able to pay back.

  I shook my head. And Lukas borrowed money from him?

  So I believe, but I need him to confirm it.

  I could tell Sasha was on edge, because her leg jiggled under the desk the entire time we were discussing it. It got worse the longer we waited to hear back from the police. To try and take her mind off it, I showed her my notebook and the questions I’d written down. She suggested I make a new page about Lukas’s debt to jot down anything we found out today. Before I did, I noticed her frowning at one of the notes I’d made: it was just one word, ‘bruises’, followed by several question marks.

  I’m sure there’s an explanation, she told me.

  I nodded, but didn’t answer. Unless Lukas actually broke his silence and told the police how he came to be black and blue on the night his wife had been murdered, I didn’t think it looked good for him.

  Eventually, the phone rang. I answered and spoke to the officer on the other end; it wasn’t good news.

  Lukas won’t see you, I told her.

  What? The emotions on her face ranged from annoyed to confused, then she sighed. I had hoped he would have seen sense by now. I don’t think he’s doing himself any favours if he keeps this up.

  I didn’t know what to say; I agreed with her, but there was no way to force him to cooperate with the police, and he didn’t have to see her if he didn’t want to. I was trying to think of a response when one of the frazzled-looking reception staff came into the room and trotted over to us.

  ‘There’s someone here to see Sasha,’ she told me. ‘A kid. I told him she was busy but he said he’d wait.’

  ‘A kid?’ My mind immediately went to Mariusz, and when I interpreted this for Sasha she agreed with me.

  ‘Yeah, a teenager. He’s in the family room,’ she told me, nodding in the direction of a little side room before hurrying back into the office, following the sound of a ringing phone.

  Sasha and I went straight through; if Mariusz had come to see Sasha about his father, it must be important.


  We were right about who the visitor was. When he saw us, Mariusz jumped slightly and sat up straight in his chair. Before then, he’d been lounging with his legs stretched out, feet up on the little table in the middle of the room. Even when he tried to pull himself up to his full height he didn’t look his age, and I wondered how often he had to prove he was sixteen.

  Sorry, he signed, looking awkwardly between me and Sasha. I want to talk to you about my dad.

  His signing was slow and a little jerky. I knew he must be used to communicating with Lukas this way, but nerves and unfamiliarity were probably affecting his signing with Sasha.

  ‘Do you want me to sign for Sasha, then you can concentrate on what you want to say?’ I asked him gently. I didn’t want him to think he wasn’t good enough, but it’s always easier to express yourself in your first language.

  He nodded. ‘Okay.’ He looked back at Sasha and swallowed hard. ‘I want to help my dad. Mum says I can’t see him, and that I mustn’t talk to you or the police about him. She says I’m too young to understand it, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ His voice rose, and I could see a mixture of anger and frustration behind his eyes. ‘Maybe I can find out something, find out what happened to Nadia. It wasn’t Dad, I know it wasn’t.’

  Sasha and I exchanged a look before either of us responded. We knew this was going to be a difficult task, giving Mariusz the space he needed to talk without leading him. I felt a bit uncomfortable talking to him in the first place, without a parent here. It was important that we let Mariusz talk, and then if he told us anything useful that we passed it on to the police straight away, so they could interview him formally. Of course, that was if Sasha was willing to talk to the police. I was starting to worry that she would do her best to prevent me sharing what we’d learnt with DS Singh, which was making me all the more inclined to talk to him myself.