Twenty
Both Carole and Jude had shopping to do on the Saturday morning, but they joined up for coffee in the kitchen of High Tor at about eleven. Jude had not suggested meeting at Woodside Cottage because Zofia Jankowska had come in very late the night before and the poor girl needed her sleep. She was exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster she had been riding since she heard of her brother’s death.
Carole was very pleased with herself about the information she had received from Gerald Hume and presented it to Jude with considerable aplomb. “So at last we have a name. Someone who, did actually know Tadek – or at least spoke to him in the betting shop.”
“Pauline implied that he knew the woman. Melanie Newton, eh?”
“And Gerald seemed to think she lived in Fedborough.”
“Sounds like a job for the local phone book.”
Flicking through the directory, they were beginning to wish their quarry had a less common name. There were forty Newtons listed. But when they narrowed the search down to Fedborough addresses, it looked easier.
Only four. None of them had the initial ‘M’, but, as Carole and Jude agreed, the listing might well be under the name of Melanie Newton’s husband or another relation.
“Well, let’s see if we get any joy. Are you going to call them or shall I?”
“You do it, Jude.” Carole was suddenly embarrassed by the idea of phoning up complete strangers. “You’re better at lying than I am.”
“Why do I need to lie?”
“You can’t just ring up someone out of the blue, can you?”
“A lot of people do. The number of calls I get about replacement windows and making wills and investing in land…”
“Yes, or trying to sell you a mobile phone,…”
“Perhaps I should do that. Make up some story. Pretend I’m from a call centre.” Jude made up her mind. “No, I think it’d be simpler – as usual – just to tell the truth.”
“‘Hello, I want to talk to you about someone you spoke to five months ago’?” suggested Carole with disbelief.
“Something along those lines, yes.” Jude phoned the first of the numbers. An answering machine message. She pressed the red button to end the call. “Bob and Marie Newton are not available at the moment. No Melanie.”
She keyed in the next number. “Oh, hello, could I speak to Melanie?”
She was informed, with some huffiness, that there was no one of that name living at the address.
“Two more to go,” she said as she tried the third. Again someone answered. A woman’s voice.
“Oh, hello, could I speak to Melanie Newton, please?”
“I’m sorry. She no longer lives here.”
“You don’t by any chance know where she lives now, do you?”
“I’m not sure. I got the impression the marriage was breaking up and I think she and her husband went their separate ways.”
“So don’t you have any means of contacting her?”
“I’ve got a mobile number for her husband, Giles. I’ve never used it, so I don’t know if it’s still current.”
“Could you give it to me?”
For the first time the voice at the other end of the line sounded suspicious. “Who am I talking to here?”
“My name’s Jude.” Which was true. “I’m an old friend of Melanie’s.” Which was a lie. Carole raised her eyes to heaven.
“All right.” And the voice gave the mobile number.
“Thank you so much. And can you tell me how long ago the Newtons moved?”
“We moved in here on the third of November.”
As soon as she had finished the call, Jude keyed in the mobile number she’d been given.
“Hello?” said a wary answering voice.
“Is that Giles Newton?”
“Yes.” He still sounded guarded.
“You don’t know me, but I’m trying to contact Melanie Newton and – ”
Giles Newton ended the call.
When Jude returned to Woodside Cottage, Zofia Jankowska was up and dressed, making coffee in the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to have something to eat too?” asked Jude.
“No, I have too much food of yours already. You do not let me pay.”
“You don’t need to pay.”
“It makes me feel not good. I do not like to be…what is the word I heard? A ‘sponger’? I read in newspaper that many Poles in England are spongers.”
“Then you should read different newspapers. You’re not sponging off me. You’re here as my guest.”
“I should be paying something. I do not know how long I will be here. If I could get a few hours’ work, I could pay you.”
“Well, I’m sure you could get something if you really wanted to.” A thought came to Jude. “Tell you what…the landlord of the Crown and Anchor was complaining how he couldn’t get any decent bar staff.”
“That is the pub here in Fethering?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if I could work some hours for him, I could pay you some rent.”
“I’ve told you, you don’t need to.”
“It would make me feel better. And I have worked in a bar a lot. I know what to do. In Warsaw I work in bars. There of course I take money in zlotys, but I am quick learner. I soon catch on to money in pounds.”
“Well, I’ll give him a call. His name’s Ted Crisp.” Jude hesitated. “I just wonder, though…”
“What?”
“Ted’s…um, how shall I put this? Very English.”
“English in the way that he does not like foreigners?”
“Yes,” Jude admitted.
“This is perhaps because he has not met many foreigners?”
“Quite possibly, yes.”
“Then I think he should meet one. Me. Zofla Jankowska. I will show him how a good worker works.”
Jude chuckled and looked at her watch. “I’ll give him a call later. After the Saturday lunchtime rush. Ooh, by the way, there is something more we’ve found out about that woman your brother spoke to in October.” And she told Zofia the information she’d had from Carole. “As I say, the husband hung up on me, but at least we’ve got a name, which is more than we had this time yesterday.”
“Maybe you will be able to find her.”
“I hope so.”
“I also thought of two people I could try to talk to.”
“Oh?”
“One is back in Warsaw. A friend of Tadek, called Pavel. He was in the band. I try to call him this morning, but his mother say he off playing music in Krakow. She will pass on message when he call her. But I think that will not be soon.”
“Why not?”
Zofia shrugged ruefully. “Pavel like Tadek. Not good keeping in touch.”
“But your message will get through eventually?”
“Eventually, yes. But his mother say he not even picking up emails in Krakow.” She looked glum for a moment, but then a spark returned to her eyes. “A second person I think of, though. I had forgotten about him until this morning, but there was another friend of Tadek who used to play in the band with him. In Twarz. Not for a long time. He was the drummer, but not a very good drummer. He left the band a year before Tadek finished at the university. He was called Marek Wisniewski and he used to get on well with my brother. But why I think of him is I remember he came to England. I think he get work as a waiter.”
“How long has he been here?”
“More than a year. A year and a half perhaps. But perhaps Tadek get in touch with Marek when he come to England.”
“Have you got a contact for him?”
“Not here in England, no. But I know his brother in Warsaw. I will ring him, see if he knows where Marek is working now.” The girl shrugged. “It may be nothing, but everything is worth trying, isn’t it?”
“Certainly,” said Jude.
They both made their phone calls that afternoon. Zofia got through to Warsaw and was given the address of a Brighton restaurant where Marek had been working when his brother had last heard from him. A bored man at the restaurant said he still worked there, but he was off on a few days’ leave. He thought he would be back on the Tuesday. She asked the man to give Marek her mobile number, but she didn’t feel very optimistic that the message would get through.