The Girl In The Ice (Detective Erika Foster, #1)(20)

‘Is it always this quiet?’ asked Erika, looking around at the empty bar.

‘It’s January,’ shrugged the woman, wiping ashtrays with an old cloth. ‘And no football.’

‘My friend got her au pair from an advert here,’ said Erika, coming back to her bar stool. ‘Do you get many women in here? Young girls? Looking to be au pairs?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘My friend said that there was a girl looking for work, that I might meet her here?’

The girl stopped wiping an ashtray and regarded her with a cold eye. Erika took another sip of her drink then pulled out her phone. She scrolled through to the picture of Andrea and turned it round.

‘This is her.’

‘Never seen her,’ said the girl, a bit too quickly.

‘Really? My friend did say she was in here just a few days ago . . .’

‘I didn’t see her.’ The girl lifted up a wire tray half-filled with empty glasses and went to leave.

‘I’m not done yet,’ said Erika, placing her police ID on the bar.

The girl hesitated and put the wire tray back. When she turned, she saw the ID and looked panicked.

‘No it’s okay, I just need you to answer my questions. What’s your name?’

‘Kristina.’

‘Kristina . . .?’

‘Just Kristina,’ she insisted.

‘Okay. Just Kristina. I’ll ask you again. Have you seen this girl in here?’

The girl looked down at the picture of Andrea on the phone and shook her head so furiously that her cheeks wobbled.

‘Were you working here the night of the eighth? It was a Thursday, just over a week ago.’

The girl thought about it, and shook her head again.

‘Are you sure? She was found dead earlier today.’

The girl chewed her lip.

‘Are you the landlady?’

‘No.’

‘You just work here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s the landlady, or landlord?’

Kristina shrugged.

‘Come on, Kristina. I can find out this information easily, with the brewery. And those men were smoking in here, despite the smoking ban. Do you know how much that would cost in fines? Thousands of pounds. And then there’s the illegal employment agency. You just charged me twenty pounds to advertise. I could make a call and have a team of officers here in five minutes, and you’d be responsible . . .’

Kristina started to cry. Her huge chest heaved, her face went red and she scrubbed at her beady little eyes with a corner of a tea towel.

‘If you can just answer a couple of questions,’ said Erika, ‘I can make sure that you are seen as an innocent employee.’

Kristina stopped crying and caught her breath.

‘Okay . . . It’s okay, Kristina. Nothing bad is going to happen. Now, please, look at this photo again. Did you see this girl here on the night of the eighth? That was last Thursday. She was abducted and murdered. If you can tell me anything, you might help me find whoever did this.’

The girl looked down through swollen eyes at the picture of Andrea. ‘She sat there, in the corner,’ she said, finally. Erika turned and saw the small table by the dance floor. She also noticed that the two men drinking had gone, leaving half-full pints.

‘You’re sure it was this girl?’ said Erika, holding up the picture on the phone again.

‘Yeah. I remember how beautiful she was.’

‘Was she alone? Did she meet anyone?’

Kristina nodded. ‘There was a young woman with her, short blonde hair.’

‘As short as mine?’ asked Erika.

The girl nodded.

‘Anything else?’

‘They had a drink, or two, I don’t know, it was a really busy night . . . and . . . and . . .’

Erika could see she was becoming more worked up and scared, ‘Go on, Kristina. It’s okay, I promise.’

‘Then I don’t know when she went, her friend – but when I looked again, there was a man sitting with her.’

‘What did he look like?’

The woman shrugged. ‘Tall, dark . . . They argued.’

‘What do you mean, tall and dark? Can you be a bit more detailed?’ said Erika, trying to hide her frustration. This was a real breakthrough, but Kristina was being too vague. She made a decision and pulled out her phone.

‘Kristina, I want you to come with me to the station, and do what we call a photofit of the woman and man you saw Andrea sitting with.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ Kristina started, backing away.

Erika dialled the number for the duty desk at Lewisham Row. It started to ring. ‘Your information could lead to us finding out who killed this woman, Andrea.’

‘But I’m at work . . . and . . .’

‘I can get the officers to come here. We can do this now.’ The duty officer picked up the phone. ‘It’s DCI Erika Foster. I need uniform and a squad car to The Glue Pot pub on London Road in Forest Hill, and who do we have on duty who can do a photofit?’

There was a movement, and Erika realised Kristina had darted through a door at the back of the bar.

‘Shit! Hang on, I’ll call you back.’ Erika swung herself over the bar and through the doorway to a filthy little back kitchen. A door stood open. Erika stepped into the alleyway. It stretched away long and empty in both directions. A light dusting of snow began to fall. It was eerily silent.