“Nothing else we can do at the moment,” Zofia said gloomily when she’d ended the call.
“No, but if you don’t hear, we can go and see him. Brighton’s not far away. Anyway, now I’ll phone Ted.”
The timing couldn’t have been better. The landlord of the Crown and Anchor had just been let down by one of the barmaids who was meant to be doing a shift that evening. If the girl Jude was talking about could come down straight away…“That is, if she has had experience of bar work. I haven’t got time to train anyone up.”
“Oh, she’s had experience of bar work,” said Jude. She and Zofia had agreed that they would not mention her relationship to Tadek. That might make for an uncomfortable atmosphere in the bar of the Crown and Anchor. Nor on the phone did Jude mention the fact that Zofia was Polish.
Of course, it was something that Ted couldn’t fail to notice when they were introduced. Behind the ragged beard his face took on a look of suspicion. “From Poland, you say?”
Zofia Jankowska smiled brightly. “Yes.”
“Well, you can help out tonight, because I’ve been let down,” he said grudgingly. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to offer you anything more.”
“Let’s see how tonight goes, yes?” said Zofia, unfazed by his less than enthusiastic welcome.
“All right,” he conceded.
“Please, you show me where everything is, and where is written down the costs of the drinks.”
As Ted Crisp turned to get a price-list, he cast a reproachful eye on Jude. She’d put him in a situation where he couldn’t really make a scene, and he felt she’d rather pulled a fast one on him. There were already far too many foreigners around the country; he didn’t want any of them actually working for him.
Jude, however, went home happy. She felt confident that Zofia would do everything that was required of her. And also from behind the bar of the Crown and Anchor, the girl would be perfectly placed to hear any gossip relating to the death of her brother.
Twenty-One
Though Carole was not good at lying, that did not mean that she was incapable of deviousness. She woke in the small hours of the Sunday morning, frustrated by their inability to contact Melanie Newton. The only way to the woman was through her husband’s mobile phone, and when Jude rang him Giles Newton clearly had not wanted to play ball. There had to be another approach. And by the time, an hour later, Carole drifted back into sleep, she felt confident she had found it.
She reckoned half-past ten was a reasonable hour to call someone on a Sunday, so after a brisk walk on the beach with Gulliver and a skimpy perusal of the Sunday Telegraph, she called the number they had been given by the new owner of the Newtons’ house.
When Giles answered, she said, “Good morning. My name is Carole Seddon, formerly of the Home Office.” Which was entirely true, but she hoped the words ‘Home Office’ would have such a strong effect on the man that he would hardly be aware of the ‘formerly’.
“Oh yes?” He sounded puzzled, but not as if he was about to put the phone down. Which was already better than the response Jude had got.
“I’m calling in connection with the death of Tadeusz Jarikowski.” Again, not untrue, but hopefully misleading about the level of offlcialness in her enquiry.
“Who?” He sounded genuinely mystified by the name.
“Tadeusz Jankowski. A young man who died in Fethering some ten days ago.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
“There’s been a lot of media coverage, on national television and in the papers.”
“I wouldn’t have seen it. I’ve been in Dubai the last three months.”
“Oh?”
“I work in oil exploration. I tend to be away for long periods.”
“Ah. Well, in fact, it was your wife I wanted to contact. Melanie…is that right?”
“Yes.”
“She wasn’t in Dubai with you?”
“No. So far as I know, she was here in England.”
“So far as you know?”
“Yes, as far as I know,” Giles Newton said testily. “She may have gone travelling. She went abroad last summer, to Holland and Germany, I believe.”
“You believe?” Carole echoed again.
“Yes. Look, Mrs…I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Carole Seddon.”
“Well, Mrs Seddon, as you may well have deduced, the fact is that my wife and I are no longer together.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Carole automatically.
“I’m not sure that I am. At least I’m no longer involved in the messes Melanie gets herself into.”
“Messes?”
But echoing his words was not so fruitful this time. “Look, Mrs Seddon, what do you want? If it’s something to do with my wife, you’re talking to the wrong person. What she does is her own business. I no longer have any contact with her.”
“But do you know where she’s living?”
“No, I don’t. We used to live together in a house in Fedborough, but since we sold that, we’ve gone our separate ways. And may I emphasize that I have no responsibility for her financial affairs. In fact, after some of the things she got me involved in, I hope I never see her again.”
“What kind of things did she get you involved in?”
The question was over-optimistic. “Mrs Seddon, if my wife has once again got herself into trouble, I suggest you talk to her rather than to me.”
“Well, that’s what I want to do, Mr Newton, but I don’t have any means of contacting her.”
“I can give you a mobile number.”
“Is it still current?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve made no attempt to contact Melanie since last November.”
And so it was that Carole got hold of Melanie Newton’s phone number. The words ‘Home Office’ did still command a measure of authority.
She knew she should really share her discovery with Jude, but the temptation to present her neighbour with some kind of dramatic coup was too strong. Carole rang the number. It went straight on to voicemail. No identification of the phone’s owner, just a terse, “Leave a message after the tone.”
A pity, but Carole’s gratification outweighed her disappointment. She now had a name and a phone number for Melanie Newton. And she had heard the woman’s voice.
Zofia Jankowska stayed in her bedroom late on the Sunday morning, but Jude knew the girl was awake because she could hear music. At about half-past eleven she tapped on the door. “Just wondered what you’d like to do about lunch?”
The girl was dressed and sitting on her bed. She looked as though she might have been crying, her pigtails once again emphasizing her youth and frailty. After a quick look at her watch, she said, “No, I don’t think I have time for lunch. Ted wants me to do a shift at the pub starting at twelve.”
“So you must have done all right last night.” Jude had been in bed before Zofia returned from the Crown and Anchor.
“I think so. Not that you’d have known it from Ted. He watch me all evening like he thought I was about to steal from the cash register.”
“He’ll get used to you. He’s naturally distrustful.”
“Distrustful of ‘foreigners’, yes.”
“If he’s asked you to come back, he can’t be too worried.”
“He does not make it sound like he is happy. He offer me shift today only because he is very busy at Sunday lunchtime, and his other staff let him down. Still he don’t say whether there will be more work for me.”