Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(35)

Moss got out of the car, and they started up the street. Two doors down from Ivan’s house, a large elderly black man with salt and pepper hair was smoking a cigarette.

‘Did Ivan try to kill himself?’ he asked. He spoke with a warm Jamaican accent, and wore large, billowing grey trousers and a thick orange fleece dotted with cigarette burns. He tilted his head back and squinted at Erika and Moss, as if they were about to do something unexpected. They stopped by his gate.

‘We can’t talk about a case,’ said Erika.

‘Bad business, that girl being murdered. I’ve been watching that Ivan make a fool of himself with that girl for a long time. She was always going to be out of his league. I saw him being stretchered out. Tried to kill himself, didn’t he?’ He came close and put his hand on Erika’s shoulder, the tip of his cigarette glowing. ‘You see that car there, opposite?’ he said, pointing to a white Alfa Romeo with a huge dent in the bumper. The rear lights on the right-hand side were broken and the plastic littered the filthy snow below. Erika felt the man’s hand grip her shoulder. The smell of his breath was a mixture of cough sweets and cigarettes. She delicately unhooked her shoulder and stepped away.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s his car. He arrived back early this morning, drove straight into that car opposite, and crushed the front lights. Didn’t hang about, didn’t knock on the door to get insurance details.’ He put the cigarette back in his mouth and folded his arms across his chest.

‘What time was this?’ asked Moss.

‘Seven o’clock this morning or thereabouts.’

‘Why were you up?’

‘I’m old,’ he chuckled, with a stream of smoke. ‘And my wife doesn’t let me smoke in the house.’

‘And you’re sure it was Ivan Stowalski?’

‘I don’t know his second name, but I’m not blind! It was the Polish man.’ Erika and Moss contemplated that for a moment. The man went on. ‘He must have heard she died, the girl he was carrying on with.’

‘How do you know he was having an affair with her?’ asked Erika.

‘You call yourself a detective? I know because I’m out here most of the day. I see a lot, although people don’t take no notice of an old man… She used to come and go a lot from his house. After his wife had gone to work.’

‘When?’

‘Over the summer. Since the weather got cold she hasn’t been there as much. Last time I saw her was Christmas Eve…’ Abruptly, he walked back up the path and opened his front door.

‘Hey!’ started Erika, but he only reached inside and returned with an ashtray.

‘My wife. She never puts it back out here after she’s emptied it,’ he said, balancing it on the gate post. He stubbed out the cigarette and lit another.

‘What time did you see Marissa?’

‘I saw her twice on Christmas Eve. Once in the afternoon. It was just getting dark, so just before four. She came out of Ivan’s house with a face like thunder. He came out after her, pleading with her to come back… Oh lordy, he looked pathetic, just in his jeans and T-shirt and no shoes. He got down on his knees, cried and begged, and the ground was covered in snow. That really brought it home, what a knockout she is. Do you know she was a stripper? A stripper with stuff up here,’ he said, tapping his head. ‘That’s a real combination.’

‘Did you know what they were arguing about?’ asked Moss.

‘No. She shouted at him, expletives, to go away and leave her alone. He followed her up the road like a dog, but she told him to keep away from her or she’d call the police.’

‘She said that, “call the police”?’ said Erika.

‘I’m not deaf, woman. It’s what I heard.’

‘Did he come back to his house?’

‘He did, a little while later, tail between his legs.’

‘When did you see her for the second time?’

‘About 10 p.m., she just walked past on the way to her house.’

‘She was alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know if Ivan was home?’

The old man thought for a moment.

‘The lights were on, I think.’

Erika and Moss chewed that over.

‘Has anyone been to talk to you?’ asked Erika.

‘Like who?’

‘The police. There was a door-to-door over Christmas, and I would have expected you to have told one of my officers this.’

The man raised his hand and shook a finger at Erika.

‘Hold your horses, Juliet Bravo. I wasn’t here at Christmas. We was with my daughter and grandkids – she lives in Brent Cross. We drove over early on Christmas morning.’

‘What time?’

‘We set off around seven. Terrible, the roads were.’

‘Did you see anything else on Christmas morning?’

He shook his head.

‘Okay. Thank you. Can I send one of my officers over to take all of this down officially?’

‘If I’m here, I’m happy to.’ He gave her a broad smile with yellow teeth.

They carried on walking up the road.

‘So, she rowed with Ivan the day she was killed,’ said Moss. ‘He was home when she came back from her gig at 10 p.m.’