Blood on the Marsh (DI Susan Holden 3)

‘Did she now?’

‘In fact, looking back through the log, she quite often rang him, and he rang her too.’ The grin on Wilson’s face was Cheshire cat sized. ‘Perhaps she and he were in a relationship?’

Fox laughed. ‘You mean, they were fucking.’

Wilson blushed. He was strikingly coy about sex for a man of the twenty-first century.

Wilson’s grin had, it seemed, migrated to Holden, for there was a look of delight written large across her features. The grin was not, however, aimed at anyone in particular. It was just that, all of a sudden, the whole investigation had become really rather interesting.

‘They say Mr Greenleaf was killed by a mugger. Is that true?’

Ania Gorski sat opposite the detective inspector, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had arrived at the interview with a red face and damp eyes, a clear indication that she had already heard about Paul Greenleaf’s death. Her question confirmed it. Holden wished she could have put a lid on the news until she had confronted Ania with the question. To have seen her first reaction would surely have been instructive. But there’s no stopping people talking.

‘He was killed while out jogging. We don’t know any more than that.’

‘But why would anyone have done this?’ Holden looked at her hard. She saw the round-eyed innocence of her face, and heard the shock in her voice. But she wasn’t convinced, and she certainly wasn’t distracted from her plan of action.

‘Ania,’ she said, with the most disarming of smiles. She too could play the innocent. ‘Would you please tell us why you tried to ring Paul Greenleaf last night?’

Ania didn’t answer immediately. It was only the briefest pause, the sort of pause that might indicate anything – shock, surprise, distress, or maybe several split seconds of thinking time. But undeniably she paused before she answered. ‘Because I wanted to speak to him.’

‘About what?’

‘About … about my job.’

‘About your job?’ Holden made no attempt to hide her disbelief. ‘You rang him to discuss your job? But you were working yesterday? Did you not speak to him during the day?’

‘I finished work at four o’clock. He wasn’t in his office. So later I rang him.’

‘Three times?’

‘Maybe three times.’

‘Definitely three times. Why did you ring him three times? Why did you not leave a message saying you wanted a meeting to discuss your job?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to leave a message. I wanted to speak to him.’

Fox made a snorting noise that indicated all too clearly his scepticism. Both women turned to look at him. But he was interested only in Holden. She gave an infinitesimal nod, and he switched he gaze back to Ania. ‘Miss Gorski,’ he said gruffly. ‘Mr Greenleaf had your name and number stored on his mobile. And his call log suggests you often spoke to him by phone. Why was that?’

She paused, and chewed at her bottom lip. ‘We were good friends.’

‘You mean you were lovers?’

This time Ania made no reply at all, merely ducking her head as if embarrassed by the question.

‘Were you lovers, Ania?’ It was Holden asking the questions again. Gentle, encouraging, almost intimate. ‘It’s not a crime. But we do need an answer. Otherwise we’ll have to take you down to the police station and it will all take a lot longer.’

‘Yes.’ It was a whisper, which Holden sensed rather than heard.

‘How long have you been lovers? A week, a month, a year?’

‘About two months.’

‘What did you do yesterday, after you left work?’

‘I went home to my flat.’

‘Is there anyone who can confirm that? Was anyone there with you?’